Mending Hope (Contemporary Western Romance) (License to Love Series:Book 2)

Alyssa Fairfield found herself wandering back and forth from the desk to the front door at least once an hour.  She brushed her fingertips along the side of the window frame as she let the curtain drop back into place on her one hundredth trip to check and see if Clara had arrived.  She knew that once her friend was on the road she wouldn’t be able to communicate with her if there was a problem, but she was at least a day overdue to arrive in Wichita Falls and Alyssa’s mind was full of worry for everything that might have gone wrong. 

She walked over to the mantle, picked up a picture and gazed longingly at the family that no longer was.  After her vision blurred from the tears, she took a finger and ran it along the face of her husband.  When he had died the hole that was left behind had threatened to consume her entire existence.  She had not known that a human could live through so much heartache, and there were times, dark times, when she found herself wishing that she didn’t have to.

It didn’t help that her profession was one she could do in her pajamas.  As a freelance writer, there were days when she had been able to work completely from bed, not even having to get up to eat or exercise.  Her skin had started to sallow and hang on her bones, and she had felt content to let everything slip by her. 

When her childhood friend, Clara, had reached out to her Alyssa had found a new purpose to get out of bed in the morning.  As she listened to her friend’s struggles and read her letters, she had started to blossom out of the shadow that the wreck had left in its wake.  By helping someone and sharing their life and their struggles again, she felt like the usefulness of her life was finally starting to return. Someone was depending on her, someone needed her, and she had realized just how good it felt to be a part of the world again. 

Alyssa had even started getting out of the house more, taking walks around the neighborhood and even sometimes as far as the park that was a mile and a half away.  She had cleared out the guest room and actually found herself enjoying the task of preparing the bedding and decorating the room with some small touches like a mirror or a laundry hamper.  Now she was worried that this newfound sense of freedom was going to be stripped from her once again as she waited to hear from Clara.

She ran the back of her hand across her eyes to clear away the remaining tears threatening to spill from her eyelids when she heard the postman walk across the porch.  Sure enough, in the stack of bills and advertisement flyers, there was a plain white envelope without a return address written in Clara’s handwriting.  She tore into it, hoping that everything was okay. 

Alyssa –

The truck broke down in Oklahoma in a little town called Stanhope.  It’s so small that I’m not sure it’s on a map, so it’s a perfect place to lie low.  The truck is at Woody Brandt’s Garage just off the highway outside of town.  I’m staying in town until it’s fixed, but I feel safe here. 

See you soon,

Clara

Even though the letter had said everything was okay, Alyssa had a feeling that something had gone horribly wrong and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  She checked the town in her GPS and discovered that it was roughly two hours away.  Without another pause, she dropped the letter and her cell into her purse and grabbed her car keys.

Alyssa started to head out the door but then thought better of it.  If Clara was in trouble or had been injured, then she would need to make sure that she had enough supplies to stay for a day or two. 

Flinging open the closet door, she pulled out an old overnight bag and hauled it to the dresser before throwing in enough clothes to get her through a couple of days along with her laptop and other supplies.  In the bathroom she hastily grabbed up her toothbrush, make-up kit, and medicine bag.  In less than five minutes she was in her car headed north to Stanhope, Oklahoma.  The letter was postmarked on Saturday, so hopefully Clara was still there. 

*

Woody was finishing up Clara’s truck when he heard someone wrench open the back door.  It was not an entrance commonly used because of how difficult it was to open.  However it was the only door unlocked at the moment.  He’d shut everything down earlier so he could focus on getting this project finished.  After what had happened out at his brother’s farm yesterday, he hadn’t been able to get the truck done and he hated running behind.

When he rolled out from under the truck he came face to face with a petite redhead with a look of sheer determination on her face.  She was dressed in what they would think of as either “city clothes” or Sunday evening best - a nice pair of dark jeans, dress shoes and a button up blouse.  Thick red mud clung to the bottom and sides of her loafers and he knew from experience that she would never get all of it out.  The red would hide in the small crevices and threads, permanently bonding with the shoes.  It was the price you paid for living in the region. 

Teach her to go walking through the mud at the back of the shop,
he thought.

“May I help you?  Didn’t you see the closed sign on the door before you forced it open?” he asked, more than a little perturbed that someone would walk around to the back of the shop and forcibly let themselves in. 

“Are you Woody?  Where’s Clara?  What have you done to her?” She fired her questions at him in such rapid succession and with such force that he had to take a moment to pause and think.  He sat up on the rollaway and took a moment to assess this fireball.  Her hair fell straight against her collarbone, brushing just over her shoulders in jerky movements as she paced across his floor and at that moment her cheeks were so flush with anger and worry that they matched.

He didn’t think that she was involved with the stalker but he knew that he couldn’t be too careful after the attack on Shad yesterday.  He decided to answer the questions in the order she had hurled them at him.  “Yes.  She’s with my brother.  I have done nothing to her.”  He paused for a moment and when she opened her mouth to ask him another question he fired off a series of his own. 

“How do you know her?  Why do you want to see her?” he asked as he got up from the floor and stood across from her, watching her movements with a measured glance. 

“Your brother?  What kind of family craziness do you have going on?  Where is she?  I want to see her now and make sure she is okay.” Alyssa asked, her demeanor growing more and more frantic by the moment until her voice hit a very high note on the final question that was close to panic. When she spoke, her eyes brimmed with icy blue fire and he could sense the anger and determination pouring off her in waves. 

“What?  No, no, calm down.” He took a step toward her but she immediately took a step back.  She had the haunted look of someone who expected to come across very bad news at any given moment. 

Neither of them moved in the stillness of the shop.  They were at a crossroads, neither one of them willing to open up to the other.  But until he knew who this woman was and what her connection to Clara was, he wasn’t saying anything else.  Finally she took a deep breath and when she looked at him, he saw that her eyes were shimmering pools.  Then she blinked and when she opened them again she had managed to regain her composure.

“If that’s true, do you have a way to contact her? She sent me this on Saturday, but I don’t know how to reach her.”  She pulled a letter out of her purse as she spoke, unfolded it and handed it to him.

Woody took the letter and read over it twice.  He didn’t know Clara well enough to know if that was her handwriting or not, but Shad had mentioned something about her sending a letter.  He could sense her pacing back and forth as he read the letter and he knew that she was as tightly wound as a cat waiting on its prey.  He wasn’t sure that he wanted to take her into the house without first having a chance to talk to her about the attack yesterday. 

She was already so anxious though and he did not see how that would be a good thing to just spring on her. 

“She’s fine, and I can take you there, but let’s grab lunch first.  I think we need to talk before we go see them.”

She stopped pacing and looked at him.  “What are you not telling me?” she asked, glaring at him.  Her gaze was so intense, it felt as if those light blue beacons could have cut through his flesh. 

Woody studied her more closely.  She had an edge to her demeanor that he recognized.  It was in the way she held her head, and how her cool blue eyes continuously flickered back and forth.  Right now as she waited for him to answer, her cheek twitched slightly, but she was working hard to try and contain her emotions.

“Everything is okay now but there were some problems yesterday.  I’m supposed to meet Melinda out there later, but Clara and Shad asked to be left alone this morning.  Please you need to trust me on this”

“Who is Melinda?” she asked, and he realized that she was walking into the middle of this story and truly had no concept of what had transpired in the forty eight hours since that letter had been sent. 

“Melinda is my sister, and she’s also the town sheriff….”

“Sheriff?!” Alyssa interrupted, her voice rising again.  Woody saw how easily the passion and anger flared up in her and he knew that the saying he had always heard about redheads was definitely true.  They were very emotional creatures.

“Yeah.  There was a confrontation yesterday but the man is in jail now.  We’re going to go to the farm and meet with them at one so she can get a formal statement.  I was trying to make sure I finished Clara’s truck by then, but I’m sure she’d rather I fill you in on what happened instead.” 

As soon as he told her this, Alyssa breathed a huge sigh of relief and leaned against the tool counter.  He thought about stopping her and warning her that she might get grease on her pants, but he decided at this point that it didn’t matter. 

She sighed and looked at him, and now that the immediate danger was over with, he could see how tired she really was.  The blue in her eyes was still as vibrant as it had been before but her lids looked heavy and her face slack.  He found himself wondering when the last time she’d had a good night’s sleep. 

“Look, you seem tired and worried.  We can go to the café and get something to eat and sit down for a little bit.”

She started chuckling then.  It was soft at first but before long she was outright laughing, great heaving sobs that wrenched her body and folded her in half.  Woody stood off to the side uncertain of how to react to this sudden outburst but he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was when she smiled. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.  It’s just…well, there aren’t many men who would tell a woman she looks tired.  It reminded me of…someone else.”  With that, she let her voice trail off and her eyes had a faraway look to them.  Suddenly the sadness and weariness had once again overtaken her face and he found that he wanted nothing more than to put the smile back.

“I’ve never been good at tabling my thoughts.  I need to learn to put in a control valve from my brain to my mouth.  But I really would love to fill you in on what happened, over lunch.  I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

She nodded as she started speaking. “Okay.  I can meet you there if you give me directions.”

“Why don’t you just ride with me?  And then after we’re done I’ll take you out to the farm so you can see Clara, if’s that’s okay.”