Small-Town Dreams (30 page)

“Of course you’re going,” Hope said and picked up the phone, evading his attempt to grab it before she could. “Honestly, you can be such an idiot sometimes,” she snapped, then her voice turned pleasant and impersonal. “Hi, there. I’d like to make an appointment for Jeffrey Carrington. When? As soon as possible.” She glared at him again, her blue eyes dark and stormy. “Not until then? Okay. It’ll have to do. Thank you. He’ll be there.”

“You aren’t my mother,” he shouted when she put down the phone.

Hope jerked to her feet, looking more upset than angry. “No. I’m not your mother. I, at least,
care
about you. I want you to have the future you deserve, not the one I choose for you. I’d never care what school you went to or what profession you picked. I’ll still care about you if you never walk or ride again. The you inside of you is all I’ve ever cared about. Do you get the difference between me and Kat Carrington?”

Jeff watched Hope across the cozy room working the remote control for the VCR. She had been distant since storming out of the office on Thursday afternoon. It was Saturday night and Mrs. Roberts, seemingly oblivious to the tension between them, had rented a new musical comedy that just came out on video. It was a remake of a 1940s classic. She’d insisted they settle in the family room after dinner, and they’d just finished watching the old classic version.

“Dear, before you start the new one,” Emily said to Hope, “I think I’ll go out to the kitchen and pop us some popcorn. What’s a new movie without popcorn and a soda?”

“Want any help?” Jeff asked, grinning.

Mrs. R glared and huffed out of the room.

Jeff chuckled. She wasn’t too happy with him after he messed up her clean kitchen floor. He’d been clowning around, trying to prove he didn’t need anyone to teach him how to handle himself in the kitchen. The guy in the video Curt had shown him had made it look so easy. As with everything else in his life since the accident, it wasn’t as easy as it looked. In fact, it was really hard. Which is why he’d dropped a jar of spaghetti sauce while trying to get it from the cabinet with the aid of a hand-controlled claw on the end of an extension pole.

He’d thought of having a small handicap-equipped kitchen put in the guest wing near the exercise room. Would it mean he was spoiled if he spent the money to put in a kitchen just for himself? He couldn’t forget all the things Ross Taggert had said about him. Selfish. Worthless. Cripple. Did those descriptions fit?

Cripple certainly did, though it was a vicious word. Paraplegic sounded so much less cruel. But a rose by any other name…

He wanted to talk to Hope about his feelings. But if she found out how much he’d heard, it would only make matters that much more strained between her and Ross. It would be the same thing with Cole. With Cole the explosion would be worse. It wasn’t Ross’s fault, anyway. Jeff’s father had poisoned the well years ago, and it had to have been out of jealousy. Jeff would keep his own counsel with both Hope and Cole, but that left him with no one to talk to.

“Would you come to church with us tomorrow?” Hope asked, taking him completely by surprise. They might very well be the first voluntary words she’d spoken to him in days.

Jeff snapped out of his musings. If he agreed, he might get a chance to talk to Hope’s pastor. He needed what she called a reality check and he couldn’t think of anyone better to turn to than the honest man he’d met Wednesday night.

It was certainly odd that Hope would ask him to go with her just as he’d been wishing for someone impartial to talk with, especially the way things had been between them. He had to fight a grin. He knew how Hope thought. She’d say God was working in his life if he told her what had already been on his mind.

“Okay,” he said cautiously, keeping any enthusiasm out of his tone. He didn’t want Hope thinking he was suddenly going to go wheeling forward for some sort of altar call or something. “These four walls get pretty boring,” he added. “At least it’ll be a change of scenery.”

Hope nodded, her expression neutral. “That’s what I thought, too. Since Curt is scheduled to play at the eleven o’clock service, I thought we’d all go then.”

“I’ll be ready at what? Ten-thirty?”

“Sharp,” she said as Mrs. R came in with a big ceramic bowl of popcorn and a smaller one.

His housekeeper handed the small one to him. It was golden and buttery. Just the way he liked it.

“All for me?” he asked and sent her a grateful smile.

Mrs. R smiled back and tousled his hair the way she used to when he was a kid. It gave him a warm, loved feeling. He guessed he was at least forgiven for the mess he’d made. Whether Hope had forgiven him for manipulating Curt was another thing altogether. Sometimes Emily Roberts made him forget he paid her to take care of him. Sometimes she made him wish she was there just because she wanted to be. He wished the same of Hope. But Emily was there to earn a living, and Hope was only trying to work through her guilt.

H
ope watched Jeff and Pastor Jim where they sat toward the back of the sanctuary. They’d been talking only a few minutes when the pastor stood and moved away. Hope’s heart fell. She’d prayed constantly since realizing that she’d been trying to help Jeff without divine assistance. But even now, after all that prayer, Jeff had listened once again to one of Jim Dillon’s moving messages and hadn’t accepted the Lord. She didn’t understand how anyone could miss seeing God’s perfect salvation as the gift it was, especially when Pastor Jim presented it the way he did. She shook her head. She’d just have to pray longer and harder.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. Be patient. He’s not ready yet.

He’d apologized for deceiving her and taking advantage of Curt’s desire to help him. That had been a major breakthrough for someone raised to believe that he was perfectly within his rights to do whatever he needed to do to get his own way. But there was a new reserve between them that she hoped and prayed would fade.

“So, having a nice time visiting your friends?” Jeff asked as she approached him. The royal blue shirt brought out the healthy glow his skin had taken on in the last few weeks, and his eyes were a clear, sparkling silver today. He might not be ready to accept the Lord, but in his own careful way, he was seeking Him, Hope felt. There was no question that besides the obvious improvement in his general health, Jeff was mentally and emotionally better.

But what were his feelings toward her? He clearly didn’t hate her. He’d said he liked her. But did he love her? Only Jeff knew, and he wasn’t talking.

She took a deep breath before speaking, tired of weighing every word but afraid not to. “I ran into the pastor’s wife. She’s such a sweetheart and so excited about the new baby.”

“Jim’s excited, too. I gather he wasn’t around when his son was born. But I got the sense that he’s worried about money, too. I had an idea we both may benefit from, so I asked him to stop by Lavender Hill. After the disaster I made of Mrs. R’s kitchen, I started thinking about adding a little handicap-equipped kitchenette in the corner of the exercise room. That way if Mrs. R ever has to be gone or is ill, I can handle meals. I remembered you saying Jim did a lot of the work around here, and Curt said Jim used to earn extra money by doing renovation projects on the side. I figured a chance to earn some extra cash might ease his mind.”

“Oh. That’s such a good idea and it was thoughtful of you to think of it. I can tell you he does beautiful finish work. He made that cross up on the altar out of two old, discarded beams.”

Eyes fixed on the cross, Jeff rolled forward to get a closer look. Hope blinked her suddenly moist eyes and prayed that one day she would see him standing up there looking with love rather than curiosity at the cross.

Jeff pivoted and sent her a rueful smile, making Hope’s heart do a quick flip. “I think I just hired the right guy,” he told her. “Think he could do anything with my early Roman hotel lobby?”

Hope laughed. “I don’t know. You don’t happen to have a jackhammer in the toolshed, do you?”

Later that afternoon, Hope finished cleaning the bathroom and was about to start dusting the antique Shaker furniture in the bedroom when the pounding of hoofbeats vibrated through the little homestead house that was beginning to feel like home to her. She loved the old wainscoting that covered most of the walls and the high-beamed ceilings overhead.

After setting her dust cloth on the high stone hearth, Hope went to look out the window. She was just in time to see Cole dismount from the back of a horse she’d never seen before. She chuckled. Leave it to Cole to color-coordinate his mount. The horse’s gleaming coat was the exact same shade of sable brown as her brother’s hair. The mane and tail of his new horse, however, were an astonishing shade of golden-white.

Hope pushed away from the window and zipped through the little cottage to greet her brother.

“And who is this fine young man?” she asked Cole after a hug and peck on the cheek. Automatically she checked the gelding’s lines and took hold of the throat latch of his halter. She stroked the white blaze on his forehead, and in the way her father had taught her years ago, she blew a greeting into the horse’s nostrils. The big gelding whinnied then butted his head into her chest, knocking her back a step. Hope laughed.

“Don’t encourage him. He’s bad,” Cole growled. “His name is Mischief, and I can’t think of a more apt label. It should have warned me, but he was on his best behavior. Till I got him settled in. Or tried to.”

“Which is what brings you to my door.”

“Guilty.”

“So what pushed you over the edge?”

“He pushed Elizabeth into a mud puddle.” He scowled at the horse. “And I’m here to tell you it was deliberate.”

“Then maybe he’s just a smart horse,” she quipped.

Cole didn’t laugh. He glared. “Not funny, Hope. Your claws are showing. She assures me Jeff is the big brother she never had.”

Oh, dear. Not only was she suddenly aware that she was terribly jealous of Elizabeth Boyer, but it also looked as if Cole was getting serious about her. Hope really didn’t want to think about having Reginald Boyer as part of her brother’s family. The two would mix like oil and water. And after what Reginald had tried to do to Jeff, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to be civil to the man. “Sorry. I’m still royally ticked at her father.”

“Elizabeth isn’t too happy with him right now. That’s why she hasn’t been by to see Jeff. She’s embarrassed by what her father did and isn’t too sure about her welcome.”

With great effort Hope did the right thing. “It was her father not her who nearly pushed Jeff’s head under for the third time,” she assured her brother. “Jeff wouldn’t hold a grudge. His own father wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality.”

She turned to the horse. “So what other habits do we have to break this bad boy of besides knocking your latest fling into a mud puddle?”

Cole rolled his eyes. “We’re just friends, little sister. And as for Laurel Glen’s delinquent here,” he said, his voice full of affection for his bad-boy mount, “want a list?”

Hope listened to a variety of complaints, all of which she thought were symptomatic of the fear, loneliness and boredom his early life had wrought. Her kindhearted brother had apparently been part of a rescue of the beautiful gelding and taken him on, faults and all.

“Why don’t I get this big guy settled as best I can and we’ll see what we can do with him in the next few weeks.”

Jeff heard someone walk into the exercise room but he was bench pressing two hundred and fifty pounds of iron at that moment and didn’t dare let himself lose concentration. Curt helped him guide the bar into its rest above the weight bench.

“First class, Jeff,” Curt said. “Let’s take a break. I’ll go get us something to drink. Can I get you something?” he asked Cole who stood framed in the doorway behind Jeff. Jeff gave his friend a wave in the mirror.

Cole shook his head. “That’s okay. I just had a glass of tea with Mrs. R.”

After a deep breath, Jeff tensed his stomach muscles and curled forward, sitting up without the aid of the bar that hung overhead. It was a new ability he’d mastered only that morning. He didn’t use a typical weight bench, of course, but one designed for someone with no power in their legs. But still, Curt said the ability to do a sit-up even on the specialized bench proved that his thigh and calf muscles were strengthening and that his gluteus muscles were responding to his brain’s commands again. Jeff hoped so because the doctor’s appointment he was dreading loomed ahead. And he really needed good news.

Cole smiled, clearly surprised by the sit-up. “Looking good, dude.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah. I’m doing better. What brings the busy new vet by?”

Cole hopped up to sit on the massage table in the middle of the room. “I shouldn’t need a reason, but as it stands I had one. I bought a horse. Rescued, really. He’s a beauty. Arabian mixed with who knows what. His past owner’s too busy defending himself against animal cruelty charges to be too forthcoming with lineage information. Mischief was up to his haunches in manure when the humane society found him in his stall. He has a few bad habits. Not letting himself be stabled is just one of them.”

He related the story of Elizabeth and the mud puddle and was clearly fighting laughter by the time he finished. Jeff had given up the fight long ago and wiped his eyes of gleeful tears. Just thinking of the elegant Elizabeth Boyer dripping with mud, trying to look as stately as she’d been taught to, all the while apparently defending her attacker, gave him the best laugh he’d had in months.

Jeff forced himself to stop howling when Cole started looking a little perturbed. “Come on. Admit it had to be funny. If the queen of England had been dunked in mud it couldn’t be funnier. If this hadn’t pushed you over the edge, who knows how long you would have gone on getting your rear end nipped and chasing him. So now you brought him to Hope, who’s the best person in the county to work with him.”

“So Donovan says. He tells me my little sister has a knack with hard cases. Seeing the improvement in you, I’d say it’s true.”

Jeff grinned. His Hope was one terrific lady. No wonder he loved her with all his heart, even though he didn’t dare admit it aloud.

“You and my sister getting serious?” Cole asked, eyes narrowed.

But it didn’t come across exactly as a question, and Jeff was taken aback by the warning tone in Cole’s voice as much as the accuracy of the question. “What makes you say that?” Jeff asked, frantically trying to remember what he’d said that would have tipped Cole off to his secret feelings.

“Because your smile just went all gaga at the mere mention of her name.”

Jeff frowned. “Don’t be stupid. Hope’s my friend.”

“She’d better be if your face lights up like that when she’s not even around. Serious relationships based on less are doomed. I should know. I’m the king of accidentally breaking women’s hearts. I don’t want to see her hurt that way.”

Jeff realized it would be stupid to lie. He’d clearly been found out. When they were kids, Cole had always seen through him any time he’d tried to disguise his feelings. As he’d said to Hope recently, some things never changed. “Okay. I love her. But she hasn’t got a clue and she won’t if I have anything to say about it.”

“If you get that stupid look on your face when she’s around, she knows.”

Jeff shook his head, his thoughts in panic mode. “She doesn’t know and she can’t. I can’t
let
her know. If she figures out how I feel, she’ll never give up on me. She’ll never be free. She needs a whole man, and I’m still not sure how much better I’ll get. I won’t tie her to a cripple.”

“Don’t call yourself that!” Cole snapped, fire in his eyes.

“Why not? Your father does.” Jeff barked right back then winced. He couldn’t believe he’d let that slip. And to Cole, of all people.

Cole jumped from the table. “When did he say that to you?” he demanded. The fury on his face wasn’t a pretty sight, even if it did mean their friendship was still intact.

Jeff raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “When he came by last Thursday. And he said it
about
me, not
to
me. He was arguing with Hope. Please, whatever you do, don’t say anything to either your father or Hope. I don’t want him hating me more than he already does just in case there does turn out to be a future for Hope and me. And if Hope finds out that I heard Ross, it’ll just make matters worse between them.”

Cole subsided and leaned against the massage table. “All right. It stays here between us.”

“Good. But if it’s going to stay our secret then you’d better try schooling your own features. You look mad enough to chew steel, and somebody’s coming down the hall. It could be Hope.”

“Is this Carrington’s health spa? I have an order here for a new kitchen,” Jim Dillon called.

Dillon didn’t look much different than he had when they first met. His jeans were a little more worn and his T-shirt wore the slogan Ask For Directions under the picture of a Bible, but the package was the same. He was a preacher who looked like he belonged in a barn. But then again, Jim’s church
was
a barn.

“Jim, come in,” Jeff said and reached out to shake his hand. “This is the place, all right. I didn’t think you’d get here this fast.”

“Are you kidding? And pass up an opportunity like this? Not on your life.”

Pastor Dillon looked toward Cole expectantly.

“Haven’t you two met?” Jeff asked. “Cole, this is Jim Dillon. Jim, this is Cole, Hope’s older brother and my best friend back when we were kids.”

Both men shook hands and exchanged polite greetings.

“So do you own your own construction company or just do this on the side?” Cole asked after they’d talked a while about the idea of putting handicap-equipped kitchen facilities in one corner of the exercise room.

“Oh, it’s definitely on the side,” Jim Dillon answered with a chuckle in his voice.

“Jim’s the pastor of Hope’s church,” Jeff explained when Cole looked confused.

“Oh,” Cole said stiffly. His face could have turned to stone for all the animation it had suddenly. He stood. “Well, you two have a lot of planning to do, and I’d better go check on Hope. I imagine she’s having trouble with Mischief. Nice to meet you, Pastor. See ya, Jeff. Keep up the good work. And don’t try to decide Hope’s future for her. She’s a big girl. It’s her decision who she loves. Not yours.” With that Cole fled. Jeff watched him in stupefied silence, wondering if Jim noticed Cole’s odd behavior.