The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (26 page)

Chandler twiddled his thumbs against the steering wheel.  “It’s hard to say the wrong thing to my dad, unless you argue with him over the right kind of cattle feed.  And my mom is easy, too, just damned protective of us kids.  You could understand and appreciate that.”

“Definitely.”

“They like you,” Chandler promised.  “And the more time they spend with you, they’ll grow to love you as much as I have.”  Their eyes met in the dark.  “Well, maybe not
that
much.” 

She gave him an easy grin, confident that he
was right.  If she messed things up again, she’d probably spend the rest of her life regretting it. 

Chapter 17

Christa pulled the baking sheet from the oven and placed it atop a rack to cool.  The baby monitor sat close by, and Matt was sleeping soundly in his crib.  The other three children were playing in the living room, growing quieter as the smell of cookies became more prominent throughout the house.  CJ and Alison were at a horse show, Mark and Chandler were out on the range, and she and Taylor were on kid duty for the day.  She pulled out tubes of blue and yellow icing, set them aside for later.

“These cookies smell amazing,” Taylor said, eyeing them hungrily.  They were celestial shapes, stars and crescent moons.  A pang of remembrance tugged a
t her insides.

“They’re Max’s favorite,” Christa replied softly, breaking one of the uglier cookies in half and handing the large
r piece to Taylor.  “What did your son like?” she asked carefully.

“My son?”

“Yes, your son…”

“Riley.  His name was Riley.”

Christa nodded, almost to herself.  “I hope you don’t think me a horrible person for asking.”

“I could never think of you like that.”  Christa smiled in relief.  “He was into all things space-related.  Loved astronauts, rocket ships, and stars.”

“Max likes those things, too.  He’s also obsessed with being a cowboy, just like Little Chase.  It’s in the blood.”

Taylor finished the cookie-half and leaned back against the counter.  “I had dreams of what he would be like when he grew up, even though I knew that
would never happen.”

“I was like that after Max’s accident.  I had all of these fears and anxieties that he’d never achieve my dreams for him.  I guess that was silly.  I decided I just wanted him healthy, and now he is.”

Taylor considered her next question for several moments before asking.  “Does he still require brain scans?”

Christa nodded in the affirmative.  “But they’ve all been clean so far.  Let’s hope they stay that way.”  She smiled nervously.  “I’m so worried about him learning to ride a horse.”

“That’s mother’s instinct.  I was worried about Riley learning how to walk, that he might fall down and bump his head.”

“It makes you totally paranoid.”

Taylor glanced around, saw three sets of eyes trained on the kitchen.  She laughed silently.  “You’re doing a great job, Christa.  Seriously.  And from what I’ve seen, you’re pretty great with other people’s kids.”

Christa smiled warmly, in gratitude, and lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been thinking, someday, about staying at
home.  I love teaching, but I would also love to have another baby when Matt gets a little older.”   

“Have you talked about it with Mark?”

“The baby part,” she hedged, “but not the stay-at-home part.”

“The way I see it,” Taylor postulated, “you should
pass those beautiful genes of yours onto as many children as possible.”

Christa laughed, a light blush crossing her cheeks.  “Thank you.  You’re very kind.”

A neat line of children, arranged oldest-to-youngest and train-like in its formation, padded toward the kitchen. 

“I guess that’s my cue to get to work,” Christa said, laughing under her breath.  Little Chase looked up at her with those big blue eyes and smiled.

“Aunt Christa?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“My stomach is talking to me.”

Both women laughed.  “And
what does it say?”

“It says ‘cookie time’.”  She handed him a cookie, covered with blue icing and diagonal yellow stripes.  “Thank you,” he said, plopping the edge into his mouth.

“You’re welcome.  Sit down and eat it—no running through the house with food in your mouth.”

Bree was next.  “Could I have a yellow star with blue spots, please?” she asked politely.

“Yes, you may.”  Christa fixed it to her specifications and she said “thank you”, taking it with her and eating slowly.

Taylor glanced at Max as he
stood there, brown eyes luminous in the glow of the kitchen lamp.  “Last man standing, huh?” she teased.  He grinned.

“Anything special you’d like done to your cookie, cowboy?” Christa asked with a judicious blend of motherly warmth and concern.

Max laughed.  “Make it ugly, Mommy.”

“Ugly?”  Her face quirked into a curious expression. “And why is that?”

“It’s just going into my tummy.  So don’t make it pretty.”

“You’re a very pretty little boy,” Taylor said.  Christa’s concentration was partly on her w
ork now, but mainly on her son.  Max crinkled up his nose but kept smiling.

“Mommy says I’m handsome.”

“You are that,” Christa assured him.  “You’re the spitting image of Daddy.”

“Daddy’s tall,” Max countered.

“So he is.”  Christa knelt down to eye level, tousled his hair and handed him the cookie.  “Enjoy.”

Max kissed her on the cheek.  “Thanks, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome.”  She watched every step he made before returning her focus to Taylor.  “And what would you like on your cookie, Miss Holt?”

“Ha-ha. 
Just a few spots of color for me.  I’m watching my icing intake.”

Christa was finishing Taylor’s request when Matt squealed into the baby monitor.  “Duty calls,” she said happily.  “Watch the others for me?”

“Of course.”  She nibbled on her cookie, watched Christa disappear into the bedroom, and headed for the couch.  She found the children having a lively debate on whether or not spotted horses were better than plain ones.

“If it has two spots on its forehead,” Little Chase conjectured, “it can run two times a
s fast.”

“That don’t make no sense,” Bree argued.  “Spots make him pretty.  A swishy tail makes him fast.”

Max climbed onto the couch, eyes downcast.  Taylor curled her arm around his shoulder and arm hesitantly, gauging his reaction, but he didn’t flinch.  “What do you think?” she queried gently.  “About the horse?”

He shrugged, nibbling on the cookie for a silent minute before consenting to answer.  “Pretty horses are the best.  Speed don’t matter.” 

“You know what?” she said, looking at the three of them in turn.  “I’ve never seen a horse I didn’t like.”  They watched her, seemingly transfixed by the learned words coming from her mouth.  “There are beautiful horses everywhere, in every corner of the world.  Some are made for speed, and others for work; and some are just for play, for trail riding and having fun.  I guess you three are the most familiar with cow horses and broncos.  Make no mistake, though—they all have their purpose.”  

Having quieted Matt for the moment, Christa found the rest of the ki
ds eating silently, reveling in Taylor’s gentle words.  “How would you three like to watch a movie?” she asked to a small chorus of cheers.  She turned on the television, well aware that she’d have three napping kids on her hands soon enough.

Taylor follo
wed her back to the kitchen and immediately overtook the cleanup duties.  “Let me take care of this,” she offered commandingly.  “You’ve done enough.”

Christa acquiesced with a smile.  “You seemed to have them well in hand while I was gone.  I may bring yo
u in as my teaching assistant.”

Taylor shook her head dismissively as she bent down to load the dishwasher.  “When you’ve got kids that sweet, it’s easy.”

“Nonsense,” Christa answered.  “I won’t argue with you that they’re great kids, but they also require an adept touch.”

“I was trying to defuse one of those famous Adams-Jasper debates,” Taylor murmured, pulling her hair into a loose hold.  “You know it is.”

Christa laughed.  “I do.  Horses?”

“Oh yes.”

“I once had that argument with Mark.  Only in our case, it was a prelude to something else.”  Her eyes brightened with a private memory.  “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.”  She inhaled deeply.  “Wary as I was, I’m glad Chandler dragged me out here today.”

Christa smiled, pulled her into a light hug before she went to check on the children.  “Me too.”

***

Several miles away, Mark and Chandler rode on either side of the herd, moving it south.  The ranch hands galloped in formation with them, occasionally breaking off to round up strays.  With spring coming on, they wouldn’t have to expend energy with putting out hay on a daily basis.  The cattle balled and make a ruckus, as per usual, but Mark moved them with aplomb, nary a look of frustration or weariness crossing his face as he called out directives. Chandler even saw him smile once or twice.  As they pusher closer to the bunkhouses, Mark hung back, motioned to Chandler with a nod of his head so he’d do the same.

“Let’s rest the horses over by that stand of trees,” he suggested when they were alone, h
is eyes still fixed on the herd and its attendant cloud of dust.  The hands knew what they were doing; he was merely the driving force, and didn’t have to worry about what might happen when he was out of sight.  Chandler followed him to the low boughs of a spruce pine, where their horses began to nicker.  Mark swung out of the saddle and fed his horse, Rowdy, the handful of oats that he kept in his pocket.  “Thanks for coming out today,” he said appreciatively.  He ran both hands gently over Rowdy’s head and mane. 

Chandler rested his arms atop the saddle, smiled at Mark.  “It was no trouble.  I always have time for this.”  He laughed.  “I wonder what people would say if I boarded Midnight in town and rode him up and down the streets?” 

Mark tipped back the brim of his hat and grinned.  With a red handkerchief tied around his neck, he looked like an old-time bandit or marauder, but the healthy glow in his eyes betrayed such notions.  “They’d probably say, ‘Oh, there goes Chandler Adams, biggest show-off around these here parts’.”

“That sounds more like CJ than you,” Chandler surmised.  “So what would you say?”

“I’d say, ‘Look, there’s a man and his horse’.”  They smiled at one another.  “I know Christa’s really glad you brought Taylor out here with you today.  And not just because she agreed to watch the kids.”

Chandler looked his best friend smack dab in the eyes.  “There’s something unspoken in there, Jasper.  Spit it out.”

Mark smiled, slightly humbled. “I was just trying to determine how serious you are about Taylor before you go and get the whole family attached to her.”

“It’s only been a month,” Chandler reasoned in a quiet tone.  “And to answer your articulated question, we’re pretty serious, bud.  I
love her.” 

Mark arched his eyebrow with pronounced hilarity. “Do you love her more than your horse?”

“Yes,” Chandler replied.  He rubbed Midnight’s shoulder.  “A little bit, anyway.”  Mark mounted his horse, gathered up the reins, and they settled their animals at an easy trot.  “You know, if I was to get married, we wouldn’t have this free time to goof off.”

Mark burst out laughing.  “Free time, my ass.  Besides, look at how long I’ve been married, and we still see each other on a pretty regular basis.”

“You married my sister,” Chandler reminded him, as if he needed to.  “So you’re kind of stuck with me now.”

“Exactly the way I like it.”

They rode wordlessly back to the barn, removed the horses’ tack and gave them a rubdown before returning them to their stalls for the night.  Afterward they climbed into Mark’s truck and made their way toward his house.

“Listen, Mark,” Chandler began, then fell silent.

“I’m listening.”

“This is really premature, but if I did ask Taylor to marry me, you’d be the first to k
now.”

“Sounds good, bud.  I could even help you pick out the ring.”

Chandler laughed.  “I’d be okay with that.”  He looked toward the horizon, saw the cattle grazing.

“You’re really happy, Chandler,” Mark conjectured.  “I can see it all over your face.”

“I am,” he agreed.

***

“You’re sure you can’t stay for dinner?”  Christa was tossing salad ingredients together, concern evident in her eyes.  “There’s plenty to go around.”

“I’m sure,” Taylor replied, “but I appreciate the offer. 
I imagine Chandler will be eager to get back to town.”