Wrangling the Cowboy's Heart (13 page)

Finn glanced over his shoulder at the church, listening. Jodie was playing the piece again. It sounded better, but he knew she wasn't performing at her full potential.

“She'll be great,” he told his mother, praying it would be so. “I hope to see you there.” Then he took a reluctant step back, feeling as if he was abandoning Jodie and his mother both, and feeling more guilty about the former than the latter. “I have to go. I'll see you when I get back.”

Then, sending up a prayer for forgiveness, and support for Jodie, Finn got into his truck and drove away.

* * *

“Can we run through that one more time?” Mandie called out from her position behind the mic. “I'm not thrilled with how this is coming together. Let's just start from the top.”

Jodie nodded, swallowed down a bout of nerves as she shuffled through the sheet music to find her place. This was the second rehearsal, and it hadn't gone a whole lot better than the one yesterday. Tomorrow was the concert, and Jodie sensed Mandie's frustration with her.

This morning Finn had texted her a fun and encouraging message, and the good mood it had created carried her all the way here, until she saw Amy in her usual spot on the front bench. Every practice, the woman showed up, watching, judging, with waves of silent censure emanating from her.

Jodie wished Aunt Laura would come again. At least then she would feel she had someone on her side. But her aunt had stayed away today and Jodie was on her own.

It's about the music
, she told herself, placing her hands on the keys, taking in a deep breath.
Only the music is important
.

She wanted to do a good job. Make Finn proud of her. She wanted to be worthy of him. Her hands faltered and she hit a discordant note and stopped.

Even from here she heard Mandie's suppressed sigh. She knew the singer was being patient, but her frustration was showing.

I'm trying
, Jodie wanted to shout.
I'm trying to be the person you want me to be
.

“I think we should take a break,” Mandie said with a stilted smile.

“We have coffee and goodies in the hall,” Amy said, jumping to her feet. “I'll go get it ready.”

“Sounds fantastic,” the singer said, unhooking the cordless mic from her ears and setting it carefully on the table beside her music stand. “You coming?” she asked Jodie.

Jodie shook her head. “I want to go over this piece again.”

“Good idea.” Mandie gave her a tight nod, then left, her entourage trailing behind her, her succinct comment making Jodie feel even worse than she had before.

She sat at the piano, her heart clenching with a mixture of emotions. She missed Finn and she didn't like the feeling. Missing him filled her with doubts and uncertainties. Missing Finn meant he mattered, which meant his opinion of her mattered, which meant she was vulnerable.

It didn't help her flustered state of mind that every time she looked over at Amy she not only felt but saw the disapproval in her eyes.

Jodie shifted the music around, took a breath, closed her eyes and began playing again. She knew most of the pieces by heart; she'd been playing them every night, trying to get them exactly right.

The beautiful songs and lyrics touched her soul. So why couldn't she let those emotions sift into the music?

Because you're not good enough.

Jodie's fingers fumbled and again the jarring notes rang through the emptiness of the church.

“You need to relax.”

Aunt Laura's voice startled her and Jodie spun around, so incredibly thankful to see her that she felt like crying.

Her aunt sat down beside her and Jodie gave her a hug, clinging to her.

“Hey, honey, is everything okay?” she asked.

Jodie pulled in a wavering breath, about to tell her that yes, everything was fine. But she was tired of trying so hard.

“I feel so mixed up and confused.” The words tumbled out of her.

“Why is that?” Aunt Laura asked, her voice gentle, encouraging.

Jodie turned back to the piano, her emotions wound up so tightly she couldn't grasp one single thread.

“This used to come so easy,” she said with a sigh, carefully picking out the tune. “I would sit at the piano and let the music come out. It would just flow.”

Never mind that this often happened in a bar, as opposed to here, where she felt everyone watched, weighed and measured.

But she wasn't about to tell her aunt about that part of her life. Her dear aunt who never had anything stronger to drink than a double espresso.

“I feel like I'm grabbing at the notes, trying to push them into a box,” she said, her voice strangled. “They don't fit anymore and I'm trying so hard to make it work.”

“That's why it's not working. You can't relax when you're trying that hard,” Aunt Laura said. “Music has to flow from within you. Has to be an expression of who you are.”

And that's part of the problem, too
, Jodie thought. She didn't know who she was anymore. She couldn't go back to who she was before, but didn't know who she should be. Most of her decisions had been a reaction to her circumstances instead of deciding for herself what she wanted.

She felt as if she had been trying to edit herself, hoping people would find this version of her more acceptable than the real thing. And most of all, hoping Finn would find her more acceptable. Because since her conversation with Brooke, lingering behind Finn was the image of Denise. The perfect woman Finn had hoped to marry.

“Could it be you're missing Finn?” Aunt Laura said with a wink. “Should I call him and get him to come back right away?”

Jodie flushed, sensing a deeper question in her aunt's voice. But she wasn't about to bare her soul, only to be told, vaguely or directly, that she wasn't the one for him.

“No. I'll just have to muddle through this on my own.” She pulled in a breath, tinkling the keys absently. “I'm sure Mandie is wishing right about now that Finn's mother was playing instead of me.”

“Maybe. But that's the other reality. Christie isn't playing because she left her son in the lurch.”

“How well do you know Finn's mom? She wasn't around much whenever I was here.”

“I know her as well as anyone else in Saddlebank. She has always kept to herself. She left Finn alone far too much. She used to play for church, but would often not show up, which meant I had to cover for her.” Laura released a sigh that hinted at Christie Hicks's failings. “I also know much of what Finn does is a reaction to his mother's behavior. A way of showing the people of Saddlebank that his mom may not be dependable, but he is. That though she made bad choices, he doesn't.”

While her aunt talked, Jodie played a random melody, comparing her life with Finn's. It seemed neither of them had the best parents. The only difference was that the community was aware of Christie's failings.

“Do you think that's been part of the problem with me and my father?” Jodie asked.

Aunt Laura frowned. “What do you mean?”

She toyed with a few more notes, wondering how to broach the subject. “I sometimes think some of my choices were a reaction to what Dad did...how we got along.”

Aunt Laura touched some keys on the high octave of the piano while she seemed to look for the right thing to say. “I doubt any of our choices are purely ours. I think we are always reacting to what other people do to us. You and your father had a complicated relationship.”

“That's a diplomatic way to put it,” Jodie said. But the words came out harsher than she anticipated.

Her aunt frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn't matter.” She waved off her question.

“But it does. You know I care about you.”

Jodie did know. The last few years she'd summered in Saddlebank, when she came to the ranch without her sisters, her aunt always supported her.

But her thoughts ticked back to the many times she had hesitantly broached the subject of her father's treatment of her. And her aunt's puzzlement. Her veiled disbelief and the very tentative comments that maybe Jodie had brought some of her father's anger on herself with her behavior.

“I know Dad resented us being at the ranch,” she murmured. It was all she could say.

“I think he resented the way his life ended up,” Aunt Laura stated. “I don't think you know this, but your father had big plans. He wanted to join the marines. Leave Saddlebank. And then he met your mother and they got married, and shortly after that your sisters were born. Then you. Your mother had a hard time here. And they fought a lot.”

“I remember some fights,” Jodie said. “Was it all bad?”

“Oh, no. There were good moments.”

Jodie drew up her memory of ice cream in the park and smiled.

“Just not enough of them,” Aunt Laura continued. “After your mother died and you girls started coming here in the summers, I think he felt lost. He told me from time to time that he wasn't always sure what to do with you. Especially once you hit your teens.”

“Especially once I hit my teens,” Jodie added. “We butted heads a lot.”

“So you said.”

Once again Jodie felt a quiet dismissal of what she had endured, living with her father. The disbelief that she had written about in a song she'd been fooling with.

The song was a way of saying what no one would hear. A catharsis.

Aunt Laura picked up Jodie's hand, turning it so she could see the scar on the back. “He never said anything about how you got hurt, but I know it ate away at him that you missed your audition because of it. He knew what it meant to you.”

Her comment only added to Jodie's confusion.

“I had always hoped you would try again,” Aunt Laura said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apply again. Audition again.”

“That was my only chance,” Jodie said, unable to keep the defensive tone out of her voice.

“Was it?”

Aunt Laura let the question settle between them and Jodie didn't like the other questions it raised.

“Why don't you try this piece again,” her aunt prompted after a few seconds of silence, changing the subject. “I've heard you play many times. You have a gift that I feel you're stifling. Don't try to play the songs, try to play the music. Let the words soak in and inspire you, and let them come out in the music. Close your eyes. Close off your memories. Just be here and now. My dearest Jodie, playing a beautiful piece of music the way you know how. Stop trying to be who you think you should be. Just be Jodie.”

“Trouble is, I don't know who Jodie is anymore,” she said, sorrow plucking at her with every note she fingered on the keyboard. “Lately I feel as if I'm trying to be someone I'm not.”

“Is that why you're wearing this somber getup?” Aunt Laura asked. “Instead of the fun and exciting clothes you always wear?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, this isn't you, either. And I think you need to know how important it is to accept who you truly are and bring that to the music. Don't try to edit or stifle yourself, trying to put forth a version that you think everyone will like. Don't play for me. Or Finn. Or Amy. I want you to know that the gift you've been given comes from God. He's the one you should be playing for. No one else.”

“But it's Mandie's music,” Jodie protested.

“Yes. But she wrote it for God. To praise Him. And that's who you should play for.”

“Trouble is, I don't feel as though I'm worthy of Him, either.”

“None of us are,” Laura said. “That's what grace is all about. As C. S. Lewis says, ‘We don't believe God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us.' And that's what this song is about. God helping us as we stumble into grace. Making us weak humans good.”

Jodie placed her hands on the keyboard and found the tune, hesitantly at first, as if blindly feeling her way through a new piece. As if discovering this song anew. The notes took shape and form in her mind, and as she found the music, found the soul of it, she felt the same emotions she had the first time. The heartache, the hungering.

Jodie imagined her weary footsteps moving toward a God who wanted to make her good. And as she imagined His arms held out to her, the music pulled her toward Him, drawing them together.

She felt her aunt's arm around her shoulders and once again felt her unconditional love.

“It's not about you,” Aunt Laura said as Jodie played, letting the music pull her along. “It's about God and about using your gifts to serve Him. To give back to Him what He gave to you. Forget about the people and their expectations. Think of yourself as giving yourself to God. Just Jodie. As you are right now.”

Jodie breathed in, taking charge of the music and bringing herself into it. Bringing her experiences, her emotions, her needs and wants. And as she played she felt as if the music was finally freed.

“Just like that,” her aunt said. “Exactly like that.”

Jodie smiled, and it seemed not only was her aunt's arm around her shoulder, it was as if God held her closely, as well.

She wanted to accept it. To let God's love make her new.

She thought of Finn and all that might be if she made a choice to do better. To be better.

But did she dare put herself in that vulnerable position again?

Chapter Fourteen

“I
missed you,” Finn said. “I'm just pulling in to the ranch now. I'll be at the church as soon as possible.”

“I missed you, too,” Jodie said, pressing her phone to her ear as she sat down on the bed in her old room, unable to stop smiling at the sound of his voice. It frightened her how much she had missed him after spending such a short time with him.

Frightened and thrilled her.

“So I heard that Mandie was happy with how your practice went yesterday. Inspired, in fact.”

His comment underlined the enthusiasm she had heard from Mandie both in the second half of the rehearsal on Thursday and the dress rehearsal this morning. Somehow, Jodie had figured out how to blank Amy out and keep her mind on her music.

“I got some help from Aunt Laura.”

“What did she do?”

“Encouraged me to be myself.”

“Best person to be,” Finn said.

“Something else interesting happened last night.”

“Tell me,” he urged.

“When I thought everyone was gone, I was just fooling around, playing one of my compositions, and Mandie came back to get something she forgot. She heard me play and said she wanted to hear more.” Jodie stopped there, still not sure what to make of the singer's encouragement. In fact, Mandie wanted to add one of her songs to the concert.

“That's amazing. I'm so happy that someone else had a chance to see your talent.” Finn's excitement seemed to solidify the fragile dreams Jodie had harbored the nights she dared play her own music in the bars, knowing that most of the people wouldn't judge and didn't care. Dreams that somehow, somewhere, she could do more with this.

Could this be her opportunity?

“I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for that myself,” Finn continued, his enthusiasm making her feel whole. “I'm so glad I'll be seeing you in an hour or so. I've got some good news to share, too.”

And why did her heart start pounding against her chest at that?

“Sounds mysterious. Any hints?”

“It's about our...my future.”

She didn't think she imagined that slip of his tongue, but didn't dare press him on it.

A future? With her?

The thought made her heart beat faster with the same mixture of anticipation and fear she had just felt.

“But I gotta go,” Finn continued. “I promised Brooke I'd help her get everything set up. I'll see you soon.” His pause made her think he wanted to say something else. But he only said goodbye, then ended the call.

Jodie stayed on her bed, still holding the phone as if reluctant to break the connection with Finn. The chiming of a clock reminded her that she had to get going. She put on a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, redid her lipstick and gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror.

She had decided on a simple black dress that she had found in the thrift store in Saddlebank. She had cut off the sleeves, turning it into a basic shift. An elaborately embroidered scarf draped around her shoulders and held in place with a pin in the shape of a musical note was her individual stamp on the outfit.

She skimmed her hand over her dress, feeling a touch of disloyalty to her old self. She wanted to show Finn that she knew how to adjust. How to blend in.

Couldn't you just expect him to love the real you?

She felt a sudden jolt of fear.
The real me
. Who was that?

She shook her head and headed down the stairs. In the living room she gathered her music from the piano and tried to fit it into the envelope. But the worn envelope ripped, so she went into her father's office to find a new one.

Jodie opened drawers and cupboards, but couldn't find any. She glanced at the filing cabinet. She hadn't looked in there yet, unable to get past the idea that by doing so she would invade her father's last stronghold of privacy.

But she needed an envelope, and she found a stack in the lower drawer. She took one off the top.

Then was puzzled when she turned it over to put the sheet music inside. It had her name scribbled on it, but was empty. Puzzled, she turned to the other envelopes. Another one had her name on it, and her grandmother's address, but again, nothing inside. She went through the stack. Some had Erin's name, some Lauren's, all empty. Then, at the bottom of the pile, she found a fat, worn envelope. This one was full of papers.

Jodie pulled it out of the cabinet and took it to the kitchen, laying it on the island there.

Just as she did, she caught sight of the clock. Time to go.

She returned to the office, snatched an empty envelope and shoved her music inside. She'd look at the papers later.

* * *

Finn pulled into the church parking lot, glancing at the clock on the dashboard.

Half an hour until the concert started. He had enough time to give Jodie a little pep talk, help Brooke do some setup in the hall, and then he could relax and, hopefully, enjoy the concert.

He had spoken with his mother, encouraged her once again to come up to Saddlebank for the concert.

He had been going nonstop since he'd trailered the horse he had been training up to Great Falls. Finn had spent some time there with his client, going over some of the training he had done, making sure she was comfortable with the horse. Then, as soon as was polite, he'd hurried back to the ranch to drop off the trailer and clean up. But before he did that, he'd stopped at Dr. Wilkinson's and finalized the deal they had talked about over the phone on his way up to Great Falls.

He still couldn't believe he had done it. He was going to be the owner of a piece of property. His own ranch.

His head still spun, second thoughts chasing third thoughts.

You were going to do it eventually
, he reminded himself.

You ditched your ten-year plan
, another voice told him.

But somehow, this felt right. As if his life was falling into a good place.

He had almost told Jodie when he called her, but he wanted to say it in person. And now he was here with enough time to tell her, give her a pep talk and then relax and enjoy the concert.

He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, noticed a spot that he'd missed shaving, then laughed at himself. Jodie would have to take him as he was.

As he got out of the truck, he heard the muted notes of a piano. Jodie going over the music. His heart quickened,

As Finn walked toward the church, he saw his mother waiting for him just outside the door. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun. She wore a gray, flowing dress and pink cardigan.

“Hey, Mom. You came. Are you coming in?” he asked, holding his arm out to accompany her.

She bit her lip, looking from him to the entrance of the church, then shrugged. “Maybe. In a bit.”

He stifled a beat of annoyance at her hesitancy. He was so sure she would come.

“I just need a few moments,” she said, twisting her hands around each other.

Finn wanted to give them to her, but he was anxious to see Jodie. He fought down the urgency that grabbed at him. The obligations waiting.

He sensed his mom had something she wanted to tell him. Experience had taught him to give her time to formulate either her excuses or another apology, or any other reason she couldn't do whatever she had promised she would do.

“Do you need to tell me something?” he prompted.

She nodded. “Yes. Yes I do.” A bit more hand fiddling and then she shot him an apologetic look. “You need to know that I've been trying to change things in my life. I wanted to tell you the last time I was here. I didn't dare.”

Finn kept quiet, thinking of the fact that Jodie was now playing a concert his mother was supposed to, but had suddenly quit.

She took a breath and looked up at him. “I've been seeing a counselor.”

Finn just stared at her. This was not what he expected.

“Really. Why?” Though as soon as he spoke the question he knew he could safely assume it had something to do with her unreliability. “Does this have to do with Dad's death?”

It wasn't until Denise died that he understood, to a small degree, what his mother must have gone through. The loss, the grieving. But he had been grieving, too. And he knew that his disappointments with her were older than that. Her absences were common. They just got worse after his father died.

“Partly.” She swallowed, her slender fingers, still wearing her wedding ring, worrying at the hem of her sweater. She pulled in another breath. “When I canceled on this concert, I knew I had to do something about my...my problem. I knew I couldn't handle it on my own anymore. So I started seeing a counselor.” She looked up at him now, her expression holding a plea for understanding. “I've been struggling with depression all my life. I managed to keep it from you. Your father had an idea, but he was of the ‘ignore it and it will go away' camp. We never had...had the best relationship, but he was a good man. I just wasn't the wife he had hoped I would be. I wanted to go to your school plays and baseball games and all the rest. And each time, I promised myself I would, yet when the time actually came...I couldn't. I just couldn't.” She looked as if she was about to apologize again, but stopped herself. “It was the depression. That's why I never got as far with my music as I should have. I would freeze up when opportunities came along. I never knew when it would happen. I thought I would be able to do this concert, but I was afraid that I would be able to do the rehearsals and then fail you when the time came for the actual performance.”

“You've been struggling with depression?” Finn tried to absorb this. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?” As soon as he spoke the words, he regretted them.

Too much going on
, he told himself. Jodie. The concert. Buying the ranch. It made his head tired.

“It would have made such a difference if I had known,” he continued. “Why did you keep this a secret from me?”

“I was ashamed to tell you.” She gave him a wavering smile that he knew far too well.

Please forgive me
, it begged.

He dragged his hand over his face and exhaled, as if trying to find his center in this place his mother had brought him with her confession.

Depression. It explained so much.

A flash of anger gripped him at his mother's...deception? Could he call it that?

If he had known, would he have been so condemning of her?

Guilt mingled with frustration flowed through him.

“You should have told me sooner,” he said quietly.

A few more vehicles pulled into the parking lot. People were starting to arrive. The music from the auditorium had quit. He had to get going. Brooke was waiting.

And more important, Jodie.

“Let's go inside,” he said. “We can talk more later.”

His mother's expression told him that, once again, she was going to disappoint him. “I have to leave after the performance.”

Of course she did.

“Well, come into the hall and enjoy the concert. Jodie is an amazing pianist,” he said.

Christie took his arm, nodding. “I'm glad she got the opportunity. I always thought she had a lot of promise.”

Finn nodded as they walked into the church together.

And he was surprised how nice it felt.

* * *

Finn sat back, awash in satisfaction as Mandie's voice reverberated through the auditorium. Weaving in and around it were the notes of the piano, enhancing, building.

Jodie sat at the keyboard, looking transfixed as her fingers unerringly found the song, putting herself into the music. She had worn her hair loose tonight, flowing over the shoulders of her simple black dress, the pin holding her flamboyant scarf flashing in the overhead lights. The plain dress surprised him, but the scarf and pin were pure Jodie.

Mandie's backup singers and the guitar and drums accompanying her were a mere footnote to what happened between Jodie and Mandie. They played off each other, the piano notes and the singer's voice entwined, as if one.

Then, her expression rapt, Mandie raised her hands as she delivered the last bars of the final number, singing her song of praise to God. Jodie played a final crescendo, then faded away, leaving Mandie's clear voice to hold the last of the melody.

Utter silence followed, and then people surged to their feet, applauding wildly.

Finn joined them, his mother beside him, clapping as loudly as everyone else. Finn couldn't stop smiling as Mandie took a bow. Then another. And then reached out for Jodie to come and join her. Jodie got up from the piano and walked to her side, and holding hands, they bowed.

Finn was so proud. Jodie's smile was broad, open, natural. And then her eyes wandered over the gathering, as if looking for him. If anything, her smile widened.

Finn wanted to hold on to this moment. The connection between him and Jodie, the satisfaction of the success of the concert. The joy of the music.

It all came together in the same perfect harmony that he had just witnessed between Jodie and Mandie.

In that moment he was thankful his mother hadn't played. He shot her a glance, surprised to see the genuine joy on her face. Then felt a surprising peace and contentment.

Though he was frustrated with his mother's delay in telling him about her struggles, he was glad she finally had been honest with him. It explained so much.

Slowly the applause died down, and Mandie once again thanked everyone for coming, reminding them of the refreshments waiting in the hall.

Finn turned to his mother. “Are you coming with me? I want to say hi to Jodie.”

But he saw from the way Christie fiddled with her fingers that it wasn't happening.

Though she had explained why, he still couldn't understand what she dealt with.

“I should go,” she said. “I'll call you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Bozeman.”

“Will you be returning soon? I don't want you to drop out of my life again. I just bought Doc Wilkinson's place, and I want you to come visit me.”