A McKaslin Homecoming. Jillian Hart
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wheedle money out of Mary? Lauren swallowed hard against the memories that settled like a boulder in her throat. She may have been very young, but she remembered many of mom’s phone calls and how she’d behaved. It all made sense now. Is that the kind of person she seemed like to Mary, someone like her mother?
She looked again at her mother’s face, young and unlined, sun browned, even back then, to a shocking shade. The striking woman in the pretty blue dress that matched the light shade of her eyes and her hair in a sleek bob resembled her mom. But Lauren didn’t know this woman. The mother she knew never would have been anything like the calm, cheerful-looking woman in the photograph.
Lauren felt even more alone, a stranger to herself.
Her grandmother broke the silence. “I’m terribly glad you’re home now. I’d best go put the potatoes on. You must be hungry.”
Lauren’s heart stood still. She saw the older woman to the door and waited a moment to close it so she could memorize her grandmother’s figure—her natural poise, straight spine, her slenderness and elegance. Mary walked through the little picket gate, where an arbor thick with red roses arched overhead, and then disappeared from view.
This was not what she’d been expecting. Boy, talk about being out of her comfort zone. Lauren closed the door and leaned against it. She was just tired, that’s why she felt so fragile. She blinked back the rising tears in her eyes. She’d come to find the truth. She had a feeling the truth was something she wasn’t going to like.
Still, it was hard not to adore her grandmother. She seemed like the nicest person. She’d come thinking, at best, she would meet this lady. And now she had to wonder if there was a chance finally to have a real family tie. Or was this welcome simply to satisfy curiosity? A meeting and then that was all. Her grandmother would see her granddaughter all grown up, and she would have answers.
Tucking away her hopes, Lauren went in search of her bags, which she found on a little cedar chest at the foot of the quilt-covered bed. The bedroom was sweet with tiny rosebud wallpaper softening the walls. White ruffled curtains framing a large bay window seat rippled in the wind.
The view was stunning. Jagging mountains dominated the horizon, and the sky was the bluest she’d ever seen. Deep greens of trees and the neat rows of a garden gave way to white fencing beyond. And, she realized, as she eased onto the window seat’s plump cushion, to Caleb.
Tucked in the shade of the stable, he was brushing the white horse. He hadn’t noticed her and she didn’t seem able to look away. There was something about him that felt as calming to her as the gentle breeze through the open window. It wasn’t every day a girl got to round up runaway horses with a handsome—and kind—cowboy. It was a new experience for her. She couldn’t help wondering about her brother and sisters in the family photograph. This was probably the way they’d grown up, with visits here and adventures on those horses and family meals made with vegetables grown in the garden.
Her grandmother’s words replayed in her mind. Don’t think because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that wouldn’t be true.
Those words had meant a lot. For the first time in her life, the haze of unhappiness from her childhood felt far away and she could see clearly. The meeting with her grandmother had gone well—her initial worries were over. Now, there was the rest of the family to meet—tomorrow. For now, she was grateful to have the time to get to know Mary.
She checked the time on the way out the door. She wanted to make sure she helped her grandmother in the kitchen. Rose-scented air greeted her as she skipped down the steps. Caleb’s baritone carried on the hot wind. He was calling her name. Still brushing the white horse’s sleek coat, he flashed his dimpled grin. He raised a hand, gesturing her over.
He was a kind man and hard not to like. So she headed his way through the fragrant flower garden ripe with full blooms of colorful roses then along the edge of the vegetable garden.
He came up to the fence, his Stetson shading his granite features. “Things look like they’re goin’ pretty well.”
“Better than I’d let myself hope.”
“You must have awful low hopes as a general rule. You said you talked to Mary on the phone. You had to suspect she’d be as nice in person.”
“Yes, but you just never know how things are going to turn out.”
“You’ve got a smile on your face. That about says it all.”
She shrugged, not wanting to talk about her feelings. She was a private person, Caleb got that. He was pretty private himself. Her gaze went behind him to the mare standing in the shade of the horse barn. There was a look of wistfulness there. “I hope they don’t get out again. What if you hadn’t been around to catch them?”
“Ah, but you see, that’s the fun part of the game for Malia. She wants me to know she can get out any old time she wants. But what she really wants is for me to chase her. She loves to run. And to win.”
“I see. You indulge her by letting her outrun the pickup.”
“Now, don’t you let her hear that, or it’s gonna make her cranky.” Caleb checked over his shoulder at the mare who’d pricked her ears and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t let her fool you. She understands English about as well as I do. Maybe better, since she’s got nothing more to do than to stand around all day pondering it.”
That made Lauren smile. “You seem to know her pretty well. I hear from my grandmother that she’s known you all of your life.”
“That about sums it up. My family has known hers for generations. I spent summers out here, until my grandparents downsized to a small house in town and I bought the place from them. I keep an eye on Mary’s place, take care of her horses, that kind of thing. I keep my own horse here, he likes the company. You’ve already met him. Here he comes.”
The brown and white paint pushed up to the fence, sniffing the air in hopes for any kind of treat. He pressed right up against the fence and reached over it with his long neck.
“I’m used to horses on television.” Lauren took one step back. “I didn’t know they were so big in real life.”
“They look even bigger when you’re on one of ’em, looking down.”
“I believe you.”
She wasn’t scared, he realized as she hung back, just uncertain. His fiancée, Jayna, had been petrified of horses, and that had been a problem. One of many that had been impossible to overcome. He ran a hand down his boy’s neck. “Hey, you big lug, listen up and use your manners for the lady. Stop nosing around for food, Leo.”
Leo took exception to that and gave a head toss, his silky brown mane rippling handsomely. A charmer from the day he was foaled, the gelding preened, arching his neck for the lady watching him. The horse was determined to impress her.
It seemed to work, although by the instant adoration in her eyes, clearly Lauren was softhearted. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Sure, and he knows it, too. Look at him showing off. He’s winking at you.”
“He’s cheeky. You taught him that, didn’t you?”
“Sure did. I suppose there weren’t horses where you grew up.”
“The kind on the merry-go-round. As a little girl, I always wanted a horse. I read every book with a horse in it. Watched everything I could find on TV. It was just a phase, I guess.”
“It’s a phase I never grew out of.”
“It must be nice.”
That made him wonder about her life and what she thought of him. There was a polish to her that made him guess she was right at home among skyscrapers and jam-packed streets and people everywhere. He was country through and through, but he understood. He’d liked living in Seattle, even if he’d felt hemmed in now and then.
Her