A McKaslin Homecoming. Jillian Hart
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way she moved, like the sunlight itself, with an unconscious poise that made her seem completely out of place in the rugged rural countryside of central Montana. His chest ached a little, but he couldn’t say why. Only that he couldn’t seem to look away as she reached up to stroke Leo’s nose. The gelding leaned into Lauren’s touch, as if he’d already made up his mind about the newcomer.
Yeah, that’s what he thought, too. Caleb tried to clear the ache out of his chest with a good deep breath of warm summer air, but it didn’t work.
“Well,” she said as she took a step back. “If I want to help with dinner, I’d best get going.”
Maybe it was the longing look as she gazed at the horse or simply his curiosity about her, but the words tumbled across his tongue before he could stop them. “Come meet me out here tomorrow morning and I’ll take you riding with me.”
“I’d love that, but there’s one problem.”
“Let me guess. You don’t know how to ride.”
“Yes, and it’s a rather huge problem.”
“Nope. I can teach you to ride in five minutes.”
“That’s a fib. Flaw number one.” Why wasn’t she surprised? Lauren kept backing away, because it was safer. Even a man as awesome as Caleb Stone had his flaws. “I know it takes more than five minutes to learn to ride. All those horse books and movies, remember?”
“Well, I didn’t say you’d ride like an expert, but in five minutes I can have you on the back of a horse riding around the corral.”
“Overconfidence. Flaw number two.”
“Hey, are you keeping count or something?”
“Me? Of course not. It’s habit, that’s all.” Maybe it was better to escape while she could, before she had to explain that. But maybe—down deep—she wanted to get away before she thought too much. She couldn’t let herself think that he was as great as he seemed, as she seemed to want him to be.
So she left the man with his horse awash in sunlight. And tried to turn her thoughts to other things as she hurried back to the path. She didn’t look back, although she could feel him watching after her, even when she’d disappeared around the garden patch and hurried out of his sight.
She climbed the porch steps, wondering if there was a man on earth a woman could truly depend on? She sure hoped so. But people let you down. Especially men. That was a proven fact in life—both in hers and in her mother’s.
Although the kitchen door was open, the screen door was closed. The mesh screen offered a view into the big sunny room with kettles boiling on the stove and a table scooted up to the wide picture window. Touches of lace were everywhere—delicate and handmade and frilly, they graced the windows, lay across the honeyed wood of the table and framed the snapshots on the walls. The room was like something out of an old television show as safe and as welcoming as home should be.
Lauren rapped her knuckles gently on the wooden frame of the screen door.
Mary peered around the inside archway. “Lauren. Come in, dear. I couldn’t help noticing you were talking to Caleb. He’s a very nice boy, don’t you think?”
Uh oh. Here it came. Lauren closed the screen door behind her, wincing at the look of hope shining on her grandmother’s sweet face. “Yes, Caleb seems very nice, but he’s not my type.”
“Really? You mean you’re not looking for a responsible, dependable, kind, smart man with old-fashioned values?” A challenge sparkled in Mary’s gentle smile.
“Sorry, I’m not looking for that. Not at all.” Lauren hoped she was able to cover up her real emotions, feelings that were too complicated to get into. “I’m more of a solo kind of girl.”
“That’s too bad you feel that way. My marriage was one of the greatest blessings of my life.” Mary’s smile changed and the look in her eyes did, too. “Being his wife, sharing his life, why, it was the greatest privilege.”
That was something Lauren couldn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone so much or letting anyone get that close. She held back her reasons why: the up-and-down relationships of her mother’s; the short and stormy marriages; the quest for the next husband, none of whom could possibly have been described as a blessing.
“I don’t really want to be a wife.” It was the closest thing to the truth she could say, the only thing that was easy. Everything else was too personal. Too painful. She hadn’t come all this way to share that with her grandmother.
“Don’t want to be a wife?” Mary looked truly confused. “Whatever do you mean? You don’t want a husband? A family? Love in your life?”
What did she say to a woman whose life was as removed from her reality as a fifties sitcom? “I’m happy with the way things are right now.”
“I see.” Mary studied Lauren for a long silent moment and in the stillness between them, the evening light shone a deep-hued rose. The room was painted by it; Mary seemed transformed by it.
Lauren could see the windows awash with the tone, the entire sky beyond a translucent turquoise and the clouds a neon pink. It was unreal, like a filter over a camera’s lens changing the hues of the world. That’s what it was like. The streaks of last light fractured as the sun lowered beneath the craggy rugged mountain peaks. The neon pink remained, lighting the underbellies of the long stretch of clouds. The sky turned a navy-purple tone, darkening as the moments passed.
“I’ll leave well enough alone, then,” Mary said as twilight deepened in the room. “You can’t blame a grandmother for hoping. I want all my grandchildren married and settled and happy in life.”
Lauren knew that Mary meant well. Maybe if she’d grown up here in the gentle shadow of the breathtaking Rocky Mountains with the love of this sunny, kind woman, she would be different. More trusting. Looking for love and marriage and happily-ever-after like a heroine in a romantic movie. It was a nice thought.
“It’s just that Caleb has just come out of a bad breakup.” Mary traced a finger over the words on the cover of a photo album. “He’s a good man and he deserves to find the right young woman. Someone nice.”
“Wait, you hardly know me. How do you know I’m nice?” She’d meant it to lighten the mood, but Mary’s face fell.
“My dear, why of course I know you.” Mary stood, coming after her, with her hands held out. “I’ve loved you forever.”
Mary brushed her free hand over the wisps of Lauren’s hair and tucked them behind her ear, as one would do to a small child. “I hope that you and I can get to know each other well before you head back to your life. I want you to find what you’ve come for.”
Pain jerked through the core of her being. “I haven’t come for anything. I’m not like my mother. I vowed long ago not to be like her. You don’t know that, I know, but it’s true. I didn’t come here to get something.”
“Oh, yes you did,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And it’s what I need, too. God bless you for coming when I asked. Forgive me, but it’s getting late and my old bones are tired. Thank you for coming all this way. I wanted to meet you while I can remember.”
This she said with a smile. Shadows clung beneath her vibrant eyes and cut deep brackets around her mouth. In this light, it would be easy to believe Mary wasn’t well. Affection for this dear lady warmed Lauren through, but she also felt concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, dear. I’m as right as rain. But I’m not getting any younger.” Mary turned to the stove to check on the boiling kettles. She poked a fork into a potato inside one of the pots. “I guess none of us are. I gathered up a few family photo albums. They’re on the edge of the counter, right by the table. You missed so many good years, maybe this will help you understand when you meet your brother and sisters tomorrow.”
Okay,