Heart of Texas Volume 2: Caroline's Child

Long tables at the far end of the hall were heaped with a variety of some of the best home cooking in Texas. Main courses, salads, desserts. Once the food had been readied, Wade led the assembled families in grace, then stayed out of the way while the women’s group got the buffet lines going. His role in all this was to make sure dinner went smoothly and everyone had what he or she needed.

“In my opinion,” Louise Powell said, pulling Wade aside, “Savannah Smith’s teriyaki salad with chicken should be considered a main course and not a salad. It’s misleading for those of us who’re watching our weight to be tempted with salads that under normal circumstances would be considered a main course.”

Louise and her friend Tammy Lee Kollenborn had been a trial to Wade from the start, but he wasn’t alone in his struggles with these two women. Heaven help him if he inadvertently crossed either of them.

“I’m afraid I’m the one to blame for that,” Wade explained, attempting to sound apologetic. “Savannah put it on the table with the main courses, and I suggested that since it was technically a salad, it belonged there.”

“I see,” Louise said and tightly pinched her lips together, letting him know she disapproved.

“I’ll make sure I don’t make that mistake again,” he said. “Perhaps next year you’d volunteer to help the women’s group set up the hall. I’m sure they’d appreciate your advice on such important matters as what should and shouldn’t be considered a salad.”

“I’ll do that,” she said with a tinge of self-righteousness. She patted his hand and excused herself to return to her husband.

The buffet line had dwindled down to only a few stragglers, and rather than become embroiled in any more culinary controversies, Wade reached for a plate and a set of silverware, then stepped to the end of the line.

He scanned the group, looking for an empty seat. The circular tables seated eight, perfect for accommodating four couples. The Royal Heirs, the seniors’ social group, occupied four of those tables. No space there.

Ellie Frasier and Glen Patterson sat in a corner of the large bustling hall with their friends. There were a few empty spaces, but their table would fill up soon. He enjoyed Ellie and Glen and was counseling them before their wedding. They’d been in for three sessions now, and he had a strong feeling they were well suited. Their marriage would be a good one, built on a foundation of friendship.

Savannah and Laredo Smith were sitting next to Ellie and Glen. Now, there were two he’d never suspected would be right for each other. Savannah was a gentle soul, a special woman who’d touched his heart. Laredo had drifted into town; somehow he and Savannah had been drawn together. Love had changed them both, Savannah especially. Looking at them now, just a short time after their wedding, it was difficult to remember that they’d been together only months rather than years.

Frank Hennessey, the town sheriff, got in line behind Wade. “This is a great spread, isn’t it, Rev?”

“As I’ve said more than once,” Wade reminded the other man, “Promise Christian has some of the best cooks in the state of Texas.”

“Amen to that.” Frank handed Dovie Boyd a plate before reaching for one himself. Both close to retirement age, the two had been seeing each other for as long as Wade had served the community, but apparently didn’t have plans to marry. Wade had never questioned them about their relationship. That was their business, not his. He was fond of Frank and Dovie. He found their company delightful and was happy to let Dovie spoil him with a home-cooked meal every now and then. The woman was a wonder with apple pie.

One of Nell Bishop’s children raced across the room, and Wade’s spirits lifted. He’d sit with Nell, he decided. The widow might feel like odd man out, being there without a date, and since he was alone himself, well, it would work nicely. Nell was a safe dinner companion; everyone knew she wasn’t interested in remarriage. If Wade chose to dine with one of the single ladies, some women in the congregation, Louise Powell and Tammy Lee Kollenborn in particular, were sure to read it as a sign of incipient romance.

So Nell was the perfect choice. No pressures there. Not only that, he had a great deal of respect and affection for her family. He’d enjoy spending the evening with them.

But Nell was sitting with her mother-in-law and their table was full.

Wade had to admit he felt lonely. Everyone present seemed to be part of a couple, and those who were single had found partners. Even Grady Weston had a date, and frankly, Wade was pleased with his choice. He’d long admired Caroline Daniels; she and Grady seemed right together, a thought that had occurred to him more than once since Savannah’s wedding.

Not until Wade was at the end of the dessert table did he spot the ideal location. He smiled, amused that the vacant seat was at the very table he’d considered moments earlier. The empty spot was next to Cal Patterson. Wade got along just fine with the rancher, although the man had a reputation for being prickly. Cal sat with his brother Glen, but Glen wasn’t paying him any heed. The younger Patterson’s concentration was held by Ellie, and rightly so.

“Mind if I join you?” Wade asked Cal.

“Mind?” Cal muttered, sliding his chair over to give Wade ample room. “I’d be grateful.”

“This is a great way to celebrate the church’s birthday, isn’t it?” Wade asked, digging into his food with gusto. He never ate better than at church dinners.

“Growing up, I can remember looking forward to the third Saturday in July,” Cal said. “My mom made her special baked beans every year. Still does. Apparently the recipe’s been handed down from one generation to the next for at least a hundred years. If I remember right, it originally came from back East.”

Wade took a forkful of the baked beans and nodded approvingly. “Mmm.” He chewed slowly, savoring every morsel. “There’s a lot to be said for tradition, especially when it tastes this good.”

“She only bakes ’em once a year and it’s always for the church.” Having cleaned his own plate, Cal pushed back his chair and folded his arms. Wade’s gaze followed Cal’s. Grady and Caroline stood in the dessert line with Savannah and Laredo. The four were engaged in conversation and appeared to be enjoying themselves.

“Grady and Caroline make a handsome couple, don’t they?” Wade asked, testing the waters with the older Patterson brother. This couldn’t be easy on him, especially after Cal’s own unfortunate experience a few years earlier. His wedding had been canceled just two days before the ceremony. Cal had taken the brunt of the embarrassment when his fiancée abruptly left town.

Wade and Cal had shared some serious discussions afterward and bonded as friends. But Cal hadn’t mentioned Jennifer’s name, not in all the time since. The subject of marriage appeared to be taboo, as well. More than once Wade had been tempted to remind Cal not to judge all women by Jennifer’s actions. It might be a cliché, but time really was a great healer. When Cal was ready, Wade believed he’d date again.

“It’s about time Grady opened his eyes,” Cal said, grinning.

“About Caroline?”

“Yeah. Those two have been circling each other for a year, maybe more. If one of ’em didn’t make a move soon, I was going to rope ’em together myself.”

Wade chuckled, enjoying the image.

“Seems that every time Grady gets close to making a move, something happens and he takes off like a jackrabbit.”

Little Maggie Daniels raced past at that moment, and Wade caught her about the waist to keep her from colliding with Nell Bishop’s son. “Whoa there,” he said, laughing. “What’s the big hurry?”

Maggie covered her mouth and giggled. “Petey was chasing me.”

“Be careful, understand?”

Maggie bobbed her head, and Wade pointed to the corsage on her wrist. “Who gave you flowers?”

“Grady,” Maggie answered with such pride her entire face lit up. Her eyes fell to the pink and white carnations on her wrist. “He yells sometimes.”

“Does it bother you?”

Maggie had to think about that a moment before she shrugged. “He bought Mommy flowers, too. She was surprised and so was I, and when Mommy asked him why, he said it was ’cause we’re special.”

“You are very special.” Wade smiled.

Maggie’s return smile revealed two missing front teeth. “Mommy likes him,” she said, and Wade had the feeling that she’d decided perhaps Grady wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.

Petey Bush approached. “Wanna hold hands?” the six-year-old boy asked.

Maggie looked to Wade for permission. “I think it’ll be all right,” he advised.

She nodded solemnly and the two children strolled off hand in hand.

“It’s a sorry day when five- and six-year-olds have an easier time getting a date than we do, don’t you think?” Cal asked him.

A sorry day indeed, Wade mused.

* * *

CAROLINE HAD a wonderful time at the dinner. A perfectly wonderful time, she reflected as they walked out to Grady’s truck. Everything about the evening had been like a dream. Not once had she exchanged a cross word with Grady. Not once had they disagreed. Not once had he yelled at Maggie. There just might be hope for them.

Maggie, worn-out from the evening’s activities, fell asleep between them in the truck. She slumped against Caroline, her head in her mother’s lap. When Grady pulled up in front of the house, she was still asleep. It seemed a shame to disturb her.

Grady must have thought the same thing, because he turned off the engine and made no move to get out of the truck. The only light available was from a quarter moon set crookedly in the dark Texas sky.

Night settled about them. Neither one of them spoke. For her own part, Caroline wanted the evening to last as long as possible. If it never ended, that was fine with her.

“I had a lovely time,” she finally whispered.

“Me, too.”

She assumed he’d open the truck door then and was pleased when he didn’t.

“It was sweet of you to bring Maggie and me flowers.”

“It was the only way I could tell you how much—” He halted midsentence.

“How much…?” she prodded.

“I like you both,” he finished.

“Do you, Grady?” she asked, her voice low.

“Very much.” He brought his hand to the side of her face, and Caroline closed her eyes, delighting in the feel of his callused palm against her cheek. Smiling to herself at how far they’d come, she leaned into his hand.

“Do you think it’d wake Maggie if I kissed you?” he asked, whispering.

Caroline didn’t know, but she was prepared to risk it. “I’m game if you are.”

Still Grady hesitated. “This is the first time Maggie’s been willing to have anything to do with me. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“If you don’t kiss me now, Grady, I swear I’ll never forgive you!”

He laughed softly and without further delay took her face between his hands. Once again Caroline shut her eyes, just for a moment, treasuring these rare moments of intimacy.

Slowly Grady bent toward her and she angled her head to accommodate his movement. His mouth was so close to hers. So close she could feel his breath against her skin. So close she could sense his longing—and admit her own. Yet he hesitated, as did she.

Caroline realized—and she suspected that Grady did, too—that everything between them would be forever changed if they proceeded with this kiss. It was more than an ordinary kiss. It was a meeting of two hearts, an admission of vulnerability and openness.

Caroline wasn’t sure who moved first, but chose to think of what followed as a mutual decision. An inexorable drawing together.

The kiss was gentle, almost tentative. His hand drifted to the back of her neck, urging her forward.

Grady kissed her again, and this time his mouth was more demanding, more insistent. Within only a few seconds, Caroline felt as though she’d experienced every possible emotion. When he released her, his breath was ragged.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Rather than let him ruin everything with an apology, she kissed the corner of his mouth.

Maggie stirred and they both froze. Caroline prayed her daughter wouldn’t awake, wouldn’t unconsciously end these precious moments with Grady.

“Is she asleep?” he asked, speaking so quietly she had to strain to hear. His voice was more breath than sound.

“Yes…”

They waited breathlessly. When it seemed he wasn’t going to kiss her again, Caroline took the initiative and leaned toward him. The strength of their attraction stunned her. It was as though they couldn’t get close enough. Their mouths twisted and strained in a passionate desperate kiss, but that lasted only a moment.

Then sanity returned. Reluctantly they eased away from each other. Grady rested his shoulders against the seat cushion, tilted back his head and sighed deeply.

Caroline swallowed. “I’d better get Maggie inside,” she whispered.

“Right.” When he opened his door, the light blinded Caroline and she was grateful when he immediately closed it, making the least noise possible.

Coming around to her side, he opened the door, helped her out and then reached for Maggie, carrying her toward the house. Caroline had expected to carry Maggie herself. She’d always done so; she was accustomed to it. Grady’s action brought to life a complexity of feelings—gratitude, relief, even a slight sense of loss.

“You get the door,” Grady said.

Caroline unlocked the door. With only a night-light to guide them, she led him to Maggie’s bedroom at the rear of the house. She folded back the covers on the bed and Grady carefully set the little girl down. Caroline removed her daughter’s shoes and put them aside.

Grady smoothed the hair from Maggie’s brow, touched his fingertips to his lips and pressed his hand to the little girl’s brow. The gesture was so loving, so fatherly, that Caroline had to turn away.

Grady followed her into the darkened hallway. She continued to the front door. She didn’t want him to leave but dared not ask him to stay.

“Thank you again,” she whispered. “For everything.” The front door remained open and light spilled in from the porch.

Grady didn’t move.

Slowly she raised her eyes to his. The invitation was there, and it was simply beyond her to refuse him. He held his arms open. Less than four steps separated them, but she literally ran into his embrace. He caught her about the waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed again with an urgency that left her weak, an urgency that drained her of all thoughts save one—the unexpected wonder and joy she’d discovered in his arms.

Until that night, Caroline hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been, how long the nights could be. In Grady’s arms she felt whole and needed and beautiful.

When the kiss ended, she buried her face in his neck.

“I could hold you forever,” he whispered.

“I could let you.” She felt his smile.

“Don’t tempt me more than I already am,” he warned.

It was heaven knowing he found her attractive. He held her close while she struggled to regain her composure. Caroline was grateful for those few quiet moments before he slowly released her.

He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I want to see you again.”

“Yes.” It didn’t matter when or where.

“Soon.”

She was almost giddy with the wonder of what was happening. “Please.”

He smiled and, as though he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again.

Their kissing only seemed to get better and better. “Why did it take you so long?” she asked when she’d recovered enough to speak.

“Because I’m a pigheaded fool.”

“I am, too.” No need denying it. She was as much at fault as Grady.

“No more.”

“No more,” she echoed.

“Tomorrow,” he suggested. “I can’t wait any longer than that to see you again.”

“Okay. When? Where?”

“Can you come out to the ranch?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll come after church.”

“Wonderful,” he whispered and kissed the tip of her nose. “Perfect.”

She slipped her arms around his middle. “Oh, Grady, is this really happening or am I dreaming?”

“Nothing gets more real than the way you make me feel.”

She smiled. Never would she have believed that Grady Weston was a romantic.

“About Maggie…”

He stiffened, and she stopped him by pressing her index finger against his lips. “Don’t worry about her. Everything will work out.”

“I don’t mean to frighten her.”

“I know.”

“Did she like the flowers?”

Caroline kissed the underside of his jaw. “Very much.”

“Did you?”

“More than I can say.” She trailed kisses toward his ear and reveled in the way his body shuddered against hers when she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth.

“Caroline,” he breathed. “You’re making this impossible.”

“Do I really tempt you?”

“Yes.” His voice was low but harsh. “You don’t have a clue.”

Actually she did. “Kiss me one more time and then you can leave.”

He hesitated, then gently captured her face between his hands and angled his mouth toward hers. The kiss, while one of need, was also one of elation, of shared joy. All this time they’d wasted, all the time they’d let pride and fear and doubt stand between them.

Caroline needed him and he needed her. Savannah, a woman with real insight into people, had tried to tell her that. And Caroline knew she’d tried to convince Grady, too. She was aware of Savannah’s matchmaking efforts because her friend had told her; she was also aware that Savannah had been frustrated by one setback after another.

Caroline supposed she was as responsible for those setbacks as Grady. She’d always been attracted to him, but felt confused, unprepared. She’d been hurt terribly once and with that pain had come fear. For years she’d been afraid to love again. To trust again.

Deep within her, she recognized that Grady would never abandon her. Not Grady. He was as solid as a rock.

His final kiss was deep and long.

It took a moment for Maggie’s voice to break through the fog of her desire.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Grady groaned and reluctantly let Caroline go.

She turned to find Maggie standing in the dim light, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Maggie ignored the question and, instead, glared at Grady. “What are you doing to my mommy?” she demanded.

4

SUNDAY MORNING WAS THE ONE DAY OF THE week Jane Dickinson—Dr. Jane Dickinson, she reminded herself—could sleep in. Yet it was barely six and she was wide awake. Tossing aside the sheet, she threw on her robe and wandered barefoot into the kitchen.

“Texas,” she muttered. Who would’ve believed when she signed up for this that she’d end up in the great state of Texas? The hill country was about as far as anyone could get from the bustling activity of Los Angeles.

Jane had tried to make a go of life in small-town America, but she was completely and utterly miserable. In three months she hadn’t managed to make a single friend. Sure, there were lots of acquaintances, but no real friends. Never in her life had she missed her friends and family more, and all because of money. She’d entered into this agreement with the federal government in order to reduce her debts—three years in Promise, Texas, and her medical-school loans would be paid off.

Maybe she should just admit she’d made a mistake, pack her bags and hightail it out of this godforsaken town. But even as the thought entered her mind, Jane realized that wasn’t what she wanted. What she wanted was to find some way to connect with these people, to become part of this tight-knit community.

The residents of Promise seemed willing enough to acknowledge that she was a competent physician specializing in family practice. But they came to see her only when they absolutely had to—for prescription renewals, a bad cough or sprain that couldn’t be treated at home. Jane’s one major fault was that she wasn’t Dr. Cummings. The man had retired in his seventies after serving the community for nearly fifty years. The people of Promise knew and trusted him. She, on the other hand, was considered an outsider and, worse, some kind of Valley Girl or frivolous surfer type.

Despite her up-to-the-moment expertise, she had yet to gain the community’s confidence. Everything she’d done to prove herself to the people of Promise had been a miserable failure.

Rejection wasn’t something Jane was accustomed to dealing with. It left her feeling frustrated and helpless. In medical school, whenever she felt overwhelmed and emotionally confused, she’d gone jogging. It had always helped clear her thoughts, helped her gain perspective. But she hadn’t hit the streets even once since she’d come here. With a new sense of resolve, she began to search for her running shoes, reminding herself that she was the one who’d agreed to work in a small community. She was determined to stick it out, even if it killed her.

Dressed in bright yellow nylon running shorts and a matching tank top, she started out at an easy nine-minute-mile pace. She jogged from her living quarters next to the health clinic down the tree-lined streets of Promise. The community itself wasn’t so bad. Actually it was a pretty little town with traditional values and interesting people. Ranchers mostly. Down-to-earth folk, hardworking, family-oriented. That was what made her situation so difficult to understand. The people were friendly and welcoming, it seemed, to everyone but her.

Jane turned the corner onto Maple Street. At the post office she took another turn and headed up Main. A couple of cars were parked in front of the bowling alley, which kept the longest hours in town; it was open twenty-four hours on Saturdays and Sundays. It wasn’t the bowling that lured folks at all hours, but the café, which served good solid meals and great coffee at 1970s prices.

Jane’s feet pounded the pavement and sweat rolled down the sides of her face. She’d barely gone a mile and already her body was suggesting that she hadn’t been exercising enough. She knew she’d ache later but didn’t care; she was already feeling more optimistic.

She rounded the corner off Main and onto Baxter, running past the antique store owned and operated by Dovie Boyd. Dovie lived in a brick home just around the corner. Despite the early hour, she was standing in the middle of her huge vegetable garden with her watering can in hand.

Jane had often admired the older woman’s lush garden. The pole beans were six feet high, the tomatoes bursting with ripeness and the zucchini abundant. Jane marveled at how one woman could possibly coax this much produce from a few plants.

“Morning,” Jane called.

Dovie smiled and raised her hand in response.

Jane continued down the street, full steam ahead. She’d gone perhaps twenty yards when she realized it’d happened to her again. She’d never been a quitter in her life and she wasn’t going to start now. She did an abrupt about-face and headed back.

Dovie looked surprised to see her.

Jane stopped and, breathing heavily, leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees. “Hello again,” she said when she’d caught her breath.

Without a pause Dovie continued watering. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful,” Jane agreed. Slowly she straightened and watched Dovie expertly weave her way through the garden, pausing now and again to finger a plant or pull a weed.

“Do you have a minute, Mrs. Boyd?” she asked, gathering her nerve. She rested her hands against the white picket fence.

Widening her eyes, Dovie turned. “What can I do for you, Dr. Dickinson?”

“First, I’d like it if you called me Jane.”

“Then Jane it is.”

The older woman’s tone was friendly, but Jane sensed the same reserve in her she’d felt in others.