An Accidental Family

So, she thought after hanging up, these would be her last hours alone in the house. If these walls could talk, she thought, wandering the quiet rooms, what tales they would tell, about accusations and insults and violence.

Scowling, she shook off the ugly memories, focused instead on what needed to be done by morning. She’d give Adam and Julie the guestroom, and put Amy in her daddy’s old room. And wouldn’t the sewing room, with its nooks and crannies and sunny window seat make a wonderful playroom!

While dusting and vacuuming and putting clean sheets on the beds, Nadine had to remind herself that what the kids were going through was awful, and it couldn’t have been easy, asking for her help. It would take some effort on all their parts to adjust to the situation, but by the grace of God, they’d manage. Soon, the kids would dig themselves out of their financial hole and find a new place to live.

“Just not too soon, Lord…”

Chapter Two

“Did you run over a nail or something?” Adam asked.

Squatting, Nadine inspected her right-front tire. “I suppose that’s possible,” she said, feeling for sharp objects. “But nothing seems to be sticking out.”

As Lamont’s pickup roared up the drive, she understood how those first residents of Texas must have felt when they heard the distant notes of the cavalry’s bugle.

“G’morning,” he said, climbing from the cab. His smile faded the moment he saw her flat tire. “What happened?”

“Everything was fine when I got home from grocery shopping last night,” Nadine said, shrugging.

As Lamont stooped to get a closer look, Adam pointed at the gash in her right-front tire. “Found boot-prints in Mom’s rose garden, too, and they’re way too big to be hers…”

“I probably ran over something inadvertently. As for those footprints, they’re probably just Big Jim’s,” she said to Adam. “You know how much he likes flowers.”

“I hate to say it, Mom, but you really oughta fire that guy.”

“I know he seems a little…off, but Jim wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She laughed a little. “And I mean that quite literally. He’s adopted several, you know.”

Lamont and Adam exchanged an “Oh, brother” look.

“He’s the hardest-working ranch hand I’ve ever had.” She shrugged. “So he likes to keep bugs as pets and builds little cages for them. What’s the harm in—”

“Mom,” Adam interrupted, “no disrespect, but that’s just plain weird.”

“Adam’s right, Nadine. That is weird.”

Sighing, she looked at the cloudless blue sky. Could she make them understand? “Listen,” she began again, “if he can be kind to a bug of all things, surely he wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, he’s worked here for years. Why would he start doing crazy things all of a sudden?”

“Would he even know if he hurt you?” Adam asked.

“Good question,” Lamont added. “I mean, maybe he flattened the tire because he liked the hissing sound or something.”

“Honestly, listen to yourselves!” Nadine scolded. “Jim’s a little slow, but he isn’t an idiot.”

The men traded another “Uh-huh” look.

“And there isn’t a mean bone in his body!” she added.

Lamont unpocketed his hands, pointed at the tire, then the flowerbed. “Now look, it’s all well and good to believe in the innate decency of people, but you’re carrying it to an extreme. Jim might be abnormal by some standards, but he’s still a man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“How…Jim?” The very idea inspired a nervous laugh. “Now that is crazy.”

He looked to Adam for confirmation, and her son nodded in agreement. “If you insist on keeping him around, then you’d better keep an eye on him.”

“A sharp eye,” Lamont put in.

“Two against one ain’t fair,” she said. “I can take care of myself. It isn’t as if I haven’t had years of practice.”

“Nobody who’s known you longer than five minutes would disagree, but this is different.”

“The boy’s right,” Lamont said, “on both counts.”

Her two favorite men stood side by side. Why, Adam had even adopted Lamont’s stance, boots shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over his chest. She saw the resolute expressions on their faces. But they had nothing on her when it came to stubbornness. Or accurateness, either. Adam had only been home a few weeks. What did he know about Jim? And Lamont, well, he didn’t know the man at all! Greeneland Ranch was hers and hers alone—land, stock and the mountain of unpaid bills—and she’d run it any way she saw fit, right down to whom she’d employ. “I won’t fire him.” Fists on her hips, she dared them to defy her.

“Oh, all right,” Adam said, hands in the air. “I give up.” He headed for the barn, saying over his shoulder as he went, “Good to see you again so soon, Mr. London.”

“Same here, Adam.”

“Speaking of seeing you,” she said once her son was out of earshot, “what brings you to my place this early on a Sunday morning?” Hopefully, the subtle reference would remind him that this was her turf, and he wasn’t in charge here.

“Just thought maybe you’d like a ride to church. Seems I recall something about your practicing for a solo before the services began.”

Only Julie, Nadine’s accompanist, knew about her rehearsal plans. “So my daughter-in-law is acting as my press agent now, is she?” Nadine grinned. “That girl might just turn out okay after all.”

“After all?”

Julie was forgetful and clumsy, but she had a good heart, especially considering her troubled past. She waved his question away, unwilling to share that private bit of information, even with Lamont. “I’d love a ride into town,” she said, “especially since I don’t have a spare.”

“I’ll drive you to Lotsmart after church, and we can get one.”

Between now and then, she’d have to come up with a legitimate excuse to avoid the side trip, because even at a discount store like Lotsmart, she couldn’t afford a tire. “We have time for a cup of coffee, if you’d like.”

“I’d like.”

And maybe, between now and then, she’d figure out how to keep her heart from hammering every time he smiled at her, too.

Lily’s Valentine’s Day wedding seemed like only yesterday, but the wildflowers popping up everywhere—especially in Nadine’s yard—proved otherwise.

Several times a week, Lamont had used one flimsy pretext after another to drive over there, telling himself that if she didn’t intend to keep an eye on Jim, he would. Why, Lamont wondered, did Nadine’s ranch hand occupy so many of his thoughts here at home, and rarely come to mind as he sipped coffee while her adorable granddaughter chased Julie’s tabby cat around the kitchen?

Yesterday, he called to see if she wanted a ride to the church social. Normally, he didn’t have time for such functions, but if it provided another bona fide reason to see her—and check on Jim—well, then, why not? She’d cited laundry on the clotheslines and a sticky kitchen floor, critters that needed to be fed and weeds to pull in her flowerbed…and Lamont countered every excuse with one of his own. Thankfully, he wore her down.

He couldn’t believe how fast the time passed as they stuffed themselves on baked ham and potato salad, talking with their fellow parishioners. Since Rose’s death, his involvement at church had been limited to Sunday services, because everywhere he looked, his wife’s contributions were constant reminders of his widowhood. Oddly enough, despite all the hubbub, he’d had a right good time. The enjoyment continued as he drove her home, mostly because Nadine decided to rehash the squabble between Martha Turner and Barbara Gardner over whose vocal rendition of “The Old Rugged Cross” should be sung every Sunday. Dread and disappointment closed around him as his pickup ground its way up her gravel driveway. Had she invited him up to the house because she’d sensed it?

“It’s such a pretty night,” she said. “How about joining me for a cup of tea on the back porch?”

If she’d suggested guzzling it from a washtub on the roof, Lamont would have found a way to join her. Amazing, since the only time he’d allowed the stuff past his lips was the few occasions when he spiked a fever. Yet here he sat, toes tapping, fingertips drumming on the arms of his rocker as he waited for her to kick off her heels and brew the tea.

He looked around at her yard, colorful even in the semi-darkness. Bright spring blossoms shocked his senses. To him, planting involved seeds that became food for his livestock or turned out a couple of tomatoes and bell peppers for salad. Subconsciously, he compared it to his own lawn, devoid of blooms now that Lily was busy tending her own yard. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the little things women did to turn a house into a home.

She handed him one of two steaming mugs. “You like yours black, right?”

“Smells like cinnamon,” he said. How’d she know that, he wondered, when he couldn’t for the life of him think of a time when they’d talked over herbal tea? Raising families and running ranches hadn’t left much time for such niceties. Lately, though, he’d managed to make time for such niceties…lots of it. “I hope you don’t mind my sudden intrusion into your life,” he said as she settled into the other rocker. “You’ve made my adjustment to living alone a whole lot smoother.”

“Oh, I’d hardly call you an intrusion.”

He didn’t know what to make of her slight hesitation. “What would you call me, then?”

Nadine leaned against the headrest of her chair, squinting as she considered her answer. His heart beat double time, waiting…

“I guess I’d have to say, you’re a very pleasant diversion.”

“From what?”

A strange expression—sadness? detachment?—flit across her features like a fast-moving shadow, and he wondered about that, too, as he waited yet again for a reply.

“Oh, just…everything.”

She had a talent for turning two syllables into four, and three into six, just as Rose had. Lamont waited for the usual twinge of grief that followed a memory of his late wife, and when it didn’t come, he chalked it up to Nadine’s gift for making folks feel at ease.

“Do you believe this sky?” She pointed at the stars, winking on their bed of black velvet, then clucked her tongue. “And the so-called experts were calling for thunderstorms…”

“I hope it’s this clear tomorrow night.”

She looked at him over the rim of her mug, and sent his heart into overdrive. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Might be inclined to throw a couple steaks on the grill, if you’ll share ’em with me, that is.”

She put her cup down and turned to face him. “Lamont London,” she said, her blue eyes boring into his, “are you asking me out on a date?”

He’d gone down the “dating road” more times than he cared to remember, with disastrous consequences. Granted, he was mostly to blame, comparing every woman to his wife a couple hundred times between the pickup and the dropoff. He’d made a promise to Rose after that last calamity: Since no woman could hold a candle to her anyway, why torture them and himself? “Can’t a fella be neighborly without people jumping to conclusions?”

It was a moment before she answered, “Sure. I guess so.”

“Sure,” a fellow could be neighborly, or “sure,” she’d share the steaks with him? “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Why not?”

Chuckling, he said, “Try to curb your enthusiasm.”

“Can’t a gal be blunt without people getting overly sensitive?”

My, but he liked the sound of her laughter! But why stop there? He liked everything about Nadine, from her sunny blond hair right to the cherry-red toenails poking out from her terrycloth slippers.

Lamont stared at the floorboards beneath his boots, trying to make sense of everything that was going on in his head and his heart. He’d escorted a couple dozen good-looking women to the movies, dinner and concerts, and never once felt the way he did drinking tea with Nadine.

“I’m probably wasting my breath,” he said, “pointing out that I’m not one to mince words.”

“I’ve been in the crowd at enough cattle auctions to know that’s the truth!” she said, grinning.

Lamont didn’t have a clue what she meant. But that was no surprise, because what he knew about women, he could put in one eye.

She reached over the table between them and gently squeezed his forearm. “And I like you, too. You’ve always been a good neighbor, and I count myself lucky to call you a ‘friend,’ too.”

“I like you, Nadine.”

Friend? The term made him sound like a wet-behind-the-ears schoolboy, because he wanted this—whatever this was between them—to be so much more. And doggone it, he didn’t cotton to feeling this way, not one little bit! He’d sustained broken bones taming wild stallions, and the ice-white scars on his forearms were reminders of his run-ins with barbed wire. The whole idea behind dating vain, empty-headed beauties was to ensure he’d never be tempted to marry one of them. But this thing with Nadine?

Show me a sign, Lord. Show me a sign!

The wind kicked up, thunder echoed in the distance and a bolt of lightning sliced the black sky. Coincidence? Or had God decided that it took the power of nature to get the message through his thick skull?

He didn’t have time to come up with an answer because, quick as the blink of an eye, the skies opened up. Lamont could barely see his truck through the teeming rain.

“Oh, my,” she said, standing to gather their cups, “you’d better make tracks, cowboy. You know what that road is like in a storm…”

Yeah, he knew. The hard-packed runoff would turn the blacktop into a swift-moving river of muddy water. But his place was just over the next rise. If he floored the pickup, he could make it home in ten minutes flat. Plenty of time to spend with Nadine—

Thunder boomed directly overhead and lightning exploded, brightening her yard.

Okay, Lord, I can take a hint…

“Guess I’d better make a run for it,” he said, jamming the Stetson onto his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

And as he hotfooted it toward his truck, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was running from the storm flashing all around him…

…or the one roiling in his heart.

Chapter Three

Nadine tossed and turned for hours, alternately staring at the ceiling and punching her pillows. Flipping the covers aside, she stepped into her bedroom slippers and headed downstairs, belting a light terry robe on the way. No need for lights for, even in the dead of night she could navigate these rooms with her eyes closed. No surprise there, with all the practice she’d gotten while Ernest was alive. How many times, she wondered, filling the teapot with water, had she paced the floors, trembling with fear and rage and bitterness as she waited for the throbbing aches and pains of yet another beating to ease?

“Too many to count,” she whispered, staring at the blue flame that she turned on under the kettle. She’d worked hard to keep the cuts and bruises camouflaged, a job made easier because Ernest had always been careful to leave evidence of his brutality in places that could be covered. If she didn’t know better, she would have said he took those lessons from her own father.

When had the switch flipped, she wondered, turning Ernest from the loving young man who vowed to protect his sweetheart from her father’s manhandling, to the mean-spirited husband who made her pa seem gentle as a kitten? A jagged scar on her forearm, the remnant of a long-ago beating, caught her eye. Instinct made her tug at the sleeve of her robe to hide it.

Old habits die hard, she glumly thought. If Nadine had a dollar for every time someone asked why she’d worn trousers and long-sleeved shirts in the dead of summer, maybe she could pay one of the steadily mounting bills that lay in a tidy stack on her desk.

These past three years had been tougher than any in memory. The run of bad fortune began when her stud bull broke free of his pen and wandered into the path of a speeding eighteen-wheeler. Two calves born that spring had been too weak to survive. The following fall, weevils had attacked her fields, destroying the harvest that would have fed the livestock. Then, three years of oppressive, unrelenting drought.

Somehow, Nadine managed to hang on through the first two years, even as other ranchers filed for bankruptcy. But this year? This year, her grip was slipping with each passing day.

She carried her tea outside and stood on the porch. The crisp scent of rain made her heart ache with dreary acceptance, because the steady downfall that now pounded the hard-packed earth had come weeks too late to save this year’s crops.

Lamont’s spread, by contrast, seemed untouched by nature’s cruel hand. But then, he’d had the financial resources to dig deep wells that helped irrigate his fields. If one of his bulls died? Well, he had dozens of others grazing in white-fenced green pastures. Neighbors envied Lamont’s knack for turning profits into wise investments. Some went as far as to ask his advice about where to put their money, when there was money left after filling their creditors’ pockets. Nadine respected and admired Lamont’s talents but, God help her, she envied them, too.

And envy was wrong. Spiteful and sinful. “A sound heart is the life of the flesh,” she quoted Proverbs, “but envy the rottenness of the bones.”

Shivering, she tilted her face toward the Heavens. “Lord, a little more backbone might be useful right about now.”

Backbone. Lamont had it in abundance. Truth be told, it was his grit and his guts that she envied more than anything else.

Bowing her head, she hugged the thick ceramic mug to her chest. As the steaming brew warmed her face, she took a deep breath, pictured him sitting at her kitchen table, looking as though he belonged, stirring sugar into his cup with a spoon that, in his powerful, callused hand, looked like one from Amy’s tea set.

Just thinking about him made her pulse race.

And she didn’t welcome the reaction, either. Several times tonight, she would have sworn he aimed to kiss her, and the thought made her scramble for legitimate excuses to keep plenty of space between them, physically and emotionally.

She’d seen Lamont lose his temper—during cattle auctions, in the feed and grain, at the hardware store. Ernest personified the “street angel, house devil” rule; if Lamont behaved that way when people were around, how much more aggressive might he be one-on-one?

She couldn’t afford to find out.

Nadine leaned against a porch support post as a mist of rain bounced up from the flagstone steps and onto her slippered feet. She barely felt it, though, as she thought of Rose. In all the years Nadine had known her, Lamont’s wife hadn’t given so much as a hint of being abused. But then, it wasn’t likely Rose would have guessed what often went on inside Nadine’s house, either.

Could she be wrong about Lamont? Did he fit the “His bark is worse than his bite” adage?

Not that it made a bit of difference. Nadine didn’t trust herself to make smart decisions where men were concerned, so except for the few who worked for her at Greeneland Ranch, she’d avoided them altogether. And despite hard times, she’d held on as well as any male rancher she could name.

Shoulders sagging, she went back inside, bolted the door behind her and resigned herself to spending a few hours with the Good Book. God’s word had helped her keep “white knight” dreams at bay in the past. By morning, any romantic notions about Lamont would be a distant memory, and she’d go back to accepting her lot in life.

But she didn’t have to like it.

Bright and early the next morning, it was still raining when Adam padded into the kitchen, looking rumpled and frazzled as the weather outside. “Look at this mess,” he said, stacking coloring books and construction paper on the table. He flopped onto a straight-backed chair as she closed her crossword puzzle book. “You can’t even get a minute’s peace and privacy since we invaded your house.”

“You know I love having you…”

“It’s only temporary,” Adam said, “until Julie and I get this mess straightened out.”

How many times had he said that since they’d moved in, weeks ago? Lord, she prayed, help me find words to comfort him. “I feel terrible admitting it,” she said, sitting beside him. “But your cloud has been my silver lining. I haven’t been this contented since before you and Julie got married and you left me all alone.”

Adam chuckled at her deliberately exaggerated misery. “You’re the best, Mom.”

She’d been listening to her boy’s laughter all his twenty-six years and knew when it was sincere and when it wasn’t. Her heart ached for her only child. Maternal love hadn’t protected him from measles or chicken pox; hadn’t saved him from skinned knees, sprains and fractures; hadn’t spared him the anguish of a breakup once he reached dating age. She couldn’t protect him from this, either, but she aimed to try.

“Maybe while we’re here,” he said, “Julie will learn a thing or two from you about how to be a good wife and mother.”

“Thank goodness I sent her to the cellar to sort laundry, because if she heard a thing like that, she’d be crushed. I’ll admit she did some pretty ridiculous things, but you know in your heart she didn’t do them on purpose. Why, the way that poor girl was raised, it’s a wonder—”

“I’m tired of letting her off the hook because of her background.”

She pressed a palm to each of his cheeks. “Julie is your wife, Adam, and the mother of your child. That money she lost is gone, but you can earn more. If you drive her away, well, you can’t be sure you’ll get her back. It’s as plain as the nose on your face that she’s trying. Give her credit for that, at least.”

His expression reminded her of days long gone, when a shrug and a half smile were precursors to a bored “I guess you’re right.” This time, he got up and grabbed the lunch bucket he’d been carrying since he started that stock-boy job at Lotsmart.

He was halfway out the door when she said, “Will you do me a favor today?”

“Sure.”

“Pray about what I said?”

“Guess it can’t hurt,” he said, his voice glum. “At least that won’t cost me anything.”

Every chance she got that day, she prayed, too. Nadine thanked God that neither the landlord nor the manager of the car dealership had decided to press charges against Julie, and for providing Adam with a job that helped put food on the table and keep the lights turned on. She asked Him to soften her son’s heart toward his young, confused wife, and begged him to supply every dime required to keep the bank from foreclosing on her ranch. He’d seen her through bad times before, and He’d see her through this one, too. Nadine believed that. She had to believe it!

The jangling phone startled her, and she silenced it with a surly, “Hello…”

“Ah, a voice for sore ears…”

Was Lamont’s voice really all it took to sweeten her sour mood?

“What time should I put the steaks on?”

Nadine had tossed and turned for hours, and by morning, convinced herself that she’d misread his signals. Why would a handsome, powerful widower be interested in a nearly broke grandmother whose kids had come home, adding to her wagonload of emotional and financial baggage? She came up with just one reason: He was the hero-to-the-rescue type and saw her as someone in need of rescuing. And when he tired of trying to fix what was wrong with her life, he’d move on to the next single gal waiting in the Available Bachelor line. By then, she’d be head over heels and it would hurt like crazy to send him packing. Far better to do it now, when all she felt for him was a tiny, schoolgirl crush. “How rude of me to wait until the last minute,” Nadine began, “but—”

She heard his gruff sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re not coming to dinner…”

“Sorry, but I can’t.” Didn’t dare was more like it, but she decided to keep that to herself.

The pause was so long and complete that, for a moment, she thought they’d been disconnected. Then Lamont said, “Is everything okay?”