Her Small-Town Cowboy (18 page)

And despite his vow to keep his distance from her, he found himself grinning back.

Chapter Nine

S
unday morning, Mike was sitting alone at the kitchen table when his mother came downstairs. Dressed in her nicest clothes for church, she pulled up short when she saw him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he answered evenly, sipping his coffee. “Why?”

“Usually you’re still out in one of the barns this time on a Sunday.”

He met her worried look with what he hoped was a calm expression. Lily’s comments about him finding a way to forgive Dana had gotten him thinking about a lot of other things he’d been ignoring. They’d been piling up over the past few years because he wasn’t keen to face up to them. He’d kept telling himself it was because he was so busy with the family businesses and raising Abby, but sometime during his restless night, he’d finally admitted that wasn’t the real reason that he’d been neglecting them.

Once he’d embraced that epiphany, a long-overdue bout of soul-searching led him to see that his lapsed faith was one of the parts of his life that used to be good and had turned sour. At the top of the list, actually. The problem was, he was reluctant to make too big a deal out of it with anyone else. There was a good chance that this experiment would end up being a complete disaster for him, and if he wanted to repair his relationship with God, he’d have to dust himself off and start over again.

It didn’t escape him that he wasn’t even considering retreating from his faith altogether the way he had before. He blamed Lily. His well-intentioned but pesky business partner had been a better influence on him than he could have ever anticipated.

Hoping he sounded casual about the idea, he said, “I thought I might go to Pastor Wheaton’s service with you and Abby this morning.”

Worry quickly gave way to delight, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. “Praise be, Michael. It’s been so long, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever set foot in a church again.”

“Well, I’d have to if I’m gonna give Abby away at her wedding someday, wouldn’t I?” he teased to lighten up her intense mood. He didn’t want to get her hopes up and then change his mind later on. “I figured it’d be better not to wait till then, though.”

“I agree with you a hundred percent on that one,” she assured him as she turned on the oven. After pulling one of her delicious egg and sausage casseroles from the fridge, she slid it into the oven to warm up and set the timer. Then she turned to him with one of those smug Mom looks he and his siblings still despised even though they were all grown up now. “I’m assuming we have Lily to thank for opening your eyes.”

“Possibly.” Smothering a grin, he lifted his Best Dad Ever mug for a sip and pretended the accounts printout in front of him was the most fascinating thing he’d ever read.

“Possibly,” she mimicked, smacking him across the shoulders with an oven mitt. “My word, you’re the most aggravating child any mother has ever been cursed with.”

Aimed at all of them at some point in time, the insult had been heard so often around the old farmhouse, it had become a running family joke. Chuckling, he came back with the usual response. “Yeah, but I’m still your favorite.”

“That y’are,” she confirmed, beaming proudly at him. Her eyes drifted to the gallery of frames on the wall, growing misty as they settled back on him. “At the risk of sounding like a sappy old woman, I have to say you remind me more of your father every day.”

Unexpected, her praise brought a lump into his throat. Swallowing hard, he managed to say, “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Sitting next to him, she covered his hand with hers. Small but strong, that hand had done more work than most people would believe it was capable of. Her hazel eyes bored into his, and he fought the urge to squirm the way he had when he was a child and she had something important to tell him.

“I never thanked you for coming home to take over when your father died, Michael. This place is huge and difficult to run, with the crops and all the animals we’ve always had here. And when the racing business went away—” Pausing, she shook her head. “It would’ve broken my heart, but if you hadn’t taken over, we’d have had no choice other than to sell the farm.”

Uncomfortable with her glowing assessment of him, he shifted in his seat. Tapping into the optimism he’d been learning from Lily, he teased, “Aw, you’re a hardheaded O’Connell. You’d have figured something out.”

“I was so lost without him, and trying to keep the business going was more than I could manage on top of that. Then you and Abby came, and I had something more important to do than grieve. The two of you were a gift straight from God Himself.”

Not long ago, that kind of comment would have irked him, at best. At worst, he’d have gotten to his feet and left the room to avoid insulting his mother’s beliefs. But with Lily’s patient, persistent nudging, he’d started on the road to forgiving past wrongs and getting on with his life. Spending one morning in church wasn’t the solution, he knew.

But it was a start.

Smiling at the generous, determined woman who’d raised him, he said, “Abby loves being here on the farm. We both do.”

“When you first got here, I wasn’t sure you’d ever feel that way.”

“I didn’t much like giving up the independence I had at the ranch. But I gotta admit the food here’s a lot better.”

“Well, thank you.”

She added a smile as the oven timer started dinging. The stove was a relic from long before he was born, and lately the sound it made had a tired wheeze and skipped a couple of beats between each chime. This Christmas, the family should chip in on one of those stainless-steel gourmet ovens for her. She’d love it, and they’d all get to enjoy the recipes she was bound to try with her fancy new toy. It was a win-win.

Abby came bouncing down the stairs, stopping abruptly when she saw what he was wearing. She was used to seeing him in jeans and T-shirts, so his buttoned-down appearance must have been quite a shock. “Where are you going, Daddy?”

“To church with you and Grammy.”

“Really?” When he nodded, she gave him a sober look. “Does that mean you’re not mad at God anymore?”

“I’m working on it,” he replied truthfully. Then, since he was being so honest, he added, “Lily got me started, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“If you get stuck, she can help you,” she suggested brightly. “She’s a real good teacher.”

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Mike felt a smile taking over his face. That happened a lot when he thought about Lily, he realized. He was well and truly snared, but for some strange reason he didn’t care. “Yeah, she is. Anyone who can train Charlie not to jump up on the kitchen table is a pro in my book.”

The three of them chatted while they ate, making quick work of Mom’s breakfast. During the drive into town, Mike noticed he had a death grip on the steering wheel and made a conscious effort to relax. He hadn’t been anywhere near a church since his father’s funeral three years ago, and while he knew returning was the right thing to do, he wasn’t looking forward to taking that first step.

As he pulled in and parked, it struck him that the Shepherd’s Chapel was just the way he remembered it from his childhood. Same simple white building, same tall glass windows sparkling in the morning sunlight. His feet began dragging as he approached the steps, but he forced himself to keep going out of pure Irish pride. He didn’t want anyone to know just how hard it was for him to come back after being away for so long.

Inside, he paused in the doorway to take stock of his surroundings before plunging in. People he’d known all his life sat in the pews, laughing and chatting with their neighbors before the service. Following Mom and Abby to where the rest of the family was sitting, he took in the bright, welcoming feel of the little church where he’d learned the hymns Dad used to sing while they did their morning chores.

Standing back to let the ladies walk down the row of seats ahead of him, he felt a touch on his shoulder, as if a strong hand had settled there for a moment before letting go. A warm sensation washed over him, and he couldn’t help thinking his father was reaching down from heaven to let Mike know he was glad to see him there.

As if that wasn’t enough, Lily glanced up from her conversation with Erin, her gorgeous blue eyes lighting up in delight when they landed on him. Mike’s heart rolled over like a love-starved hound, and he tried to look cool as he slid into the open spot on the end of the pew. He hadn’t quite recovered from her silent greeting when she nearly knocked him on the floor with one of her dazzling smiles.

She leaned across Abby to murmur, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I guess. Judging by all these folks trying to look like they’re not staring at me, you’re not the only one who’s shocked to see me.”

“Not shocked. Happy.” Putting an arm around Abby, Lily gave her a quick hug. “You must be, too.”

“Daddy’s almost not mad at God anymore,” his daughter chirped. “He said you helped him.”

Lily gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Did he?”

Thankfully, Pastor Wheaton walked through a side door and over to the lectern to lead the congregation in the first hymn. When they’d finished, Abby climbed into Mike’s lap, and they listened to a sermon about the love of a father for his children and how it could change the world.

But for Mike, the words faded into the background when Abby yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. The light sweater she was wearing slipped down her arm, and Lily reached over to tug it back into place. The motherly gesture did something to his heart, and for the first time Mike didn’t bother hiding what he was feeling when their eyes met over Abby’s sleepy head.

To his astonishment, he saw those same emotions swirling through those forget-me-not eyes. For so long, he’d wondered if he’d ever meet a woman brave and generous enough to take on not only him but his daughter, too.

Finding her sitting beside him in this simple white church was almost more than he could have dared to hope for. But as they sat there in a family circle of their own, the hopeful part of him that still existed started to believe.

* * *

After church, Maggie invited Lily to what she blithely called “lunch.” The casual way she did it left Lily expecting an everyday family gathering as they’d done the day she found Charlie under Bea’s mulberry bush.

This time, the meal ended up being an all-out barbecue, including several large picnic tables filled with Kinley relatives and friends from all over the county.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked Mike, who was turning delicious-smelling ribs and ears of corn on a huge grill, while she helped set places for everyone.

He gave her the kind of blank look her students had reserved for forgotten homework and shrugged. “Yesterday, Mom said she felt like having a get-together. We used to do this kinda thing a lot, so I guess she’s been missing it.”

Lily clearly heard what he wasn’t saying: that the big picnics had ended when Justin died. She’d become very fond of Maggie over the summer, and it was good to know she was finally beginning to recover from his loss.
Small steps,
Lily thought with a smile. Like her son.

Who was currently eyeing her with a suspicious male expression. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking how comforting it is to know that no matter how bleak things may seem, we all come to terms with things in our own time. And how nice it is when they work out for the best.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend to follow that.” With a practiced motion, he flipped over a rack of ribs, and the flames sizzled with the fresh sauce he poured over top of the browning meat.

Looking around the festive gathering, Lily took in the brilliant, sunny afternoon that was a pleasant start to a busy week to come. It was a hot day in mid-July, but a capricious breeze swept over the rolling hills and through the side yard to keep everyone cool. A spirited game of horseshoes was going on in the pit Mike’s youngest brother, Josh, had put in out back, and children of various ages were running in circles around the water toy Erin had hooked up for them. At random intervals, the plastic flower on the end whipped around and doused them, making them squeal and laugh.

Not to be left out, Charlie kept jumping into the spritzing water, barking as he tried to catch it in his mouth. A small shape emerged from the shadows beneath a nearby tree, and Lily saw Sarge edging closer to see what all the fuss was about. When Charlie inadvertently splashed him, the older dog withdrew a few steps but didn’t abandon the fun altogether. Instead, he sat just outside the splash zone, ears perked with an interest in his surroundings that he didn’t normally show.

Apparently, even the timid terrier was feeling more upbeat these days, she mused with a little smile. It was wonderful to see.

“So,” Mike commented, still focused on the grill, “I called Dana this morning. She and I are meeting for lunch at the Oaks Café tomorrow. I figured if we met out in public, it’d go better.”

“For you or for her?”

“Both of us, I guess,” he confided in a grudging tone. “I’m not exactly thrilled with the whole thing, but since it’s what Abby wants, I’ll just have to make it work.”

Lily was overjoyed with the news, and her instinct was to hug him and gush about how proud she was of him for having the courage to face down his past troubles this way. But his offhand way of sharing his plan warned her that he wouldn’t take that kind of reaction well, so she settled for patting his arm. “Good for you, Mike. I hope it goes well.”

In her memory, she replayed her first conversation with Dana at Abby’s graduation. She’d been astonished when the woman sounded so confident that despite his obvious bitterness toward her, Mike would eventually come around and do what was fair. Now, though, she understood Dana’s faith in him. And was pleased to find she shared it without hesitation.

Mike was far from perfect, but he was a good guy. In her estimation, acknowledging and overcoming his flaws made him a much better person than if he pretended not to have any at all.