Authors: Brenda Minton
“I think you've got a few things wrong.”
She looked up, barely smiling but it was enough. “What do I have wrong?”
“I'm not here to rescue you. I'm here because you told Cash and Callie you would watch a movie with them tonight. This isn't about you, it's about them. They need you in their lives.”
She covered her face with her hands. “I forgot. I'm sorry, I messed up.”
“Yeah, you messed up. So come on, let's go.” He shoved aside sympathy because she didn't need it, she needed to live.
“You seem to think that's an option. But the problem is, I can't get up. I can't put weight on my left leg. That's why I'm out here.”
“What happened?”
“I was in a car wreck.” She smiled as she said it, and he felt a rush of relief to see she still had a sense of humor.
“Good to know. I'm glad we're getting all of our baggage out in the open.”
“Really, what's yours?”
“I'm in...” He'd almost said it. But he couldn't. Not right now. “I'm in need of some drama. So tell me what happened. Today, not the accident.”
“I managed to get the lead rope on Beau, then he managed to yank me off my feet.”
“Do we need to go to the ER, or call Jesse?” His brother the doctor was used to late-night calls from his accident-prone family.
“No need for either. I thought if I rested here a while, I'd be able to make it inside.”
“How'd you get here from the barn?”
“It took me a while. By the time I got to the porch, I'd had enough.”
He was out of the chair and he reached for her hand. “Let's see if you can stand up.”
She took his hand. He helped her to her feet, then pulled her close and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against him. Her arms went around his neck. She was light in his arms and her hair brushed his face as she leaned into his shoulder. She smelled like lavender. Everything about her made him want to hold her close and never let go.
If he told her that, she'd demand he put her down.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To Cooper Creek for a movie. I'll make you chamomile tea and we'll have popcorn with chocolate. What you need is a cartoon about miniature plant people living in a forest.”
“I love miniature plant people.”
He pulled the driver's-side truck door open and deposited her in the seat as gently as he could. “I bet you do.”
He slid in next to her and she didn't bother moving to the far side of the truck. Instead she stayed tucked close to his side. He shifted and then wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him.
He could get used to this woman riding next to him. He could get used to her needing him.
“Does this happen often?” He asked as they headed the short distance down the road to his place.
She shrugged the shoulder that nestled against his side. “It isn't as bad as it was. The first couple of months after the accident I was in a wheelchair. There were months on crutches. Now I'm down to the cane most of the time. They say I'll keep getting stronger and the pain will lessen. I'm never going to be the person I was a year ago. Maybe that's a good thing.”
He listened, knowing this was another of her warnings to him. Don't get too attached, she was telling him. He should heed the warnings.
When they got to Cooper Creek, he lifted her out of the truck and carried her to a waiting lawn chair. She looked up at him, her eyes bright, her face flushed pale in the moonlit night. He considered leaning to kiss her. He almost whispered that she couldn't scare him off.
Cash tackled him out of nowhere. Toddler arms wrapped around his legs, just in the nick of time. He smiled down at the little boy who had just kept him from saying things that he definitely shouldn't be saying, not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Chapter Twelve
T
he night air was cool, seeping into Harmony's bones. But there were outdoor heaters and blankets, and she had Callie in her lap. The cartoon was funny and sweet, even bringing tears to her eyes in places. Next to her, Dylan whispered a teasing comment from time to time, but usually got silenced by his mother or one of his sisters. There were probably two dozen people watching the movie.
When the credits rolled, Callie slid off her lap, still clutching the blanket they'd been using. Cool air hit and Harmony shivered. Dylan stood, holding Cash, who had fallen asleep in his arms. She smiled up at the cowboy and the little boy he held against his shoulder. He was good and kind.
Callie climbed her way into his free arm and he held them both, shaking his head as he looked down at her. She knew what he was thinking, that she would need help, too.
“I've got this,” she spoke softly, wanting to keep it between the two of them.
Around them the Coopers were scattering, grabbing chairs, blankets and the younger children who hadn't made it through the entire movie. A few shot curious glances in Harmony's direction. They probably wondered about her, what she was doing here. What was she doing with Dylan?
They probably thought she would hurt him. She worried about the same thing. She could see the change in their relationship. She saw that look in his eyes, the one that said he would protect her, take care of her.
Fix her.
She didn't want that from him. And she'd seen in his eyes tonight when he'd first showed up to get her that he also knew she could let him down.
It was a hard lesson to learn but better that he learned it now. She pushed herself up and stood gingerly, knowing there would be pain, knowing her muscles would protest. It hurt, but it wasn't the worst pain.
“I should have brought my car.”
He shook his head, “I'll give you a ride home. Let me get these two in the truck.”
She nodded and he walked away. And then Angie Cooper was at her side. With her soft smile and knowing look.
“Thank you for including me.” Harmony held the back of the chair and smiled at her hostess. “I'm sorry for keeping everyone later than they expected.”
“Don't apologize. We're a big family and nothing ever runs on schedule.” Angie slipped an arm around her waist. “Why don't you stay here tonight?”
She looked up at the big brick home with its welcoming front porch and white columns. “Angie, I'm fine.”
“I know you are, but I also know you aren't feeling the best. Why not stay here where there are other people?”
The offer hung between them, and then Dylan was there. He must have overheard because he smiled and took her hand in his.
“It's pointless to argue.” He leaned close to her ear and whispered. His breath was warm, and she shivered.
“Is it?” Harmony slipped her fingers through his. “I really am okay.”
“Stay here.” He held her hand close to his side. “Mom can make you some chamomile tea. It will help you sleep. If you wake up tomorrow and need anything, she'll be here.”
Oh, the things she needed. She smiled up at the man who thought he knew, but he didn't. She hadn't come here expecting him. She'd come expecting a few weeks of solitude, thinking privacy was what she needed. She hadn't expected to find friends. She hadn't expected her faith to return the way it had. She hadn't expected any of this. She hadn't known she needed this place so much.
“I'll go inside and get a downstairs room ready for you, Harmony.” Angie Cooper didn't take no for an answer. “Dylan can help you inside.”
“The kids are in the truck waiting,” Harmony reminded him as they started toward the house. He led her to the backyard, and the back door.
“I'm taking Heather home. She's in the truck with them. Her car wouldn't start. Alternator, I think.”
“I see.”
The back door led them through a utility room. Dylan reached to flip on a light, but his hand froze, and he looked at her. Pale moonlight slipped through the curtains, bathing the room in a silver glow, and still he didn't flip the switch. Instead his hand moved from the wall to her cheek. He settled his lips against hers. She kissed him back, hungry for the warmth that came from being held in his arms. His hands brushed through her hair, his fingers threading through the curls. She shivered beneath his touch.
“Dylan.” She shook her head, pulling away from him. “No.”
“Yes,” he mumbled as he kissed her again. “Yes.”
“Your mom...”
“Is understandably avoiding the utility room because I'm a grown man and you're a grown woman. We aren't kids sneaking around, hiding behind trees.”
“No, that was ten years ago.”
He chuckled a little. “Yeah and if I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have told you I didn't mean it.”
“Did you?”
He kissed her again and then he smiled, still with his lips against hers. “Yes.”
She backed away, stumbling a little. He caught her close.
“This is too much, Dylan. I can't do this. Not yet.” And who was she to have this moment, this man, when she had a message on her answering machine from another man, one who wouldn't have moments with the woman he loved.
The cold reminder did what nothing else could have. It pushed her from Dylan's arms. She didn't deserve his touch, his warmth.
“This is a relationship between friends, remember. We're helping each other out. We have to remember that.” She eased away from him as she said it, holding the wall for support.
Angie appeared in the hall holding crutches and smiling. She looked at her son, a warning look, Harmony thought. And she wondered about that look. Was Angie Cooper warning her son to avoid danger, or warning him to give Harmony a break?
“We always have a pair of crutches around here, Harmony. And I think you might need them tonight?”
She took them, humiliated, sad, sorry to let go of something she knew could have been amazing. “Thank you.”
“See you in the morning,” Dylan called out as she headed toward the kitchen.
She glanced back over her shoulder. “In the morning?”
“We were going to plan Cash's birthday party. We need to run into Grove, pick a cake, the works.”
Of course they were. And of course they had a deal and he wasn't letting her out of it. “Of course.”
A few minutes later she heard the back door close, and Angie Cooper entered the kitchen. Harmony had taken a seat at the table on the other side of the room. Angie smiled when she saw her.
“I'm going to make you some tea. Maybe that will help you relax and sleep.” As she said it, Angie rummaged in a cabinet, pulled out a box of tea and then filled a cup with water.
“Thank you.” Harmony ran her hand over the smooth wood of the table. “Angie, Dylan and I are just friends. I want you to know that. I know everyone thinks, maybe we've let them think...”
Angie put the cup in the microwave and turned around.
“Harmony, you don't have to explain.”
“I do. I know how it looks and I know you must be worried that Dylan...”
Angie shook her head. “No, I'm not worried. I'm not worried about Dylan. I'm not worried about you. Whatever arrangement the two of you have, I'm happy you have each other.”
The microwave dinged and she pulled out the cup of tea.
“But we
don't
have each other.”
Angie set the cup of tea down in front of her and she took the seat at the end of the table. “Oh, I think you do. I'm not new at this mom thing, Harmony. I've got a dozen kids and we've been through everything together. I have a daughter who recently told me she's tried to find a man and fall in love but she's decided being single is the best alternative for her. I have a son in South America because he feels responsible for the death of a friend. I have a son whose wife admitted to us just months ago that she is an alcoholic.” Angie's brows inched up a notch and she smiled. “Surprised by how real the Coopers are?”
Harmony shook her head as she mulled the information and then she met the kindness in Angie's eyes. “No, I'm not surprised. I know that you are real and you're kind.”
“And real means that we have real sins, real forgiveness and a very real attitude toward life. We all make mistakes. We all stumble and fall. We choose to stay down or get back up. You are on your feet, Harmony, and moving forward. It doesn't mean you won't fall from time to time, but it's all about being real with the people in your life, being able to tell the truth and ask for help when you need help.”
Harmony sipped at the tea. And looked up, meeting Angie's steady gaze. “Thank you. I think that Dawson is helping me find the person I used to be. She kind of got lost in everything else I was going through.”
“She was never lost.” Angie patted her hand. “You were just determined to turn her into someone else. It happens to all of us. Pain can make us do crazy things. I almost left my husband once, years ago. And now, because I didn't, we have this life and we have children and grandchildren. We won because I didn't quit.”
Pain makes a person do crazy things, Angie had said. As Harmony settled into bed a short time later she thought about the pain, and how it had started long before the accident. The emotional pain, not knowing how she fit in a family of people who seemed perfect. The pain of being abandoned, though, had been the pain that started it all. She was the Cross who shouldn't have been a Cross. She was the child rejected by a mother who couldn't love her enough to stay clean.
The emotional pain had been covered up with rebellion and alcohol. The physical pain, and the pain of losing Amy, had been covered up with pills.
She knew the steps to recovery. She knew how to move forward. She also knew that, no matter what Angie Cooper said, she couldn't put Dylan or his two precious kids in the path of destruction that was her life.
* * *
Dylan led Cash and Callie through his parents' house the next morning. He heard his mom singing to the radio, then listened as another voice joined hers. He smiled at the duet and peeked around the kitchen door to watch. Callie raced into the room, ending the song. Cash followed hot on her heels. Dylan knew a moment when everything felt right. His life. These two kids. It was starting to feel like well-worn boots, not someone else's shoes.
This morning he'd woken up a little late and Cash had somehow climbed out of his crib and run through the bedroom door to jump on him. Callie had stood at the door, unsure. She'd looked a little sad before jumping on the bed.
His kids.
His mom paused a moment while pouring pancake batter on the griddle. She nodded toward the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He walked into the room trying to avoid Harmony with her hair long and curly around her face and a sundress that fit a little too loose, probably one left behind by one of his sisters. They were all a little taller than she was.
“Good morning,” Harmony spoke softly. “Do you want the sugar?”
He shook his head as he poured coffee. “No, I take it just the way it is. Do you kids want juice or milk?”
“Juice,” both said in loud unison, although Cash maybe said, “Joosh.”
“Good, juice and maybe a quiet, inside voice.” He shook his head, put his coffee cup down and opened the fridge. “Orange or grape?”
One of each. He turned toward the counter and Harmony had gotten two plastic cups out for him. He started to comment that she seemed very at home here. But he let it go.
He didn't know why he was so testy this morning. Maybe because he hadn't slept well. Maybe because he hadn't expected her in this kitchen with his mom, as if she belonged here in his life.
But hadn't he just been thinking last night that he wanted her in his life? He shook his head as he poured the juice and Harmony gave him a cautious look. He managed a smile for her because he definitely didn't want her to ask him what was wrong.
His life was just starting to feel like his life again, and here she was shaking it all up. He knew she had warned him. She'd been right. He didn't need his life, or Cash and Callie's lives, put back on the spin cycle. They'd been through enough. Like him, they were starting to adjust.
All of that made sense but then she walked by him, her arm brushing his. He wanted to pull her close, breathe her in, sweep her off her feet and head to Eureka Springs for a spur-of-the-moment wedding in some Victorian chapel.
“I've got to get out to the barn,” he mumbled instead. “Mom, can you watch the kids for a few?”
“I can.”
Harmony took the cups to the kids who were now sitting at the table.
“Thanks. I need to help Jackson and Gage move some round bales and then we're going to move some cattle to another field. It looks like it will be a pretty full morning.”
“Did you still need my help?” She shot a look in Cash's direction. Not that a two-year-old cared if they talked about his party, but Dylan appreciated her effort to be discreet.
He shook his head. “I'll have to do it later.”
“I can order the cake for you, if you'd like. Trains, right?”
“Trains. Are you sure you don't mind?”
“I really don't.”
He watched as she carried plates of pancakes to Cash and Callie. He saw her limp, watched as she barely touched the counter for support. He felt like a creep. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize for his bad mood.
“I should go,” he said instead.
His mom handed him a breakfast sandwich on the way out the back door. “Eat something.”
He took the offering and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Be in a better mood when you come back in or you'll get nothing for lunch.”
“You know I'm not a morning person.”
She followed him to the back door where the two of them were alone. “No, you've always been a grouch in the morning. But that doesn't excuse your rude behavior this morning. Figure out what you're doing here, Dylan, before there's a whole mess of people hurt. Remember, it isn't just you now.”