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She pointed to the cover of a book that had a native American woman entwined in a cowboy’s arms. “These two, Small Dove and Colt. She fell out of a tree and he caught her. Crazy, huh?”
Lucas took several steps back wondering why a kid was reading a book that looked like it had sex in it. “I just came to see if you were okay.”
She beamed at him. “You were rescuing me. You’re my siuleehu. That means soul mate in Cherokee.”
He hadn’t known what to say to that… or to her every time she boldly rode her bike to his house, stalking him with sunshine and silly smiles, all skinny and browned by the sun. And then one day, she stopped following him. And six months later, he started following a new Courtney. One whose flat plains had developed into curvy wonderfulness, a girl who smelled like a meadow, wore lip gloss and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. She’d been supremely gorgeous, still funny, and not so silly anymore.
For ten years they’d played tag with each other, giving each other their first kiss, accompanying each other to school dances, taking long walks down shady streets, sneaking in kisses, practicing moves on each other, and cementing the idea Courtney had offered up that day years before—that they were soul mates.
To be together and build a life with a home, children, and successful careers had been the plan… until his brother Ben had come home from college with a hard body and a charming smile. While Lucas had been busy studying for law exams, his brother had been sending out resumes and schooling Courtney around town. Lucas had actually felt gratitude toward his brother for taking care of his soon-to-be fiancée while he studied. After all, they would be family within a few years.
But while he slaved over the intricacies of tax law, Ben and Courtney had been falling madly in love over lattes and late night movies.
Lucas hadn’t a clue until he’d shown his brother the carat and a half square diamond and watched the blood drain from Ben’s face. At that moment, he began to suspect the distance between him and Courtney hadn’t been because he’d been studying too much. A kernel of suspicion had bloomed, only to be confirmed days later when Ben and Courtney had come to him, contrite, tears in their eyes, as they explained how the impossible had happened, how they’d tried to fight against falling in love, but hadn’t been able to stop fate. Oh, and not only were they in love… but Courtney was pregnant.
Lucas glanced over at that baby, thirteen now, and disdainful of the man who had stayed away from him because it hurt too damn bad to be in the same room with the two people who had betrayed him.
“You missed the turn,” Michael said.
“Sh-” Lucas bit off the curse word. He had to be careful with his language around the children but minding his tongue when he felt stressed to the limit grew increasingly harder. “Easy fix. I’ll take the next exit. Little sightseeing.”
Except it wasn’t great sightseeing on the detour—most of the houses were dilapidated and lonely. Like a neighborhood time forgot… or more like politicians forgot after Katrina. Lucas’s artist eye saw opportunity for some emotional photos. Maybe when the kids were in school, he’d slip down with his camera and play around with some shots. Wasn’t stark landforms against a barren landscape, but the curlicue beauty peeking from beneath the cracks and weathering had a rare quality.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back on State Street. Ten more and they were in Addy’s drive unloading bags containing the wood screws and other supplies. Michael, without being asked, hefted a roll of heavy-duty plastic from the bed of the truck and dropped it onto the grass next to the greenhouse.
“Careful,” Lucas said, nudging a layer of lumber with the toe of his boot. He wished he’d brought his worn work boots, but the newer, shiner cowboy boots would have to do. “We don’t want to tear any of that plastic.”
Michael’s mouth flattened into a line. “I don’t know why I have to help do this. I didn’t tear it up.”
“Because it’s Saturday, the sun is out, and a neighbor needs help.”
No response came from the kid.
Lucas glanced over into the backyard where Chris ignored his younger sister who balanced on her stomach on the swing dangling from the massive wooden playset. The ten-year-old’s finger swooped across the small screen he held, his concentration centered on the i-whateveritwas he held. “Chris, please keep an eye on your sister while we unload everything,” Lucas called.
“Okay,” the boy said, not looking up from the screen.
“That means put that thing you’re tapping on away.”
Grumbling, the boy slid the electronic device into his jacket pocket.
“I can watch Lottie,” Michael said, crossing his arms.
“Chris isn’t strong enough to unload this.”
Michael made a sound that might have been a muttered “whatever,” but Lucas chose to ignore it, picking his battle once again.
Addy’s car pulled into the drive and Lucas glanced down at his watch.
1:20pm.
A little late, but that could be expected of a business owner. Things came up and had to be addressed before closing down for the day. Besides he’d not been counting the minutes until Addy arrived.
Or at least that’s what he told himself.
Lucas wasn’t accustomed to keeping shopkeeper’s hours. As a landscape photographer, he didn’t keep steady hours. Though his art brought in plenty of money, he never allowed the business to overshadow the passion, so often he worked in spurts, obsessively working days on end on a project and then taking weeks off before beginning the artistic cycle again. Usually after working with no rest and little food, his body demanded the restoration. Not to mention, at some point he had to meet with Chavez about the running of the ranch. But he liked his world, liked being able to embrace his passion whenever the mood struck him.
Addy pulled the car into the parking spot sitting kitty-corner from the back door, her posturing proving she’d forgotten they were to work on the greenhouse that day.
