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“It’s great, but yeah. I can see why you need so many staff.” The late Victorian building’s three stories of timber and brick required a lot of cleaning, especially when the newer dormitories were factored in as well.
“We really appreciate them, but I know they’ve all earned a break. Speaking of, are you almost finished here? I was wondering if you’d like to come into town with me. I need to get some groceries and could do with another pair of hands.”
“Sure.”
The drive to the store wound through rolling hills covered in grapevines, bright green in the summer sun. Her father said the local vineyards produced some nice wines, but she’d never been a drinker, so that was something she’d have to take other people’s word for.
The road passed a thriving outdoor activity park, garish signs announcing water slides and miniature golf and other fun summer activities. The packed parking lot suggested it was popular with locals and tourists. The car descended and crossed a bridge, then they navigated through the historic part of town to a large supermarket.
They found a cart, her mother handed her a list, and they began the joy of trawling up and down the aisles. It still surprised her how much mathematics such visits required, changing weights and volume measures from metric to American. Fortunately, their grocery needs weren’t too high, and they were soon loading goods into the back of the station wagon.
“Barb?”
Lexi paused as her mother waved at a passing customer, hitching a smile to her dial as the lady glanced at her then started talking to Mum. Okay, so the other day at church had not been her finest hour. She cringed again, remembering how she must’ve appeared, all snooty and haughty like a spoiled princess. That wasn’t her. But in that moment when the cowboy had held her—had rescued her—she had frozen as memories of the attack flared. Pasting politeness over her fear had proved a sorry effort, but it was the best she could do. For he’d held her in a way that made every pore freeze in memory—
“What do you think, Lexi? You’d like to do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Sorry. What was the question?” She shook off the mental fog.
“Barb and Hank are hosting a barbecue on Thursday night and invited you. It’d be a great way to meet some of the other young people around here.” Her mother’s eyes held hope.
Lexi released air through her teeth. Maybe this would be a way to improve upon that first impression. Although she’d be super happy to never encounter Jackson Reilly again. Not that she would normally have a problem with talking to a handsome man, but the fact he seemed amused by her rudeness made her unsure. She had never known how to deal gracefully with people she sensed were laughing at her.
“Your father will be away speaking at a fishing camp, and I’ll be at book club, and while you’d be welcome at that, I suspect you’d enjoy yourself more at Barb’s.”
Ah, the pinch of obligation. What choice did she have with Barb looking at her expectantly? Apparently, her problems with exiting social situations gracefully wasn’t restricted to Sundays.
“That sounds good. When and where? What can I bring?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t need to bring a thing,” Barb said. “I’m sure your mom will be able to tell you where we are. And it’s nothing fancy. Just a pool party. I’m sure you know how to swim, being an Aussie.”
“A pool party?” She glanced at her mother and shook her head slightly. She couldn’t do that. Not anymore.
“It will be a good chance to get to know others,” her mother said. “You don’t have to swim.”
“Goodness, no. It’d take a miracle for me to put on a swimsuit again,” Barb said with a hearty chuckle. “Not that that would be a problem for you, Lexi.”
Except that it was. Swimming, like so many other things, had been stolen from her on that last night of February. How bizarre that something as simple as going to the beach now held all sorts of questions, demanding answers she didn’t know how to give. And even the fact therewasa question made her tense. Was she really that vain now, or had she always been?
Still, she hadn’t come all this way to let the shadows of the past impede her from her future. “That sounds fun,” she said. “Thank you.”
She pasted on another smile. See? She could do nice. And maybe the night would go well. Especially if she didn’t have any more run-ins with the man who’d made her feel so uncomfortable last Sunday.
* * *
Numbers were aboutto fry his brain. Unlike some people—his younger brother, Cooper came to mind, as did Liam Darcy, Olivia’s grandson, from next door—Jackson had always felt like he and math were engaged in an ongoing battle. He liked his lists, and could check off boxes with the best of them, but struggling to wrestle ranch income to meet expenditure left him longing to give up the fight. He pushed the rolling chair away from the cluttered desk and glanced out the window, where a haze of yellow green shimmering off the distant hills suggested they’d need rain soon. A sigh escaped, one he was glad nobody was around to hear, as he sure as heck didn’t want to be explaining himself to anyone. Ellie didn’t seem to know a personal boundary when it smacked her in the face, and he had zero intention of adding to Mom’s stress.Lord, heal her.
The prayer lifted from his heart but sometimes he wasn’t sure it went much higher than the ceiling. Sure, God heard his every prayer, but sometimes He seemed to take an awful long time to answer. But deep within, he knew that God was faithful, just like Peter Franklin had shared on Sunday in his reminder to keep a focus on thankfulness. And Jacksonwasthankful, as he’d seen God’s faithfulness, time after time. And just as God would soon bring an answer to the ranch’s financial troubles—no, challenges—so God would also help with his mother’s health battles too. “In Jesus’ name,” he prayed aloud.
He pushed himself upright, hating the confines of this former bedroom now turned office. He’d much rather be out on Arrow riding the fences, checking the stock. But Jose and Felipe’s pay grade meant they earned the right to live in the saddle way more often than him, while he got the joy of wrestling numbers inside this box of a room until it felt like his eyeballs were going to bleed.
His phone rang, and he eyed it like it was a rattlesnake, wondering if he should answer. “Such a tough guy,” he muttered to himself and scooped it up and answered. “This is Jackson.”
“Ah, Jackson.” The voice was vaguely familiar. “This is Millie from First National. Is now a good time?”
Was any time a good time to talk to the bank? “I don’t have long—”
“I won’t keep you. I know you’re busy, especially at this time of the year.”
