Chapter 4
Chapter 4
H arper had enjoyed the book club meeting at Dot’s place, and she’d already ordered next month’s reading choice from Amazon. Although the other members were still acquaintances, instead of actual friends, they were all interesting people, and she looked forward to getting to know them better.
Now a few days had passed, and it was almost time to cross the road and attend Jack O’Ballivan’s party.
She was standing in her bedroom, which she had practically stripped bare, intending to peel off the dizzying wallpaper and paint. A new bedroom set, Country French in design, was to be delivered in a little over two weeks.
In the meantime, she’d been using a folding cot and a sleeping bag, and she had the sore muscles to prove it.
As she removed the third cotton sundress she’d tried on in the last half hour, Ollie watched her intently from the cot, his tiny ears perked.
“Don’t judge me,” Harper told her dog, as she reached for a fourth sundress—blue, with white polka dots and a few strategically placed ruffles. “I want to make a good impression on the other neighbors, that’s all. It’s not about Jack.”
Ollie tilted his head to one side, as though questioning the veracity of her words.
The blue dress was flattering enough, but was it suitable for an outdoor party celebrating the completion of a barn? What if she arrived on the scene and found everyone else dressed country-style, in jeans and boots and the like, while she minced along in strappy sandals and a semi-frilly dress and sandals?
She’d feel like a fool.
She didn’t want to come off as citified, even though she was.
Exasperated with herself, Harper plunked down on the window seat, which looked out over the front yard, the road, and the part of Diamond Creek Ranch where the house and the barn and several trailers stood. Everything was mostly hidden behind a row of tall pine trees.
All that day, various vehicles had been coming and going, churning up clouds of dust as they traversed Jack’s driveway. So far, she’d spotted several catering vans, a truck pulling a long horse trailer, and two eighteen-wheelers, one full of bawling cattle, the other hauling what looked like an actual carousel, dismantled but probably ready for quick assembly .
The sounds of hammering and sawing weren’t so unusual, given that the main house, which Harper had learned was under massive renovation, was constantly being worked on. Still, they were definitely extra.
All of it was extra, over-the-top extra.
And Harper was ridiculously nervous. So nervous that she wished she’d made up some excuse so she could stay home and watch Hallmark movies on her laptop instead of crossing the road and whooping it up with the locals.
It wasn’t like her to be shy and self-conscious.
She was, after all, a qualified counselor with a master’s degree in psychology, and she’d worked as a social worker in Seattle, a nitty-gritty job that had taken her into all sorts of settings and situations, many of which could be considered dangerous.
There was Pioneer Square, for instance. That section of downtown Seattle, once a place brimming with upscale boutiques, eclectic little shops, business offices, and specialty restaurants, was now the province of the city’s growing homeless population, many of whom were addicted to drugs and/or alcohol. Thus, there were so many panhandlers around that a person couldn’t walk from one corner to another without being hectored with aggressive demands for money.
Children were a part of this tragic equation, of course, and it had fallen to Harper and her colleagues to wade in and advocate for them, which, for the most part, seemed totally ineffective. Several times, with the much-needed help of the police, she’d had to remove frightened kids from back-alley tents and lean-tos or abandoned buildings where the desperate, young and old, took refuge.
Just remembering all she’d heard and seen in those places brought tears to her eyes, and she felt a pang of terrible guilt because she’d finally had to turn her back and walk away, when there were still so many people who needed help.
You can’t save the world, she reminded herself now, and for the umpteenth time since she’d left her old life in Seattle.
Yet again, she summed up her blessings.
She had this little cottage, rundown as it was.
She’d hired a contractor to rebuild the fireplace and chimney first, then go on to make multiple other changes.
And she had a job; in just a few weeks, she would begin serving as a family resource specialist/counselor in all three of Copper Ridge’s schools—elementary, middle, and high school.
She could make a difference in the lives of a lot of kids.
She was beginning to settle in, make friends.
So why was she sitting here, fretting over what to wear to a party, for heaven’s sake?
Feeling better, she stood up, crossed to the cot, picked Ollie up in her arms, and nuzzled his furry neck.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m being silly.”
Ollie licked her cheek, then wiggled, wanting to be put down.
Harper hauled the sundress off over her head and, along with the others she’d tried on, returned it to the closet.
Then she kicked her sandals in after them.
When she set out for Jack O’Ballivan’s forty-five minutes later, having waited until there were cars lining the driveway and both sides of the road, she was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a red tank top under a matching lightweight cotton shirt. Her hair, piled on top of her head before, was now in a ponytail, and her makeup was minimal.
She carried a plastic-covered bowl filled with freshly made Waldorf salad, although it was pretty plain from the delicious smells tinging the air that there would be no shortage of food.
It wasn’t dark yet, but the party was in full swing when Harper reached the top of the driveway.
It was like stepping into a carnival.
People were playing horseshoes, and the clang of metal against metal rang out like the peals of a church bell. Other games, complete with prizes, were being played in various makeshift booths.
There were picnic tables everywhere, and in the near distance, the carousel emitted a merry tune as it turned, practically overflowing with children of all ages.
Parents attended the little ones, standing beside beautifully carved horses and giraffes, elephants, and in between, benches and life-sized teacups.
Harper was slightly overwhelmed, trying to take in her surroundings; she actually felt a little dizzy, and gripped her bowl of salad hard, lest she drop it into the sawdust-strewn barnyard.
She might have been gaping when she realized someone was speaking to her.
“Harper?”
Harper blinked. Refocused her scattered attention.
Jack was standing directly in front of her, and she wondered how she could have missed him.
He was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt with a logo on the front, a drawing of a faceted gemstone in the midst of a flowing stream.
Diamond Creek Ranch.
Well, duh.
“I brought Waldorf salad,” she said, and handed it to him.
Jack pretended to stumble backward, gripped the bowl in both hands, and laughed. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks and welcome.”
Harper felt her cheeks burning. To her left were long buffet tables, brimming with food. To her right was the barbecue setup, and just beyond it stood a combination bar and soft-drink stand.
“I guess it isn’t a potluck,” she said, and felt lame for showing up with Tupperware.
Jack peeled back the lid and peered in at the salad she’d prepared earlier in the day. “My favorite,” he said, just as Gideon appeared, with Trey at his side.
He was wearing a T-shirt just like his father’s.
“Didn’t you bring your dog?” Gideon asked, studying Harper with concern.
She instantly relaxed. She was always comfortable around kids.
“Nope,” she said, with a smile and a shake of her head. “He’s holding down the fort.”
Jack nudged his son and grinned down at him. “Do me a favor, will you, son?” he said, holding out the Waldorf salad in its sealed plastic bowl. “Take this to the house and put it in the fridge before somebody decides to help themselves. I’m greedy enough to want all of it for us.”
Gideon looked pleased and a little relieved, and it occurred to Harper that she wasn’t the only one feeling slightly intimidated by the event unfolding around them.
With a nod, he took the container and headed for the house, Trey galloping along behind him.
Jack sighed, watching the boy and dog disappear into the crowd.
“Is something wrong?” Harper asked.
Jack met her gaze, sighed again. “I’m thinking this get-together might be too much, too soon, for Gideon,” he confided quietly. “He’s still adjusting to having a father, living in a new place, all that.”
Harper knew a little about the situation with Jack and his son, thanks to Dot—how the boy’s mother had basically abandoned him in Jack’s care a few weeks before—but that was the extent of it, since she hadn’t encountered this intriguing man again since the day he and Gideon had come to the cottage to introduce themselves and offer the help of some of the construction people.
“The important thing is, he has a father,” she said, at some length. “It’s going to take time for him to learn to trust that.”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed.
People passing by stopped to greet Jack, slap him on the shoulder, thank him for inviting them to the party. He was friendly to all of them, but when they’d moved on, he was still standing square in front of Harper, and she hadn’t moved, either.
“He likes you,” Jack told her, his voice slightly gruff. “Gideon, I mean.”
“I like him, too,” Harper said. She didn’t know the child very well, but she was a sucker for kids. That was one of the reasons she’d stayed in a high-stress, heartrending job for so long.
And I like you, she added silently.
“Dot told me you’ll be working as a sort of counselor for the school district starting in September.”
“That’s true,” Harper said, beginning to wonder if she was right in thinking this conversation was headed in a definite direction that had nothing to do with barn dances and barbecues, bonfires and carousels.
Jack shoved a hand through his dark hair, looked away, looked back. “We’re both in therapy,” he said, after yet another sigh, “Gideon and I, but Gideon is still holding his cards close to his chest. And, as I said, he likes you. I was wondering if—well—if he wanted to talk things over with you, things he might not be comfortable saying to me—”
“He can talk to me anytime,” she put in, when Jack’s words fell away. In those moments, she felt sorry for both father and son; building a healthy relationship would be no easy task. Then she touched his arm. “But don’t pressure him, Jack. Things like this have to unfold at their own pace. They can’t be forced.”
“I understand that,” Jack said. “But it’s killing me, just the same. I could have been there for him, and I wasn’t.”
Twilight was beginning to gather in the folds of the surrounding hills, all purple and apricot splendor, and somewhere beyond the whirling carousel, someone was tuning a fiddle.
People began to line up at the buffet tables and crowd in around the barbecue stand.
“It’s not your fault, Jack. What matters is what you do now.”
Jack smiled again, and then he took Harper gently by the elbow. “Let me show you around,” he said.
Harper didn’t hesitate. Just being close to this man felt strangely, sweetly right. So she allowed him to lead her away from the center of the hubbub.
They started with the house, although they didn’t go inside.
Though clearly in need of work, the structure had an innate appeal; it was a one-story home, built of gray stone, with mullioned windows and a newly constructed wraparound porch.
According to Jack, it dated back to the 1870s, and it had a colorful history.
He’d bought the property a year before, though the renovations had begun months later, and he hoped most of the work on the house would be done before winter.
“It’s a pretty big place,” Harper said, when they started back toward the party, which was really revving up by then, brimming with laughter and music and the clatter of plates and glasses. “Just for you and Gideon, I mean.”
Jack took her hand, held it briefly, let it go again. “I’m planning on putting it to good use,” he said. “When the buildings are finished, there will be a therapeutic riding school here, for one thing.”
Harper’s breath caught, even though she’d heard about the plan from Dot. “Really? Oh, Jack, that’s a wonderful idea!”
“I’ve been lucky,” Jack answered, with a shrug-like motion of one shoulder. “This is my way of giving back.”
Harper was secretly relieved. She’d wondered if the place would evolve into a dude ranch, a tourist attraction. And the truth was, she’d dreaded that possibility, since it would have meant a lot of noise and traffic.
“It will be so good for Gideon to be part of something like this,” she said, wishing he’d take her hand again, and suddenly too shy to take his.
Jack nodded in agreement. “It will,” he said. “Naturally, now that he’s part of my life, he’s my biggest priority. But even before he showed up, I wanted a way to lend a hand. Leave the world a little better than I found it, when my time comes. And to honor my dad’s memory, too, I guess. He was a good man.”
Harper felt a twinge of sorrow for her own parents, who had died in a boating accident when she was thirteen, but she didn’t dwell on the loss at that moment, because she was processing what Jack had just told her.
It made her want to know him better, and then better still.
She was still mulling that thought over when the yelling started.