Chapter Seven
T wo days later, Christa still felt as if all the joy and color had been sucked out of her world. The weather perfectly matched her mood, a gray, ugly day full of clouds but no rain.
At least rain might clear her head a little so she didn’t feel this constant, grinding pressure, the fear that she’d made a terrible mistake.
She had to stop, had to snap out of this funk. Her work was suffering, she was short with Ellen and Hope and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the aching emptiness of her life.
To her relief, Hope didn’t seem to share her dark mood. At least not right this instant. Christa glanced in the rearview mirror, where Hope was peering out the window, anticipation on her features.
“Do you think Jace will be there?”
If she hadn’t been driving, Christa would have closed her eyes and groaned. She had explained to Hope that Jace had to leave and he didn’t know when—or if—he would be back. But the reality didn’t seem to sink through with her daughter.
“I doubt it. He’s probably already on his way to Texas.”
One more thing to fill her nights with guilt. Had she done the right thing, trying to protect her daughter from future pain? Or had she pushed him away for purely selfish reasons, so she could insulate her own heart?
“I wonder when he’ll be back.”
Christa sighed. “I don’t know if he will, honey. I talked to you about this, remember?”
Hope made an exasperated face, looking so much like her typical teen self that Christa nearly drove off the road. “Mom, I’m not stupid. I can remember something we talked about yesterday.”
“Then you should remember that I said I didn’t know if he would be back. He has many business interests away from Sage Flats that demand his attention.”
“He’ll be back,” Hope said with complete assurance, and Christa sighed heavily.
“Maybe. But you have to promise you won’t be too disappointed if he’s not.”
“He has three other houses. Did you know that?”
With the millions of other possible conversation topics, why did they have to continue talking about Jace? “No. I didn’t know,” Christa answered, racking her brain for a way to change the subject.
“Yep. One in Houston, one in California, on the beach, and another ranch somewhere in Montana.”
To her relief, they reached the equine therapy center just then and she didn’t have to scramble for a reply.
The next few minutes were busy taking out the wheelchair and transferring Hope, all while fighting a ridiculous flutter of anticipation that he might be inside the arena just like the first time they had come here.
But she was doomed to disappointment. No, it was relief, she told herself quickly after a scan of the building showed no sign of a familiar lean, gorgeous cowboy with blue eyes and a black Stetson.
Instead Hank Stevens greeted them with his usual gruff warmth.
“No Jace?” Hope asked, and Christa saw with a pang that much of the light had left her features.
Hank rested a beefy hand on her shoulder. “No. Sorry, kid. He’s catching a flight out tonight and had some things to do on the ranch before he left.”
“Oh.”
Compassion washed across his grizzled features, and his gaze flicked to Christa, then back to Hope. “You’re gonna want to try to find a smile in there again, especially when you see the surprise he left for you.”
Some of her excitement returned. “What surprise?”
“You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He walked away, only to return a moment later leading a small sorrel mare with black markings.
As he approached, Hope caught her breath and clasped her hands together.
“What’s this?” Christa asked, not quite believing what her instincts were already telling her.
“Jace picked out this pretty little mare for our girl here. He must have looked at two dozen horses before he found this one. She’s the sweetest-tempered horse I’ve ever seen, with a smooth, easy gait that will be just perfect for Hope.”
“Mine?” Hope’s eyes shone with the light of a thousand stars.
“You want her?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes !”
“Her name’s Milagra. Mila. It means miracle in Spanish.”
He bought Hope a horse? Her own Miracle? Christa stood beside Hope’s chair, trying her best to comprehend why he would do such a thing.
He had looked at dozens of horses, Hank said, until he’d found the perfect one. The idea of Jace taking such care and energy for her daughter—a girl she had ordered him to stay away from—sent her reeling, her emotions a wild, jumbled, choking mess inside her.
Oh, heavens. She loved him.
This was no crush, no mere physical attraction.
She was in love with Jace McCandless. And he was going to break her heart.
The rest of the therapy session passed in a blur. She was barely aware of her surroundings, only of the exuberant joy on Hope’s features as she rode around the arena on her own horse.
Christa was still in a daze when Hank joined her at the railing.
“She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”
She gave him a sidelong look. “The horse or my baby girl?”
Hank guffawed. “Take your pick. They’re both winners in my book.”
She managed a smile, but it faded quickly. “We can’t possibly accept such a gift, Hank. Surely you understand that.”
He held up his hands. “You’re gonna have to take that up with McCandless. I’m just the middleman. I should tell you, though, he figured you’d say that and he told me to tell you the gift is nonnegotiable and nonreturnable. He suggested you leave her here and board her at our place while Hope still needs the horse therapy—that way your girl will have a warm, secure place to ride all year long until she’s ready to take off on her own. He figured it would be safer that way, for a few more months, anyway.”
Christa closed her eyes, overwhelmed all over again.
“And don’t you worry about the cost of boarding her or the cost of Hope’s therapy. You’ve got enough on your plate. That’s all been taken care of.”
Jace again. She knew he must have worked things out with Hank. She had ordered him out of their lives, but somehow he had still managed to find a way to have a lasting impact.
She wanted to sit right there in the hay and heaven knows what else and just sob.
“How can I accept such a gift?”
Hank patted her hand, and the compassion in his eyes brought those tears ever closer to the surface. “It’s not for you, is it? It’s for Hope.”
That seemed to say everything. Yes, his gift had been for Hope. But she remembered that last searing kiss, the tenderness in it she hadn’t dared let herself believe, and she knew some part of his gift had been for her , as well.
“He’s a good man, isn’t he?” she murmured, unable to take her eyes from Hope.
Hank was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said. “His heart’s always been in the right place. I think he just lost sight of that for a while. But you and Hope helped him find it again.”
He walked away, and she spent the rest of the hour trying to make sense of that. When Hope and Milagra approached the mounting block at the end of the session, Christa hurried to join them.
“I love her, Mom,” Hope gushed after she was helped off but before she transferred to her wheelchair. “She’s beautiful. The best horse ever!”
To her surprise, Hope threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tight, and Christa returned the embrace, a lump in her throat.
She couldn’t help remembering those tension-filled days before Hope’s injury, when they seemed to fight about everything—much as Christa had done with her own mother when she had been Hope’s age.
She could never look at the accident and its horrific consequences with anything resembling gratitude, but she had to admit many blessings had come into their lives they would have otherwise missed.
Her relationship with Hope had been forever changed. There was a bond between them that would never have been forged without the trials of the last five months.
She could say the same for her relationship with Ellen. Living in her mother’s home as an adult had its challenges, but they were vastly outweighed by all they had gained. She had truly come to know her mother and had discovered a hundred things to admire in her—things she had always been too busy and too distracted to notice before.
Hope’s accident had taught Christa just how intertwined her life was with so many others. Caregivers, therapists, medical professionals, wonderful neighbors, strangers who had reached out to them.
People like Jace, who had entered their lives completely by chance and had left them forever changed.
Hope was still glowing as Christa pushed her wheelchair out to the Liberty.
“I can transfer by myself,” she insisted, something she wouldn’t have dared try a few weeks earlier.
After Christa broke apart the wheelchair and loaded it then climbed inside, Hope leaned forward from the backseat.
“Mom, I need to tell Jace thank you. I have to. Can we go to his ranch so I can tell him how much I love Mila?”
Christa swallowed hard, dreading the idea of seeing him again as much as she longed for it. She had already said goodbye to him and had thought that was the end of it. Would she have to do it all over again?
Yes. For Hope’s sake, she would.
“Of course,” she murmured. “He might not be home, but we can try.”
“He’ll be home,” Hope assured her. “I know he will.”
But Hope was wrong. Fifteen minutes later they stood on the front porch of his ranch house, a massive, gorgeous log-and-river-rock structure with soaring gables and a stunning view of the mountains.
“That’s the third time we’ve rung the doorbell. I’m sorry, honey. I just don’t think he’s here.”
Hope slumped into one of the half dozen rocking chairs on the porch, tired out since she had walked up the three steps on her own. She stubbornly insisted on walking as much as she could now, to Christa’s mingled dismay and pride.
“I thought for sure he would be home.”
“We can try to call him later.”
“It won’t be the same.”
Maybe it was better this way, Christa thought, though she knew it was cowardly of her to want to avoid another meeting that would only end in heartbreak.
They sat for a moment in silence to let Hope catch her breath for the walk back down the porch, though Christa couldn’t shake the awkward feeling they were trespassing, sitting here on the man’s porch when he wasn’t home.
“We should probably be going,” she finally said. “You have homework, right?”
“I guess.”
Hope needed much more help on the way down the steps than she had on the way up. At the bottom she faltered a little and had to hang on to the railing.
“Do you want me to get the wheelchair?”
“No. I can make it. It’s not far.”
As always, her daughter’s determination humbled her. Everything would be okay, she told herself. Hope was as resilient as a tough willow sapling. Just look at her. She was walking again! If she could survive what should have been a fatal accident, surely Christa could endure her broken heart.
They were only a few steps from the Jeep when Hope’s features suddenly brightened.
“Mom!” she exclaimed, looking off in the distance. “Look! Is that Jace?”
Her heart seemed to catch, but she followed Hope’s gaze to find a rider on a magnificent bay heading toward them at a hard gallop.
The sun had burst through the clouds after they’d arrived at the ranch and now it caught in his dark hair, and he was staring at them in shock, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Her insides clutched in panic and she wanted to rush Hope into the vehicle and drive away again. But then she saw her daughter standing on shaky legs beside her and shame washed through her.
Hope had spent every single day since her accident demonstrating incredible courage and strength. Surely Christa could learn from her example and show a little courage of her own.
She loved Jace McCandless. She couldn’t just let him walk out of their lives without a fight.
Jace stared at the two women standing in the spring sunshine.
If he’d still been drinking, he would have figured them for a hallucination, brought on because he hadn’t stopped thinking about them since he’d driven away from Ellen’s house two days earlier.
He never would have expected to find them waiting for him when he returned from one last ride to work out the kinks before heading to the airport.
But here they were.
He slid from the horse and looped the reins loosely around the top rail of the fence, then started toward them.
To his shock, Hope took several steps toward him, completely unsupported by her mother.
“Look at you!” he exclaimed, meeting her halfway and pulling her into a hug.
“I’ve been practicing,” she said, a definite note of accomplishment in her voice. “My mom’s been helping.”
“I’m so proud of you, Hope! You’re going to be running races in no time.”
“As long as they’re barrel races.”
He laughed and she hugged him, then stepped away, standing on her own.
“Thank you so much for the horse. I love her. She’s so perfect. I rode her today all by myself.”
Aw, hell. He’d forgotten all about the horse. That must be why they were there. He had really hoped to avoid a scene like this. He slanted a look at Christa and found her watching him out of those huge green eyes that seemed drenched with emotions he couldn’t identify.
He wanted to shove his hands in his pockets, but he thought he might need them if Hope started to wobble.
“You’re welcome. I hope she’ll do until you can ride Shiloh again,” he finally said.
“She will. She’s perfect. Her gait is so smooth. You should see her!”
He made a noncommittal sound, knowing he never would. He wasn’t coming back. He was going to sell the Silver Spur and stay far away from Sage Flats. The alternative was just too painful.
“I have to sit down,” Hope said suddenly, and he saw the signs of fatigue in her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Christa asked, stepping forward.
“Just tired.”
“You shouldn’t wear yourself out just for me,” Jace said. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
He scooped her up and carried her into his house, setting her on one of the couches adjacent to the big river-rock fireplace that dominated the room.
“Could I have a glass of water?” Hope asked.
“Of course! I’ll get you one.”
Before he could head to the kitchen, Christa spoke up, addressing him for the first time since he’d ridden up to them. “I’ll help you.”
He shot her a look of surprise. Yeah, he’d led a pretty worthless life the last two years, but he figured he was probably capable of grabbing a glass of water on his own. Still, he said nothing as she followed him into the empty kitchen, where he found a glass in the cupboard and turned on the filtered-water tap at the sink.
The glass was almost full before she finally spoke. “Jace, I... I don’t know what to say to you. You gave her a horse!”
He hadn’t expected seeing her again to hurt so much, this steady ache in his chest he could barely breathe around.
“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want your gratitude.”
She fell silent. “What do you want?” she finally asked.
Your love. Your arms around me. To kiss you again before I die right here in my kitchen for wanting you.
He couldn’t say any of those things. Just thinking the words made his throat close up. But something of his feelings must have been reflected in his expression. She stared at him for a long moment, then she gave him a radiant smile.
“Jace,” she whispered. Just his name. That was it. Then, before he could respond, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Then, to his shock, she was kissing him with fierce tenderness.
He stood like an idiot for about half a second, then he grabbed her and returned the kiss. Sunshine seemed to pour into the kitchen, bright, vivid light that soaked through him, pushing out all the darkness.
This was what he’d been looking for all these years. This moment, this feeling.
This woman.
“Wow,” he managed when he could breathe again. “Want another horse? I’ve got a dozen out there. Take your pick. Hell, if you kiss me like that again, you can take the whole herd.”
She laughed, but her smile slid away quickly. “Don’t go, Jace.”
Her voice was so low he could barely make out the words and he thought for sure he had misheard. “Sorry—what?”
“Stay. Hope needs you.”
She paused, then she shivered a little and met his gaze. The vulnerable expression in her eyes ripped him open like the business end of an angry bull.
“And so do I.”
He froze as joy burst through him, wild and radiant.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he pulled her into his arms again as all the disjointed pieces of his life seemed to suddenly fit snugly into place. She settled there with a contented sigh, her mouth softly eager beneath his.
“I love you, Christa,” he murmured, brushing the corner of that delectable mouth. “You walked into Hank’s therapy arena and you brought the spring sunshine inside with you, and I think I knew in that instant my life would never be the same.”
He loved her. She closed her eyes as the sheer wonder of it seeped through her, cleansing and sweet.
“I had a crush on you before I even met you,” she answered, “when Hope and I used to watch you on the rodeo circuit. But that was just a two-dimensional image on the TV screen. Then you came into our lives and I fell in love with more than just the image. I fell in love with you. How could I not fall hard for the man who taught my daughter how to dance again?”
His kiss stole her breath but replaced it with more of that sheer, bubbling happiness.
She touched his cheeks, savoring the rasp of his afternoon stubble and the heat of his skin. Her fingers tingled to explore every glorious inch of him, but she couldn’t forget her daughter was in the other room.
There would be time. She suddenly knew it with sweet certainty. He might have to go on this business trip, but she knew he’d come back, to Sage Flats and to her.
“Mom? Jace? It’s just a lousy drink of water. What’s taking so long?”
Christa stiffened as Hope’s voice called from the other room, growing louder as she approached. She would have pulled away from him, but Jace’s arms tightened around her.
“She’s going to know sooner or later,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m not letting you go now. Either of you.”
Christa turned in his arms to find Hope standing in the doorway, her eyes wide.
“Whoa,” she said. Just that.
“I’m crazy about your mother and she feels the same way,” Jace said. “You okay with that?”
Hope studied them for a moment, then a sudden, crafty light entered her expression. She looked so much like a typical teenager trying to figure all the angles for her own self-interest that Christa had to fight a smile.
“Does that mean I get to keep the horse?”
Jace laughed, a rich, full sound that seemed to fill the kitchen.
“That’s up to your mother.”
“I suppose,” Christa answered. “I guess a girl can never have too many miracles.”