seat behind them and stretched his leg in front of him. “Maybe I’m trying to find my way back.”
“God doesn’t require you to make amends to be forgiven.”
He didn’t respond for a minute. She wondered if she’d hit the nail on the head. She looked up at him. He was staring at the arena, his strong jaw clenched. She focused, for whatever reason, on the pulse at the base of his throat.
Finally he sighed. “I have to do this.”
“I forgave you a long time ago. When we’re young everything feels like forever. I was a typical teenage girl who thought if you smiled at me, we’d probably get married. I know better now.”
“Girls really think that?” He smiled at her.
“Maybe not that drastically. But when the teenage girl is already...” She didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was too late. “When the girl isn’t feeling loved, she is probably looking for someone to love her.”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person to love you.”
So was she. “Well, you did me a favor. You taught me to be more careful. We’ve all hurt people, Gage. It’s part of life, part of growing up.”
“I know. But somehow I’ve skated through life with almost no repercussions and other people have suffered....”
He had more to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. They weren’t friends. They didn’t share secrets. She stood up and moved away from him, away from his story and his emotions.
“I should go.”
He grinned and stood up. “Too much?”
“Yeah. I think if you need to confess, I’m not the person. But I’ll take the help with my brother.”
“Thank you.”
She took off his coat and handed it back to him. His fingers brushed hers. Layla pulled back, surprised by the contact, by the way his eyes sought hers when they touched.
“Good night, Gage.” She hurried away, leaving him standing in the arena alone.
Chapter Four
Gage didn’t plan on going to church with the family Sunday morning, so he woke up before sunrise and headed out, dressed for work in old jeans, a flannel shirt and work boots. Layla had a few fences that looked like a cow could walk right through them, and he knew she’d fight him if he offered. So he wasn’t going to ask, he was just going to do it.
It was cold, so cold he could see his breath as he walked along the fence line after parking his truck at the end of Layla’s drive. Talk about a mess. The fence posts leaned and the barbed wire was so loose a cow could walk between the strands.
He didn’t know why kids had bothered cutting the fence. They could have pushed the fence posts over. But not after today. He planned on pounding the posts back into the ground and tightening the wire, maybe replacing some of it.
It would take all day. So he wouldn’t have to sit across the Sunday table from Reese and fight his anger all over again. He wasn’t angry with Reese, but with the hand he’d been dealt. Gage wouldn’t have to go to church and face God with that anger.
He stopped at the corner post. The sun was coming up over the tree line, shooting beams of light into the hazy morning. It wouldn’t take long for it to burn up the fog and melt the frost that covered the grass and trees. But it sure was beautiful.
As the sun rose, he pounded away at fence posts, working his way down the line. He eventually had to get his sunglasses, and then went back to work. He didn’t know how Layla did it all. She was working, trying to keep her brother from becoming a juvenile delinquent and holding on to this farm. He shot a look toward the house, a good thousand feet to the east of where he stood. At that moment she walked out the back door, her tiny frame hidden inside a big coat, a knit cap pulled down tight on her head.
He didn’t move on to the next post. Instead he watched as she leaned down to pet her dog and then walked to the barn. He watched as she walked through the doors and a minute later she opened a side door. The horse that ran into the corral took his breath away. Maybe it was the distance, maybe it was the rising sun catching the gold in the red-gold coat, but the animal was crazy beautiful.
Where’d she get a horse like that? How had he missed it last night when he and Brandon had fed the livestock? Right, he’d fed the cattle. Brandon had taken care of the horse, and Gage hadn’t thought much about it.
The animal tossed its head and ran around the small enclosure. Layla stood on the outside of the corral, her arms rested on the top rail. The horse changed to a slow, gaited trot that was pretty showy.
Eventually Gage shook his head and went back to work, pounding the next post deeper into the ground. Five more to go. He was down to the second from the last post when Layla walked up to him, her arms crossed and that knit cap making her gray eyes look huge.
“What in the world are you doing?”
He finished the last post, pounding once, twice, three times. He tried to push it, but it was in tight. “Fixing your fence before the cattle realize they can walk right through.”
“I can fix my own fences.” She looked like a woman about to stomp her foot.
“I know you can. I’m being helpful.”
“No, you’re feeling guilty. And angry. And I don’t know what else. But I am not your problem. You are your problem. Stop trying to fix your life by fixing mine.”
He stepped back, stung by her words. She might have a point. “Whatever.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound much like a teenage girl. He let it go. He had fence to fix. He pulled the tools out of his jacket pocket and grabbed the fence.
“Stop.”
He looked up from the wire he was holding and pushed his hat back so he could get a better look at her. He yanked off his sunglasses and shoved them in his pocket. “Why?”
“Because I’ve got to get ready for church, and if Brandon sees you out here, he isn’t going to want to go.”
“He’ll go.”
“Because you’ll make him?” She nearly smiled. The edge of her mouth pulled up, and her eyes sparkled just briefly. It took him by surprise, that almost smile.
He shook off the strange urge to hug her and went back to work, ignoring her as she continued to yammer at him, telling him why he was about as low on the food chain as a guy could get.
Finally she did something that sounded a lot like a growl and then she punched him on the arm. He swallowed down a laugh and turned to look at her. She was madder than spit.
“Are you about finished abusing me?”
She yanked off her knit cap and shoved it into her pocket, setting her light brown hair free to drift across her face, set in motion by a light breeze. “No, I’m not done. If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the police.”
“You’re going to turn me in for fixing your fence?”
“Yes.” She bit down on her bottom lip and the angry look in her eyes melted. “You make me so mad.”
“Because I’m cute and hard to hate.”
“Something like that.” Her mouth opened like a landed trout. “I didn’t mean the cute part.”
“Of course you did.”
“No, I didn’t. You think you’re cute. I don’t.”
“I could use a cup of coffee. And where did you get that horse?”
“I don’t have coffee. And the horse is mine.”
“I know he’s yours.”