too deep into fort-building to notice, but she wasn’t ready to see him and she couldn’t take the risk. She headed out to the kennels at a jog. Grabbed one of the pit bulls she’d been working with, a black-and-white beauty named Sheena, attached a leash to her and started walking down the field road as unwanted, annoying tears came faster and faster.
She sank to her knees beside a wooden fence post, willing the tears to stop, hugging the dog that licked her cheek with canine concern.
“Get yourself together, girlie. Nobody said life’s a tea party.”
Gramps’ words, harsh but kindly meant, had guided her through the storms of adolescence and often echoed in her mind.
Today, for some reason, they didn’t help. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pray, but the tears kept coming.
After long moments, one of the verses she’d memorized during Xavier’s treatment came into her mind.
Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Slowly, peace, or at least resignation, started to return. But every time she thought about Xavier and how disappointed he’d be, the tears overflowed again.
A hand gripped her shoulder, making her start violently. “You that upset about Buck?” Troy asked.
She shook her head, fighting for control. It wasn’t about Buck, not really. He was a small disappointment in the midst of a lot of big ones, but it was enough to push her over the edge. She couldn’t handle the possibility of losing Xavier, the only good thing in her life, and yet she had to handle it. And she had to stay strong and positive for him.
It was pretty much her mantra. She breathed in, breathed out. Stay strong, she told herself. Stay strong.
A couple of minutes later she was able to accept Troy’s outstretched hand and climb to her feet. He took the dog leash from her and handed her an ancient-looking, soft bandanna. “It’s not pretty, but it’s clean.”
She nodded and wiped her eyes and nose and came back into herself enough to be embarrassed at how she must look. She wasn’t one of those pretty, leak-a-few-tears criers; she knew her eyes must be red and puffy, and she honked when she blew her nose. “Sorry,” she said to him.
“For what?”
She shook her head, and by unspoken agreement they started walking. “Sorry to break down.”
“You’re entitled.”
The sun was setting now, sending pink streaks across the sky, and a slight breeze cooled the air. Crickets harmonized with bullfrogs in a gentle rise and fall. Angelica breathed in air so pungent with hay and summer flowers that she could almost taste it, and slowly the familiar landscape brought her calm.
“You know,” Troy ventured after a few minutes, “Buck Armstrong’s not really worth all that emotion. Not these days. If I’d known you were this into dating him, I might have warned you he has a drinking problem.”
She laughed, and that made her cry a little more, and she wiped her eyes. “It’s not really about Buck.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“I’ve got a plan, is what I’ve got,” she said, “and I was hoping Buck could be a part of it.” Briefly, she explained her intention of finding a stand-in dad for Xavier.
Troy shook his head. “That’s not going to work.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a smart kid. He’ll know. You can’t just pretend you’re dating someone so that he’ll think he’s getting a dad.”
“I can if I want to.” They came to a crossroads and she glanced around. “I’m not ready to go back home and admit defeat yet, and I don’t want him looking out the window and seeing me cry.”
“Come the back way, by the kennel.”
Sheena, the dog she’d brought with her, jumped at a squirrel, and Troy let her off the lead to chase it. She romped happily, ears flopping.
“So you think getting a dad will make Xavier happy? Even if it’s a fake dad?”
“It’s not fake! Or, well, it is, but for a good reason.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture she always carried, Xavier in happier times. “Look at that face! For all I know, he’ll never be really healthy again.” She cleared her throat. “If I can make his life happy, I’m going to do it.”
He studied the picture. “He played Little League?”
She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “T-ball. He’d just started when he was diagnosed. He had one season.”
“He started young.”
She nodded. “They let him start a few weeks before his birthday, even though officially they aren’t supposed to start until they turn four.”
“Because he was sick?”
She shook her head. “Because he was so good. He loved it.” Tears rushed to her eyes again and she put her hands to her face.
“Hey.” He took the sloppy bandanna from her hand, wiped her eyes and nose as if she were a child, and pulled her to his chest. And for just a minute, after a reflexive flinch, Angelica let herself enjoy the feeling. His chest was broad and strong, and she heard the slow beating of his heart. She aligned her breath with his and it steadied her, calmed her.
In just a minute, she’d back away. Because this was dangerous and it wasn’t going anywhere. Troy wouldn’t want a woman like Angelica, not really, so letting an attraction build between them was a huge mistake.
* * *
Troy patted Angelica’s back and breathed in the strawberry scent of her hair, trying to remind himself why he needed to be careful.
He wanted to help Angelica and Xavier in the worst way. His heart was all in with this little family. But that heart was broken, wounded, not whole.
He felt her stiffen in his arms, as though she was just realizing how close he was. For the thousandth time since he’d reencountered her, he wondered about her skittishness around men. Or was it just around him? No, he’d seen her tense up when Armstrong had hugged her, too.
Carefully, he held her upper arms and stepped away. Her face was blotched and wet, but she still looked beautiful. Her Western-style shirt was unbuttoned down to a modest V, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. Her jeans clung to her slim figure. Intricate silver earrings hung from her ears, sparkling against her wavy black hair.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, “let’s go in the house. We’ll get you something to drink.”
“Okay.” She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her.
Don’t go there, fool.
They walked back along the country road as the last bit of sun set in a golden haze. A few dogs barked out their farewell to the day. At the kennel, they put Sheena back inside, and then he led Angelica up to the house.
He loved his farm, his dogs, his life. He had so much. But what right did he have to be happy when Angelica’s problems were so big?
How could he help her?
An idea slammed into him, almost an audible voice.
You could marry her.
Immediately he squelched the notion. Ridiculous. No way. He wouldn’t go down that path. Not again, not after what she’d done to him.
And even outside of the way she’d dumped him, he’d never seen a good marriage. He didn’t