wondered if others felt like that, but it wasn’t something he talked about. But the other night, when Ethan talked about redeeming love and God’s sacrificial nature, the young pastor’s words hit home.
Jack wanted redeeming love. He didn’t know if he could fix things with Livvie, but he knew that just making things better would benefit both of them. Heal them. And Jesus was a healer, so the mathematics of the situation should work.
Redeeming love, simple yet powerful. He longed for that. Needed it. And he wanted to be the kind of gentle, loving person that deserved it. Starting now.
* * *
“Nice flowers, honey.”
Liv heard the amusement in her mother’s voice and faced her as she gave the arrangement a much-needed drink. “Thanks. They’ve been through a troubling experience tonight, but I think they’ll perk up by morning.”
“There’s an analogy for you.”
“Me and the flowers?” Liv made a face but couldn’t refute her mother’s logic. “True enough. What time are you guys pulling out on Saturday?”
“Around five. I’ll try not to wake you.”
“Well, I told Jack I’d ride to Three Forks for the horse auction, so I’ll be up early anyway. Thanks for the obvious nudge, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” Her mother shrugged and grinned. “You’re helping him with the game—”
“And he’s giving me info about the old-time baseball history of Jasper Gulch,” Liv inserted. “All business, Mom.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Jane flicked the flowers a glance. “A private evening planning session, flowers and a date. Is that the way business is done these days, dear?”
“Small-town business, yes. If we met in town, every tongue would be wagging. Half the town has us married already, because how on earth can two single people not end up together when fate and time thrust them into the same hometown?”
“Memories go back a ways. And folks liked seeing you as a couple. But you’re right, that was a long time ago and a lot has changed. And you tried a long-distance relationship with Jack once and it didn’t work. If you get a job in one of the cities, that would be rough on both of you. Of course, you could stay here,” her mother added as she hugged Liv good-night. “I won’t deny that I love having you home. But I also know that jobs are scarce and you need to make a living, so I won’t pester you about it.”
“Any more than you already have.” Liv lifted the vase and turned to carry it up the stairs. “Me and my flowers are going to bed. I’m going to practice getting up early the next couple of days so I don’t mess up Saturday morning. It would be just like me to hit the snooze alarm and wake up to Jack pounding on the door, ready to hit the trail.”
Jane’s expression said she approved of the practice mornings. While she’d said nothing the past week, Liv had noted the concern on her mother’s face the longer Liv stayed in bed each day. Seeing that worry made her want more jump in her step, but coming back to Jasper Gulch held up a dulled mirror image. No job, no marriage, no family.
In baseball talk, three strikes was an out. But seeing Jack after all this time? Working with him?
That made her feel as if she was back at home plate, bat in hand, a new opportunity waiting. Silly, yes. But it didn’t feel silly, it felt real and good and wholesome.
One bouquet of wildflowers and you’re jumping into the batter’s box again? Have you learned nothing from your past experiences?
Liv cringed as she set the flowers onto a small plate, protecting the oil finish on the antique dresser. Maybe she should exercise more caution.
Maybe?
She hauled in a deep breath. She would use more caution and maintain a distance from Jack. Too much too soon, and she had no desire to make herself the talk of the town or mess up her life again. Therefore, she resolved to keep things to “friends only” status with Jack McGuire. She’d been taught a tough lesson by her baseball-loving ex-boyfriend years back. It was time for her to smarten up. Read the pitches. An easy walk to first base was way better than adding to her current strike list. She’d put Jack into the “Danger Zone” as she drove into town... Now she needed to keep him there.
Sitting an hour in the front seat of his pickup, back and forth to Three Forks?
She made a face into the mirror, because she was having trouble keeping her distance with wide-open space around them. How much trickier would it be in close proximity?
A part of her toyed with the idea of texting Jack to back out.
The other part?
She studied the face in the mirror and faced facts. The other part was wishing time away, anxious to see Jack again. The rueful expression looking back at her said she was in trouble...big trouble... Knowing that trouble concerned Jack McGuire made her heart beat faster, and that was a feeling she’d been missing for a long time.
The cheerful whistling trill caught Jack off guard on Friday morning. He straightened as the sound approached the barn, then realized he’d been hearing it in the background for a while, an old sound, normal and nice.
Except it hadn’t been normal since his mother passed away, which made the sound of his father’s easy tune an even better surprise. He turned as Mick strode through the wide doors at the far end. The older McGuire spotted Jack and moved his way. “That part came in.” He held out an oblong box, open along one side.
“Good.” Jack set the box aside and nodded west. “I should have enough time to get those hydraulics working again before the rain comes. Then we can bring that hay alongside.”
“Need help?”
“I don’t, but I appreciate the offer. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for dirt diving beneath a John Deere in any case.”
“I said I’d help tear off some bad porch planking for a friend,” his father explained, but the way he said it, as if helping a friend was slightly uncomfortable, surprised Jack. Mick McGuire might be a quiet guy, but he was always willing to help whoever needed an extra hand. Although he looked mighty nice to be leveraging old wood and rusty nails. “Figured with rain coming, today was as good as any.”
“Ripping up boards?” Jack cast his father’s clean shirt and jeans a doubtful look. “You got cleaned up to get dirty?”
His father shrugged, but the look on his face, as if he’d just been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, made Jack think hard and quick. His father wasn’t just going to help a friend.
He was going to help a woman friend.
That explained the cologne and the clean-shaven face.
“Call if you need me.” Mick gave a short wave and aimed for the truck.
“Right.” Reality made Jack straighten and watch his father leave. “See ya’.”
Mick strolled out of the barn, his gait easy, the roll of his shoulders a dead giveaway. He settled a couple of toolboxes into the bed of his signature red Double M pickup truck. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat with the window open, the radio cranking Easton Corbin sounding like a young George Strait. As the truck rounded the curved driveway, Jack saw his father’s head bob in time with the music...and heard him start to whistle along as the truck headed for the road.
His father. Cleaned up, whistling and headed out for the day.
The irony of how he planned to do the same thing the following morning wasn’t lost on Jack. He’d huffed about all the centennial nonsense. He’d done his best to ignore it until the rodeo rumbled into town last month and Julie Shaw cornered him.
But