his hazel eyes and bad-boy smile was just that, a distraction. His dark, curly hair was a distraction. His swagger, all cowboy with faded jeans, also a distraction.
She walked back to the corral, proud of the way she’d made it through the day. Each day got easier. She used the cane less. She cried less. More and more she believed she might survive. Today she’d managed to smile more. She’d even laughed.
Because of Dylan and those two children. She could admit he’d brought a lightness she hadn’t felt in a long time. Because Dylan didn’t allow her to be a victim.
In the first few months after the accident, she’d wanted to die. She’d wanted to give up. She’d found ways to numb herself to the physical pain, and to the emotional pain that often hurt worse.
Her best friend had been driving the night of the car accident because Harmony hadn’t been sober enough to get behind the wheel. She stood at the corral watching the horse graze on what grass there was in the small enclosure. It wasn’t enough to hurt him. She’d have the vet come out tomorrow to check him and make sure he didn’t need more than grass and grain.
Beau turned to look at her, his ears twitching as he sniffed the air. She whistled softly and he took a few steps in her direction but the grass distracted him again.
It didn’t take long for her back and legs to give out. Harmony limped back into the barn and sat down on an upturned bucket. She leaned her head against the wall and waited for the pain to subside, at least enough to make it to the house. Her mind filled with thoughts of Amy. She kept her eyes open, because if she closed them she would see the flash of lights as a truck ran a stop sign. She would hear the crash of metal and see her friend, lifeless in the driver’s seat.
In the silence her heart moved toward God, praying for peace and strength to get through.
When she finally walked out of the barn, the sun was a hazy fixture hanging in the western sky. As she crossed the lawn toward the house, she heard a child laughing and realized it came from the little house just across the field from her place. The house sat on Cooper land. And even from a distance she could see Dylan Cooper in the front yard.
She watched them, smiling when Dylan lifted Callie to his shoulders. She could hear the faint laughter, carried on the breeze. A truck pulled up her drive and stopped. She smiled at Wyatt Johnson, pastor of Dawson Community Church, and his wife, Rachel. It was their second visit this week. She knew she had her dad to thank for that. Since getting to town she’d also had visits from various members of the Cooper family.
“Hi, Wyatt, Rachel,” she greeted them as they got out of their truck.
“We were on our way home from town and thought we’d stop by and see if you need anything.” Wyatt’s gaze fixed on the corral and his eyes narrowed. “Is that the horse from over at Bill Tanner’s? Terry’s horse?”
“It is.” She looked back at the horse that hadn’t stopped grazing since they unloaded him.
“How did you manage that?”
She shrugged, telling him the short version of the story. The version that didn’t include Dylan. “I think Bill realized it was time to let the horse go.”
Rachel moved next to her husband. “And the memories.”
“Yes, the memories.” Harmony smiled.
“We wanted to check on you and make sure everything is okay out here. If you need anything at all, let us know.” Wyatt made the same offer he’d made days ago when she first arrived in Dawson.
“I know where to find you,” Harmony repeated her line from that conversation. “And church starts at eleven.”
Rachel smiled at that. “I think she’s got it, Wyatt.”
“I know she does.” Wyatt shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “But you’re here alone and your dad...”
A guilty flush tinted his cheeks.
“My dad wants to make sure I’m okay. I know.”
Wyatt didn’t smile this time. “We’re all family here, Harmony. I think we all want to know that you’re okay.”
“I appreciate that, Wyatt, I really do. And I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”
He slipped an arm around his wife. Harmony felt the tiniest twinge of envy at the easy gesture. She wondered how it would feel to be part of a couple, part of a team. But she wouldn’t know because she wouldn’t allow herself a relationship, not a real one, not for a very long time. Not until she was positive she could do this life thing without letting anyone else down.
Rachel stepped away from Wyatt and gave her a quick hug. “I’m just about a mile down the road if you ever want coffee.”
“That’s an invitation I won’t turn down. Thank you.” She heard the quick laughter from across the field, Dylan and the children again. She pretended not to notice and smiled at the couple standing in front of her. “And Dylan came by earlier. He offered to help out if I need anything. It just made sense, because we live so close.”
Wyatt gave her a steady, questioning look and she wanted to look away. Of course Wyatt, long a resident of Dawson, remembered her adversarial relationship with Dylan Cooper. She smiled and hoped he wouldn’t ask questions.
“That’s good of Dylan. He’s had a lot on his shoulders and I’m sure he could use the help, too.”
“He seems to be handling parenthood.” The easy words slipped out, because it was the truth. “But I’m here if he needs anything.”
Wyatt’s face wavered between curious and concerned, but he shrugged and then offered an easy smile. “There’s another reason I stopped by today.”
“Okay.”
“I want to start a recovery program.”
Harmony bit down on her lip and nodded, unsure what to say. She was involved in a program that offered anonymity. She craved it because for a long time it seemed as if everyone knew that Harmony Cross was addicted to prescription drugs. Did they know how easy it was to get those drugs? A toothache, headache, stomach pain, the list was endless. No one really asked questions. No one delved deeper. And when the prescriptions ran out, an addict knew how to find the person with pills to sell.
“Harmony, I know this is tough.” Wyatt had shifted his arm from his wife’s waist and now held her hand but his direct gaze focused on Harmony’s face. “I know that you came here to shed the focus people were putting on your life, the attention and probably some suffocation by people who mean well.”
She smiled at that. “You have talked to my parents.”
“I understand how much you want to hide and how much you want people to stop asking if they can help or if you’re okay.”
“Bingo.” She hoped that didn’t sound too harsh. She knew Wyatt’s first wife had committed suicide, leaving him to raise two little girls alone and deal with the loss of a woman he loved.
“It isn’t easy to get back to life.” Wyatt looked down at Rachel. “Sometimes we need a person who leads us back into the light.”
“I’m not looking for a person.” The answer came easily. “I’m not ready for relationships. I’m not ready to step in front of a group of well-meaning church people and tell them I’m an addict.”
“I think you’ll find this group of people pretty supportive and ready to help each other through some tough times.”
“I know,” she said. “But I need time. I’ve had all of the sermons thrown at me. God allowed this to happen to get me back in church. Or if I hadn’t walked away from God, this wouldn’t have happened.” The one that hurt the most was that God had a reason for taking her best friend. Not her. “I believe, Wyatt, I’ve just had a pretty big crisis in faith. I was hoping if I came back here...”
Wyatt