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Though she probably wasn’t much younger than his own thirty-two, in the early-morning light her skin glowed as fresh as a teenager’s. Lindsey Mitchell was not a beautiful woman in the Hollywood sense, but she had a clean, wholesome, uncomplicated quality that drew him.
Something turned over inside his chest. Indigestion, he hoped. No woman’s face had stirred him since Erin’s death. Nothing stirred him much, to tell the truth, except the beautiful little girl whose body heat warmed his side just as her presence warmed the awful chill in his soul.
“A Christmas-tree farm. For real?” Jade’s eyes widened in interest, but she looked to him for approval. “Is it okay if we’re here, Daddy?”
The familiar twinge of guilt pinched him. Jade knew how her daddy felt about Christmas. “Sure, Butterbean. It’s okay.”
In fact, he was anxious to be here, to find out about the farm and about how Lindsey Mitchell had come to possess it.
“Can I get out and look?”
Before he had the opportunity to remember just why Jade shouldn’t get out of the truck, Lindsey Mitchell answered for him. “Of course you can. That’s what this place is all about.”
Jade scooted across the seat to the passenger-side door so fast Jesse had no time to think. She opened the door, jumped down and bounded around the pickup. Her scream ripped the morning peace like a five-alarm fire.
With a sharp sense of responsibility and a healthy dose of anxiety, Jesse shot out of the truck and ran to her, yanking her shaking body up into his arms. “Hush, Jade. It’s okay. The dog won’t hurt you.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Lindsey Mitchell was all sympathy and compassion. “I am so very sorry. I didn’t know Sushi would frighten her like that.”
“It’s my fault. I’d forgotten about the dog. Jade is terrified of them.”
“Sushi would never hurt anyone.”
“We were told the same thing by the owner of the rottweiler that mauled her when she was four.” Jade’s sobs grew louder at the reminder.
“How horrible. Was she badly hurt?”
“Yes,” he said tersely, wanting to drop the subject while he calmed Jade. The child clung to his neck, sobbing and trembling enough to break his heart.
“Why don’t you bring her inside. I’ll leave Sushi out here for now.”
Grateful, Jesse followed the woman across the long front porch and into the farmhouse. Once inside the living room, she motioned with one hand.
“Sit down. Please. Do you think a drink of water or maybe a cool cloth on her forehead would help?”
“Yes to both.” He sank onto a large brown couch that had seen better days, but someone’s artistic hand had crocheted a blue-and-yellow afghan as a cover to brighten the faded upholstery. Jade plastered her face against his chest, her tears spotting his chambray shirt a dark blue.
Lindsey returned almost immediately, placed the water glass on a wooden coffee table and, going down on one knee in front of the couch, took the liberty of smoothing the damp cloth over Jade’s tear-soaked face. The woman was impossibly near. The clean scent of her hair and skin blended with the sweaty heat of his daughter’s tears. He swallowed hard, forcing back the unwelcome rush of yearning for the world to be normal again. Life was not normal, would never be normal, and he could not be distracted by Lindsey Mitchell’s kind nature and sweet face.
“Shh,” Lindsey whispered to Jade, her warm, smoky voice raising gooseflesh on his arms. “It’s okay, sugar. The dog is gone. You’re okay.”
The sweet motherly actions set off another torrent of reactions inside Jesse. Resentment. Delight. Anger. Gratitude. And finally relief because his child began to settle down as her sobs dwindled to quivering hiccups.
“There now.” Adding to Jesse’s relief, Lindsey handed him the cloth and stood, moving back a pace or two. She motioned toward the water glass. “Would you like a drink?”
Jade, her cheek still pressed hard against Jesse’s chest, shook her head in refusal.
“She’ll be all right now,” Jesse said, pushing a few stray strands of damp hair away from the child’s face. “Won’t you, Butterbean?”
Like the trooper she was, Jade sat up, sniffed a couple of times for good measure, and nodded. “I need a tissue.”
“Tissue coming right up.” Red plaid jacket flapping open, Lindsey whipped across the room to an end table and returned with the tissue. “How about some juice instead of that water?”
Jade’s green eyes looked to Jesse for permission.
He nodded. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Lindsey started toward a country-kitchen area opening off one end of the living room. At the doorway, she turned. “How about you? Coffee?”
The woman behaved as if he were a guest instead of a total stranger looking for work. The notion made him uncomfortable as all get out, especially considering why he was here. He didn’t want her to be nice. He couldn’t afford to like her.
Fortunately, he’d never developed a taste for coffee, not even the fancy kind that Erin enjoyed. “No thanks.”
“I have some Cokes if you’d rather.”
He sighed in defeat. He’d give a ten-dollar bill this morning for a sharp jolt of cold carbonated caffeine.
“A Coke sounds good.” He shifted Jade onto the couch. Her hair was a mess and he realized he’d been in such a hurry to get here this morning, he hadn’t even noticed. Normally, a headband was the best he could do, but today he’d even forgotten that. So much for first impressions. Using his fingers, he smoothed the dark locks as much as possible. Jade aimed a wobbly grin at him and shrugged. She’d grown accustomed to his awkward attempts to make her look like a little girl.
He glanced toward the kitchen, saw that Lindsey’s back was turned. With one hand holding his daughter’s, he took the few moments when Lindsey wasn’t in sight to let his gaze drift around the house. It had changed—either that or his perception was different. Eighteen years was a long time.
The wood floors, polished to a rich, honeyed glow, looked the same. And the house still bore the warm, inviting feel of a country farmhouse. But now, the rooms seemed lighter, brighter. Where he remembered a certain dreariness brought on by his mother’s illness, someone—Lindsey Mitchell, he supposed—had drenched the rooms in light and color—warm colors of polished oak and yellow-flowered curtains.
The house looked simple, uncluttered and sparkling clean—a lot like Lindsey Mitchell herself.
“Here we go.” Lindsey’s smoky voice yanked him around. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his intense interest. No point in raising her suspicions. He had no intention of letting her know the real reason he was here until he had the proof in his hands.
“Yum, Juicy Juice.” Jade came alive at the sight of a cartoon-decorated box of apple juice. “Thank you.”
Lindsey favored her with another of those smiles that set Jesse’s stomach churning. “I have some gummy fruits in there too if you’d like some—the kind with smiley faces.”
Jade paused in the process of stabbing the straw into the top of her juice carton. “Do you have a little girl?”
Jesse was wondering the same thing, though the townspeople claimed she lived alone up here. Why would a single woman keep kid foods on hand?
If he hadn’t been watching her closely to hear the answer to Jade’s questions, he’d have missed the cloud that passed briefly over Lindsey’s face. But he had seen it and wondered.
“No.” She handed him a drippy can of Coke wrapped in a paper towel. “No little girls of my own, but I teach a Sunday-school class, and the kids like to come out here pretty often.”
Great. A Sunday-school teacher. Just what he didn’t need—a Bible-thumping church lady who raised Christmas trees.
“What do they come to your house for?” Jade asked with interest. “Do you gots toys?”
“Better than toys.” Lindsey eased down into a big brown easy chair, set her coffee cup on an end table and leaned toward Jade. Her shoulder-length hair swept forward across her full mouth. She hooked it behind one ear. “We play games, have picnics or hayrides, go hiking. Lots of fun activities. And,” she smiled, pausing for effect, “I have Christmas trees year-round.”
Christmas trees. Jesse suppressed a shiver of dread. Could he really work among the constant reminders of all he’d lost?
Jade smoothly sidestepped a discussion of the trees, though he saw the wariness leap into her eyes. “I used to go to Sunday school.”
“Maybe you can go with me some time. We have great fun and learn about Jesus.”
Jesse noticed some things he’d missed before. A Bible lay open on an end table near the television, and a plain silver cross hung on one wall flanked by a decorative candle on each side. Stifling an inner sigh, he swallowed a hefty swig of cola and felt the fire burn all the way down his throat. He could work for a card-carrying Christian. He had to. Jade deserved this one last chance.
“We don’t go anymore since Mama died.”
Jesse grew uncomfortably warm as Lindsey turned her eyes on him. Was she judging him? Finding him unfit as a father because he didn’t want his child growing up with false hopes about a God who’d let you down when you needed him most?
He tried to shrug it off. No way he wanted to offend this woman and blow the chance of working here. As much as he hated making excuses, he had to. “We’ve moved a lot lately.”
“Are you planning to be in Winding Stair long?”
“Permanently,” he said. And he hoped that was true. He hadn’t stayed in one spot since leaving this mountain as a scared and angry teenager. Even during his marriage, he’d roamed like a wild maverick following the rodeo or traveling with an electric-line crew, while Erin remained in Enid to raise Jade. “But first I need a job.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about that. I know everyone within twenty miles of Winding Stair, but I don’t know you. Tell me about yourself.”
He sat back, trying to hide his expression behind another long, burning pull of the soda. He hadn’t expected her to ask that. He thought she might ask for references or about his experience, but not about him specifically. And given the situation, the less she knew the better.
“Not much to tell. I’m a widower with a little girl to support. I’m dependable. I’ll work hard and do a good job.” He stopped short of saying she wouldn’t regret hiring him. Eventually, she would.
Lindsey studied him with a serene expression and a slight curve of a full lower lip. He wondered if she was always so calm.
“Where are you from?”
“Enid mostly,” he answered, naming the small town west of Oklahoma City that had been more Erin’s home than his.
“I went to a rodeo there once when I was in college.”
“Yeah?” He’d made plenty of rodeos there himself.
With a nod, she folded her arms. “What did you do in Enid? I know they don’t raise trees in those parts.”
He allowed a smile at that one. The opening to the Great Plains, the land around Enid was as flat as a piece of toast.
“Worked lineman crews most of the time and some occasional rodeo. But I’ve done a little of everything.”
“Lineman? As in electricity?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve helped string half the power lines between Texas and Arkansas.”
His answer seemed to please her, though he had no idea what electricity had to do with raising Christmas trees.
“How soon could you begin working?”
“Today.”
She blinked and sat back, taking her coffee with her. “Don’t you even want to know what the job will entail?”
“I need work, Miss Mitchell. I can do about anything and I’m not picky.”
“People are generally surprised to discover that growing Christmas trees takes a lot of hard work and know-how. I have the know-how, but I want to expand. To do that I need help. Good, dependable help.”
“You’ll have that with me. I don’t mind long hours, hard work or getting dirty.”
“The pay isn’t great.” She named a sum barely above minimum wage. He wanted to react but didn’t. He’d made do on less. Neither the job nor the money was the important issue here.
“The hours are long. And I can be a slave driver.”
Jesse couldn’t hold back a grin. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Lindsey as much of a slave driver. “Are you offering me the job or trying to scare me off?”
She laughed and the sound sent a shiver of warmth into the cold recesses of Jesse’s heart. “Maybe both. I don’t want to hire someone today and have him gone next week.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Jade’s already been in two schools this year, and it’s only October.”
Her eyes rested on Jade as she thought that one over. One foot tapping to a silent tune while she munched gummy faces, his daughter paid little attention to the adults.
“I have about twenty acres of trees now but plan to expand by at least another ten by next year. Would you like to have a look at the tree lot?”
“Not now.” Not at all, ever, but he knew that was out of the question. Once he took possession the Christmas trees would disappear. “Just tell me what I’ll be doing.”
For the next five minutes, she discussed pruning and replanting, spraying and cutting, bagging and shipping. All of which he could do. No problem. He’d just pretend they were ordinary trees.
“I’ll need character references before I make a final decision.”
Jesse reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded paper. He’d been prepared for that question. “Any of these people will tell you that I’m not a serial killer.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to have to shoot you.”
He must have looked as startled as he felt because she laughed. “That was a joke. A bad one, I’ll admit, but I can shoot and I do have a gun.”
Was she warning him to tread lightly? “Interesting hobby for a woman.”
“The rifle was my granddad’s. He had quite a collection.”
“Is he the one who taught you to shoot?”
“Mostly. But don’t worry about safety.” She glanced at his adorable little girl with the missing front tooth. “I have a double-locked gun safe to protect the kids who come out here. Owning a firearm is a huge responsibility that I don’t take lightly.”
Rising from the overstuffed armchair, she took the sheet of references from his outstretched fingers. The clean scent of soap mixed with the subtle remnants of coffee drifted around her. The combination reminded him way too much of Erin.
“I’ll give some of these folks a call and let you know something this afternoon. Will that be all right?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll need your telephone number. Where can I reach you?”
Jesse rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Hmm. That could be a problem. No phone yet.”
“Where are you living? Maybe I know someone close by and could have them bring you a message.”
