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“Kara?”
Her gaze riveted, struggling for breath, she could only nod. He didn’t try to jog her memory as to who he was. He knew she’d remember. He’d have read it in her eyes.
Oh, yes, she remembered Trey Kenton.
After a too-long moment, he gave a wry chuckle. “Didn’t figure I’d ever run into you again.”
She swallowed and held out the now-whimpering child. “I don’t imagine you did.”
He accepted his niece and handed over the snowbrush, but his eyes searched Kara’s. For what? Confirmation that she was sufficiently ashamed of the cowardly lurch she’d left him in those many years ago?
Oh, yes, she remembered. Would never forget. Or forgive herself. So why should he?
She broke eye contact and motioned to the child fussing in his arms. “She lost her mitten.”
How lame. She owed him an apology, not an evasive, impersonal observation.
He dug out a handkerchief and wiped the sniffling toddler’s nose, then enveloped the tiny bare hand in his large gloved one. “She hasn’t had a nap in days and now we’re all paying for it.”
Could he be as uncomfortable as she was? After all, the last time they saw each other… Her cheeks warmed at the memory.
“Come on, Uncle Trey. Let’s go home.”
“Hang on, Mary.”
He focused again on Kara with a look she could only interpret as wary. Couldn’t blame him.
“So, Kara, you’re back in Canyon Springs.”
She tightened her grip on the snowbrush. “Not for long. Helping my mom get back on her feet. She hasn’t been well.”
“Heard about that. Sorry.”
Was he? Sharon Dixon and Trey Kenton hadn’t exactly been a match made in heaven. Cowboy types didn’t easily endear themselves to her mom. Or her.
The wind kicked up again, swirling a stinging mix of snow and ice pellets into their faces.
“Need to get these kids home and tucked into bed.” He turned to the truck and eased the toddler into the empty car seat next to that of her sister.
Kara stepped away on unsteady legs. Was he visiting? Just babysitting for his brother and sister-in-law? Surely he hadn’t moved back to Canyon Springs. No way. From the moment he’d set a booted foot inside the city limits as a teen, he’d been determined to put the mountain community in his rearview mirror.
With speed that likely rivaled his best record at roping and tying a calf, Trey buckled in his niece. Then he shut the back door and turned to Kara once more, his face again shadowed. “Thank you kindly for your help.”
With a brisk nod and a tip of his hat, he limped around the front of the truck to the driver’s side and climbed in.
He didn’t have a limp in high school.
Heart pounding in an erratic rhythm, she could only stare stupefied at the pickup as another gust of wind slammed into her. She hardly felt the cold creeping in around the neckline of her jacket or the wind-driven snowflakes pelting her face.
That was it? A coolly polite “thank you kindly for your help”? She took another step back, absently glancing down at the frosty ground—and spied a pint-size mitten lying half-buried in the snow. She knelt to pick it up with a trembling hand.
But before she could return it to its diminutive owner, the truck started—and the man whose life she’d all but ruined drove away.
Whoa. Trey gave a low whistle as he and the girls headed out of town to his brother and sister-in-law’s place, the windshield wipers battling the pummeling snow.
Kara Dixon. Hadn’t bargained on that one tonight.
He’d been in and out of Canyon Springs the past several months and knew she’d returned at Thanksgiving. Heard she was an interior designer with some big firm in Chicago. Had even glimpsed her a few times, helping her mother out of a car at the grocery store. Unloading boxes at the Warehouse. Dashing coatless across the street to Camilla’s Café.
He’d intentionally kept his distance—even stayed away from town most weekends—but she wasn’t a woman who’d be easily overlooked. Not with that toned figure and long, red-blonde mane of hers caught up in a ponytail. Strawberry blonde. That’s how his sister-in-law described it. And Kara was model-tall and leggy, too, like a thoroughbred. He’d forgotten how it initially amused his seventeen-year-old self that ill-fated night when, in a sassy show of bravado, she’d walked right up to him, all but able to look him straight in the eye.
Just like her old man did to him now.
Well, maybe not just like. Her father’s blustery shot at intimidation didn’t send his heart galloping off like a wild mustang or his brain hurtling into a bottomless, fog-filled canyon. Didn’t make his mouth go as dry as the Sonoran desert before summer monsoons kicked in.
Trey took a deep breath, still reliving the shock of turning to face her. No, he hadn’t bargained on running into Kara up close and personal. And he sure hadn’t bargained on feeling as if he’d collided with rock-hard Mother Earth, compliments of an irritable bronc. Even after all this time, even after what she’d done to him, he couldn’t shake the impact of those beautiful gray eyes.
He let out a gust of pent-up breath. What was wrong with him anyway? He wasn’t a kid anymore with a crush on the prettiest girl he’d ever seen—yet his heart was doing a too-familiar do-si-do, the rhythm beckoning him back through time.
He slammed the heel of his hand into the rim of the steering wheel, startling his dog, Rowdy, who rode shotgun on the seat next to him. He gave the Gordon setter-collie mix a reassuring pat and a feathered tail wagged in understanding.
Kara. No way was he going down that road again. He’d come back to town to lay the past to rest, not resurrect it. Thank the good Lord it sounded like she didn’t plan to linger much longer. Just popping in to check on her mom. He needed to stay focused on the business at hand. Business, in fact, that Li’l Ms. Dixon wasn’t going to be much pleased about once word got around. Which it eventually would in a tiny place like this.
In spite of himself, his mind’s eye drifted to that long-ago night that now once again seemed like yesterday. The look in her eyes. The sweet scent of her hair. How she felt in his arms…
“Uncle Trey, why did you drive past our road?”
The accusing voice of his older niece carried from the shadowed recesses of the backseat, jerking him into the here and now.
“Just takin’ the scenic route.” He glanced into the rearview mirror at Mary, all the while racking his memory as to how much farther he’d have to drive to turn around with the empty trailer hitched to the back.
Kara Dixon was already messing with his mind.
“It’s dark.” Mary’s petulant voice came again. “I want to go home.”
She sounded as tired as he was. Three days playing both Mom and Dad had just about done him in. One more day to go.
“Your wish is my command, princess.”
“I’m your princess?”
“You know it.”
He glanced again at Mary, then over his shoulder at Missy and smiled. Sound asleep. He’d drive all night if it would keep her snoozing. What a day. He shouldn’t have dragged them all the way to Holbrook this afternoon to look at that pony.
Seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was before a stronger cold front plowed into the region. Before he’d discovered the advertised pinto was an ill-tempered beast, certainly nothing he’d want his nieces having anything to do with. Then there had been the diaper dealings. A lesson learned the hard way. No, not a day he cared to relive anytime soon. His sister-in-law would laugh her head off.
It was just as well, though, that the trip was a bust. His brother would have killed him if he’d bought the girls a pony. With the parsonage remodel in town coming along on schedule, Jason and his wife wouldn’t be staying at the cabin and acreage out in the boonies much longer. Which meant, too, he needed to give serious thought about what to do with himself. There wouldn’t be any space at the parsonage for a tagalong brother.
At least he’d soon be able to move his horses to the equine center he and a group of investors were renovating. Last week his working-from-home office assistant had submitted the final documents for a permit to board his horses, so at least he didn’t have to worry about that. Just needed to find office space until the facility’s remodel was completed—and a place to throw down his bedroll until a house caught his fancy.
A couple of miles farther on, he pulled into the snowy, graveled lot of a long-abandoned bait and tackle shop. He got himself turned around and headed back in the right direction.
“What was that lady’s name, Uncle Trey?” Mary piped up again.
“What lady is that? The pony woman?”
“No. The pretty one. Who was holding Missy.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Her name’s Kara Dixon. We went to high school together.”
“Did you kiss her?”
Memory flashed with an accompanying kick to his gut. Yes, he’d kissed her. Once. And fool that he was, a million other times in his dreams.
“Mommy said Daddy kissed her in high school when they were sixteen—on Valemtime’s Day—and then they got married.”
He smiled at her mispronunciation of the holiday.
“How old are you, Uncle Trey?”
“You’re awfully full of questions tonight, squirt.”
“Mommy says you need to kiss a girl and get married so you’ll stay in Canyon Springs.”
“Your mommy—” He stopped himself. Nothin’ he’d like better than to settle down close to “his girls.” That was the plan, but he didn’t want to set Mary up for disappointment if it didn’t work out. No point either in attempting to enlighten a four-year-old on his thoughts regarding the relentless mission of his sister-in-law. Except for the one date he’d managed to pull off behind her back, he’d steered clear of Reyna’s match-making, and females in general, since his return to town.
He didn’t need her hounding him about Kara Dixon. No siree. He wanted no part of the grown-up version of the girl from his past. The gray-eyed gal with a kissable mouth—who’d left him sittin’ high and dry when the cops showed up.
Chapter Two
“Where’d you get this darling little thing, doll?”
“What?” Jerked from her Trey-troubled thoughts, Kara looked up from the breakfast table. Her mother, Sharon Dixon, stood in the kitchen doorway waving the Kenton girl’s pink mitten.
She must have dropped it when she’d hung her coat on the enclosed back porch last night. Or had Mom been rifling through her pockets for cigarettes or other incriminating evidence of misbehavior, just as she’d once caught her doing when Kara was a teen? She cringed inwardly at the memory, thankful that even though their relationship wasn’t always warm and fuzzy, they’d come a long way in the past decade. Or so she’d thought.
“Found it last night. Belongs to one of Pastor Kenton’s kids, so I’ll need to return it.” No need to divulge how she knew who it belonged to. Hopefully Mom wouldn’t ask.
“I may see Reyna this morning. If she’s back from the re treat.” Her mother spoke in the raspy fragments of a former heavy smoker. “Ladies’ tea at the church. I’ll take it to her.”
Over and over throughout the night Kara had waded through possible scenarios of returning it. Of using the opportunity to ask Trey’s forgiveness. But of course her mom could return the mitten. That made the most sense. She couldn’t face the child’s uncle again anyway. How could she apologize without telling him the truth? A truth that she wasn’t free to tell?
What am I going to do, God?
Her grip tightened on the fork in her hand. Why couldn’t stupid choices made in the past be left in the past? And why did she keep wasting her breath, crying out to the Heavens about it? Hadn’t she learned when Dad walked out that God had more important things to deal with than her?
Aware that Mom was watching with a curious tilt to her head, she set her fork on the stoneware plate and glanced out the paned windows of the cozy cinnamon-scented kitchen. A frosty blanket coated the towering ponderosa pines, lending the trees a holiday-ish flocked appearance. But she wasn’t in a holiday mood. A blustering gust shook the powderlike crystals loose, flinging them into the air and sending a fairy dust cascade earthward. Sleet pecked on the window above the sink.
She shivered. Why’d Mom always keep it so cold in the house? “Is someone picking you up for the church thing, Mom, or do you want me to drive you? I don’t want you walking in this. That wind’s nasty.”
“Peggy’s coming by. You should come with us.” Her mom brushed a hand through her layered auburn hair. “Lindi’s giving a talk on community service. I think it’s one of those ‘it’s not what Canyon Springs can do for you, but what you can do for Canyon Springs’ spins. I know she’d love to see you.”
Since returning to town she hadn’t heard a peep out of her once-upon-a-time friend and cousin, Lindi Bruce. Did she know Trey was back?
“Unfortunately, there’s nobody to cover for me.” She folded her napkin and placed it on the worn wooden table by her plate. “Meg’s visiting a hospitalized friend in Phoenix and won’t be back until this afternoon. Roxanne has out-of-town company and asked for the day off.”
“Then give Lindi a call next week. You haven’t had a chance to catch up with any of your friends. Been too busy taking care of your feeble old mom.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Feeble Old Mom,” she teased, then drained the last of her orange juice. “In case you’ve forgotten, if I wasn’t helping you I wouldn’t even be in town.”
Her mother’s lips tightened and Kara’s heart sank. She’d said the wrong thing again. If only she could get along with Mom as well as her friend, Meg McGuire, got along with her. Every time she saw them together, laughing and on the same wavelength, jealousy stabbed. But then, Meg was everybody’s sweetheart.
“Nevertheless,” her mother continued, “with Lindi running for city council, you have lots of catching up to do. She’s a dream candidate, even as young as she is—sure to give Jake Talford a run for his money. Her granddad’s about to pop his buttons. You two girls make your families proud.”
That was debatable.
She stood, then carried her plate and glass to the sink where she rinsed them off. The only time Mom was proud of her was when she was doing exactly what Mom wanted her to do. Like coming back to Canyon Springs.
She glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty. “Guess I’d better brush my teeth and head over to the Warehouse. With fresh snow, the more adventuresome types may look for outdoor activities. Maybe ski rentals will do a good business today.”
“We can hope. The recession’s lingering effects have hit the high country hard.”
Kara frowned. Her mother and an accountant in Show Low looked after the books for Dix’s Woodland Warehouse. Kara didn’t have a clue about anything on the business side of her mother’s store. “We’re doing okay, though, aren’t we? I mean, turning an adequate profit, right?”
Mom smiled. “Tightening the belt a bit. But don’t go worrying about that.”
“Well, you don’t need to be worrying about stuff like that either. Did you sleep okay last night? You look tired.”
While her mom had only turned fifty-six last month, she’d gradually put on excessive pounds through the years. Which led to borderline diabetes and knee damage, and put her on a walker on bad days. But she’d lost considerable weight in the aftermath of her November heart attack and no longer had the round, merry face all had grown accustomed to. When Kara returned at Thanksgiving, it had been like coming home to a ghost of her mother.
Which scared her.
“I’m fine, doll.”
“You have to be honest with me, Mom.” She folded her arms in an attempt to feel in control, when all she wanted was to slip into the comfort of her mother’s arms like she’d done when she was a little kid. Everything coming all at once— Mom’s illness, taking leave from her job, Trey’s return… It was too much. “If you’re not feeling well, we need to get you checked out before things get out of hand again.”
“I’m fine. Goodness knows you’re not letting me do anything around here.” Her mom chuckled. “Between both you and Meg helping, I’ve plumb become a lady of leisure.”
“Take it easy today, okay? Get some rest. Going to that tea isn’t a priority.”
“Does me good to see everybody. Laugh a little.”
She fixed a glare of mock reprimand on her parent. “Catch up on gossip?”
“Mercy me, at a church event?”
Laughing with Mom felt good. Why couldn’t it be like this between them all the time?
