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“For now. I want to build my house and get settled back into my life here. I’ll be thirty this winter and maybe I’m just going to be a settled old bachelor, raising my horses and doing a little singing for church.”
“What a nice dream.” She patted his arm, not the slap on the back that Cody had given him the night before. She was getting all maternal. “See you later.”
He nodded and picked up his guitar. When he walked out the front entrance of the nursing home, it was hot, unbearably hot. He pulled sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on as he walked across the parking lot. The sound of an engine cranking, not firing, caught his attention.
Of course it would be Lacey. They were the only ones left and she was sitting in her car with the driver’s side door open.
Jay put his guitar in the front of his truck and walked over to her car. “Won’t start?”
“Nope.” She tried again. “It always starts. Why won’t it start now?”
He shrugged. Probably Bailey did something to it, something less conspicuous than just telling him he should ask Lacey out. He smiled at the thought, because he could picture Bailey out here removing the coil wire from Lacey’s car. But she wouldn’t do that. He didn’t think she would.
“Pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”
She did and he walked to the front of the car to push the hood up. The coil wire was there. He smiled. Nothing looked out of place.
“Lacey, it isn’t out of gas, is it?” He peeked around the raised hood at her.
“I don’t think so.” And then she groaned. “First the mower and now this.”
“I’ll drive you home and we’ll come back later with gas.”
“I can’t believe I did that.” She got out of the car and closed the door. “I always make sure it has gas.”
“Not today.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”
“You have a lot going on in your life.” He opened the passenger-side door of his truck. “Maybe having today off will help.”
“Maybe.”
Jay closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side with a quick look up, wondering what God was thinking. He got in and started his truck. Lacey kept her face turned, staring out the passenger-side window.
He wondered if she was crying.
* * *
The front door of the house was open. Lacey sat in Jay’s truck, her stomach tightening, because it didn’t look right. She glanced at Jay, who had remained silent during the drive home. She hadn’t had much to say, either.
What did you say to a stranger whose life you felt like you were invading?
“Do you always leave the front door of the house open?” He turned off the truck.
“Of course I don’t. Something’s wrong.” She reached for the door handle and started to get out of the truck.
Jay’s hand on her arm stopped her. “No, let me go in first.”
“Don’t say that.” Her skin prickled with cold heat. “Don’t say it like something has happened.”
“Nothing has happened, but we’re not taking chances.”
She nodded, swallowing past the lump that lodged between her heart and her throat. Jay got out of the truck and walked up to the house. He eased up to the front door and looked inside. Then he stepped through the opening into the dark house.
Lacey waited, her heart pounding, thudding in her chest. She should have known that something like this would happen. Whatever this was. She didn’t even know, but she knew without a doubt that something was wrong.
Jay walked back onto the porch and shook his head. He motioned her out of the truck. Lacey grabbed her Bible and got out. She walked to the front porch, not wanting to hear what she knew he would tell her.
“There’s no one in here.”
“Maybe she went for a walk. Or she might have gone to use your phone.” Grasping, she knew she was grasping at straws.
And Jay was just being the nice guy that he was by staying, by not making accusations.
“That’s possible,” he finally said.
“She might have left a note, telling me where she went.”
“Okay. We can look.” But he didn’t believe it. Lacey didn’t know why that hurt, but it did. Because it felt like he didn’t believe her, or trust her. She was an extension of Corry, because they had come from the same place.
She walked into the house and he followed, slower, taking more time. “I knew I should have made her go to church.”
“You can’t force someone.”
“I know, but if I had, she’d be here and Rachel would be safe.”
Lacey wouldn’t feel so frantic, like some unseen clock was ticking, telling her she was nearly out of time. And she didn’t know why, or what would happen when the time ran out.
“Lacey.” He stood in front of the desk where she kept her bills and other paperwork. “You know she has a record, right?”
Lacey turned, and he was watching her, pretending it was a normal question. “I do know.”
She wanted to ask him if he knew that she had a record. Did he know what she had done to put food on the table, to pay the rent to keep the roof over her younger siblings’ heads? She looked away, because she didn’t really want answers to those questions from him.
It was too much information, and it would let him too far into her life, and leave her open to whatever look might be in his eyes.
It might be too much like the look in Lance’s eyes when he’d said he could love her no matter what. With Jay it was different; they hadn’t stepped into each other’s lives that way. He just happened to be here with her now.
“Lacey, do you know who she’s been in contact with?”
“No.” She stood in the doorway of Corry’s room. The bedding was flung across the bed and dragged on the floor, and a few odds and ends of clothing were still scattered about.
Jay walked into the room, an envelope in his hand.
“She’s gone. This was on the table.” He handed her an envelope.
Lacey’s fingers trembled as she took it from him. She ripped it and tore the paper out. Eyes watering, she read the scribbled lines, trying to make sense of misspelled words and her sister’s childlike handwriting. But she got it. She crumpled the note in her hand. She got it.
“She’s gone.” She held out the note and Jay took it from her hand.
“Let’s take a drive and see if we can find her. She couldn’t have gotten far.”
Optimism. Lacey had worked hard on being an optimist. She had worked hard on finding faith in hard times. She didn’t know what to think about Corry leaving with the baby.
She glanced at her watch. “Jay, if they left right after I left, they could be back in St. Louis by now.”
He inhaled and let it out in a sigh. “That’s true. Let’s go inside and we’ll see if she left anything behind.”
“We should call the police.”
Dark brows lifted and he sort of smiled at her. “Lacey, I am the police. And unless she’s committed a crime, there’s no reason for going after her. She’s a grown woman who left your house with her own child.”
“But she can’t take care of Rachel. She can barely take care of herself.”
“She’s an adult.”
“An adult who reads and writes at a first-grade level.” Lacey looked away from his compassion, his sympathy.
“Can she take care of Rachel?”
Lacey walked through the dark, cool interior of the house, her house. She kept her eyes down, thinking of what to do next. She couldn’t face the empty bassinet or thoughts of Rachel with Corry.
“She can, but I don’t know if she can keep her safe.” Lacey spoke softly, because if she said it too loudly, would it seem harsh? “My mother and Corry make a lot of bad decisions.”
“We could hotline her with family services and maybe they could intervene on behalf of the baby.” Jay walked through the kitchen. He stopped at the canisters.
“What do you keep in these?”
“Sugar, flour, coffee. Normal stuff. Why?”
“This one is empty and the lid was next to it.” He lifted the smallest canister.
The air left her lungs and the room felt too hot, and then too cold. Never in a million years would she have thought…
But then again, she should have. Because she knew Corry, knew what she was capable of. She was capable of stealing from her own family.
“It wasn’t coffee?” He set the canister down and replaced the lid. “Money?”
Her chest ached and her throat tightened. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t be the person he pitied. She had survived worse than this, and she would survive again.
“You aren’t stupid.”
“I should have put it in the bank.” She shook her head, looking away from Jay so she wouldn’t see his compassion and he couldn’t see her tears. “I put my tip money in there, and lived on my hourly wages. It was for land.”
“For land?” Soft and tender, his voice soothed. He took a few steps in her direction, and she wanted to rely on the strong arms of a cowboy to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.
He wasn’t offering, and she knew better.
“Yes, for land. I want a place of my own.” Dreams, snatched away. “But I can start over, right? It isn’t the end of the world.”
“No.” He stood in front of her now, tall and cowboy, with eyes that seemed to understand. “It isn’t the end of the world, but it probably feels like it is.”
“It feels more like I might never see my niece again. Rachel is more important than land. I don’t want that baby to live the life we lived in St. Louis. I want her to have a real family and real chances.”
“She’ll be okay with her mother.”
“No, she won’t. Jay, you don’t get it. You’ve lived here all your life, in a cocoon that sheltered you from the outside world. You don’t know what it’s like to always worry about who’s walking through the front door and what they’re going to do to you.”
The words spilled out and so did the tears, coursing down her cheeks, salty on her lips. She brushed them away with her hand and shook her head when he tried to hold her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, staring at the floor because she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to be someone you feel sorry for. I’d much rather you resent me for being here.”
“I don’t resent you.”
She smiled then and wiped at her eyes. “You do, but it’s nice of you to say you don’t. Look, I’m fine. I survived and I have a great life here. And if you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to make me cry again. I don’t want to cry anymore.”
“We’ll find Rachel.” He made it sound like a promise she could believe. She’d been promised a lot in her life.
“I hope so.”
“Lacey, growing up in Gibson doesn’t guarantee anything.” He walked to the door. “Let’s see if we can find your sister and the baby. At least now we have a reason to call the police.”
The stolen money. Lacey picked up her purse and followed him out the door, still hurting over what Corry had done, and ashamed because she knew that life held no guarantees for anyone.
Not even for Jay Blackhorse.
Chapter Seven
Jay cruised past the church on Tuesday afternoon. He’d been past a couple of other times, and each time, Lacey’s car had been parked out front. It was still parked out front. Maybe she’d heard from her sister.
Probably not. He didn’t expect Corry to suddenly have a conscience and feel guilty for what she’d done to Lacey. He pulled into the church parking lot and parked. But he didn’t get out.
Instead, he questioned why he was there. He asked God, but didn’t hear a clear answer. It felt a lot like getting involved in Lacey’s life, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want involved, he didn’t want tangled up. He didn’t want to understand her life in St. Louis and what she’d done there.
Pastor Dan walked out of the front of the church, taking the steps two at a time, because that was just Dan. He was always in a hurry to get somewhere. And he was always smiling. Dan had a lot of joy. Joy was as contagious as someone’s bad mood, but a lot easier to take. Jay got out of his truck and waited.
“Got business, or are you just here to pass the time?” Dan stopped, still smiling, but with a curious glint in his eyes.
“Passing time.” Jay reached into the truck and pulled out two plastic bags with Styrofoam containers. “I doubt she’s eaten anything.”
And that was the entangled part that he hadn’t wanted. He’d noticed her car at the church for the last few hours, and he’d started to think that maybe she hadn’t eaten. She wasn’t his problem, but his mom had made her their problem. On her way out of town, Wilma had even called and asked him to make sure Lacey was okay.
“I don’t think she’s eaten since Sunday,” Dan admitted. “She’s done a lot of praying, though. I would guess that most of it’s for other people, not herself. Sometimes life is that way, we can’t see the trees for the forest.”
Jay pushed the truck door closed. “I’m not sure I’m catching what you mean.”
