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Jack and Isaac had come over to sit next to her, and Isaac was on the phone.
Finally, the seizure ended and Allie lay motionless, her body curling in a fetal position as tears streamed down her cheeks. The dog licked her face and remained still, but near her side. Rebecca waited a moment, then gathered Allie in her arms.
“I’m sorry, Mr. West, this meeting was a bad idea. I can’t do this.” She blinked away tears that threatened to fall.
“Now, let’s all stay calm.” He had a hand on her shoulder, the way a father or grandfather would. She shut her eyes, wondering what that would feel like to have a father who cared.
“I called Carson, and he’s on his way.” Isaac West spoke, his voice steady. He was obviously sober. Sober, steady, calm. How had she missed that?
He stood up and held a hand out to his father. Jack clasped it readily and rose to his feet.
“Can we take her inside now?” Isaac asked.
Rebecca nodded and tried to stand, while still holding her daughter close. Isaac reached for her child, his gray eyes warm with sympathy. Without thinking, she tightened her hold. Allie whimpered in protest.
“I’m only going to carry her inside for you,” Isaac offered.
Rebecca closed her eyes again, aware of the stillness all around her, the stillness of the child in her arms. Jack West’s strong hand again settled on her shoulder as she remained on the grass, cradling Allie close.
“Let Isaac help you. We’ll get you both inside and warmed up. My other son Carson is a doctor. He’ll be here in just a few minutes to examine her.”
She looked down at Allie. Slowly, she loosened her grip and Isaac took the child from her arms. Jack offered a surprisingly strong hand and pulled her to her feet.
The dog, Maximus, remained near Isaac, his intelligent eyes focused on Allie.
“He knew,” Rebecca said, reaching a hand to the animal and letting him lick her fingers.
“He knew,” Isaac said softly, a different version of the man she’d met in front of the store.
This version was a different kind of threat. His gaze rested on the little girl in his arms, concern shifting his features. Less than thirty minutes ago he had been having a hard time walking out of the local feed store. She tried to take her daughter from his arms.
“I can carry her,” she said, as she reached for Allie.
“You help Jack and I’ll manage,” he said, winking at her.
“But you were just...” She was unsure how she should put this without hurting his feelings.
“I’m fine. The balance issues come and go.”
She didn’t know what to say, but she really didn’t have time to think about it. Allie had begun to cry as the effects of the seizure abated and she came back to herself a bit more.
“Trust me,” he said.
Trust wasn’t easy for Rebecca. Especially where Allie was concerned.
Life had proved to her that there were few people she could trust. There were few individuals she counted on. People had a tendency to let Rebecca and her daughter down.
That was her reality.
She’d come to Hope to create a new reality. She wanted Allie to have family in her life, people she could count on and a community she could grow up in. Since she had to start somewhere, she thought she might as well start by trusting this man.
Chapter Two (#ub578e4dd-336f-5012-825d-c75366f888e2)
Isaac knew that life was all about choices. He’d made the choice to join the army, partly to serve his country and partly because he knew it would make Jack West, his father, madder than anything. He’d made a choice that morning to tease the pretty blonde who had assumed he’d been drinking.
The decision to join the military had changed his life. Forever. It had matured him, scarred him and left him with nightmares he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Accepting the ride from Rebecca Barnes was not going to be one of those life-altering choices. It had only been a ride home, nothing more. As he entered the house carrying the little girl, Allie, he knew better than to fool himself into thinking Rebecca was a woman who wouldn’t change a man’s life. She had a past. It was written all over her face. It was the lack of trust in her eyes. It was the hesitant reply when Jack told her she could trust his son.
It was the little girl in his arms, no bigger than a minute and wearing a dazed look in eyes that matched her mother’s.
She whimpered a bit and Rebecca immediately moved closer, bottom lip between her teeth as she studied her daughter.
“You’re okay,” she said. The words seemed to be as much for herself as for her child.
“I’m going to put her on the couch, and if you want, you can grab the quilt off the rocking chair to cover her.” He smiled down at Allie. “You’re okay. I know it always takes me a minute to get my bearings back when I have a spell.”
Mischief lit the little girl’s eyes. “Like when you got carsick.”
He settled her on the leather sofa. “Grown men do not get carsick.”
“You did,” she said with a teasing tone. “But I won’t tell.”
“How much is it going to cost me?” he said, sitting on the coffee table not too far away from their young patient.
“Hmm,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’ll have to think about that.”
Rebecca appeared at his side, quilt in hand. She smoothed it over her child and then leaned down to kiss Allie’s forehead. “You’re okay?”
“Mom...” the child pleaded. For normalcy, Isaac realized. She didn’t want her health questioned. She wanted to run and play and didn’t want people to watch, waiting for her to have another seizure.
The back door slammed and voices drifted to the living room. Carson had arrived. And with him, Kylie. She’d been a friend to Carson when the two were teens. She’d also been a wounded warrior living on the ranch when Carson returned a little over a year ago.
“That would be my brother, our resident doctor. He’ll take good care of you.” Isaac pushed himself to his feet and gave Rebecca more room to sit with her daughter.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Allie asked.
Huddled beneath the quilt, the little girl seemed smaller. But her eyes were bright and Isaac knew she’d be just fine. He also knew she needed Carson, not him. He needed to escape, because the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was the guy she should count on.
“I’m afraid I have to go,” he told her. “I’m going to talk my sister-in-law into making me a cup of tea.”
At that moment Kylie entered the room with her husband, Isaac’s half brother. Her gaze darted from the child and her mother to Isaac. Carson took over and Isaac slipped from the room, aware of the mother in a way that he wished he wasn’t. He was conscious of her fear for her daughter, and also that she smelled like something soft and floral. He’d been cognizant of her dislike for him and he’d known when that feeling had shifted just the smallest amount.
And all of that meant he needed to mind his own business and let the others tend to Rebecca and her daughter.
Kylie followed him to the kitchen, a large room that was the center of activity for the ranch house Jack had built ten years ago. The house stood as a testament to Jack’s recovery. He’d conquered his past, overcome alcoholism and turned his life around in a way few people had expected.
Then he’d started Mercy Ranch, a place where wounded warriors could find a safe place to heal and start over. The mission and ministry had started when Jack picked Isaac up at a VA hospital. He’d looked around, seen people a lot like himself and realized he could do something for those having a hard time starting over.
The kitchen was blessedly dark, with just the dim lights over the sink for lighting. The headache appeared to be back in full force and the last thing Isaac wanted was to stand around in the sunny living room with a dozen people all talking at once.
Kylie moved quietly, scooping tea into a cup and setting a kettle on to boil. “The oil is in the cabinet,” she told him.
Her special blend of oils, made for headaches. It wasn’t a cure-all but it helped when nothing else would. He refused to continue taking prescription pain pills. He’d realized early on that genetics were a thing and he had a fear of turning into Jack. Or the man Jack had been, before conquering his addiction.
He poured a few drops of oil in his palm and applied it to his temples as he waited for the cup of tea to steep.
“How’d you find them?” Kylie asked.
“Find them?”
“The girl and her mother?” Kylie slid the tea across the counter to him.
“I was at the feed store, ordering grain, and she offered me a ride home.” He shrugged, as if it hadn’t been a big deal.
Kylie’s eyes widened. “A woman with a little girl gave a random stranger a ride?” She leaned on the counter.
“Something like that,” he offered.
“You’re not that charming,” she said.
“No, I’m not. She thought I’d been drinking and didn’t want me driving.”
Kylie chuckled. “That sounds more like it. And you were only too willing to take her up on the offer, huh?”
Isaac grabbed his cup, tipped his hat at his well-meaning sister-in-law and decided it was time to find a dark corner.
“I never took you for a coward,” she called out to his retreating back.
“I never said otherwise,” he called back to her without turning.
He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. With the shades in place, he headed out the back door and in the direction of the old farmhouse that Jack had remodeled for the men who called Mercy Ranch home.
The cool November air revived him a bit as he crossed the wide expanse of lawn in the direction of the two-story house that had been Jack’s when Isaac first came to live here. Or more accurately, when his mother had dumped him here at the ranch. She’d told Jack that his son was getting difficult and she’d done her time as parent.
Done her time. As if parenting had been a prison for her.
In a way, he guessed it had. She’d had to occasionally think of someone other than herself. Which meant she’d kept a supply of soup in the cabinets and he’d fended for himself while she’d been off partying with friends.
In the beginning, life with Jack hadn’t been much better. Isaac had been a rebellious preteen. Jack had been a raging, heavy on the rage, alcoholic.
Isaac sipped his tea as he walked, inhaling the bitter brew that tasted as bad as it smelled. As long as it helped the headache, he didn’t mind.
Ted, the Australian shepherd he’d brought home more than a dozen years ago, met him as he approached the house. The dog had slowed down a bit. Old age and a bad run-in with a car on the road had left the dog as gimpy as some of the men who lived at Mercy Ranch. But Ted was loyal and just about the best company Isaac knew of. As he climbed the back porch steps, he settled his hand on the dog’s dark gray head.
“They’re right about dogs being man’s best friend, Ted. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He’d gotten the dog during his rougher-than-a-dirt-road teen years. The animal had been waiting for him when he returned from Afghanistan, wounded and angry.
“I guess that means I’m not your best friend?” Joe Lawson, another resident of the ranch, called out from the kitchen.
“You’re a friend,” Isaac responded. “But you’re kind of worthless at arm wrestling and not much of a right-hand man.”
“I never get tired of that joke,” Joe grumbled, doing a decent job of fixing a pot of coffee with his left hand. He’d lost his right arm when an IED exploded in Kabul.
“I never get tired of saying it,” Isaac responded. It was the same joke and the same comeback every day. Routine. They lived for routine.
They all had their stories. They didn’t share much of their past or even much about what had brought them to Mercy Ranch. People called them wounded warriors but they were survivors.
“Going to bed?” Joe called out as Isaac headed for the stairs.
“Yeah.”
“Bad?” the other man asked.
“Not the worst, but I’d like to head it off at the pass.”
Joe came out from behind the counter, wiping his hand on the apron that hung from his neck. Joe found therapy in cooking.
“Eve said a woman brought you home. Her little girl had a seizure.”
If there’d been a list of things, that subject would have come under the heading Last Thing in the World Isaac Wants to Discuss.But Joe knew that. And Joe didn’t care.
“I’m going to my room. Make sure no one knocks on my door.”
“Gotcha.”
He pretended he didn’t hear Joe’s laughter following him up the stairs.
* * *
“She’s fine,” Dr. Carson West assured Rebecca as he sat back in the chair he’d pulled close to the sofa.
He winked at her daughter, who had his stethoscope in her ears, listening to her own heartbeat.
Of course Allie was fine. Rebecca drew in a deep breath at his reassurance. No matter how often this happened and how many times she heard that everything would be okay, it didn’t get any easier. As a mother, she wanted to fix everything for her child. She wanted to take away the seizures, the fear, all of it.
“Has she always had them?” he asked, turning to face Rebecca.
“Five years.”
“She could outgrow this,” he offered.
“We hope she does. They’ve been happening less frequently.”
“Only twice this year.” Allie sat up a little, pulling the stethoscope from around her neck and holding it out to Carson.
“How does it sound?” he asked.
“Like normal.” Allie leaned back into the pillow and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders. “Where did Isaac go?”
Carson placed the stethoscope in his doctor bag. “He probably went to his room. When he has a headache, he’s kind of a bear to be around.”
