Her Small-Town Hero Read online

  Holt brushed aside the old man’s comments. “What of it? Still got to eat.”

  His brother Ryan arrived thirty seconds later. A big, bluff man with a good thirty pounds on Holt and dark, chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes, Ryan greeted Cara with open delight.

  “You are the answer to our prayers,” he told her, holding her hand between both of his after their introduction.

  Holt scowled and asked if Ryan would mind parking himself so they could eat. Ryan, who seemed to accept his role as younger brother with equanimity, sat. Hap prayed. Ryan then made friends with Ace, who occupied her lap as usual, while Holt scoffed down three pieces of grilled chicken and a truck-load of macaroni and cheese before taking his leave again. At no point did he so much as speak to Cara, letting his nod suffice for both greeting and farewell.

  Ryan, a very pleasant man, came into the kitchen later to sheepishly apologize for his brother. Cara pretended complete ignorance.

  “I can’t imagine why you’d think I’d be offended. I just work here.”

  “Work,” Ryan said, “is a lot of the problem. You see, right now Holt’s working too much. Well, he’s always worked too much. It’s just that now he’s trying to catch up. My fault,” he added with gentle self-deprecation. He then went on to explain that he had a hard time getting away from his responsibilities at the school, which had left Holt to take on the motel pretty much by himself. “Which is why I’m so delighted that you’re here.”

  Cara didn’t bother to point out that Holt obviously did not share that delight. Instead, she thanked Ryan, finished the dishes, picked up Ace and slipped out quietly. She couldn’t help thinking, though, that it wouldn’t hurt Holt to be nicer to everyone, including his brother.

  With Ryan turning out to be such a friendly man, much like Hap in that regard, Holt’s surliness seemed all the more pronounced. It smarted that he didn’t seem to like her, so much so that she intended to keep her distance on Sunday, her one full day off. On Sundays the Jeffords “closed the office.” Sunday, Hap had told her, belonged to God, though they’d rent to anyone in need of a room who wandered by.

  Ace actually let her sleep in a bit that morning. After feeding him breakfast and watching a church service on TV, she thumbed through a magazine and finally stepped outside. The weather had turned surprisingly warm. On impulse, she packed a lunch of sorts from her meager provisions, loaded Ace into the backpack and headed for the park.

  Separated from the motel grounds by a stream that wound through the gently rolling landscape, the park had to be entered via a bridge adjacent to the downtown area some three blocks to the east. Along the way, Cara explored the town.

  There wasn’t much to Eden, as far as she could tell on foot: some houses built before the Second World War, some houses built after, and just a couple blocks of old brick storefronts on the main street, which happened to be named Garden Avenue. Absolutely everything stood closed, everything except, of course, for the inviting little white clapboard church on the corner of Mesquite Street, which ended right at the back of the motel. The church appeared to be doing box office business, judging by the number of cars that lined the street and surrounded the building.

  The sign next to the sidewalk identified it as the First Church of Eden and named Grover Waller as the pastor. The place had such a warm, inviting air, much like Grover himself, that Cara took note of the service times. Perhaps she and Ace would visit there next Sunday. Since she assumed that the Jeffords attended there, given their close association with the pastor, it might even win her some points. But not with Holt.

  She’d learned the hard way how impossible it could be to win the regard of someone who had made up his or her mind not to like her. Her in-laws had hated her on sight, but Cara had tried to win their regard, nonetheless, without success.

  Putting the little church behind her, she took Ace to the park, where they ate their lunch in solitary peace and sharp winter sunshine.

  Holt paced the floor in front of the reception desk that next Saturday night. Cara had never seen him dressed to go out. He “cleaned up good,” as Hap put it. Wearing shiny brown boots, dark jeans with stiff creases, a wide leather belt, open-collared white Western shirt and a similarly styled brown leather jacket with a tall-crowned brown felt hat, he looked like the epitome of the Western gentleman. All cowboy. All man. He’d gotten himself a haircut, too, which gave him a decidedly tailored air but did nothing whatsoever to blunt his impatience.

  “You really don’t have to wait,” she said again, bouncing Ace on her knee. “It’s been almost two weeks. I can manage the desk until Ryan gets here.”

  In truth, she didn’t expect to have to manage anything. The motel stayed full, or nearly so, during the week, but few guests strayed in during the weekends.

  The last weekend had yielded only two rental opportunities, an older couple on their way up to visit relatives in Nebraska and a very young couple obviously looking for privacy. Hap had kindly but firmly turned away the last pair, saying only that he couldn’t help them. Cara had learned a valuable lesson on how to handle an awkward situation that day.

  “He should have been here already,” Holt groused.

  Cara opened her mouth to say that she was sure Ryan would be along soon, but just then, through the plate glass window, Cara spotted a now familiar late-model domestic sedan slow and turn off the highway into the lot. “There he is.”

  Holt spun to the window, bringing his hands to his waist. “It’s about time.” Striding to the end of the counter, he called through the open apartment door, “Granddad! He’s here!”

  “Comin’!” Hap called back, muttering, “Hold your horses. Always chomping at the bit.”

  Cara ducked her head, biting back a grin. Hap Jefford had quickly endeared himself to her and her son. Witty, caring and cheerful, he seemed genuinely fond of Ace and had even taken over much of the laundry chores once he decided that Cara had “got the hang of things,” as he’d put it. If not for Holt coming around to glower at her, she thought she’d be fairly content. She’d tried to be nice to Holt, but that only made him more dour.

  “Now, listen,” Holt lectured, splaying a hand against the countertop.

  “Isssssn!” Ace mimicked, leaning forward to smack his hand onto the lower counter.

  Holt looked at him, one corner of his mouth kicking up. He glanced at Cara, sobered and cleared his throat, drawing back his hand. “Just let Ryan handle things. If anyone comes in, he’ll take care of them. You’re still observing for now.”

  “Hap’s already explained,” she began, only to have him cut her off.

  “If you need anything, you have our numbers.” He made a face. “Well, mine, anyway. Granddad never carries his phone with him.”

  “Why should I?” Hap asked, limping through the apartment door. “I never go anywhere on my own.”

  “On your own what?” Ryan asked, stepping inside the lobby.

  “On my own by myself,” Hap said. “How you doing, Ryan?”

  “Excellent, as usual.”

  Holt rounded on his brother. “You took your time getting here.”

  Ryan paused in the act of shrugging off his corduroy coat and glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s ten minutes till six. What’s the rush?”

  “Oh, don’t mind him,” Hap counseled, limping over to ruffle Ace’s hair. “He’s got a burr in his bonnet. I say, a burr in his bonnet.” Ace giggled and fell back against Cara’s chest. She smiled up at Hap, who patted her shoulder affectionately. “There’s pizzas in the freezer, and if you eat them I won’t be tempted.”

  “Done,” Ryan proclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

  “Can we go?” Holt demanded. “I’m hungry.”

  “When was the last time you weren’t hungry?” Hap asked, limping around the counter.

  “I’m usually pretty good when I get up from the table,” Holt grumbled as the two of them left the building through the front door.

  Ryan shook his head. “That’s our Holt,
two hollow legs.”

  “Not to mention a hollow head,” Cara muttered.

  Ryan burst out laughing. “I’m beginning to wonder if that’s not his problem, though I’ve never thought so before.” He stood staring as if that ought to make some special sense to her, then he clapped his hands together. “I’m thinking we should dress up those pizzas. What have you got in the pantry?”

  “Pineapple?” she suggested hopefully.

  “Pineapple?” he parroted. “They eat pineapple on their pizza up in Oregon? Sounds like a California thing. You ever get down to California?”

  Cara just smiled, but inwardly she cringed. When would she learn to watch her mouth? The jangle of the telephone saved her from any more uncomfortable questions and the lies she’d rather not have to tell in answer. Ryan reached across the counter and picked up the receiver.

  “Heavenly Arms Motel.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Charlotte! How you doing, sugar? How’s Ty and the Aldriches?”

  Cara rolled the desk chair back, giving brother and sister as much privacy as possible. She tried not to listen, even considered slipping out of the room, but Ryan stood there, leaning on the counter and looking right at her as if she were as much a part of the conversation as he and his sister. He smiled and chatted, enjoying himself.

  Finally he said, “I love you, too, sugar. We all miss you like crazy, especially Holt, I think. Y’all coming for the big game, then? Excellent. Looking forward to it. My best to Ty.”

  He hung up, beaming. “Get this,” he said. “My brother-in-law usually attends the Super Bowl live. This year, he’s passing it up and bringing Charlotte home to watch the game on TV with the family.” He shook his head. “Now that’s true love.”

  “You really care for her, don’t you?” she said to Ryan.

  He chuckled and spread his hands. “Of course. She’s my baby sister. I’m told you have a brother, and I’m sure he loves you, too. That’s just how it is.”

  Like Ryan, she had once thought that Eddie must naturally care for her, but all she had ever been to him was a conduit to the Elmont money.

  “You and your brother and sister seem to have a special bond.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan nodded, smiling to himself. “I guess, after our parents died, we sort of banded together, you know?”

  She wasn’t sure she did, really. Cara and her brother had, for all intents and purposes, raised themselves. Usually Eddie had gone his way and she had quietly gone hers. They’d had little in common, except for Addison, who’d been buddies with Eddie in high school.

  Something Ryan had said suddenly struck her. “Did you say parents, as in plural? I was only told about your father’s death.”

  Ryan passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed his cheekbone. Leaning both forearms on the counter, he drew a little closer and related the tale. “Yeah, Dad’s death was a big shocker. You probably heard that he fell?” At her nod, Ryan went on softly. “Well, when our mother found out, she committed suicide.”

  Cara caught her breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Thinking of the moment she’d received news of Addison’s death, she recalled the shock and the numbness, the uncertainty and the very great sadness. Part of that sadness, though, had been because she’d known she wouldn’t really miss him, only the idea of raising their son together. “Your mother must have loved your father very much,” she mused absently.

  Ryan drew back at that. “I guess she did,” he said, “but it marked Charlotte.” He shrugged, adding, “Holt and I were already out of the house, young men. Charlotte was just thirteen and still at home, and she’s never understood why Mom didn’t think of her before she swallowed those pills.”

  Pills, Cara thought. She had more in common with Charlotte Jefford Aldrich than she’d realized. Neither of their mothers had cared enough about them to leave the pills alone. The knowledge saddened Cara and made her feel more kindly toward Charlotte.

  Ace bucked and tried to slide off her lap, but she caught him up, hugging him tight. She loved him enough to put him first, and she always would. Thanks to the Jeffords, she now had a chance to establish herself as a fit guardian for him. If the Elmonts came calling, they would find no reason to again question her ability to care for her own son.

  “That’s why we’re so happy God brought Ty and Charlotte together,” Ryan said, “Next year, Ty wants to take all of us to the Super Bowl. Man, wouldn’t that be something!” He shook his head. “Not that it’ll happen, mind you.”

  “What makes you say that?” Cara asked. From what she’d seen and heard, Tyler Aldrich appeared to be a very generous and wealthy man, with the kind of money that even the Elmonts must bow to. If he wanted to take his in-laws to the Super Bowl, what was to stop him?

  Ryan tapped a thumb on the countertop and considered. “You’re right! You’re here. You’ll be an old hand at this by then. Why shouldn’t we all go if we want to?”

  Cara smiled. At least one of the Jefford brothers had confidence in her. Too bad it wasn’t Holt. Irritated with herself, she tried to put him out of her mind. Why his approval continued to mean so much to her, anyway, she couldn’t imagine. Besides, Ryan clearly had just as much influence with their grandfather as Holt did.

  Determined that she would not subject herself to Holt’s disapproval, Cara excused herself a couple hours later when his dirty, white double-cab pickup truck appeared in the frame of the picture window overlooking the highway. A sleeping Ace in her arms, she said good-night to Ryan, left him to deal with the leftover pizza and slipped through the apartment and out the back.

  She couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for herself as she cradled her son in one arm and let herself into the dark, silent room. Despite her gratitude for the sanctuary she’d found here in Eden, it hurt to know that no one else in the world cared about her, not her brother, certainly not her in-laws.

  At first Cara had thought being married would fill that void in her. Eventually, however, she’d realized that Addison really valued only one thing about her, that he could control her. She’d been his outlet for the control that his parents had exerted over him and his sister. That had been her sole function in his life.

  When she’d at last been granted a child, she’d believed that things could change between her and her husband. Then Addison had died, and his parents had plotted to cut her out of her son’s life altogether. To top that off, her own brother had been willing to help them, for a price, because that’s all she’d ever been to him, a means to an end, a way to stay close to Addison, who would have dropped Eddie long ago if not for her.

  The only person to ever really love Cara had been her great-aunt. Cara still missed her aunt deeply, and with tears in her eyes, she vowed to honor her aunt’s memory by giving her son all that the real Cara Jane Wynne had given her, and at least one other thing that Aunt Jane had never thought or intended to share.

  Her name.

  Chapter Five

  H olt guided his truck to a stop beneath the motel drive-through behind Ryan’s sedan and killed the engine. Hap sent him a sharp glance, then grinned when Holt opened his door and stepped one foot down to the ground.

  “I take it you’re coming in.”

  “Well, of course I’m coming in.”

  “You don’t always.”

  “So?”

  Hap just shook his head and slid out on his side.

  Why shouldn’t he come in? Holt asked himself. He didn’t always go haring off back to the ranch after dinner, and no one could say he did. Grumbling at the strange behavior of some folks lately, Holt strode ahead of his grandfather up the sloping walkway and into the building.

  The TV played in a room lit only by it, a lamp and the glowing embers revealed by the open door of the potbellied stove. A replica of an 1890s model, the stove provided the cheery ambience of a crackling fire with less hassle and more actual heat than a fireplace. Ryan looked up from his customary spot on the sofa.

  “Hey. Charlotte called. She and Ty are co
ming home for Super Bowl Sunday.”

  “That’s good!” Hap crowed, hobbling past Holt on his way to his favorite rocking chair.

  “Where’s Cara Jane?” Holt wanted to know, ignoring the fact that his brother-in-law would give up a live Super Bowl game in order to bring Charlotte back home for a visit. Matters here seemed more important at the moment. If Cara Jane had waltzed out and left Ryan on his own to watch over things, Holt would be having a talk with her.

  “She just took Ace back to their room,” Ryan told him offhandedly.

  Strangely deflated, Holt craned his neck. The thing seemed to have more kinks than a flattened bedspring tonight. “Why’d she do that? Some reason she didn’t want to say good-night?”

  Ryan sent him a blank look. “Don’t think so. She’d rocked Ace to sleep and was just waiting for you two to show up so she could put him down for the night.”

  “Oh.” Holt turned to stare blindly at the television set, trying to appear relaxed and unconcerned. “So, how’d it go?”

  Ryan kicked back on the sofa, crossing his hands behind his head. “Quiet. Real quiet. And I don’t mean just businesswise. She’s not much for conversation, is she? I mean, we talked some, but it’s not like she really says anything, not about herself, anyway.” He grinned at Holt. “Fortunately, I’m able to carry a conversation all on my own. The two of you would probably bore each other to tears, though, given how little you each have to say.”

  Holt grunted at that. He didn’t think of Cara Jane, or himself, as boring. Quiet, yes, but boring? No way.

  “I’m a little concerned about her, though,” Ryan went on.

  Holt’s attention perked up. “How so?”

  Ryan looked to Hap. “She seemed, I don’t know, sad. And doesn’t she strike you as awful thin? I think she’s lost weight since she’s been here. The girl’s no bigger than a child to begin with. Seems like a lonely little thing, too, despite the way she dotes on that boy. I don’t think he got off her lap the whole evening.”