Mrs. Perkins arms dropped. “You used to love hugs.”
“When I knew you.” Michelle remained polite, but iron infused her voice. She made a quick, assessing sweep of the crowd. “Who I was back then is gone. I might never get her back. The more you push me to remember or to be that woman, the harder you’re making it on me.”
Mrs. Perkins’s lips pursed. “When you put it like that, I suppose we’re not helping quite as much as we’d hoped.” She gathered up the women who’d joined her. “If you ever need anything, you can ask your aunt to let us know. We’ll be praying for you, and we’re terribly sorry for causing you additional pain.”
She walked away, her parting words lingering overhead.
Michelle pinched her eyes shut. “Now I feel bad.”
“Don’t.” Sarah touched Michelle’s arm but didn’t try to hug or comfort her in any other way. “You spoke your truth, and it’s on them whether they can accept it. You’re not at fault.”
“Feels that way.”
“Well, you just push that right out of your mind.” Mom slapped a wide straw hat over her curls. “Let’s go have lunch.”
“I’ll ride with Maude.” Sarah winked at him when Michelle glanced away.
Michelle reached into her pocket and withdrew her keys. A quick jingle and she released his hand. “I’ll follow you.”
And there went his chance to spend a few extra minutes with her. He didn’t have a solid argument for why she should leave her car at the church and ride with him, so he moved on and concentrated on helping her in any way she needed and would accept.
By the time they made it to Mom’s, and he left the truck, he knew one thing for sure. He had to stop letting his emotions get in the way. His feelings had no relevance in this situation. Was he really trying to help her or was he hoping to make himself feel better? Once he locked down the answer to that and committed to helping Michelle no matter how it madehimfeel, he was able to stop thinking about the what ifs that came with his own future.
“Sarah’s going to help me in the kitchen. You two make yourselves comfortable.” Mom called out to him from the front porch.
Michelle straightened from her car and glanced left, then right. Her shoulders relaxed, the tight grip on her keys easing and a slow, steady breath leaking out.
He understood. This place had the same effect on him. Managing Blue Diamond Ranch was one thing. It gave him peace and a sense of fulfillment. He’d always wanted to be a rancher, but there was a different kind of peace and beauty here at the house.
The pale white siding reflected the sunlight as Mom’s array of flowers gave depth and color to the front and sides. She had spent more and more time gardening, and it showed in the vibrant blossoms that had won her the county fair’s blue ribbon five years in a row.
“Anything you want to do while we wait?” He crossed in front of his truck and approached Michelle.
“I thought I’d help.” She tipped her head toward Mom and Sarah.
Sarah laughed and made a shooing motion. “We have this under control.”
“We’ve been kicked out.” He resisted the urge to take her hand. “There’s a shaded path that leads to the top of that hill. We could go for a walk?”
“Sure.” She tugged her skirt and stuck out one foot. “Good thing I wore decent shoes for walking.” Her toes peeped out of the sandals, but they looked sturdy enough for the narrow path.
“You should be fine.” He paused. “Unless you want me to grab you a pair of boots.” He held back the knowledge that they were her boots from before.
She’d always kept a pair at Mom’s, and when she left, he’d tucked them away in the hall closet, always hoping she’d come back someday.
And here she stood. She was Michelle but nothisMichelle. Admitting that, even to himself, stung with the savageness of an entire nest of hornets. She’d never been his because people were not belongings. But he’d thought they were on the same page with their futures.
Nope. Stop that.He shot the silent admonition into his heart with all the force possible.
“No boots today.” She moved toward the path he’d indicated. The lightness of her steps spurred him forward. “I wouldn’t mind having them tomorrow at the barn. Samson stepped on my foot yesterday, and I thought he’d broken my toes.”
He winced. “Sorry. I should have brought them to you as soon as I saw your tennis shoes.”
“It’s fine.” Her voice lilted higher than the sparrows flitting through the overhead branches. “I don’t hold grudges, and it wasn’t his fault.” She seemed to be enjoying herself, and itwarmed the coldness wrapped around his heart to hear the sing-song tone after all these years.
She used to sing all the time. Did she still?
“Samson is also a brat.” He caught up and lifted a vine-covered branch so she could duck underneath. “He likes to think he’s the boss of the barn.”
