“I’m coming.” With the serving platter across his lap, he rolled into the kitchen. Always his faithful companion, Sheila was right beside him, her toenails clicking on the tile. She’d get her share of steak on the bone he’d give her after dinner.
“Oh, those look delicious.” Mindy was already seated at the round oak table, the same table where Arnie and Daniel had eaten since their childhood. The same table where their drunken father had yelled and railed at them for no particular reason and had sometimes slapped them silly.
Daniel, a rebel at heart, had always gotten the worst of it.
But those days were long gone, and even better days lay ahead.
Blonde and blue-eyed, Mindy had had a certain glow about her since she’d married Daniel. That glow had blossomed even more once she discovered she was pregnant. Having lost a child from her first marriage, she cherished the new life growing in her.
A stab of envy zinged Arnie right in his solar plexus. Why did Ellie have to come back to Potter Creek, reminding him of all the things he’d never have, like a wife and children of his own?
He selected a steak for himself, put it on his plate and passed the platter to Mindy.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you move into your new house,” Mindy said. “You’d better promise to come here for dinner every night.”
“You only say that because you want me to be your kitchen slave,” Arnie teased.
She laughed. “Never a slave. A highly valued chef is closer to the truth. And a great brother-in-law,” she added.
“I vote for the slave part.” Daniel plopped the third steak on his plate.
Arnie snorted. He reached for Daniel’s hand and Mindy’s, and they linked hands with each other. Arnie bowed his head. “Dear Lord, thank You once again for the food You have provided. Bless us and keep us safe, including little Rumpelstiltskin, who’s growing in Mindy’s tummy. Amen.”
Choking, Mindy grabbed for her glass of water. “We’re not going to name our baby Rumpelstiltskin!” she croaked.
“Well, you’d better come up with something better pretty soon.” Cutting into his steak, he gave Mindy a wink. “Uncle Arnie is growing quite fond of little
Rumple.”
Laughing, she shook her head. They ate in comfortable silence for a while; then Daniel asked Mindy, “How was the shop today?”
“Busy for a Friday. The knitting and needlepoint club is getting ready for the church’s Autumn Craft Fair. All the ladies want to have items to sell to help raise money for the church. Baby caps and sweaters are the most popular for the knitters. I had to place a new order for baby yarn this afternoon.”
“Sounds good. My wife, the entrepreneur.” Daniel forked another bite of meat into his mouth and talked around it. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. Ellie James is back in town.”
For a frozen moment, Arnie held his knife poised over his steak.
“Ellie? I remember her,” Mindy said. “Is she here to stay or just visiting her mother?”
“I guess she’s here to stay. She’s got a job with the preschool that comes out for Friday riding lessons. She was with them this morning.”
Mindy turned to Arnie. “She was such a fun person. So energetic I could barely keep up with her. She used to hang out with your crowd.”
Keeping his eyes focused on his dinner, Arnie nodded as he cut his steak. “Yeah, she hung out with us.” And as she got older, she wasn’t just hanging out. Mindy had been gone before Ellie and he had become a couple. She wouldn’t have known how Ellie had kicked the possibility of a future together to the curb when she cut out for Spokane.
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Mindy’s suddenly chirpy, singsong voice grated on Arnie’s nerves. “Maybe we can all get together again. It’d be fun to double-date sometime.”
He turned on Mindy, glaring at her, his pulse thundering in his ears. “That’s not gonna happen. Not ever.”
Just because Ellie had moved back to Potter Creek did not mean he had to see her. Or think about her. Or remember the numbing pain in his chest he’d lived with since she left.
Nope. He intended to stay far away from Ellie James.
He imagined she felt the same way about him.
The house where Ellie grew up, just outside of Potter Creek, was a one-story white farmhouse with bedrooms added onto the back, a covered porch along the front and a mudroom stuck onto one side like a wart. A detached, oversize garage and workshop had served to shelter farm equipment, and a small barn and corral had once housed Ellie’s horse, Samson, but had remained unused for years.
After Ellie’s father died two years ago, her mother had leased out all the surrounding farmland, retaining only the one acre where the house and outbuildings stood.
With a sigh of relief to be home, Ellie parked her compact car near the side entrance. As she had expected, the first week of school had been a challenging one.
Seeing Arnie this morning had been even more difficult.
He hadn’t been at all pleased to see her. Anger had simmered right below the surface of his detached manner toward her. Rightfully so, she admitted.
She’d been the one to leave. She’d started a new life hundreds of miles away. She’d felt so guilty about what she had done, she’d made some foolish mistakes.
None of which meant she had forgotten Arnie.
He’d told her to leave more than once.
Torie popped open the back door of the car. “I gotta tell Grandma BarBar about my horse.” Slamming the door closed, she raced up the steps and into the house to relate her adventures to her grandmother Barbara.
Briefcase in hand, Ellie followed at a more leisurely pace.
“… rode a horse named Patches around and around. I kept saying ‘Giddy up,’ but the man wouldn’t let Patches run fast.” Torie paused only briefly to take a breath. “Then another man gave us brushes, and we brushed and brushed a horse. The horse was very dusty. That made Carson sneeze.”
Sitting in the kitchen, at the long white-pine table, Grandma BarBar listened to Torie’s tale, nodding where appropriate and making encouraging noises. A little overweight, Barbara wore wire-rimmed glasses, and her hair had lost most of the auburn color it once had. The permed curls were nearly all gray.
Ellie set her briefcase on the counter and idly checked the day’s mail, which her mother had dropped in the woven basket.
“The man with the brushes showed us how to clean the icky stuff out of the horse’s hoof. He had a doggy he let me pet, and he said he had to sit in a wheelchair all the time ‘cause his legs didn’t work anymore. I told him Carson’s legs didn’t work, either, but I still liked him.”
Barbara lifted her head. “Ellen? Where did the school take the children to ride?”
Without glancing toward her mother, Ellie tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Turns out it was the O’Brien ranch. I’d been so busy all week, I hadn’t thought to ask Vanna where we were going.’“
“The man in the wheelchair was real nice, Mommy.”
“Yes, honey, I know.” Ellie returned the mail to the basket. Bills and a newsletter from the agricultural extension service were of no interest to her.
“It was Arnie O’Brien, wasn’t it?” Barbara said, a stunned expression