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