“Yes. Really. We’ll be fine.” Mackenzie closed the car door and hoped that she had also closed the subject of Dylan sticking around. Now that she was at the barn, she couldn’t imagine what she had been thinking. This was not the time or place for Dylan to meet his daughter. Something that life-altering took planning. And she didn’t have a plan. Not for this.
Dylan shut off the engine, pulled the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the car. He wanted to follow Mackenzie, but she was sending out some pretty obvious back-off signals.
“I could just hang right here....”
Mackenzie spun around and walked backward a couple of steps. “I’ll catch a ride from someone here. Really. I’m sure you have a day.”
Dylan stared after Mackenzie. It didn’t seem right just to drop her off and then leave, no matter what she said. But, on the other hand, she hadn’t exactly been diplomatic about telling him to shove off. Reluctantly, Dylan climbed back into his car and shut the door. He rolled down the window, slipped the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. Mackenzie had been right about one thing. He did have a day. And he needed to get back to it.
Dylan shifted into Reverse, but he just couldn’t bring himself to back out. Instead, he shifted back into Park, shut off the engine and got out of the car. Whether or not Mackenzie wanted him to make certain she was okay before he took off, it was something he felt he needed to do. Dylan set off toward the barn entrance; he carefully picked his way through long grass, weeds and sun-dried horse manure.
“You need some help?” Dylan was greeted by a young man in his early twenties leading a dark brown mare to one of the pastures. The young man appeared to have cerebral palsy and walked with a jerky, unsteady gate.
“I’m looking for Hope and her mom,” Dylan said.
“They’re in the office.” The young man pointed behind him.
“Thanks,” Dylan said just before he felt his left shoe sink into a fresh pile of manure. “Crap!”
“Yes, sir.” The young man laughed as he turned the mare loose in the pasture. “That’s exactly what it is.”
Dylan shook his head as he tried to wipe the manure off his shoe in the grass. Today of all days he had to put on his Testoni lace-ups; he had spent some time this morning, polishing and buffing them to just the right amount of shine. Once he managed to semiclean his pricey leather shoes, he got himself back on track and found his way to the office. Dylan quietly stepped inside the disheveled hub of Pegasus. Dirt and hay were strewn across the floor and a large, rusty fan was kicking up more dust than circulating air. Mackenzie, a girl who must have been her daughter and a tall woman with cropped snow-white hair were gathered near a gray metal desk at the back of the rectangular office.
“Mom—I’m okay. When I bent down to grab a currycomb, I hit my head on the shelf. It’s no big deal,” Dylan heard Hope say.
Mackenzie brushed the girl’s bangs out of the way to look at the bump on Hope’s forehead. “Well—you’ve got a pretty good knot up there, kiddo.”
“Here.” The older woman held out a Ziploc baggy full of ice. “This’ll hold her till you can get her checked out.”
“But we still have more riders coming,” Hope protested.
Mackenzie took the bag of ice. “Thanks, Aggie.”
“They need my help, Mom! I’m fine. Really. I don’t need to go to the doctor.” Hope tried once again to reverse her fortune.
“Honey—I’m sorry.” Mackenzie held her daughter’s hand in hers. “We’ve gotta get this checked out. If the doctor gives you the green light, I promise, you’ll be right back here tomorrow.”
Hope sighed dramatically and pressed the ice to the lump on her forehead. “Fine.”
Not wanting to interrupt the mother-daughter negotiation, Dylan hung back.
“Can I help you?” Aggie was suddenly in his face and confronting him like a protective mama bear with a cub.
Dylan slipped off his sunglasses and hooked them into the collar of his shirt. “I’m just checking on Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie jerked her head around when she heard his voice. She swayed slightly and heard ringing in her ears as sheer panic sent her blood pressure soaring. “Dylan...why are you still here?”
“I’m just making sure you’re okay before I leave.” Dylan couldn’t figure out why Mackenzie was freaked out about him looking out for her. Her overreaction struck him as odd.
Trapped, Mackenzie turned to face Dylan and blocked his view of Hope with her body. “That’s my ride, Aggie.”
“Oh!” Aggie wiped the sweat from the deep wrinkles etched into her brow. “If I’d known that, I would’ve made it a point to more cordial. I thought you might be one of them developers the Cook family’s been sending around here lately....”
“Developers?” Mackenzie asked, temporarily distracted from her immediate problem.
Aggie waved her hand back and forth impatiently. “I don’t want to borrow trouble talkin’ about it right now.
“Agnes Abbot.” Agnes stuck out her hand to Dylan. “You can call me Aggie or Mrs. Abbot—take your pick. But if you call me Agnes, don’t expect an answer.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Abbot.” Aggie’s hand was damp and gritty. “Dylan Axel.”
“And when I said that you could take your pick, I meant for you to pick Aggie.”
“Aggie,” Dylan repeated with a nod.
“Who’s that, Mom?” Hope peeked around Mackenzie’s body.
Realizing that there was no way out of this trap except forward, Mackenzie suddenly felt completely, abnormally, calm. This was going to happen. This meeting between father and daughter was unfolding organically, out of her control. Wasn’t Rayna always preaching about life providing the right experiences at the right time? Maybe she was right. Perhaps she just needed to get out of life’s way. So she did. She took a small step to the side and let Hope see her father for the first time.
“Hope—this is my friend Dylan.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. “Dylan—I’d like you to meet my daughter, Hope.”
Mackenzie zoomed in on Dylan’s face first, and then Hope’s, as they spoke to each other for the first time. If she had expected them to recognize each other instantly, like a made-for-TV movie, they didn’t.
“Hi, Hope. How’s your head?” Dylan had walked over to where Hope was sitting. For Mackenzie, it was so easy to see Dylan in Hope—the way she walked, the way she held her shoulders. Her smile.
“It doesn’t even hurt,” Hope explained to him.
Hope had Mackenzie’s curly russet hair, cut into a bob just below her chin, as well as her mother’s violet-blue eyes. But, that’s where the resemblance ended. Her face was round instead of heart-shaped like her mother’s; her skin was fairer and she had freckles on her arms and her face. The thought popped into his head that Hope must take strongly after her father’s side of the family.
To Aggie, Hope said, “I think I should stay here. Don’t you think I should stay?”
“No, ma’am.” Aggie shook her head while she riffled around in one of the desk’s drawers. “Your mom’s got the right idea. They’ll be just fine without us while we get you checked out.”
“Nice try, kiddo.” Mackenzie held out her hand to Hope. “You’re going.”
“Man...”