Pablo barked at him as he went past and Cord shot her dog another frown.
Awesome. Way to underline his perception of us, Ella thought, sighing. Clearly he seemed to think she didn’t like his kids at all.
She glanced at her watch. In twenty minutes they would be leaving for church. She should take Pablo out so she could be gone when they left.
But as she walked back to where Pablo was tied up, the memory of Suzy clutching on to her hand and asking her, so innocently, if she was going to church clung to her thoughts.
I should stay home. I should work.
There was that word again. The one Darren kept throwing at her. She should work harder. She should contribute more.
She should be a better wife.
She didn’t want to do should anymore.
And what do you want to do?
She held that question as she sought the reason she used to attend church.
When she and God were closer. When she trusted Him to take care of her.
Her and her baby.
She shook off the thought but behind it came the thought of Suzy’s expectant face and the hope she was reluctant to extinguish.
* * *
“Miss Ella came to church,” Suzy whispered, grabbing Cord’s hand as Reverend Blakely pronounced the final blessing on the congregation.
Cord didn’t want to look back to see the very attractive Miss Ella with her exotic eyes and narrow features.
He felt a flicker of self-reproach at the attraction she created in him. This morning, when the kids were gone, he’d had to stop himself from taking a step closer to her. From holding her gaze and trying to find a connection between them.
He knew she was all wrong. She didn’t seem to like kids and Suzy and Paul were his priority.
But still, he got such mixed vibes around her. Because while she seemed uncomfortable around his kids, when she looked at them he saw a haunted look that puzzled him. He wanted to find out more about her.
Yet he knew he shouldn’t go there. He didn’t have room in his life for anyone else. Things were getting too busy with his Rodeo Group work.
He turned to leave but his father, who had been sitting beside him, stayed where he was, grinning about something.
“So what do you think about asking Miss Ella over for lunch?” Boyce asked, his eyes bright.
Cord sent up a prayer for patience, recognizing, once again, his father’s not-so-subtle matchmaking.
The past couple of months his dad had been after Cord to go out and date. Make himself available. The same thing his friend Owen had been saying.
“Me and the kids are going to Lisa’s parents’ place for lunch,” he said, squashing his dad’s plans. “Besides, she won’t come anyway.”
“You’re making those poor kids sit in the car for over an hour just for a visit?” Boyce grumped, conveniently ignoring the last part of Cord’s statement.
Cord knew exactly what his father thought of his bimonthly visits to his in-laws. Boyce brought it up most every time he went. “Suzy, Paul and Oliver are their grandchildren too,” he said.
“Seems to me they could get themselves over to the ranch once in a while,” Boyce muttered, hitching up his blue jeans.
Cord wasn’t getting into that old argument. Though they had come to the Bar W a couple of times, Louis and Hope had often said how hard it was for them to be in on the ranch in this house. To see the memories of their daughter and be reminded of their loss.
Did they never think it was hard for him to be there every day?
He brushed the disloyal thoughts aside. He made the trip because he should. It had become a way of finding some type of absolution.
And have you?
“Well, I feel badly for Ella,” his father said, clearly not letting go of that particular topic. “She seems pretty alone.”
“She didn’t have to move out into the back of the beyond,” Cord said, trying to keep his tone neutral, nodding to a few friends. Returning a wave across the rows of pews from one of his many cousins.
Walshes had lived in Cedar Ridge since it was first established, and many of them had stayed, ranching and farming with their families. Creating a community that took care of each other and watched out for each other. It was that community that got him through those dark days after Lisa’s death. When he was alone with a newborn and two grieving children.
Though his father had moved to town when Cord and Lisa moved onto the ranch, he came back from time to time after Lisa died. Having Boyce around the Bar W helped, but Cord had never wanted to lean too much on his dad. Boyce had his own issues to deal with. When Dalton Rennie ducked out of town two years ago, not only had he left behind two daughters, he also left a bunch of creditors on the hook. One of whom was his father. Boyce had spent the past couple of years doing some creative financing to cover the debts.
And now with Cord’s brother, Morgan, talking about coming back to Cedar Ridge, Boyce wanted to find a place for him, as well. All of which created its own stress for him.
“I see Miss Ella,” Paul called out as they stepped into the large, spacious church foyer, brimming with people chatting and pouring themselves coffee. But before he could run over, Cord grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t take off. We’re leaving right away for Grammie and Grampie’s.”
Paul slouched his shoulders forward. “I don’t want to go all the way to Calgary,” he grumbled. Then he brightened? “Can we go to the zoo when we’re there?”
Once again, Cord felt the weight of expectations and his busy life. “Sorry, buddy. You know that Grammie and Grampie like to stay at home on Sunday.”
Paul made a face and Cord understood exactly how he felt. The trips to his in-laws were a steady reminder of his own loss and the consequent guilt. Added to that, the visits were often, to be frank, rather tedious.
His in-laws never wanted to do anything with the kids or go anywhere. Sundays were for spending time together at home, as a family. Lisa had often commented on the fact that Sundays at her home could drag on forever.
“Can’t we stay home today?” Paul pleaded.
Cord was about to respond when someone clapped their hand on his shoulder and pulled him around. “Cord. We need to chat.”
His uncle George stood in front of him, his eyes narrowed, his lips tight.
Cord stifled a groan. Uncle George Walsh was a tall, heavyset man with a bristling mustache and a harsh demeanor. When Cord was younger, he and his brother, Morgan, and his sister, were terrified of him. But George had mellowed somewhat the past few years. In spite of the death of his one son, Dirk, his daughter-in-law, Leanne, had given him a grandchild and George doted on the little boy.
But right now Uncle George was glowering, which made Cord guess that more work lay ahead of them.
“We called a meeting Monday to lay out a new strategy,” Uncle George said. “We need to crunch some numbers.”
“Don’t know if I can make it. My nanny quit and the kids have the next two weeks off,” Cord returned, fighting down his frustration. The proposal was taking up more time than he had bargained for.
“I could get Leanne to watch them for you,” he said.
“She’s working on the fund-raiser.” And the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group needed every bit of that money to make up for the money it had taken for their current bid to get into the Milk River Rodeo Assocation.
“Right.