But she didn’t finish the sentence. “Anyway, how was ranch life? Gram said you were taking pictures for some therapy-type place.”
“It was good.” Hope felt her cheeks heat but ignored it. “It’s a therapeutic riding facility. I took pictures, had a chance to recharge.”
“Is that all?”
The same question Gram had asked. Suddenly Hope felt like she needed her sister very much. Perhaps that had been a lot of the problem—she’d never let herself confide in Grace or Faith. She hadn’t wanted to burden them with her troubles. But they were all grown up now. And, while Hope didn’t want to spill her guts to Gram and get her hopes up, she had the strange urge to tell Grace everything.
“No, it’s not all.” Shyness and a fear of being rejected made her backpedal. “But I doubt you want to hear it.”
Grace sat down at the table. “Try me.”
“I thought you had to skedaddle?”
“I can manage a few minutes.”
Something passed between them then—a simple sort of acceptance, a closeness that had been missing for too long. “The guy that owns the place—Blake—and I...we kind of got involved.”
“How involved?”
Hope felt her face flame yet again. “There’s a slim chance I may have fallen a little bit in love with him.”
Grace sat back in her chair and laughed. “A slim chance? You may have...? Oh, Hope. You haven’t really changed, have you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You always hold back, refuse to let in people who would help you. Who would care for you. You’re so busy protecting yourself from getting hurt that you forget how to live in the process.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it on my account,” Hope said, still feeling the sting of Grace’s words. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
She made a move to get up, but Grace’s next words made her sit right back down again.
“Does he love you, too?”
Did he? He hadn’t said as much.
“I don’t know. He asked if I’d come back after Christmas for a while. But it’s impossible, right? I mean...I live in Australia. It’s no way to run a relationship. And I’m hardly going to throw all that away after a ten-day...well, whatever. Flirtation?”
“You want to know how I see it?” Grace pushed her coffee cup across the table. “You were the oldest. You tried really hard to fill the gaps, especially when we weren’t here with Gram. You tried to be perfect for everyone. But no one is perfect, Hope. And no matter what any of us did you were the responsible one. Faith never wanted to rock the boat, and me...? Well, I tried to get attention in other ways. But none of it made a bit of difference. And now you’re so afraid of getting hurt that you push everyone away.”
She reached over and in a move that was so not Grace, touched Hope’s hand.
“I know a lot of people think I’m the most like Mom. I never stay in one place for long. I’m always after the next thing. But I think you are, Hope. Because you are spending so much time fighting who you really are by trying to be who you think you ought to be. No wonder you’re exhausted.”
In an odd, twisted way Grace made perfect sense.
“I’m scared,” Hope admitted. There was a slight tremor in her voice; it was a tough thing to confess. “I’m scared to take that leap.”
“After our upbringing, of course you are! All I’m saying is don’t let your job stop you. If you love him, wouldn’t he be worth it? You’re a brilliant photographer, Hope. Why else did you think I asked you to do that assignment with me? I’ve been freelancing for years—nothing to say you can’t do the same. Your job is just an excuse.”
Hope chuckled. “Today is one day I appreciate your bluntness,” she said. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, there’s Christmas to get through, right?”
She didn’t have to decide anything right now.
“Which reminds me—I really need to get out of here.”
“What about you and J.C.?” Hope asked.
Grace grinned at her. “Like I said, I really need to get going. See you around town, Hope.”
“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Hope replied as Grace put her cup in the sink.
“Believe me,” Grace replied acerbically. “I’m nowhere near off the hook. Anyway, bring your camera today.”
She slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Hope in peaceful silence. With plenty of time to think. Was Grace right? Had she forgotten who the real Hope was? When had she disappeared? And was there a chance she could find her again?
She’d had hopes and dreams once. She’d wanted things—like love and a family. She’d been so sure, knowing that if she had them she’d never let them go like her mother had.
And it hadn’t been any one particular thing that had caused her to throw those hopes away. No, it had been a constant chipping away. Every time they moved, every time there was a disappointment or an argument, or every time Hope tried to hold things together and failed. She’d been eighteen and the girls had been teenagers. Of course they hadn’t wanted to listen to her. But years of insecurity, of little failures, had drained her of energy. Of hope. She gave a bitter laugh. Ironic that that was her name, when she thought of it.
She’d given up hope a long time ago, and her other plans with it. Someone to share her life with. The sound of a child’s laughter. Blake had given that back to her, even if it was just for a brief moment. Those kids weren’t just his surrogate family, they’d been hers, too, for a very short time.
She went back upstairs and fired up her laptop, sitting at the small desk where she’d once written in her journal and sometimes done her homework. Within seconds she’d brought up the pictures. Looking at Blake’s laughing face during the hockey game made her both smile and feel weepy. She clicked through each image. Each one was attached to a memory. The picture wasn’t always perfect but the memory was. The boys unlacing their skates. The farmyard during a snow flurry, with flakes softening the edges of the barn and the trees. Anna in her apron, holding a casserole in her hands.
Hope hadn’t even looked at the ones from the party—just copied them to the disk for Blake. But she clicked through them now, each one a tug on a tender heartstring. The children in front of the tree, Blake in the middle. The two kids she’d met the first day, sitting together and sharing a plate of cookies. A small boy playing with a new set of toy cars, his grin dominating his whole face.
This was Blake’s family. She understood it now. This was the reason he got up in the morning. The reason he sacrificed. She blinked. They really were alike, weren’t they? They would do anything to make life better for the ones they loved. Except Blake hadn’t closed off his heart, had he? She’d accused him of doing that, of not having a family of his own, but he’d opened his heart by choice, to those who needed him.
The final picture popped up on the screen. Blake was holding Cate in his arms with the Christmas tree behind them, its colored lights muted and providing a warm backdrop. Cate’s hands rested on each side of his cheeks and above their heads was a sprig of mistletoe. Blake’s eyes were closed and his lips were in an exaggerated pucker as the little girl kissed the man she clearly idolized.
In all her years of taking pictures Hope had never accomplished it—not until now. But this was the perfect picture. Not because of the lighting or the balance or the colors or exposure. But because it hit her square in the heart and squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.
Blake’s