Charlotte Douglas - Shoulda Been A Cowboy

What was happening to her? Was Eileen’s death making her crazy? She took a deep breath to steady her whirling senses.

Ethan lifted his glass in a toast. Their gazes locked, and compassion glimmered in the green brilliance of his hazel eyes.

“To absent friends.” His deep voice was thick with emotion.

She raised her glass, but discovered she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “To absent friends.”

They both drank, and Ethan settled once more on the stool beside the island. “Now, how about telling me all about this town you’ll be leaving soon?”

“That was a great meal,” Ethan said later. “I appreciate your taking the trouble.”

“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t any trouble.” Caroline was determined to remain quiet. She’d done far too much talking during supper, encouraged by Ethan’s questions about the town. She’d left him little time to tell her about himself, and she was curious about the handsome stranger with the badly burned hands.

They were sitting on the screened back porch in wicker rockers, finishing the bottle of wine and watching lightning bugs flit through the deep shadows of the garden. Jasmine and honeysuckle scented the air. The rising full moon cast silvery dapples on the lawn and added another element of romance to the night.

Caroline placed her half-finished glass on a side table. If she was thinking of romance, she’d definitely had too much to drink. Sure, Ethan Garrison was drop-dead gorgeous. Also kind, gentle, amusing, probably even a hometown hero, but he was also only passing through, and she had more important issues to occupy her mind than the way he made her pulse race. She had yet to decide whether to remain in the valley to honor Eileen’s requests about Hannah, the foster child, and to provide meals for the artist who was leasing Orchard Cottage.

Eileen had emphasized that her bequest wasn’t contingent on Caroline’s compliance with her final wishes. If Caroline arranged to have Blackberry Farm put on the market as soon as the will was probated, she could leave Pleasant Valley next week. Eileen’s savings and the eventual income from the farm’s sale, along with Caroline’s own nest egg, would give her enough money to travel through the western states, check out the territory and choose the perfect spot to put down roots.

“If you’re so determined to live out west,” Eileen had said in her strong gravelly voice one morning several months ago, “I don’t understand why you haven’t left long before now.”

“I can’t afford to.”

Eileen had straightened in her rocker in her usual ramrod posture reminiscent of royalty. Her soft gray eyes gleamed with wisdom behind silver-rimmed glasses, and every snow-white strand of her Gibson Girl hairstyle remained in place. With her face remarkably unlined and flushed with color for a woman in her nineties, she must have been a radiant beauty in her youth.

“You could have taken a job out west,” Eileen said, scrutinizing her closely, “until you earned enough to buy your own place.”

Caroline twisted her face into a smile that was more of a grimace. “I know everyone in town thinks I’m a wuss for putting up with my mother.”

“And what do you think?”

“That there’s more to it than that.”

Eileen rocked gently, not commenting, waiting for Caroline to explain. Caroline grappled for the right words.

“I’m not afraid of my mother,” she began, “in spite of what some people think. And I’m well aware of her faults. She’s a…difficult woman. Has been ever since Daddy died.”

“So you’re not staying with her out of a sense of obligation?”

“That’s a very small part of it. She is my mother, after all, and I’m her only child. I figure if I have to work until I can fulfill my dream, I might as well help her while I’m at it. Then, when the time comes, I can leave home with a clear conscience.”

“And that’s all?” Eileen’s gaze was skeptical.

Caroline sighed. “No.”

“I’m being a prying old busybody,” Eileen had said with self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

But Caroline had loved talking to her old friend. It helped her think. “Maybe I am a wuss.”

“Why?”

“Because in some ways, I’m afraid to leave the valley.”

“Afraid you’ll miss your mother?”

Caroline shook her head. “I know I’ll miss her, even though she drives me up the wall with her complaints and demands. She and Aunt Mona are all the family I have. But missing them is not what I’m afraid of.”

Eileen nodded and rocked some more.

“What if my dream isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” Caroline blurted. “What if I’ve spent all these years looking forward to moving out west and when I get there, I’m disappointed?”

Her friend leaned forward and grasped her hand. “It took me decades to learn one of life’s most important lessons.”

“Want to share?” Caroline asked. “I could use some wisdom.”

With her other hand, Eileen tapped the faded blue cardigan that covered her chest. “Happiness comes from inside, from the heart. It doesn’t have a thing to do with where you are. You can live in the most perfect place in the world, and if you’re not content within yourself, you’ll always be miserable.”

“Are you suggesting I’ll be miserable out west?” Caroline had asked in alarm.

Eileen had leaned back and smiled. “Quite the contrary. You’ve managed to be happy and content, in spite of living with your very difficult mother. I believe you’ll take that happiness with you wherever you go.”

Recalling that conversation, Caroline sighed and reached for her wineglass.

“Thinking of your friend?” Ethan’s deep, rich voice startled her. For a few moments, she’d forgotten he was there.

“Yes.”

He rolled his empty glass between his broad palms before he spoke above the clamor of crickets and katydids that filled the night air. “Memories are precious, especially when they’re all you have left.”

His face was partially hidden in shadow, but the raw pain in his voice kept his words from sounding like platitudes. Caroline had no doubt that Ethan had experienced his own losses. But he was a temporary guest. No need to be involved with his past, even if she was curious.

She stood, intending to remove herself from the temptation of trying to learn more about him. “If you’re hungry later, feel free to raid the kitchen.”

He pushed to his feet and towered beside her, the tall, dark silhouette of her afternoon dream. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

He looked terrific, smelled even better, and Caroline struggled against the unexpected urge to lean into him, to feel the warmth of his embrace again, the soft brush of his breath against her ear, the beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

Had she lost her mind?

She attributed her uncharacteristic impulses to grief. And her uncertainty over what to do about Eileen’s requests.

“Sleep well,” she said.

She turned quickly and made her escape before she did something foolish, like standing on tiptoe to kiss him good-night.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in recent memory, Ethan had slept like a rock. Not a single nightmare, not one of the terrors that had stalked his dreams every night for the past few months had disturbed him. Instead of confronting the usual twisted, sweat-soaked sheets, flung pillows and a residual uneasiness, he had awakened to sunshine, birdsong and a sense of hopeful anticipation. Mercifully absent was the smothering cloud of depression that had cloaked his waking hours. After a shower and shave in the old-fashioned but spacious bathroom, he found himself humming as he dressed in jeans and T-shirt and pulled on socks and work boots.

Minutes later, lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, he entered the dining room, where a single setting at the huge table indicated he was the B and B’s only guest. That fact meant he’d have more time alone with his lovely innkeeper. The grin that had taken residence on his face since he’d awakened in such good humor widened at the prospect.

He poured himself a cup of steaming coffee from the carafe on the sideboard and settled at the table to consider his situation. Just his luck to encounter the most fascinating woman he’d ever met on the day she’d lost one of her best friends. Last night, Caroline had been understandably preoccupied. This morning, he faced the problem of how to get to know her better without intruding on her grief and looking like a jerk.

Before he could frame a solution to his dilemma, the door that led to the kitchen swung open, and Caroline, carrying a serving tray, entered the dining room. With her cheeks flushed from cooking, her blond hair gleaming in the morning sun, and a light blue denim apron embroidered with Tuttle’s Bed and Breakfast covering her pale green shorts and shirt, she looked even more enticing than when he’d found her yesterday, dozing in the backyard.

Bedazzled by her smile, Ethan imagined waking up to such a vision every day, and the contemplation robbed him of breath.

“Sleep well?” Caroline set a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and fluffy grits in front of him, then placed a basket of warm muffins at his elbow.

“You bet. Must be the peace and quiet. I’m used to city noises.”

A closer look revealed faint shadows beneath her eyes, and a slight tremor in the hand that served his orange juice. Caroline, from the looks of her, hadn’t rested well.

“Why don’t you join me?” he asked. “I hate to eat alone.”

Actually, lately he’d preferred his own company, but his time at the B and B was limited, and he didn’t want to lose the chance to learn more about Caroline Tuttle.

His mother would be pleased.

“What you need, Ethan Garrison, is a nice girl. Settle down. Have children,” had been her mantra for the last ten years. After Jerry’s death, her not-so-subtle suggestions had turned to almost frantic pleas. “I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to know my grandchildren before I die.”

“You wouldn’t want me to marry a woman I don’t love,” Ethan had countered, “just to give you grandkids?”

“Of course not.” His mother had set her pleasant face in a pout. “But the right woman’s out there, just waiting for you to come along.”

“And how will I know when I’ve found her?” His question had been more teasing than serious. “Far as I’m aware, even a state-of-the-art GPS is no help in locating a prospective wife.”

“You’ll know,” his mother had insisted in poetic terms contrary to her practical nature. “Her name will sing in your soul and you won’t be able to think of anything but her.”

Ethan had laughed and called his mom a hopeless romantic, but watching Caroline pour herself a cup of coffee and take a seat across from him, he was beginning to understand what his mother had meant.

He buttered a warm muffin, took a bite and almost moaned with pleasure at the burst of flavors.

“Good, huh?” Caroline said with a smile that made him want to rise from his chair and kiss her.

“So good I’d be willing to marry the woman who baked these.”

Caroline laughed. “You’d have to fight off her husband first. And as a former Marine, he’d be tough to beat, even for you.”

“You didn’t bake these?”

She shook her head. “Jodie at the café. They’re her specialty.”

“What’s your specialty?”

Caroline nodded toward his plate. “I wish I had a dollar for every breakfast I’ve cooked the past fifteen years.”