Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (26 page)

The edge of the blade nicked an ice drift along the side the road. Turning the steering wheel, he guided the tractor back on course. The compound low gear kept the tractor chugging forward without much attention from him.

“You told me what I didn’t want to hear. You cared enough to do that for me, a perfect stranger.”

She fished around in the pocket of the jacket and pulled out a tissue. After blotting her eyes, she twisted the tissue between her fingers. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not perfect.”

Bingo! He didn’t care what kind of response she’d give him, he just wanted a response. That she quipped her response at his expense gave him hope. “Do you remember preaching to me about the whole closed door, open window scenario?”

Nick marveled at the ease of his thoughts, and the peace of patience that surrounded him. He’d slipped up earlier in the day by declaring his feelings. But now that he had his heart under control, he could deal with Rachel without emotions getting in the way.

“I thought I had it all worked out, Nick,” Rachel began in a small voice. “I thought I’d isolated the problem areas in my life and had a plan to fix them.” She shifted and gave him a sideways glance. “Besides, I don’t preach.”

“Right, no preaching. Whatever you say.” Nick locked his fingers on the steering wheel and frowned at the white out surrounding them. “For someone who just spent the last four days talking of faith, it doesn’t appear letting go is as easy as it sounds.” He waited for her protest, for his bit of insight to ignite her internal combustion. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her looking around the cab and then shaking her head as if such little effort could refute his statement.

“You don’t understand, Nick. Financial planning is all I know. It’s taken me years to build a clientele who trust my judgments, who recommend me to their family, friends, and acquaintances. I’ve done well, too. My clients enjoy generous returns and long term security." She angled her chin and stared at him. "Is that such a bad aspiration?”

“What if God has something else for you to do? Say, something less demanding?”

Rachel turned away and locked arms around her knees. “But I’ve learned to manage my stress by turning to Him. That’s why I took the extra time off, to make sure I understood God’s plans for me. I realize I’ve been splitting my pie all wrong. My career enabled me to enjoy life as I pleased. What I didn’t comprehend was the subtle shift from the master of my time to slave. I’d forgotten to honor God first in all I do, but I’m ready to serve Him." She sat up and waved her hands. "Now, I have a plan of action.”

Her simple movement released a drift of her familiar scent. He inhaled, wanting to close his eyes and relish the fruity fragrance instilled in his senses. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road and stole a quick glance at her. “God’s plans, or Rachel’s plans?”

Rachel caught his gaze as she blew out a breath. “Hopefully, they’re one in the same.”

“Be sure you know the difference, or you’ll end up in a heap of trouble.”

A hint of a smile finally pulled at her mouth. “Funny talk coming from a man who doesn’t believe in God anymore.”

“I never said I didn’t believe. I said I needed to start paying attention to my life choices and not relying on Divine guidance to do it all for me. Sort of like forging the path and trusting God will keep me on it.”

“But what if the path you’ve chosen isn’t His choice?”

“Then I guess He’ll just have to tell me.”

* * *

She couldn’t turn away from his penetrating gaze. Suddenly, she sensed them back at a point in their relationship somewhere between her dragging him home to his family and him taking her to his house where he confronted his difficult memories. And kissed.

She’d never forget those kisses.

But what did it matter if he kissed like a dream only to leave her at the first opportunity to feed his soul-deep drive for competition with which she couldn’t compete?

Hence, in her sphere of life, one plus one equaled a big fat zero.

“How much longer are you going to ride, Nick?” Her face burned as the words poured out of her mouth. The question had bounced around in her head since the day she’d met him, never intending to actually give it voice.

They passed through a sheltered portion of road. Nick shifted the tractor and gave it more gas. Snow-laden pines clipped along as they picked up speed.

“I’m done.”

A twitter in her stomach distracted her from the plowing mission they’d been assigned. Snow drifts, biting winds, swaying trees all faded to nothing as his words rang through her head.
I’m done.

She stared at his chiseled profile, noting the bruises had faded to light yellow. They’d had some pretty deep discussions over the past week and she didn’t even know what he looked like completely healed. She knew he preferred to fish for bass over walleye, he had an affinity for classic country music, and a burning desire to drive down highways at double the maximum speed. So what did he look like in his starched shirt and crisp jeans ready to take on the town?

She dragged her gaze to his more than capable hands as he grasped the knob and downshifted again. “What do you mean by that?”

“It means I’m done with rodeo and ready to get on with life.”

“Just like that?” Irritation replaced the wonder and curiosity of moments earlier. “You’ve qualified for the National Finals Rodeo and you’re going to pass that up? I know bull riders, Nick. No bull rider would do that.”

The muscles in his jaw worked as his fingers clasped and unclasped the steering wheel. “Well, you’ve just met one. I got what I wanted out of rodeo. I don’t need any more.”

A lump rose in her throat. “What don’t you need anymore?”

As he turned her way for just a moment, Rachel saw the answer in his eyes. He turned back before she could blink, but in that split second, she recognized the truth. Peace.

“I…” --he rolled his eyes toward the sky-- “don’t need…” He focused back on the road, his brows drawn beneath his hat. “I’m just done with it.”

She understood the difficulty of putting feelings to words. Hadn’t she kept all her anxiety deep inside for years? Sharing that most precious insight into your soul was never easy.

But maybe someday, it would be.

She reached out and covered his hand where he gripped the stick shift. The rough skin of his knuckles cooled her warm palm. She rubbed lightly, desperate for the connection they’d once shared. “Glad to hear it.”

“Don’t leave.” He pressed his firm lips together. “Stay for a while.”

It wasn’t like she had any pressing appointments to keep anymore. “I think I’d like that.”

Just as she relaxed back into her seat, the blast of a horn sounded from behind them. Rachel looked around and noticed the split rail fence line bordering the highway and the pine posts framing the ranch entrance. “They’ve caught up with us?”

“Perfect timing.” Pulling over to the side, Nick cut the engine of the tractor. He leaned over and helped her across the seat, stealing a kiss along the way. “Sorry, I should have asked. Is it okay if I kiss you?”

The sparkle in his blue eyes made her smile wide. “I don’t mind at all.”

He grabbed another quick kiss. “Good.”

The hatch door of the Suburban popped open as the window on the passenger side lowered. “Get in the way back. There’s no more room up here,” Zac yelled.

“Thanks,” Nick mumbled before he swung her down from the tractor and tried to shield her from the wind as they reached the tailgate and crawled in. Zac met them at the back and slammed the tailgate up and the hatch window down.

“Comfy back there?” Jennifer leaned over the seat and waved. “We’re packed tight as straw up here, too.”

Nick propped his back against the wall and looped his arm around her as Rachel shimmied her shoulder across his chest. The Suburban lunged onto the highway and picked up speed on the plowed road. “How in the world did you get seven people in this truck and still have room for us?”

“Pre-planned packing,” Melanie answered from the front. “No way were we leaving anyone behind.”

Rachel had been included in the count. A growing warmth spread from her cheeks to her toes. These people didn’t even know her, yet counted her as part of the family. At the moment she thought of family, Nick tightened his hold on her as if he’d read her mind.

His hat lost somewhere in the back of the Suburban revealed waves and curls awakened by the wet weather. He grinned at her and nodded toward the front of the vehicle. “This is why I’m not going back,” he whispered in her ear sending a tingle through her.

Rachel reached up and smoothed a patch of wavy blond hair from his face. She felt safe and cherished in his arms, a feeling she wanted to bask in forever. “Great reason.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nick prayed the early snowstorm wasn't wrecking havoc with other pregnant ladies’ delivery timetables. He didn't think they could squeeze another anxious person into the Birthing Center waiting room. The Davidsons had moved in.

By the time they’d arrived at the hospital, a full maternity staff stood alerted. Melanie’s contractions had slowed but remained constant and the only smile she’d spared was for Jason who stood by his mother’s side, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Grace Davidson had led the boy to the couch and Jennifer sat beside them, answering questions about Melanie’s condition as quickly as Jason could spew them out. Gabe hadn’t asked permission to accompany his wife to her room and dared anyone tell him otherwise. Lucky for the staff, no one stood in his way.

Zac and Martin sat by the window playing electronic checkers on Zac’s tablet.

The afternoon hours had stretched into the night. Since Melanie showed no signs of complications and the babies no distress, the medical team had decided to let nature take its course. Nick glanced at the large digital clock over the nurses’ station desk: 1:42 AM. Obviously nature didn’t have any pressing appointments.

Zac and Jen had commandeered a section of the floor by the window, Jason curled up beside them using Zac’s leg as a pillow. Grace slept propped up in a club chair in the far corner of the waiting area. Across the room, next to the coffee and tea cart slept Martin, his mouth open and a series of soft snores filling the room. Nick looked around for Gabe. Probably with Melanie.

He shifted in his seat, careful not to wake Rachel as she snuggled next to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. Her dark lashes fanned over her smooth cheeks as he listened to her even breathing. Affection for her tightened his chest in the worst way. He’d asked her to stay earlier in the afternoon and she seemed pleased. But, did she want to stay because of him, or because she had no place else to go?

With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes, tired of the constant mental fencing he parried late at night, in the deepest dark when no one else was awake. Rehashing his relationship with Stephanie; the growing distance from his family; the hazards of his rodeo career. Only at night did his problems reach gargantuan proportions.

Nightmares.

Leaning over the side table, Nick grabbed his brother’s jacket and wadded it into a ball. Mounding it on his thigh, he nudged Rachel up and then repositioned her so the jacket acted as a pillow. Without missing a beat, she snuggled against him, her legs stretching out on the couch and her fingers resting on his knee. Nick lowered his arm so as to clasp her hand in his and realized he’d do everything within his means to keep her safe. He’d grown; he’d matured. He finally recognized love.

A grin pulled at his lips. Rachel would just have to see things his way.

Hours later, Nick woke up. Rachel remained stretched out beside him, her hand still in his. He gave her a squeeze. He’d enjoyed the most peaceful sleep in years, despite the stiff couch and combined sleeping noises filling the area. The clock read 5:02 AM.

The rasping shuffle of papers filtered across the room. Doc O’Reilly stood at the far end of the nurses' station, a stack of folders by this side. Edging the wadded jacket off his thigh, Nick arranged Rachel safely on the couch as he rose and stretched. He skirted around his sleeping family members and approached the nurses’ station.

“Well look who the storm blew in.” Doc O’Reilly stretched out his hand for a shake. “Good to see you, Nick.”

Clasping his hand, Nick nodded. “Welcome to the family, Doc.”

Doc O’Reilly glanced over at Jennifer and grinned. “We missed you at the wedding. Food couldn’t have been better and the band was great. Got a few turns around the dance floor myself.”

A shadow darkened Nick’s mood. He’d missed both of his brother’s weddings. Shaking the guilt away, he vowed to spend the rest of his life making it up to them. “Well, you know. Rodeo doesn’t always respect family.”

Doc closed his folder and slipped his pen into his breast pocket. Leaning his elbow on the counter, he nodded at Nick. “Rodeo doesn’t respect much, family or health. I hear you’ve had your clock cleaned a couple of times. Concussions are serious, Nick. How’s the head?”

“Flapjack and I went rounds in Rapid City and he won.” Nick shrugged away the memory. “Did some hospital time and ended up coming home.”