Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (28 page)

Come to me.

Her heart lodged between duty and principle. The Lord had led her into His service. Surely He supported her efforts to defend her work. “Fine.” She fought against the frown that threatened to reveal her frustration. “I understand all about rewards and dedication. I understand Jim retaining the clients. Now, what about my inactive base?”

Tom Everitt tipped back in his chair. “Up for grabs.”

“I’m grabbing,” she proclaimed before he changed his mind.

“Rachel, you know the high standards BE&J demands of our employees, especially our senior brokers.”

The mantra ran as a broken record through her mind -– dedication and sacrifice. . . Never stop till you get to the top . . . Big dog and his bone. Rachel had lived and breathed those words for years–-years she’d focused, yet lost all perspective.

“Yes, Tom,” she agreed, her mind racing over countless hours of instilled idealism. “You have to want it bad enough.”

“You have to want it bad enough to get it and keep it. You’re getting off easy, Rachel. How many stock brokers do you know can abandon their clients for weeks and still remain on top? I’ll tell you how many--none. You’ve lost some ground here, but,”--he bestowed upon her the winning smile that had sealed many contracts,--“I know my girl. With work, you’ll get those inactive accounts going and be back in the Platinum league again without missing a commission check.”

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “Now, go home and review your accounts, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I expect you here tomorrow morning--early--with portfolios and stock charts in hand.”

The nerves in her neck tingled and Rachel rolled her shoulders to keep the anticipated pain at bay. She sifted through the repertoire of inspirational study she’d immersed in over the past weeks. Study that had prepared her for her return into the financial world. Advice eternally sounder than any theory she’d ever heard at the coffee bar. “I need to pull reports and familiarize myself with the accounts.”

His eyes narrowed like a wolf honing in on its prey. Finally, with a lifted brow, he nodded. “You have tonight.”

Snippets of Scripture raced through her mind.
You can’t serve two masters. . .you’ll love one and despise the other. . .you can’t serve both, God and money.

“I see that brilliant financial mind working. You know the costs.” A sly grin of victory spread across Tom Everitt’s handsome face. “The question is, how badly do you want it?”

* * *

Rachel stood before the glass doors leading out to the minuscule balcony of her tenth-floor condominium. Over the years, she’d stood in this very spot and scanned the city skyline with pride, knowing she’d made it, she’d reached her professional goals with no thought of slowing down. Tonight, the lights of downtown glittered with holiday cheer as she stared over the mechanical systems of surrounding buildings.

This was her home, her refuge. Why did it feel so cold and impersonal?

She’d been back at work for two weeks, long enough move out of her plush office and into a moderate sized cubicle and begin reestablishing herself in a world where client base determined your success and reputation was everything in a tight market. Not only had she lost her perimeter office, she also lost the support of all the people she’d once held in the highest esteem for their work ethic and generosity. Seemed professional friendships only extended to those with the limitless company expense accounts and standing reservations at the Buckhorn Exchange.

That carrot of success dangled in front of every other broker in the firm. They measured their worth by the nods of approval from the partners. Including Tom Everitt.

Surprisingly, Rachel wasn’t interested in pleasing the upper echelon of Bales, Everitt and Joyner any longer.

Turning from the window, she sank into the butter-soft leather upholstery of her overstuffed sectional sofa. Papers and charts lay scattered around her and her computer hummed on the coffee table in front of her. The walnut and burl grandfather clock in the entryway chimed eleven o’clock. She ran her fingers through her hair and stifled a yawn. She still had two or three hours of work ahead of her to complete the account projections due at her ten o’clock meeting tomorrow.

She stared at the oil painting of a mountain town that hung above the mantle of her fireplace. Surrounded by aspen trees, an old mining shaft sat rested at the top of a mountain overlooking the town while a lake filled with sailboats created the boundary on the other side. She’d found the piece tucked away in the back of an art gallery just off the 16th Street Mall about a year after she’d moved to Denver. The mine represented her hard work and accomplishments in order to earn her time and pleasure in her boat on the lake.

Closing her eyes, she tried to visual the road to success she’d been taught to follow in various motivational classes. Nothing came to mind except a snowy town in the mountains and a cowboy with a twinkle in his eye, and the memory of a kiss that transcended miles.

What were the Davidsons doing this evening? She’d given her email address to Jennifer and found herself checking her personal account frequently for any word from her new friend. The twins were home and growing; Melanie had recovered and attacked motherhood with zeal; Grace doted on the entire family.

Never a word about Nick.

So many little details about him popped up in her mind. Surliness; bossy; moody. She frowned. No, that was only the first day. He’d relaxed and opened up along their drive to Casper and she discovered a man running from demons he’d brought on himself. She’d worried over him in the hospital and he’d actually let down his guard. By the time they reached Hawk Ridge, Rachel knew she’d made the right choice by standing beside him and supporting him through his weakest point.

All that in a week. A self-deprecating chuckle broke the silence of her condo. She knew Nick Davidson better after a single week than many people she’d known for years. Her gaze wandered over the paperwork surrounding her. Including Tom Everitt.

She refused to go down that path again. What she viewed as betrayal, Tom viewed as business. She couldn’t fault him. She’d been looking through the glass, darkly - or so the Apostle Paul had said.

How long had her perspective been skewed? The day she and Nick had driven to his house on the hill, he’d claimed she had more foolhardiness in her than all rodeo cowboys combined. The words rang in her mind clearly. Often. Inescapably.

She’d been wrong about Nick. Was she wrong about her father, too?

She’d never asked her dad directly why he rode bulls, why he left her and mom alone on the ranch for weeks at a time, why he risked his life each time he wrecked only to dust himself off and bull ride again at the next rodeo.

Looking around at the files surrounding her computer, Rachel blew out a frustrated sigh. She didn’t have the least desire to complete her reports. She desired even less going back to a brokerage firm that viewed her only as a sales number.

Why?

Her mind skipped around all the Bible studies she’d listened to over the past month. She started humming one of her favorite songs. A tiny smile pulled at her mouth.

Running away seemed to be the central ideal she and Nick shared in common. She’d poured so much wise counsel over Nick, maybe it was time she looked at herself and applied the same. Maybe she needed to screw her head on right over the important relationships in life rather than stocks, bonds, and profits.

Maybe it was time she talked her dad about all the
whys
she couldn’t seem to figure out for herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Even after two weeks, Nick couldn’t tell the girls apart to save his life.

Kacie and Krynn Davidson shared a crib in the nursery. Nick tried to remember which one had cried on him last time he held her. Reaching for the baby on the right, he hoped this encounter turned out better.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured to the bundle just now topping the scales at six pounds. “We’ve got a good thing going here, don’t we?”

Melanie stepped up beside him and gently picked up her other daughter. “Trying to mend fences with Krynn, huh? Brave man. That baby has wicked lungs.”

Nick rolled his eyes even as he snuggled Krynn close to his chest. Just his luck. God had brought another female into his life to antagonize him.

“I think she forgives you, Nick. You’re really good with babies.” She laughed as she swaddled Kacie and sat down in the glider, her feet propped on the matching footstool. “Gabe runs to the other end of the house with Jason in tow when babies cry. He’s even worse when it comes to diapers.”

Krynn slept peacefully, her entire body fitting the length of his forearm. “Smart man.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

Careful not to wake the baby, Nick leaned against the dresser and met his sister-in-law’s challenging gaze. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re letting the past destroy any hope of a happy future.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. The baby wrinkled her nose, her lids peeping open. She began to scrunch up her face signaling an upcoming scream. Nick relaxed and held her closer, rocking back and forth by some primal instinct. The baby stilled and he released his breath.

Continuing to sway, he kept his gaze on Krynn but his attention on Melanie. “Let it go, Melanie. I’ve been interrogated by everyone in the family about Rachel. She left on her own.”

Melanie nodded in understanding. “She had to get back to her office. It was obvious her career means a lot to her. I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Yes, it did.”

He got. . . everything I’ve worked for.
She’d spilled the whole ugly mess to him in the cab of the tractor. She’d lost her position. He’d been ready to throttle whoever this Jim guy was who’d taken anything away from Rachel. A lump balled up in his gut. She never said it, but he knew the time she’d taken for him had played a big part in her dismissal. “She lost it all because of me.”

“What?”

“I was too bull-headed to do what was right, so she made time to do it for me.” The words were as difficult to say as the truth was to acknowledge. “I made her late; I got her fired.”

“Wow, you really are full of yourself.”

Nick jerked his head up. “What?”

Melanie continued to lull the baby in her arms as her gaze ripped him apart. “Rachel didn’t have to do anything for you unless she wanted to. She could have left you in Casper. She could have dumped you on Mitch Cauldwell and never wasted a backward glance.” She lowered her voice when Kacie began to stretch and whimper. “Nick, that girl loves you. Why? I haven’t a clue with the way you’re behaving.” Kacie settled down and nuzzled into the crook of Melanie’s elbow. “Whatever made her leave, it was bad enough to break her heart.”

Her heart?
Last he remembered, Rachel had ripped his right out of his chest. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Do I?”

His jaw tightened. He’d told her he loved her. She couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“Nick, I know all about your marriage to Stephanie and the devastating results. I’m sorry.” Silence filled the room broken only by the even breathing of the girls. “Forgive yourself and stop looking back.”

“I have.” The day he declined his ride in the National Rodeo Finals.

“Rachel hasn’t.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Rachel pulled the wooden door shut behind her and let the screen slam in place. The brisk November winds blew across the barren fields surrounding the High Top Hill ranch. Looked like a storm brewing; first of the season.

Lifting her collar to the chill, she crossed the wide, old-fashioned planked porch. A sturdy, worn ramp had replaced the steps, a testament that no wheelchair could keep her father from fulfilling his work. She settled into her favorite swing and pushed into motion with one foot. As a girl, she’d loved curling up in the wooden swing, the warm summer breeze blowing her hair as she’d lost hours in her favorite books. Now, as a grown woman, she loved simply sitting and swinging and daydreaming. The prodigal daughter comes home.

Not exactly a prodigal daughter, she corrected. She hadn’t left to find fame and fortune, rather, it had found her. The tentacles of success had inched around her and squeezed ever so gently, that she hadn’t even noticed her lifeblood running dry. She reached up and fingered the cross still secure around her neck. A few weeks ago, she’d relied on her earbuds and faith programs to keep her in line. Now, she need only look around her to bask in the assurance of forgiveness.

Her sight blurred in the biting chill of the late autumn wind. So many lost years of misunderstanding swam around her. Rachel felt the tears pool and threaten to escape as they had so many times over the past few weeks. In her effort to block her dad out of her life, she’d blocked God out, too. She hadn’t realized how angry she’d been, not only toward her earthly father, but her heavenly Father, also.