Small-Town Dreams (34 page)

H
ope heard Curt’s shout of joy as she came in the back door for breakfast, then Manny’s distinctive accent rang out, though she couldn’t understand what he’d yelled.

“What’s going on?” she asked Emily as the housekeeper stomped into the kitchen, an annoyed expression tightening her face. “They’re really whooping it up down there.”

“I’m beginning to think they’ve turned into mad scientists. Yesterday a parcel arrived addressed to Jeff, and I took it down to the exercise room. ‘What is it you’ve ordered now?’ I asked, just moderately curious. ‘A secret,’ said Jeffrey, and then he snickered, wheeled away and handed the package off to Curtis. Then Curtis proceeded to open it, but he stopped when he noticed me still standing there. He closed the box and pretty as you please said, ‘Was there something you needed, Mrs. Roberts?’ Dismissed from the room like a gossipy servant. As if I’d pry into my Jeff’s private business. I know my place.”

Hope didn’t think it was the exact time to point out that she’d referred to Jeff as hers.

Emily anchored her work-worn hands on her ample hips. “It was just natural curiosity. I’ve never been a nosy sort. I just wondered if it was some newfangled thing or another for that little kitchen of his. Or if maybe it was something for his therapy. Really, I just can’t—”

“Emily! Calm down,” Hope demanded but took the sting out of the order with a bright smile. Hope had never seen the elderly woman so flustered. “You’re going on at a mile a minute. I’m sure they’re not up to anything nefarious. This is Curt and Jeff we’re talking about.”

“But the door was locked just now. And Manny is in there.”

“They wouldn’t open it to you? Maybe Jeff wasn’t dressed.”

Hope had to fight a grin when Emily’s lower lip pouted and she slammed a pot onto the stove top. “They told me to go away! Well, let me tell you, if I’m not wanted, then far be it from me to insinuate myself. I should let them cook their own breakfasts. That’s what I should do.”

“Well, now
I’m
curious,” Hope said. “And I
will
insinuate myself. I going to investigate. I’ll warn them their future meals are in jeopardy. That ought to straighten them out.”

Hope left Emily still banging pots and headed for the exercise room. Expecting to find it locked, she was surprised when the knob turned smoothly under her hand.

“Hello, the laboratory,” she called, pushing open the door. Curt and Jeff were seated at a table working on a three-dimensional puzzle of a medieval castle that Curt had started several nights before. An odd activity for the time before breakfast when they usually worked on a little therapy.

“Since when is this a laboratory?” Jeff asked, confused.

“Since you two started being so secretive. Emily thinks you have Frankenstein’s monster hiding in the bathroom.”

Jeff’s gray eyes widened, sparkling with humor. “Secretive? Curt, have we been secretive?” he asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Curt answered as he fitted another puzzle piece into the developing structure.

There’d been something conspiratorial about the tone of both men’s voices. Hope shot them a narrow-eyed glare. “Then why was the door locked?”

Jeff frowned, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice when he asked, “Was the door locked when you came in?”

“No, Jeff, the door was not locked when I came in,” Hope answered tightly. She saw why Emily was so upset. They were double-teaming her and they definitely were hiding something. And Hope didn’t like it any more than Emily had.

Jeff scratched his head in what Hope felt to be feigned bewilderment. “Then why’d you say it was locked?”

“You two—no, I heard Manny, so there are three of you—have hurt poor Emily’s feelings both yesterday and today. She’s ready to go on strike. I want to know what you’re up to.”

“Should we show her?” Curt asked.

Jeff looked suddenly worried. “Maybe not yet.”

“You did it before,” Curt argued in answer to some silent communication between them.

“I also fell flat on my face the first time.” Jeff looked at her. Hope didn’t know what he saw, but he nodded and spun away from the table toward the parallel bars.

“Manny!” he called. “You can come out now. The cat’s out of the bag.”

The bathroom door opened and a dark head peered around the door. “Cat? Bag?”

“Old expression,” Curt told him. “It means the secret’s out. Come on. Jeff’s about to put on a show for Hope. Just do what you did last time.”

Jeff looked at Hope and gave her a nervous smile. “Now don’t go getting your hopes up. This isn’t as big a deal as it looks. It’s mostly arm strength and braces.”

For the first time Hope noticed that there were heavy braces strapped over his gray sweatpants.

“But it’s the first step onto the next part of the road,” Curt said encouragingly as he stood between the bars in front of Jeff. Manny took up a position at the back of the wheelchair.

Jeff was going to try to stand! The moment the saddle separated from Prize’s back suddenly flashed across her mind’s eye. Once again, as if in slow motion, she watched Jeff impact with the hard winter ground. She saw him grimace in pain. She saw him go slack.

Hope was suddenly horribly nervous. Not because she didn’t want Jeff to walk again. Of course that wasn’t it. But he was safe in his wheelchair. What if he fell? What if he did more injury to his back?

He’d said he’d already fallen! The bruises made so much sense now. Her stomach dropped, and she watched in silence as Jeff grabbed the bars. Hope instinctively closed her eyes, unable to watch when she saw his muscles bunch with the effort.

Please, Lord, don’t let him get hurt.

“Hope, open your eyes before you miss the show,” she heard Curt say.

She did as ordered and found herself drawn to Jeff’s side, her gaze instantly locked in place by his. “You’re standing,” she said unnecessarily.

“On my hands,” he said a little breathlessly as he looked down at her. “I’m not sure it counts exactly…but it’s more than I could do a month ago.”

“You’re so tall,” Hope told him, then felt a little foolish, but it had been so long since she’d looked up into his handsome face. She wanted so badly to touch him that she had to clench her hands behind her back to stop herself.

“Nah. You’re just short. I can’t believe I let a shrimp like you…bully me into all this work.” Though he was breathless, Jeff’s silver-gray eyes shone with a good humor that quickly faded as he searched her face. His gaze, stormy and intent, seemed to ask an unvoiced question. But his expression was so enigmatic that it left Hope at a loss for an answer.

“What?” she asked finally when he continued to stare at her.

He gave her a sad little smile before looking at Curt. “I’ve about had it.”

“I know. Did you get dizzy this time?”

Jeff shook his head, sweat dripping from his collar-length hair.

“Good,” Curt said, moving closer to his patient. “Let the braces hold you for just a second. Ease up on your grip. We’re trying for balance here.”

Hope watched Jeff concentrate as if trying to remember something he’d forgotten. The sweat ran in rivulets down his cheeks. He carefully eased some of the tension out of the muscles of his arms. A grin broke across his face but then he swayed a little. Curt was there just as Jeff’s grip tightened on the bars.

“You did good,” Curt said. “Before you know it you’ll remember how to keep balanced. Now let’s get you back in the chair.”

“Oh!” Emily cried from the doorway. “Jeffrey, you bad boy. Keeping a secret like this. I didn’t spank you enough. That’s all there is to it. Breakfast is ready,” she said finally, then a sob broke from her throat and she turned and scurried away.

“I’d better see to her. She loves you so much, Jeff. I hope you realize that,” Hope told him, and ran after Emily.

“Hope,” Jeff said when he found her on the stone breakfast terrace several minutes later. “You didn’t act the way I thought you would. You looked more afraid than happy.”

She shrugged. “Of course I was happy. I was worried. That’s all. You’re already all banged up. You said you fell on your first attempt. You’re safe in the chair. You could get hurt worse than you are now.”

“Or I could learn how to put one foot in front of the other again.”

Hope smiled and took his hand. As always, a tiny thrill went through him at her touch. “That’ll be great. You will. I know it. How tired are you from all that new activity?”

“Only a little. Why?”

“Because I wanted to bring Ruby over today, but she’s a nightmare to trailer. I wondered if you’d do me a favor. Would you drive me over to Laurel Glen so I can ride her back? That way I can toss her blanket and some other equipment in the back of the van and not have to trailer her.”

Jeff wished she’d put this off a few days. He wondered if it was too soon after his talk yesterday with her father. Had Ross had enough time to think?

“I don’t know, Hope,” Jeff said, stalling. He hoped to put her off at least a few days. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

“I know it might be awkward for you, but you could stay in the van. We’d be in and out inside of half an hour. I doubt my father will even see you.”

“Well, all right,” he agreed hesitantly, thinking he should call ahead and warn Ross that the timetable had been moved up.

“Thanks. And will you make sure I don’t forget to get my address book? I’ve gone so far as writing myself a note on my hand and I still forget to get it every time I go over there!”

Jeff nodded, thinking how odd it would be for Hope to have moved all of her stuff out of Laurel House. He couldn’t imagine Laurel Glen without Hope. It had surprised him that Ross thought she should go elsewhere.

“Things aren’t very good at Laurel Glen right now,” Ross had said yesterday. Were tensions that high between Cole and his father? It was the only explanation. And all the more reason Hope and her father needed to patch things up. Even Meg Taggert had had enough and had left to take a cruise “to soothe her shattered nerves.” Of course, Hope thought her aunt was trying to force the two men to deal with each other even if was only to say pass the salt at the dinner table.

Three hours later Jeff got himself situated behind the wheel of the van as Hope climbed in beside him. He could feel the tension coming off her in waves. “Hope, this is your home we’re heading to. Has it been that bad when you’ve stopped by?”

Hope shrugged. “I’m worried about you and Dad. I don’t want him to hurt you if he sees us.”

“He won’t hurt me. I promise you. The only reason I hesitated when you asked me to drive was that I still think you should be moving home.”

“I’m twenty-seven years old. It’s time I moved out on my own.”

“You may be right about that but I hate to see you do it with this rift between you and Ross. That’s the only part of this I object to. It isn’t my place to object in the first place, though. It’s just that Cole left with things unsettled between them and not only has their relationship gotten worse but Cole has real problems because of it.”

Hope smiled. “I promise to work on it. Okay?”

Jeff nodded and took her hand where it lay fisted in her lap. “There’s my little peacemaker,” he teased and started the van.

As they reached the border of the two farms, the white vinyl fencing he’d had installed earlier in the year ended, and traditional whitewashed, wooden fencing began, signaling the change of ownership. Otherwise all else remained the same. Hills continued to roll one into the next, and sleek horses trotted across the green fields and tossed their heads, looking majestic and regal with shining manes and tails flowing in their wake.

As they drove under the wrought iron archway at Laurel Glen’s main entrance, Jeff fought the urge to stop to admire the artistry of a bygone era. He’d always loved the spectacular archway with its graceful renderings of the state flower that gave Laurel Glen its name. The artisan had made the laurel appear as if it twined its way through a network of delicate iron latticework. Rarely was this one site left out of a pictorial done of the county. Especially now with the pink and white mountain laurel, still partially in bloom, bordering the drive on both sides.

Once the wealthiest farm in the area, Laurel Glen had nearly gone into bankruptcy because of estate taxes after Ross’s father died. In his early twenties at the time, with two small children to support, Ross Taggert had fought to hold hearth and home together while rebuilding Laurel Glen’s reputation and fortune from nearly the ground up. It was now the top horse farm in the tristate area, and it was all due to Hope’s father.

And the man deserved the chance to repair his relationship with his daughter. While Addison Carrington had never earned Jeff’s respect because of his shallow values, Ross had. His entire life whenever Jeff had to make a hard decision, he’d asked himself one question—what would Ross Taggert do?

If Jeff had one regret, it was that Addison had seen Jeff’s feelings for Ross and had apparently set out to destroy any relationship the two had ever and would ever have.

The van topped a rise that hid all but the main house from view of the road. Laid out before them was the heart of Laurel Glen. On this farm, unlike his own, the barn and low stables fanned out before the house. They were nestled in the valley between the hill they’d just crested and an even higher rise where Laurel House sat. The stone facade of Laurel House rose from that farther mound like an elegant outcropping of nature. It seemed to keep guard over what it held most dear.