The Cowboy's Courtship (9 page)

“Have you always had faith?” She looked up, into his brown eyes that were deep with compassion, and she was moved in new directions that her heart didn’t know how to react to, how to soak up.

“Not always. My mom had faith, enough for all of us, I guess. And then, when she was gone…”

He faltered and looked away, and she knew this was another part of him she was getting to know, the part that hadn’t dealt with the death of his mother. This was a man who found it easy to comfort, to joke, but not easy to deal with his own loss and his own pain.

Or at least she thought that was who he was.

“I’ve had to work through a lot in order to get over being angry with God for taking her.”

“Are you still angry?”

He looked away, to the back of the chapel, to a simple wooden cross hanging on the wall.

“No, I’m not.” He took hold of her hands, cupping them in his as he lifted them to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “Are you?”

She didn’t know how to answer. “I’m not as angry as I was. But it isn’t easy, to let go of what my mother did. And then, in April, my sister eloped with my fiancé. Which I can now say I’m glad about, but…”

He blinked a few times. “Bad month, April.”

“A little.” She managed a smile. “But each day since has gotten better.”

“Alyson, can I pray with you?” He still held her hands in his. His thumbs stroked her fingers. He had straddled the bench and was watching her, waiting. And she didn’t know what to say, because this time it wasn’t frozen pizza
they were praying for. This time they were praying for her to find faith.

She nodded and emotion, so heavy it hurt to breathe, settled in her chest. “Please.”

They bowed their heads. Ceiling fans hanging from the rafters swished the air downward, circulating but not really cooling. The chapel wasn’t fancy. The piano was old and out of tune. The hymnals were held together with tape. But the moment was one that settled in Alyson’s heart.

It all became real in that moment.

After he prayed, Jason touched her back and stood up. She remained on the bench, unsure of her next move. What did a person do after praying for faith? How did they meet the next moments of their life? It changed everything. It changed her heart. It changed how she looked at her future. Because she had faith.

“I want you to make sure that Etta knows that we prayed. This is the open door, Alyson. It’s a starting point for change. Believe in yourself, in who God created you to be.”

She nodded. “Jason, are you going to remember?”

He grinned and winked. “You bet. Even if I have to write it down. Today, Alyson found faith. I think that’s something to remember.”

Why was he leaving? She stood, wanting to ask that question, but afraid of the answer. She touched his hand and he met her gaze.

“Why are you walking away?”

He paused and she could see in his eyes that he didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. Habit, I guess. Will you be okay?”

Walking away was a habit. She filed that away in her memory, so she wouldn’t forget, so she wouldn’t let it hurt her. Andie had warned her.

She nodded, and then she stood there as he left. She couldn’t follow him. She wouldn’t be the woman that ran after a man who didn’t want to be caught.

Jason made his way to the dining hall, and he’d never been so glad to get anywhere. He sat down at one of the picnic-style tables and put his foot up on the bench of the table across from him. He liked what they’d done with this room. It was decorated with photographs of the kids from the previous year.

Jenna left the kitchen and joined him.

“What’s up with you?” She handed him a bottle of water.

“What do you mean, what’s up?”

“You know, this memory thing is a problem, but I think that you remember what’s going on and you know what I’m talking about. You look terrible.”

“Thanks. I think my kneecap is no longer attached to my leg, the ligaments and tendons are slapping around loose, and you want to have a counseling session?”

“Yeah, that’s rough.”

He felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry, Jen.”

“It’s okay.” She slapped her prosthetic leg. “I’m doing really well. And having a baby. Could life be better?”

“No, I don’t think it could. You deserve this.”

He remembered back, to Jenna when she was sixteen and afraid. The two of them used to sit together at night, talking about life, about how to make it. They’d never been in love. They’d been friends. She had been the
person he talked to, and he was the person she’d turned to when she got into trouble.

“You deserve to be happy, too.” She looked at him, not smiling. “I saw you in the chapel with Alyson.”

“Great.”

“She’s pretty terrific. I mean, she has a lot to learn about living here, but she has potential.”

“You like her?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. You, on the other hand, are going to be working with her.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Or warned. But really, she can’t ride and she doesn’t know a thing about rodeos. I’m sure she’d rather stay in here, in the air-conditioning.”

“You think that about me?” Not Jenna’s voice. Jason turned and Alyson was standing in the back doorway. Which was why he hadn’t seen her come into the dining hall. “Are you the same guy who was in the chapel with me?”

Was Jenna humming, “Goin’ to the Chapel”? He thought she might have hummed it as she walked away.

“Yes, I’m the same guy. I’m sorry, Alyson. But the kitchen is great. It’s cool and clean. The stables are hot and dusty.”

She sat down across from him. “I want to work in the stable.”

“Okay, you want the stables. I can handle that.” What he really wanted was to head out the door and escape the look in those blue eyes. Angry women, not his thing.

A woman he’d led to faith in God.

The reminder jerked him up by the scruff of the neck. It felt like a huge connection between them, and he didn’t want her angry. He wanted her…

In his arms.

The door opened and Jason looked up as Adam Mackenzie entered the building, looking like a big thunderstorm about to hit. The other man’s face was a little red and his eyes showed his fury.

“That accountant stole our money!” Adam slammed a notebook down on one of the tables.

Jenna came back from the kitchen, her face pale. She leaned against the stainless-steel counter and waited. They all waited as Adam worked on getting a grip on his temper.

“What does that mean?” Jenna was the first to ask.

“The donations to the camp are gone, and so is Joseph Brooks. I think he left a few thousand dollars in the camp account. Nice of him, huh?”

“Have you called the police?” Jason turned to straddle the bench seat of the cafeteria table so he could face Adam.

“I just called. They’re coming out. We’re going to try and chase him down, but I have a feeling he and our money are long gone. I should have paid more attention.” Adam brushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. He sat down at the table. Jenna walked up behind her husband and put her hands on his shoulders.

“We’ll work something out.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Work something out? We have kids here. We have more kids coming in two weeks. How do we work this out?” He shook his head. “I’ll transfer money from our private account. We aren’t going to let the camp go down.”

“You could have a fund-raiser.”

They all turned to look at Alyson, whose suggestion had come out of the blue. She was standing a short distance away, and she shrugged. “I’m sorry, I know it isn’t any of my business, but that’s what I know—charity events.”

“I’m afraid all of our supporters are going to take their money elsewhere when they find out what I allowed to happen.” Adam shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t catch it sooner. He handed me checks, showed me the books.”

“How did you find out?” Jenna asked, as she sat down next to Adam.

“I wrote a check to pay the electric bill and the bank called. The weekly deposit wasn’t made.”

“Man, I’m really sorry.” Jason could write a check. He could help them out. But he knew that his help wouldn’t be enough, not when the camp was hosting six groups each summer and then weekend groups in the spring and fall.

“Nothing we can do about it. We’ll just have to start over.”

“A charity event would work. We could invite people from Tulsa and from this area.” Jason smiled at Alyson. “We could headline a pianist from the East Coast and have the kids at camp serve dinner to those who attend. Nothing fancy, maybe spaghetti?”

“I can’t…” Alyson shook her head, her eyes watery. “I mean, I don’t think it would be a draw. People here don’t know me.”

“You’re still a gifted pianist.” Jason didn’t get it. Hadn’t she offered? He retraced the memory, and he wasn’t sure.

“I can’t.”

“We could have the fund-raiser during the next camp, at the end of June.” Jenna suggested, smiling at Alyson.

Jason let it go. And he let Alyson go. She smiled his way as she said her goodbyes. Etta was standing in the yard, waiting for her.

“The accountant emptied the accounts for Camp Hope.” Alyson filled Etta and Andie in on the story as Andie cooked burgers on the grill.

“Do they know where the guy is?” Andie turned, her apron a cow with its tongue hanging out. She slipped the spatula into the tongue that was also a pocket.

“Not a clue.” Alyson swirled her glass of iced tea. “I suggested they do a fund-raiser, some kind of charity event. They could incorporate the camp rodeo at the end of June, mixed in with the children performing songs or skits, maybe serve dinner.”

“That’s a great idea.” Etta nodded her approval. “I could contribute a few things to sell or auction.

“In less than a month.” Andie shook her head. “The two of you think you could pull that off in that short a time?”

“You could help, instead of telling us we can’t manage to do it,” Etta scolded. “And don’t let the burgers burn.”

“I can’t believe we’re having veggie burgers.” Andie shook her head. “We live in Oklahoma. It should be a law that we only eat beef.”

Alyson smiled, because this was family.

“What about you, Ms. La-Di-Dah?” Andie pointed the spatula her direction. “Are you going to perform?”

Then it wasn’t amusing. “No, but I could help get it all organized. I have a lot of experience with events like this.”

“Because you’ve performed in them?” Andie kept it going.

“I can’t do it.” Alyson stared at her sister. Andie glared back.

“Come clean, Sis. Tell us why you can’t.”

“Because I have panic attacks when I walk on stage.” Alyson picked up her kitten to keep it from clawing its way up her pant leg. “Because until I came here I was on medication for anxiety. And I can’t go back to being that person.”

“So face your fears.” Andie tossed it out, as if it would be that simple. “Figure out what you’re afraid of. It can’t be the piano.”

“No, it isn’t the piano.” Alyson looked to her grandmother for support. On the ride home they had talked about faith, about trusting God. So how did she put that into action?

How did she become a person who trusted? Jason had said baby steps. A baby step was helping with a charity event. She could help the children with their talents.

She wasn’t ready to get back on stage in front of people.

“Let’s talk about this later.” Etta pointed to the grill. “I think what you need to think about is how to keep those burgers from burning.”

“And how to make them edible,” Andie muttered as she flipped their dinner off the grill onto a plate.

Alyson smiled a “thank you” at her grandmother. But she knew the conversation wasn’t over. This was a conversation she needed to have with herself, about facing her fears.

Eventually she would have to go back to her life as Alyson Anderson. She would have to go back to Boston, back on stage.

On Friday Alyson walked down to the stables of Camp Hope. Her first day working there. Jason wasn’t around yet. She didn’t mind. She loved the peacefulness and the quiet of the stable. It was a new discovery—her love for dusty barns, the sweaty smell of horses and the sweet scent of hay.

As she walked through the double doors, a horse whinnied a greeting. Alyson took that as an invitation. She stopped at the stall and the horse’s head came over the top of the gate, rubbing against her arm. The gray with his dappled coat was one of her favorites.

“Have you ever been afraid?” She smiled as she rubbed the horse’s ears. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Why are you afraid?” A voice asked from the open doorway of the stable. “Are you talking to the horse about the fund-raiser?”

Jason. She turned and then avoided him by letting the horse nip at her sleeve. She ran a hand down the soft, gray neck and breathed in the scent of horse.

“I am, and he’s a good listener. It’s hard to explain.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It just happens.”

“Alyson, it was your idea, the fund-raiser. Or did I miss something?”

“You didn’t miss anything. A fund-raiser is always good. The kids can have the spaghetti dinner. I bet there are kids here who have talent. If they sing or play, we can showcase their talents. You can add the showdeo. It could
be a great thing for the camp. We don’t charge. We ask for donations to the camp.”

“Right. It is a great idea. And yet, you ran the minute I mentioned your involvement.”

“I can’t play.”

“Of course you can. I’ve heard you play.”

She turned away from the horse and faced a man who was asking her about the things she kept hidden deep inside, out of the spotlight.

“I can’t play.”
It was easier to say it, after having told Andie and Etta. “I walked off the stage a few weeks ago. I can’t play.”

Jason took his hat off and hung it on a hook nearby. He leaned against the wall, waiting. “Why did you walk off the stage?”

“I can’t play on a stage without falling apart.” She walked to the doors of the barn and he joined her. He was still limping and he leaned against the door, watching her. “I have panic attacks. When I left Boston I decided to end a ten-year relationship with medication for those attacks. I’ve only taken the pills because that’s how I walk onstage. That’s how I face a crowd.” It was how she faced herself.