style="font-size:15px;"> He glanced over and she found herself looking into eyes colored a soft, warm brown. Kind eyes, she thought. Gentle. The kind of eyes a woman could trust. The kind she could fall into and drown.
When he realized she was staring at him, he quickly turned away and scooped his hat from the ground, his face stained a deep red. After snugging the hat down over his head, he took up the shovel again.
“As soon as I get rid of the carcass,” he said, keeping his face averted, “I’ll bring the tin up to the lodge and get to work on the roof.”
It took her a moment to find her voice. She wanted to ask him what had happened to him, to tell him he shouldn’t be ashamed of the scarring, that it wasn’t that bad.
Instead, she said, “All right,” and walked from the barn, leaving him to deal with the dead snake, and the questions to whirl in her mind.
That evening Lauren sat slumped in one of the Adirondack chairs on the lodge’s front porch. Rhena sat beside her, shelling black-eyed peas. The rhythmic click of peas hitting the pan she held on her lap was a soothing sound in the darkness.
“What do you think happened to him?” Lauren asked thoughtfully.
“Who?”
“Luke. How do you think he got all those scars?”
“How the heck would I know? If you want answers, you’ll have to ask him.”
“I wanted to,” Lauren admitted guiltily. “But I couldn’t bring myself to ask him about something that he’s obviously so self-conscious about.”
Rhena snorted. “Since when has that stopped you from sticking your nose in somebody else’s business?”
Lauren looked at her in surprise. “Are you saying I’m nosy?”
“Need I remind you about the day you asked Florence when her baby was due?”
Lauren pursed her lips. “I was eight years old. I thought anybody with a tummy was pregnant. Besides, all the household staff was wondering the same darn thing, including you,” she added. She jutted her chin defensively. “I saved y’all the embarrassment of asking.”
“And cost Florence her job.”
Lauren felt a prick of guilt, but quickly dispelled it. “Was it my fault she was sleeping with the gardener? Florence knew Dad’s rules. ‘Employees of the Tanner household shall not fornicate with other employees of same household.’ I believe that was rule number five, which was preceded by, ‘No employees of the Tanner household shall gossip about happenings within the Tanner home or about family members who reside in said home.’”
“Your father was a careful man and expected complete loyalty from his employees,” Rhena replied judiciously. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Frowning, Lauren slumped farther down in her chair. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t grow up with a bodyguard shadowing your every step.”
“No. My parents were dirt poor. They didn’t have anything anybody else would want, including me.”
Lauren glanced uneasily at Rhena. “You think I’m spoiled, don’t you?”
Rhena dropped her hands to her lap and looked at Lauren in disgust. “Now that’s downright insulting. I had a hand in your raising, and I never spoiled you. Not once.”
“My father did.”
Pursing her lips, Rhena picked up another pod to shell. “He might’ve tried, but he didn’t succeed. If he had, you would’ve run home with your tail tucked between your legs after you and Devon divorced, and let your daddy take care of you. But you didn’t,” she said with a nod of approval. “You took what you had left and put your back into it in order to survive. In my book, that’s gutsy, not spoiled.”
Reminded of the challenge she’d taken on, Lauren gazed out at the darkened landscape. “Daddy thinks I’m crazy for trying to turn the lodge into a business.”
“The old fart,” Rhena said grumpily. “He thinks everything’s crazy that wasn’t his idea.”
Laughing softly, Lauren gave Rhena’s arm an affectionate pat. “Oh, Rhena. What would I do without you?”
“You’d do just fine.”
“I don’t know that I would. You’ve been my rock ever since I can remember.”
“You’re stronger than you think, Lauren Tanner,” Rhena lectured. “Life’s dealt you some hard blows, but you’ve bounced back from every one of them, fists up and ready to fight.”
“Bounced back?” Lauren repeated doubtfully. “Crawled is more like it.”
“So it took you some time to recover. So what? The point is, you did. A weaker person would’ve curled up in a ball and given up. Not you. You grieved a little, sure. What woman wouldn’t? But then you gathered up the pieces of your life and went on about the business of living.”
Lauren suspected that Rhena was referring to more than her divorce. She was thinking of her mother’s death, as well. Growing pensive, she turned to gaze at the darkness again. “I wish I knew why Mom did what she did.”
“She was unhappy,” Rhena said simply.
“Why?” Lauren asked in frustration. “She had a good life. A husband and children who loved her. A beautiful home and plenty of friends. What more could she have wanted?”
Rhena laid a hand on Lauren’s arm. “Honey,” she said gently, “some things just can’t be explained. They just are.” Drawing her hand back, she began to shell peas again. “Your mother was…fragile. She was when your father married her, and nothing he could do or say was going to change that. And believe me, he tried every way known to man to make her happy.”
“Am I like her?”
Rhena looked at her in amazement. “Where did that come from?”
“Devon said I was. That I was impossible to please, just as she was.”
Rhena huffed. “That’s the biggest bunch of malarkey I’ve ever heard. Devon was the one to blame for the failure of your marriage. Never even tried. He was a taker, not a giver.”
“Dad thinks I’m a fool for having given him access to my bank accounts.”
“If he said that to you, then your daddy’s the fool. Devon was your husband. You had no reason not to trust him.”
“I do now,” Lauren said wryly.
“Yes, but not then. You loved him. A woman should be able to trust the man she gives her heart to.”
“‘Should’ being the operative word.”
“Yes,” Rhena agreed. “But just because one man disappoints you doesn’t mean they all will.”
Lauren shook her head. “Once burned was enough for me. I’ll
