slowly opened her eyes, not used to hearing her old nickname. In New York she was Kathleen, and it seemed to fit a ballerina who was on the rise in the dance world. She turned her head toward Howard. “I’d rather settle in first.”
“That’s fine. We can hold dinner. Give you the time you need.”
“I don’t think—”
“I know you’re hurting, but Beth has gone to a lot of trouble to make one of your favorite foods, and the kids are excited to see you again.” His eyes softened on her face. “Please.”
“I don’t want any special treatment. I’m tired...” Her voice trailed off into the silence when she took in her brother’s worried expression. “I’m going to be all right.” If I say it enough, maybe it will happen.
“Don’t forget I’ve known you ever since you were born twenty-six years ago. I know all your moods and probably what you’re thinking right now.”
Why had she decided to come home to the Soaring S Ranch? She should have known Howard would do this. Demand she become part of the family when all she wanted to do was hide and mourn the loss of the lower part of her leg—not to mention her career and her dreams. “Fine. I’ll come for a little while, but I really am tired and want to go to bed early. I’ll come up to the house after I freshen up.”
“Promise?” Determination mixed with the concern in Howard’s gray eyes.
She knew that look. He would get his way somehow. Anger seeped into the numbness. “I said I would.”
He grinned, purposefully ignoring the frown on her face. “Good.”
After restarting the truck, he backed away from the house and continued on the road toward the black barn. Kathleen’s gaze latched on to a new shiny red pickup parked by the paddock on the right side.
“Did Bud finally get a new pickup?” Howard’s foreman had needed a new truck for years, but somehow this vehicle didn’t seem his style.
“Nah, he’s still set in his ways and refuses to get a new truck. That’s the vet’s. He’s here checking on Cinnamon.”
She looked toward Howard. “What’s wrong with my horse?”
“Colic.”
“Is it serious?”
“I’ll know after he checks her out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to get the diagnosis first. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s in extreme pain.” Howard steered around the curve in the road.
That was when she saw the cabin. It stood a hundred feet away on the opposite side of the road from the barn, nestled among a yardful of flowers in bloom that her grandmother had loved to tend to. Childhood memories flooded her of spending time at the two-bedroom log cabin with her grandparents. She remembered helping Granny plant her garden out back every year, then picking the vegetables at the right time, often eating a few before taking them inside for her grandmother. The house had been empty since Granny died three years ago, not long after her grandpa had passed away and her mother had remarried and moved to Arizona.
She pushed away that sad memory of losing her grandmother and concentrated on the riot of different colored roses along the front of the cabin. Red, yellow and pink ones swayed in the breeze as though waving a welcome. “You all must be having a warm spring. The roses are blooming early. I didn’t usually see them this full-blown until the end of May.”
“Yes, which probably means a hot summer.” Howard pulled up to the cabin and switched the engine off.
“It wouldn’t be Oklahoma without a hot summer.” Kathleen pushed open the truck door and started to exit.
“Hold it. I’ll help you down.”
She swiveled around. “No. I can do this. I’m not an invalid.” She hated that word and was determined to take care of herself.
Her brother’s face tensed. “I didn’t say that. It’s a big step, you’re petite and you said yourself that you’re still getting used to your artificial leg.”
She didn’t respond to him, but instead scooted to the edge and put her good leg on the running board, then eased out of the cab to the ground, clutching the door for support. As she made her way toward the porch steps, Howard hovered nearby, one of her suitcases in his hand. Being tall and lanky, he had to slow his normally fast pace.
She glanced at the two rocking chairs with a white wicker table between them to the right. To the left was the porch swing. Many evenings she used to sit with Granny and talk about her day. She’d tell her any problems she had, and her grandmother would give her advice or her opinion. Over the years Kathleen had grown to realize Granny was a very wise woman. She had also been full of faith—a faith Kathleen was no longer certain she shared. Where was the Lord now when she needed Him the most?
Nothing is impossible for the Lord. Granny’s words taunted her when contrasted with the impossibility of Kathleen being able to dance again.
Howard opened the front door, a wooden one carved by her grandfather not long before he passed away. Kathleen moved inside, her fingers tracing the grooves in the piece of oak that formed a picture of horses grazing in a pasture. A work of art to match the carving of the rearing stallion in front of the main house.
A few feet inside, she paused and scanned the familiar surroundings. A warm chocolate-brown leather couch and two lounge chairs were grouped around a wood-and-glass coffee table on the right side of the cabin. To the left was a full kitchen separated from the dining area by a counter with four stools. On its beige ceramic countertop sat a bouquet of fresh flowers.
“I see Beth has been here.” Kathleen took a deep breath of the fresh air laced with the scents of apples and cinnamon as if her grandmother had just removed one of her special pies from the oven and was letting it cool on the stove top.
“She wanted to make sure everything was clean for your return.”
“I don’t want you all to go to any trouble for me. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. We would have done the same thing for anyone staying here after it has been closed up for three years.”
“Who tends to the gardens out front?”
“Bud. Granny was like a second mother to him. He knows how much the gardens meant to her.” Howard placed the suitcase on the floor. “I’ll bring in the rest of your luggage. Are you having things from your apartment shipped here?”
“No.” She kept her back to him as she walked toward the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and bath. “I sublet my apartment furnished, and then sold or gave away everything else except what is in my three suitcases.”
“Kit—”
She stopped and glanced back at her brother. “Don’t say it. I don’t need any reminders of my life in New York.”
“But you kept your apartment.”
“As
