and running with stories about Chance when he was growing up—Chance Turner had been a handful. Of course, her boys had jumped right into the fray, giggling at stories of the things Chance and his cousins had gotten into.
She had also been informed by Melody that the Christmas lights he’d brought up to the church were for her, and that they were to be used to decorate her new house. Lynn had been touched by the gift and told Melody so. All their questions about Chance and what she thought of him had taken her by surprise and left her suspicious. Mule Hollow was known for its matchmaking, after all.
She and the boys had been late getting home and they’d all been tired. The last thing she expected to see when she looked out the window this morning was Gavin and Jack outside attacking the large oak tree in the backyard with hammers.
“What are they doing?” she asked, looking down at Tiny.
The dog placed his paws on the windowsill and whined as he studied them. His tail wagged impatiently, signaling that he wanted to be out there with his boys. “Come on, let’s go.” That was all it took. The dog shot out of her bedroom like a flash. Lynn grabbed her housecoat off the bed as she passed. It was chilly in the house and she stopped to turn the thermostat up a notch or two. She put on her leather slides beside the back door, which was cracked open but not enough for the dog to escape. Lynn guessed that he’d snuck inside when the boys left it ajar and then the draft must have sucked it shut, trapping him.
Tiny wiggled with anticipation and the instant she pulled the door open he shot outside and was gone. Lynn agreed with him—life was never dull with Gavin and Jack around. She trailed him.
Jack had both hands wrapped around the middle of a hammer that was as long as his arm. Gavin held a twelve-inch piece of old barn wood against the tree. Both of them looked up at her as she approached. Tiny stuck his nose into the mix and Gavin pushed it away.
“What are you two little mischief makers doing?”
“Workin’, Mom,” Jack answered, slamming the head of the hammer at the nail protruding at an angle from the piece of wood. He missed.
“We’re gonna build a tree house.” Gavin nodded to ward the old shed at the back of the yard. “There’s a whole bunch of wood in there we can use.” His high-pitched voice was shrill with excitement.
Jack again whacked the nail, which bent over and smashed against the wood. She cringed—better the wood than his finger. His shoulders slumped and his face fell as he let the hammer drop to his side. He looked so dejected it was all Lynn could do not to scoop him up and hug him tight.
Gavin scrunched his brows together looking at him. “That’s okay, Jack. I didn’t do no better.”
Her little men, her heart tugged. “Building a tree house sounds like a great plan, guys. But let’s put the hammer up for now. It’s time to get ready for church. When we get home I’ll come out here and we’ll take a look at what’s in the shed and see what we can do.” Like she could actually build something! Who was she kidding?
“But you’re a girl, Momma.”
Oh, the challenge of it. “Yes, Jack, I am. But girls can build tree houses, too.” She was sure some girls could. Whether or not she could was yet to be seen.
“You sure?” Gavin asked, looking as skeptical as she felt.
“Yes, Gavin, I am. Now come inside and let’s get dressed for church.”
“Momma, I bet Chance can build a tree house.”
Not again. Her boys had been around Chance for only a short time and for some reason they were fascinated by everything about the man. “Gavin, I’ve already told you he’s Mr. Turner to both of you. And he probably is very good at building things,” she admitted as she opened the door for them. “Wipe your boots off.” They made extravagant swipes of their boots on the rug and then hurried off to their rooms. Tiny tried to follow but Lynn grabbed him. “Oh, no you don’t, buster.” She pulled him outside, patted his head and then firmly closed the door.
She walked to the sink and stared out the window at the tree with the board attached and the hammers leaning against it. Chance probably could build a tree house her boys would be proud of. The man looked like he could do anything. There was just something about him that gave off that vibe. She felt it, and that had to be what her boys were sensing even though they were too young to realize it.
“Mom! Jack won’t give me my shirt,” Gavin yelled from the back room.
“It’s my shirt,” Jack yelled back.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Her boys got along for the most part, but brothers would be brothers…Pushing thoughts of Chance from her mind she went to see what was going on. She was so happy to have the small house of her own that even the sounds of her boys fussing made the place seem homey. It was wonderful to know that she was providing a roof over her sons’ heads in this peaceful ranching community.
The other women who had arrived with her in the van from L.A. were also moving on with their lives, slowly but surely, just like Esther Mae had said. Lynn had helped many of them in some way. Rose, the only mother with a teenage son, had been the first to move out of the shelter and had married not too long after that. Nive was still at the shelter, and so was Stacy, who was about to get married. All of them had come a long way since arriving here in Mule Hollow. And there were others after them who came, too. Some had used the facility as a temporary stopping point before finding a permanent shelter elsewhere, but for the original four Mule Hollow was now home. It was a great place to raise boys. The country life suited them and it suited Lynn, too. “It’s mine—”
“No. It’s mine—”
She found them having a tug-of-war over a blue shirt.
“Guys, what’s going on here?”
“It’s my shirt,” Jack said.
Gavin shook his head. “It’s mine.”
Lynn looked at the shirt. “You both have this same ex act shirt… Let’s take a look at them.” Getting dressed for church was not always an easy process. Raising boys was challenging, but she wouldn’t give it up for anything. Sometimes, though, she worried about the future and not having a man in their lives to help guide the boys. Should she start looking for a man to fill the blank spot their dad had left? The thought hit her at times like this. When things like the tree house cropped up. It made her feel guilty that she wasn’t ready.
The ladies pressuring her about the bachelor auction didn’t help either. They didn’t understand—how could they know how she felt when she’d never told them? All her life she’d lived in turmoil where men were concerned—until now.
No one knew exactly how bad her life had been prior to escaping to the shelter. She wanted it to stay that way, too. Hiding her emotions had worn her down, but for the first time in years she was living life contentedly.
With no man in the picture there was no danger. No broken trust, no risk of being hurt…it was easier. Safer.
Both physically and emotionally. It had taken the love and fear for her sons to drive her from the cycle of abuse. Knowing that if not for them she might still be there undermined her self-respect and scared her.
No. It was better this way. Better feeling strong and content that her boys
