To pass down Main Street and by the elementary school. To eat lunch at Kit’s Lodge. To again spend the night under her father’s roof at his Lazy D Campground and RV Park. It was surprising how much she remembered and how little had changed. But home? Not even close.
“I’m visiting my family for a few days.”
The woman to the left of Abby leaned forward and she caught the faint scent of baby powder and a glimpse of a pretty, rounded face in the blanketed bundle in her arms.
“How is Meg?” the brown-haired woman whispered.
The other three women nodded at her words, concern darkening their eyes.
“She’s hanging in there.” Abby didn’t know how well these four knew Meg and Joe, so she wasn’t about to elaborate on the family’s whispered concerns for Meg’s health. “She’s looking forward to being a few pounds lighter.”
The women laughed and Abby’s tension eased. She could get through this.
“I’m Mina Ricks, here with my boy,” the woman next to her offered before glancing down with a proud smile at the infant in her arms. “And this is Ruthy.”
Then she motioned to each of the women, starting with the blonde seated on the other side of Abby. “This is Melody Smith, who brought a neighbor’s daughter today. Joy Haines is here with her twins. And Janet Logan accompanied her grandson.”
Memory clicked and Abby again focused her attention on the woman who’d asked if she’d come home. “Mrs. Logan. You ran the school library and were my Sunday school teacher, too.”
A sturdy, outdoorsy, take-charge kind of woman who didn’t fit any of the librarian stereotypes Abby was all too familiar with, she’d seemed as old as the hills when Abby had been in grade school. But in reality she was probably even now only in her early to mid-sixties.
“Call me Janet. I’m still the librarian and a Sunday school teacher.” The woman’s gaze warmed. “I wondered if you’d remember me. It’s been such a long time. But my goodness, how you remind me of your beautiful mother.”
“Thank you.” The compliment was well intended, but she wasn’t fooled. In reality she didn’t come close to her mother’s striking looks or her vivacious personality.
“Do you remember me, too?”
Abby turned to the young woman next to her who was looking at her hopefully.
Melody. Melody. She hated this. Everyone knew who she was, but she’d been put on the spot so many times over the past few days that she’d become paranoid about meeting people. That was one more reason to get out of town. She hoped this woman about her age wasn’t another cousin. The whole town seemed to be crawling with them.
“I wasn’t a Smith back then. Or a blonde.” Melody brushed back her layered golden tresses. “You might remember me as the chubby carrot-haired girl who tried to crawl out the second-grade-classroom window—and got stuck.”
Abby’s eyes widened with belated recognition. What a fuss that incident had created. “Oh, that Melody!”
“I’ve slimmed down considerably....” The young woman laughed as she spread her fingers wide to protectively cradle a barely rounded abdomen, and Abby tensed, sensing what was coming next. “But I understand that won’t last much longer. I’m due in November. Our first.”
“Congratulations.” Abby swallowed the knot in her throat. “That’s wonderful.”
The others joined in with cheerful words of encouragement, an exclusive little club of women who’d been there, done that, who reveled in the blessings and agonies of childbearing and motherhood.
Grasping for a diversion, Abby turned toward the corral where Brett and Trey instructed the kids on horse safety. Trey was a handsome man, but it was the self-assured Brett who now held her attention. Brett, with the broad shoulders, dimpled grin and laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. In spite of his unapologetically flirtatious behavior, her heart beat faster.
“Don’t pay any mind to Brett,” freckle-faced Joy commented almost as if following Abby’s train of thought. “He can’t help but turn on the charm when he’s around a female.”
Melody laughed. “A born sweet-talker if there ever was one.”
So Abby had pegged him right. A superficial skirt chaser.
“Don’t be too hard on that young man,” Mrs. Logan—Janet—chided gently. “He’s got a heart of gold.”
“He’s been in Canyon Springs about a year and a half and everyone seems to love him. Hard not to.” Mina shifted the sleeping baby in her arms. “But my advice, Abby? If you’re looking for a keeper, steer clear. I’m not sure even a lasso and piggin’ string could keep that one corralled.”
Joy laughed, then Melody chimed in. “But let it be said that Britney Bennett isn’t one to take no for an answer.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Poor Brett.”
Janet smiled, shaking her head.
Little towns. Abby had just met these women and already they were sharing advice of the heart with a total stranger.
“Don’t worry about me.” Abby lifted her chin slightly, as if to assure them she wasn’t the susceptible sort and could take care of herself. “I’m going back to Tucson today when Davy’s finished with his lesson.”
“So soon?” Janet’s forehead puckered. “I was hoping you’d stay awhile and could be recruited to help at an upcoming summer camp for kids. You should at least stay for church tomorrow. I’m sure there are many others who’d love to see you all grown-up.”
Abby forced a smile, again conscious of the empty, echoing rafters above, the tinny cheep of sparrows and a horse’s whinny reverberating through the vast space. Reasons to make a getaway were rapidly multiplying. But she wouldn’t admit to these kindhearted women that she hadn’t been to church in five months. Not since the day doctors confirmed she’d forever remain childless—and her displeased fiancé had walked out the door.
* * *
From across the arena, Brett’s gaze again roamed to Davy’s aunt Abby. She was a pretty little filly with big brown eyes and below-the-shoulder, straight black hair demurely pulled back with a satin ribbon. Although dressed conservatively in dark gray slacks and a simple white blouse, that slim waist nevertheless invited a man to slip his arm around it and draw her close. But except for a glimpse of warmth directed at her nephew, he’d yet to see a smile and could only imagine how a laugh might transform her sadness-kissed features.
That there was a melancholy reflected in her eyes, in her bearing, he had no doubt. Did others notice or was he too finely attuned to the nuances of sorrow? He’d worn that heavy cloak himself, hadn’t he? Sometimes it still weighed on him when he least expected it.
“When do we get to ride?” Abby’s nephew demanded as Trey, the equine center’s manager, expounded on safety precautions when working around horses.
The other kids nodded eagerly, including Janet Logan’s grandson, Ace, and Brett grinned. Small for his age, the fair-haired fifth-grader had good
