young adult who crept back to the nest. How had this happened?
The sweet rhythmic toll of a bell interrupted her funk.
She turned, surprised, and Jack pointed northwest. “First Monday prayer service at the church.” When she frowned, he continued, “Our new pastor started this. It’s an evening prayer service to mark the first Monday of each month. A call to worship. Ethan says he wants folks to pause and think about things now and again, and there’s nothing like an evening prayer service to do that.” He directed his gaze back to town in a silent invitation to retrace their steps, then added, “It’s kind of nice, though I’ve only been to one so far.”
The thought of Monday-night church seemed odd enough, but the idea of Jack leaving the ranch, getting cleaned up and rolling into town for a prayer service surprised her even more. Work had always come first on the Double M. School. Baseball. The ranch. Chores. Church had fallen well down the list of Jack McGuire priorities, but the look on his face said that might have changed.
She fell into step beside him, thoughtful, letting the recorded bells’ chime call them back to Main Street. They drew near to the corner as the bell went silent. An awkward quiet rose around them until Jack motioned west toward the quaint stone-and-wood church. “Would you like to go? We wouldn’t be all that late.”
She wouldn’t, no, but she didn’t know how to say that and not sound like a jerk. She hemmed and hawed, and let Jack draw his own conclusions.
He did. Quickly. He gave her a glimpse of that endearing smile, then doffed his hat, cowboy to the core. “Nice seeing you, Liv.”
“Nice, yes. You, too, Jack.”
He watched as she climbed into her car, ever the gentleman, except when he tossed her aside like yesterday’s news.
And then he watched as she drove away, his gaze following her until she turned left on River Road and headed home.
Did he turn and go to the church service? She had no idea and wasn’t sure she cared to know, because she used to pray all the time. About life, about love, about Jack, her family, her sister, her dog. Her latest prayers had centered on her marriage and the family she’d longed to have, a couple of cute kids running around, wreaking havoc, making her smile.
She’d lost Jack, her sister had moved away years before, the dog had passed on while she was married to Billy and she’d watched her marriage and dreams of a family go up in a puff of divorce-petition smoke.
So if there was a God...? If He existed somewhere other than the pages of an often-interpreted book? She hadn’t seen much evidence of it, and right now didn’t care to search anymore.
She’d count her blessings, the human ones, and move on, heart guarded, because fewer people got hurt that way. Mainly her.
Bright windows welcomed her back to her parents’ home on Old Trail Road. The house, set into the edge of a wooded grove, looked happy and natural, at peace with its surroundings. The front screen door slapped shut as she exited the car, and the scent of fresh-baked cookies hit the evening air like a gift. “You baked? In this heat?”
Her mother’s smile said yes as she nodded toward the second porch rocker. “I figured evening time would be fine. We’ve got fans in the bedrooms and the cool night air will chase off the oven’s heat by morning.”
“True enough. I know it’s the beginning of August, but the thick morning dew says fall isn’t far off.”
“I won’t wish the summer away,” her mother replied. “They’re too scant here, and after last winter’s wrath, I’ve no desire to see snow for a while. And while fall was always my favorite season in Michigan, here in Montana it comes and goes too fast. And the colors aren’t the same.”
“I noticed that when I went to visit Grandma and Grandpa in Detroit a few years back.” Liv settled into the rocker, and let the easy motion ease the tiredness from her back, her shoulders. “Have you heard from them this week?”
“I call Mom every night, actually.”
Liv turned, sensing trouble, because fear or concern would be the only reason her mother and grandmother would be in constant contact. “Is Grandpa okay?” Her mother’s expression said he wasn’t. “Tell me, Mom. What’s going on?”
“We think it’s Alzheimer’s.”
The possibility of her grandfather succumbing to the mind-numbing illness chilled Livvie. She leaned forward. “You think it is? Or you know it?”
Jane Franklin pursed her mouth and shrugged. “It’s hard to tell in the beginning stages because everyone forgets things from time to time, but for Grandpa it’s been over a year of little things building up.”
“Over a year?” Liv sat straight up in the chair. “And you haven’t said anything?”
“Your grandmother was adamant about not making a big deal if it was nothing more than a phase. But it looks like it’s the real deal, and we can’t leave Grandma to care for him alone. She hates the idea of coming to Montana, but their neighborhood isn’t like it used to be, and a forgetful old man makes an easy target on the streets.”
Mixed emotions swept Olivia.
Her grandparents loved Detroit. They’d been a big part of their local church; they’d known every family, every elder, every kid in their congregation for decades. The butcher on the corner was her grandfather’s best friend, the local bakery was run by a neighbor’s daughter, and the small diner up the road was owned by her aunt’s godparents. Tucked between the city and the suburbs, their neighborhood had survived when others failed, but Olivia had seen the beginnings of decay when she’d visited five years ago.
Guilt swept her. Why was there five years between visits? She hadn’t been that busy, not busy enough to ignore her grandparents. But that’s exactly what she’d done, believing things would go on forever.
Right, her brain chided. How’s that whole forever thing working out for you? She shushed the internal stab and faced her mother. “What’s the plan?”
“Dad and I are spending next week there. We’re taking the car instead of the SUV because Grandma has a harder time climbing into a taller vehicle. And I think...” She paused, then firmed her gaze and her stance in the chair, “I hope we’ll be bringing them back here. That way we can all help each other.”
“Change scares folks.”
Her mother acknowledged that with a dip of her chin.
“But I’d rather have them cranky for a while than hurt. Or alone. Or fearful in their own house.”
“Exactly the case, but now I have to convince my mother of that. Dad’s kind of oblivious to the whole thing. But Mom?” The look she sent Olivia said she was preparing for battle. “She’ll be tough to convince.”
“Which is where I come in.” Dave Franklin approached the porch from his workshop in the garage. “I was able to sweet-talk the daughter into moving west. I think I’ll do just fine with the mother.”
Her parents exchanged smiles, a tangible warmth of time, love and faith, the kind of married-forever look Livvie had longed for.
“I’m okay
