his as she settled into the seat, her arms crossed, eyes resolutely ahead.
She couldn’t look more uncomfortable if she was on her way to an execution.
He shifted closer to the door, reminding himself that Heather was a complication he just had to deal with until she was gone. Because she would leave. In spite of how excited her sister and mother were about her returning home, he knew she wouldn’t stay as long as they believed she would. Leaving had been the story of her life and the refrain of their relationship. She couldn’t have changed much in six years.
Heather tried not to panic as she stood on the road watching her car, resting on the flat deck of Dwayne’s tow truck, head back to Saddlebank.
It’ll be okay, she reminded herself. How damaged could a car get from hitting a ditch? She chose not to think about the whine she’d been hearing since Rapid City, South Dakota. The car would be fine.
She was staying at the ranch until the weekend. That should give them enough time to fix it. Then she could head out to Seattle for her job interview.
A prayer hovered on the periphery of her thoughts, a remnant of a youth spent going to church. But she brushed it aside. She’d sent out many prayers the past few years. None of them had been answered, and she doubted any would be now. She had learned the hard way that she was on her own in this world.
A quick glance back showed her that John had already moved Adana’s car seat to the middle of the cab, putting the little girl between the two adults.
As Heather got back in the truck, Adana reached out to her dad. “We see Grammy?” she asked.
“No, honey. We’ll see Grammy another time,” John said as he started the engine and made a U-turn on the road.
“Wanna see Grammy,” Adana whined. “See Grammy.”
“Sorry, honey.” He gave Heather an apologetic look. “We were on our way to Sandy’s parents for dinner. They’re leaving on a trip and had hoped to see Adana before they went.”
Heather felt guilty. She remembered all too well the first time Sandy, taking pity on the new girl at school, had taken her home with her. Kim Panko, Sandy’s mother, had been friendly enough, but Heather had an innate ability to read people—a necessary skill developed as a result of the constant moves she and her natural mother, Beryl Winson, had made the first ten years of Heather’s life. Over the course of the two girls’ friendship, Sandy’s mother had reminded Heather often how fortunate she’d been to be taken in and adopted by the Bannister family. She suspected Kim wouldn’t be pleased to find out her return to Saddlebank was the reason John and Adana hadn’t come for supper.
“I could have called my dad to pick me up,” she said. “Or Keira.”
“And it would have taken them half an hour to get here. It’s fine.”
Heather folded her hands in her lap, looking directly ahead, wondering if waiting in the chilly wind would have been preferable to riding with John and his daughter, feeling guilty because her mistake had prevented them from visiting Sandy’s parents.
“Your mother is excited to see you,” John said, his own eyes on the road. “That’s all she’s been talking about since she found out you were coming.”
“I’m excited to see her and Dad, too. It’s been so long.”
“So why—” John stopped himself there. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“Why was I gone so long?” Heather blamed the sharp note in her voice on the delayed reaction to plowing her car into the ditch. It had nothing to do with seeing her old boyfriend again.
John gave her a direct look, his blue eyes seeming to bore into her. Then he glanced away.
“I couldn’t get the time off. I would have come if I could.” The words sounded lame, even to her.
“Pwease, have earrings,” Adana said, reaching for the feather-shaped baubles tangled in Heather’s long hair.
“Those are too dangerous for you to play with,” she replied.
“And probably too expensive,” John added. He was smiling, but Heather caught the faintest hint of reproach.
She could have told him that she’d picked these up on the cheap from a street vendor at Herald Square as she’d been hurrying to an interview for yet another low-paying job. But saying so would require an explanation as to why she was forced to work in a retail job—any job, actually—when she’d made so much money modeling. Which would mean delving into the sorry state of her finances and her relationship with Mitch.
Your new job is the start of your new life, she reminded herself. Only if you can get to Seattle. Only if your car gets fixed in time.
Adana yawned loudly, then laid her head back against her car seat, blinking slowly. She looked tired, but turned to Heather again, softly smiling and reaching out to touch her arm.
Sorrow lacerated Heather’s soul at the contact, and she felt as if her breath was sucked out of her body. Seeing this little girl up close brought back painful memories of her own loss.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” John asked her. “You look like you’re in pain. Did you get hurt when your car hit the ditch?”
Heather fought for composure, slowly breathing in and out. “No. I’m fine.” The aches in her body would go away. The one in her soul would be with her always. She’d thought she had buried it, but Adana was a reminder of what she had lost.
“I hope she sleeps a bit,” John was saying. “She’s been out of sorts the last few days. Getting shuffled around too much.”
“My mom takes care of her when you’re working, doesn’t she?”
“She did. But after your mom broke her neck, your mom’s friend Alice has been helping out. She’s a good person, just...” John stopped there.
“Not the same as her mother,” Heather finished for him.
He nodded at her comment. “No. And I can’t give Adana that.”
Heather heard the sorrow in his voice and felt a glimmer of envy for the person he was grieving.
“Your daughter looks a lot like Sandy,” she couldn’t help saying.
“That’s what everyone tells me,” John replied, his features softening as he smiled at his little girl. “Thankfully, she has Sandy’s sweet personality, too.”
“Lucky her. Sandy was a wonderful person and a good friend. I’m sure...I’m sure you miss her.”
John laid his hand on Adana’s legs, curling his fingers around them, as if reinforcing the connection between them. “Thankfully, I still have Adana.”
Heather knew his comment was a simple statement of fact, but she couldn’t help feeling a gentle reprimand. She should have sent a sympathy card after Sandy’s death, but Heather and John had had a complicated
