The Cowboy's Healing Ways. Brenda MintonЧитать онлайн книгу.
back on your feet.”
She looked past him, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “You really don’t have to do this. I can get a ride.”
“No, you’re not okay. You’re sick. It looks like we’re going to get more rain and you have nowhere to go.” Jesse adjusted the hat he’d put on before walking outside. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not crazy about my grandmother bringing in strangers. But I’m also not about to let you walk off without help.”
She shivered. Jesse shrugged out of his jacket. He draped it across her shoulders and she huddled into it.
“Let’s get in my truck before the rain hits.” He put a hand on her arm and steered her in the right direction.
When they reached the passenger side of his truck she turned away from him, coughing again. The cough racked her thin body and when the spell ended she leaned against his truck, breathing deeply to catch her breath.
“You okay?”
“I’m good.” She turned, smiling, her face pale and her eyes huge but rimmed with dark circles.
“Right.” He opened the door and she climbed in. “When we get to town we’ll stop at the store for some cough syrup and maybe herbal tea.”
“You don’t have to.” She clicked the seat belt in place. “Look, you can stop pretending you’re my appointed keeper. I don’t need one. I’m good on my own. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
“I’m not pretending anything. I’m just trying to help you.” He started the truck and shifted into Reverse, glancing into the rearview mirror as he backed down the driveway. “I’m trying to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m trying to let you off the hook.” She closed her eyes and his big coat enveloped her. “I’m so tired.”
“I know you are. On both counts.” He drove through Dawson and headed toward Grove. “You don’t have to let me off the hook.”
He glanced her way and then turned his attention back to the road. “Do you have job experience?”
“Yes.”
“And?” He drove out of Dawson, wondering if she was being purposely vague.
“I worked in an office and then as a manager for a cleaning crew. I was going to school to be a nurse.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like a lot to throw away.
“Now I’m a felon and no one will hire me. I can’t even rent an apartment.”
“There has to be somewhere you can go.”
She sighed. “In a perfect world there would be justice and I would get a do-over.”
“There are those things—sometimes they’re just hard to find.”
She nodded but didn’t respond. He found himself wanting to know a whole lot more about her than she seemed willing to tell. The curiosity grew when she reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out a tiny framed photo. She held it tightly and closed her eyes.
Everyone had a story, his grandmother liked to remind him. They all had things they wished they could do over. He would have been more careful with other people’s feelings.
When they reached Grove, he pulled up to the grocery store. “Let’s run in here and we’ll get what you’ll need for a few days.”
She didn’t answer. He leaned to touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes wide and moved back a little.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m going in. You stay here and rest.” He reached into the back seat of the truck and grabbed a blanket. “I’ll trade. Blanket for the jacket.”
She took off his canvas jacket and handed it to him. He draped the blanket over her. She smiled a weak smile.
“Back in a few.”
She nodded and he got out of the truck. As he crossed the parking lot he remembered that he’d left his keys in the ignition. He looked back and saw her in the passenger side, leaning against the door. Sleeping.
His truck would either be there when he came out, or it wouldn’t. He sighed and walked through the automatic doors of the store, shooting one last glance in the direction of his truck.
The things he let his grandmother get him into. He’d never learn.
* * *
Laura woke up in an empty truck parked in front of a grocery store. She remembered Jesse telling her he would be back soon. She glanced at her watch and pulled the phone out of her pocket.
She dialed the number she had memorized. This phone call was all she could have for the time being. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.
After a few rings a woman answered.
“Mrs. Duncan, this is Laura White.” She coughed a little and then cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry.”
“Laura, you sound terrible. Are you okay?”
“I think I have the flu, but I’m good. Things are good.” She hated the lie, but she couldn’t admit that her life was falling apart. She wasn’t even close to where she needed to be.
“Did you find a place in Dawson?” Mrs. Duncan hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Do you have a job?”
“Not yet.” She glanced out the window at the grocery store. “I’m getting a place to stay, but it isn’t permanent.”
“Oh, I had hoped this would work out for you.”
Laura closed her eyes. “Me, too.”
“Okay, let me get Abigail.”
And then there were shouts, laughter, her daughter. “Mommy.”
“Abigail, I miss you.” She swallowed the tight lump in her throat and fought the burning sting of tears.
“I miss you, too.”
“What have you been doing?” Laura closed her eyes, remembering her daughter’s face, how it felt to hold her. Abigail had dark brown hair and gray eyes. Laura held the memories tightly. “How’s school?”
“I made all As and Gina gave me money and we ate pizza. I made cookies last night with the other kids.”
Normal moments. A normal life. Her daughter should always have those things. “That sounds like fun. And I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, Mommy. Okay, I have to go. When do I get to see you?”
“Soon. Very soon.” Promises she hoped she could keep.
“I pray for you, Mommy.”
Laura nodded and her throat ached. “I know. Me, too, sugarplum. Bye.” She whispered the words as her daughter rushed through another “I love you” and hung up.
She cried. Holding the school picture she kept in her purse, she cried. Abigail prayed for her. She thought back to childhood stories of faith and God. She hadn’t thought much about either since her mother died. Her stepfather had been abusive and Laura had left and taken to the streets, believing life on her own had to be better than under his control.
A string of boyfriends, a marriage that hadn’t lasted long enough to change anything, a stepbrother who put her in prison and now this. She’d had plans and dreams for her life. She’d wanted more than this, more than barely getting by. She’d wanted more for Abigail. She still wanted more for her daughter.
She shivered in the cool truck and closed her eyes against the bright sky. Nothing was the way she’d planned. She’d really thought her aunt Sally, a woman she remembered from childhood, would be here to help pick up the pieces of her life, to help her believe