Lisa Jordan - Season Of Hope

Unwelcome memories swirled in her head, tangling with her thoughts and roping her emotions. She didn’t want to remember the pain ripping through her body or hear the whine of the ambulance as it rushed her to the hospital. Or relive the sympathetic tone of the doctor as he broke the news. Or the convincing tone in her father’s voice as he tried to suggest he had only her best interests at heart.

Tell him.

Not here. Not now.

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” Jake stood behind her.

She whirled around, fisted her hands on her hips, then poked a finger into his chest. “These last six years haven’t been a picnic for me either. There’s so much you don’t know. If I could change the past, I would. Since I can’t, all I can do is make a fresh start. A safe place to care for my niece while her mother finishes her deployment, and maybe, if it’s not asking too much, a chance to make amends. I’m sorry I hurt you, Jake. It was wrong, and I regret it more than anything. But I’ve lost a lot, too.” She brushed past him and caught her foot, turning her ankle. Pain lanced her leg. She reached down and rubbed her throbbing joint. “You were right about one thing, the barn is no place for a sundress and high heels. Twenty-four hours. You know where to find me.”

“Wait.”

She stopped, keeping her back to him. The fatigue in his voice nearly unraveled her. More than anything, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but that was impossible. He didn’t want her around, let alone to be touched by her. She clenched her jaw, mentally preparing for another round.

“Be here at nine thirty tomorrow morning. And wear something more appropriate for getting dirty.”

Tori nodded, headed out the door and stomped back to her car.

Like it or not, Jacob Holland, she was sticking around.

Even though she knew it couldn’t be, her heart longed for that second chance.

To fix what she’d broken. But that wasn’t possible.

Because once he learned the truth—what they’d truly lost—he’d want nothing to do with her again. But, for now, she wasn’t ready to risk being out of his life forever. So she’d stay and prove she was good at keeping her word this time—with the wild hope it didn’t destroy them both. Again.

Jake needed to have his head examined. Why did he tell Tori to be here this morning? Hadn’t he been tortured enough with seeing her yesterday?

But this wasn’t about him.

He’d suck it up, even if that meant spending time with the one woman he longed to forget.

Like that was even possible.

Jake finished hosing down the floor inside the milk house, directing the water toward the drain under the milk tank. Wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans, he grabbed his empty travel mug, headed outside and breathed in a lungful of cool morning air—a welcoming contrast to the warm, steamy milk house—and allowed the breeze to whisk over his sweaty face.

A line of chickens clucked as they hurried to the coop next to the milk barn. Cows lumbered for the shade trees in the pasture across the road. Soon, his niece and nephew would be awake, and then there wouldn’t be any quiet until bedtime. Not that Jake cared. He loved hanging out with Olivia and Landon.

Cuddles, a butterscotch-colored barn cat his niece had named, curled around his ankles. Jake scooped her up. Purring, she nuzzled his neck. “Good morning, Mama. Where are your kittens?”

He glanced at the open barn door and found the three kittens batting at each other. Jake put her down and cut across the backyard to the farmhouse. He needed breakfast and coffee before facing Tori.

Lots of coffee.

He took the back deck steps two at a time and paused outside the back door to remove his barn boots.

Even though Mom had been gone for five years, her rules remained. And that meant no barn boots in the house.

Scents of fresh-brewed coffee mingling with fried bacon greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen.

Still dressed in his blue paramedic’s uniform, Tucker, his younger brother by a year, stood at the stove, turning home fries in a cast-iron skillet. “Hey, man. Grab a plate. Your food’s ready.”

Jake did as directed, handed the plate to his brother and then reached for the coffeepot to refill his travel mug. “Thanks, brother.”

“Anytime.”

Taking the food and the coffee to the large oak table, Jake sat and bowed his head, uttering a quick, silent prayer. Another one of Mom’s rules—always be thankful for what you’re given.

His eyes skimmed across the hand-painted sign hanging above the farmhouse sink. In every thing give thanks.

Would Mom still feel that way if she knew what the future held for the Holland family?

After losing so much, Jake struggled with thankfulness. He went through the motions of praying and attending church, but he doubted his prayers reached past the ceiling. Didn’t matter that he could recite verses from memory, list the books of the Bible and answer trivia questions with the best of them. He and God...well, they were more like strangers these days.

How could he have a meaningful relationship with Someone who took the people he loved most?

His eyes strayed to Dad’s open Bible on the table in his usual spot. More often than not, he’d walk into the farmhouse after milking and see Dad with his reading glasses on, Bible open and a cup of coffee in his hand.

How did Dad and Tuck maintain their faith without feeling resentful? How could it be God’s will to destroy a family?

Questions without answers. And Jake struggled to wrap his head around it.

He dropped his gaze to the pile of steaming eggs and shoved a forkful in his mouth. He ate half a slice of rye toast in two bites and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee.

Tucker snapped his fingers in front of Jake’s face. “Hey, man. Wake up. Claudia’s here.”

Terrific.

Jake stifled a sigh, looked longingly at the rest of his breakfast and palmed his travel mug as he pushed away from the table. “Hold onto my plate, will you? I’ll finish it later.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the barn. I’m giving Claudia’s niece a tour of the farm.”

“Enjoy.”

Not likely.

Jake scooted out the back door, shoved his feet into his boots and headed for the barnyard.

Perhaps the polite thing would’ve been to greet Claudia and Tori at the front door and show Tori where to go, but he was sure Dad would take care of that.

It gave him a couple of extra minutes to psych himself into seeing Tori again.

He headed into the barn, gathered the saddles and pads, and carried them out to the yard, hanging them on the fence. Returning to the barn, he grabbed the bridles and fetched Westley and Buttercup, two buckskin quarter horses, and led them out of the barn as Tori crossed the yard to meet him. She carried a small brown bag in one hand while her niece, wearing denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, clutched her other hand.

Tori wore a light blue fitted T-shirt with a yellow cup and Luke’s printed on it. Jeans hugged her legs, and she wore a pair of gray outdoor hiking sandals. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail that flopped as she walked.

They reached the fence where the lawn hemmed the barnyard. The little girl looked at Jake with clover-green eyes like Tori’s and the same crease in her cheeks when she smiled.

Jake’s heart ratcheted against his ribs.

That child could pass for Tori’s daughter.

What would it have been like to have a child with Tori? A little girl with those same eyes and dimples? A boy with his dark hair and love of animals?

Jake chased away that thought. Dangerous territory.

Tori lifted the little girl in her arms. “Annabeth wanted to see the animals, so your dad and Claudia are going to show her the pigs and chickens while I tour your farm with you.”