Jodi Thomas - Lone Heart Pass

She’d tried to explain that almost everything she owned was packed, but she doubted he’d like her navy suits any better. Three pairs of jeans and half a dozen tops were all the casual clothes she owned. And they were spotted with drippings from meals on the road or wrinkled beyond wearing.

Tomorrow morning she planned to ask him to turn on the water to the washer out back. Levy probably turned it off every month after he used it, and who knew where the dryer had run off to? Jubilee had a faint memory of the old guy hanging his laundry on a line somewhere.

She’d watched Charley unhitch his trailer and park it beside the barn, and then he’d left again just before the rain started. Jubilee finally moved out on the porch and studied the storm. At this point in her day of doing nothing, she wasn’t sure her life was afloat. No career. No friends. No family who would speak to her.

She wasn’t even sure if this ranch was a blessing or a curse. If she hadn’t inherited it, she would have had to pull herself up and start over. Now, she could just hide out for a while.

Slowly, her mind began to dance with the storm as the sky darkened, and her troubles started to drift away. She watched the rain form tiny rivers in the ruts that Charley’s truck had made. The sound of the horses in the barn blended with the tapping of rain falling off the roof into dead flowerbeds. Even as the world grew black except for the one light in the house by the corral, she refused to move or turn on a light.

She needed the night to surround her. For once she wanted to wrap up in the nothingness of her world. She wanted to be invisible for a while.

The rain finally slowed to a silent dribble. The storm was over. But still Jubilee didn’t move.

Truck lights turned toward her place. The white pickup her foreman drove rocked back and forth as it moved toward her on a road in desperate need of repair.

When he stopped beside the corral and cut his lights, she knew he couldn’t see her even if he looked her direction.

She watched his tall frame unfold. He stood in the lingering rain and raked his rust-colored hair back before putting on his hat. Within seconds his shirt was plastered against his body. Even in the low light she could tell there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. Just from the way he moved around the truck told her he was solid rock-hard muscle. Tall and lean and beautiful as only a cowboy can look.

She smiled. He’s definitely not too bright, she decided. No raincoat. No umbrella. Hopefully he’d know more about running a ranch than he did about coming in from out of the rain.

He opened the side door to his truck and reached in.

For a moment she wondered what one last thing he’d carry inside. What had he gone back into town for on this rainy night?

He lifted something out slowly, carefully, wrapped in his work coat. The bundle leaned over his shoulder, molding against his form.

In wide, slow steps he walked through the mud. One hand tucked beneath the bundle. One hand placed in the middle as if holding his treasure close to his heart.

Jubilee stood and watched, surprised and touched as she saw thin pale arms slip from beneath the coat and wrap around his neck.

He’d mentioned a daughter when he’d asked if a school bus passed her place.

In the last blink of faraway lightning, Jubilee saw Charley Collins in a whole new light. He might not have much. His clothes were worn. His pickup old. But the man obviously had one thing he treasured. His daughter.

Charley

THE HOUSE OVER by the corral was dusty and completely empty except for a stove and old refrigerator Charley was surprised still worked. The place looked as if no one had lived in it for years but the bones of the house were solid. At one time someone had loved this place. The molding was hand carved around the doors, and cabinets were crafted carefully. The place was solid. He had a feeling it would stand any storm.

Charley worked into the night cleaning out the four-room house while Lillie slept. Ike, his old boss, had helped deliver what little furniture he had while his crazy new boss was probably taking her morning nap. The bar owner kept telling Charley that he was making a mistake accepting a job from a woman who wouldn’t last six months on the land, but at this point in his life Charley figured one more mistake wouldn’t matter.

With a free place to live and twice the money he usually made, he could build his savings. He could plan for someday.

He’d put up the bed before dark so Lillie would have a place to sleep when he picked her up. Charley didn’t want her to see the place dirty. When she woke, their new home would be clean and her tiny play kitchen would be set up in one corner of the living room.

Finally, about 3:00 a.m. he had everything stocked and put away. The house was so sparsely furnished it didn’t look like much of a home. One couch. One bed. An old dresser someone had given him a year back. A card table and four chairs for a dining table. A rocker painted white that he’d bought the day his baby girl was born.

The house was bigger than the apartment they’d been in. Two bedrooms, even though one was empty. The house had a front porch where Lillie could play and a back porch where he could watch the sunset.

After he checked on Lillie, he stood out on the back porch and smiled. Fresh air. Open space. Silence. Someday, he’d have a place like this, but for now, working here was about as good as he could hope for. No more smelly bar or worrying whether he’d have enough odd jobs to make the bills. Now, with luck, he could save most of his salary. Maybe in a year he’d have enough to pay down on a place of his own.

He’d talked things over with Sharon’s parents. Now that they were both retired, they wanted to keep Lillie a few nights during the week, at least until summer. On the other days they promised to pick her up from school if the weather was bad or the school bus’s rural route wasn’t running.

He didn’t like not tucking her in every night, but on those two days she stayed in town he could work here until dark. Putting in a couple of fifteen-hour days would make the rest of the week lighter.

The Lees had turned Sharon’s old room into Lillie’s playroom. Here she only had a few toys, but at their house Lillie had a roomful. This time, he’d make her room more like a little girl’s room. He might have no idea how to raise a little girl, but he’d learn.

This ranch didn’t have much of a chance of making it, but he planned to give it his best shot. If they could make it through the summer, they might survive, but he’d need to think of a way to have money coming in now to help cover expenses.

As he stared out into the night, he swore he saw an army green raincoat marching across the open field between the main house and the end of the corral. For a moment he thought it was a flash from an old World War II film, then he saw long white legs and what had to be white socks.

Jubilee Hamilton. Taking yard-wide steps across the mud as if she were measuring it off.

Lightning flashed. The promise of more rain scented the air. His insane employer marched on, her damp blond hair plastered to her skull as the coat flapped in the wind.

He thought of going after her, but decided to just watch. Who knows, her kind of crazy might be catching. It was three o’clock in the morning and she was out walking. If she got hit by lightning, Charley decided he’d simply bury her and keep working the ranch.

Finally, exhaustion from a long day of moving from one kind of life to another got the better of him and Charley slipped inside, closing out any thought of his boss, as he closed the door to his new home.

An hour later in the stillness of his bed on the couch, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Something drew him to Jubilee even if he didn’t want to admit it. She seemed so lost. So alone. She wasn’t the kind of woman he’d ever be interested in, but deep down he wanted to help her make this place work. He’d taken this job to save himself, but he had to make it work. Not just for Lillie and him. For her, too.