Just as Faith was finished pegging up the last towel, the phone rang inside the house. Shooting a quick look over at the kids, who were still playing, she hurried inside to grab the handset. “Hello,” she said, breathless as she rushed outside again.

  The kids hadn’t moved, thank goodness.

  “Is this the Tye place?” a woman asked. “I’m trying to reach Zach.” Her tone was abrupt. As if she didn’t have time for anyone else.

  “Sorry, he’s out. Can I take a message?”

  This was followed by a dramatic sigh. “I guess. This is Irma Tunney. He called me last night. Tell him I can take that nanny job. I can start tomorrow at noon, but I’ll need to have the kids at my apartment here in town. And I can’t pick them up. He’ll have to bring them here. I have my puppies and flowers to tend to.”

  Nanny job. The words reverberated through Faith’s mind like a clanging bell. So, Zach had already found someone to take over for her. It certainly hadn’t taken him long.

  The kids were now giggling, chasing each other around the swing set, wrestling when they caught one another.

  “Excuse me, did you say apartment?” Faith asked. She didn’t remember an Irma Tunney from her days living in Rockyview. Maybe she’d moved to town since then.

  “Yes. I’m a widow,” Irma explained, sounding annoyed. “I live in a small apartment in town with my three little dogs and my collection of rare orchids. Zach already knows that.”

  Faith bit her lip, struggling with her own plans and the reality of what would happen to the children if she left. She knew she shouldn’t judge but, based on this woman’s tone, Faith wasn’t so sure she liked Irma Tunney.

  “Okay. I’ll pass the message on,” she said as she walked toward the children.

  “Oh, and tell him I’ll need a little more than he was offering. I didn’t realize the children were so young until Melinda Bogal told me. They’ll be a handful, I’m guessing.”

  “They’re good children,” Faith protested, tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder as she helped Hope onto a swing. “They’re not much work.”

  This was greeted by a moment of silence, then, “Is this Mick Howard’s girl I’m talking to?” It sounded like an accusation.

  “Yes. This is Faith Howard.”

  “I see.”

  Those two words brought Faith’s hackles up. Hard. Who did this woman think she was? But Faith held her tongue. “I'll pass the message on to Zach,” was all she said.

  “And make sure you tell him about the money.”

  “Yep. Got it.” Faith made a face at the handset and hung up.

  Cash and Hope were laughing and giggling, the sun glinting off their hair. It was a beautiful day, and Faith was glad the children could play outside instead of being trapped in a tiny apartment with crabby Irma and her three dogs amidst a jungle of rare orchids.

  Of course, Hope and Cash would behave for that woman, and she would probably take care of them. But Faith wanted them to be more than be cared for. She wanted them to be happy. To be loved.

  My, how quickly and easily they’d worked their way into her heart. How could Tricia have left them like this? Faith wasn’t even their mother, had known them only a few days, and she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them.

  Neither Zach nor Kane came in for lunch. She fed the kids and waited an hour, but still nothing. The men would be hungry.

  She packed up a lunch and put it in her backpack, throwing in a few cold bottles of water as well.

  “Shall we go find Grandpa and Uncle Kane?” she said to the kids.

  They nodded, not quite sure what she was getting at. But they took her hands, and together they walked out of the house. It was slow going. The kids jumped and played on the way. Faith wasn’t sure exactly where Kane and Zach were working, but at least it was an adventurous outing for the kids. And it would tire them out, so putting them down for an afternoon nap would be easier.

  As they walked along the fence line toward the corrals, Faith heard voices and the pounding of hammers. She followed the sounds to the large hip roof barn.

  Joe, Zach, and Kane were rebuilding the corrals, nailing boards to posts outside the barn.

  Kane straightened as she came closer, dropping his hammer in the tool belt hanging low on his hips.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, worry in his voice. “Did Tricia call?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just thought you guys might be hungry, so I brought lunch.”

  Joe immediately dropped his hammer at that. “You’re an angel. I’m starving.”

  Zach looked over as well, a curious expression on his face. “Why don’t we go sit in the barn where it’s cooler,” was all he said.

  Kane walked over and opened the gate for her.

  “Hi, Unker Kane, we have food.” Cash pulled free of Faith’s hand and ran toward his uncle.

  Kane grabbed the boy, threw him up in the air to peals of laughter, then caught him easily and slung him over his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me this sack of potatoes, Faith,” he said. “I think I’ll go feed it to the cows.”

  “Nooo,” Cash cried, wiggling and giggling. “I’s not tatoes.”

  “What?” Kane said, swinging around with Cash still slung over his shoulder. “Did someone say something? I couldn’t hear you. This sack of potatoes is being too noisy.”

  “I’s. Not. Tatoes,” Cash insisted. “I’s a boy.”

  “What? Oh, there you are, Cash,” Kane said, setting him down. “But now what am I going to feed the cows?”

  “Pancakes,” Cash said, grinning. “They wike pancakes.”

  Joe grabbed the handle of the sliding door into the barn and pushed it open, the rollers screeching a protest.

  It was darker and cooler inside. Joe picked up a couple of straw bales and set them on the floor with a thump. “We even have chairs,” he said.

  “We already ate,” Faith said. “I should get the kids back to the house.”

  “They seem fine,” Zach said.

  “Yeah, stay a bit,” Kane said, smiling at her.

  Faith hesitated, but then Hope ran over to her grandfather, who was already easing himself down on a straw bale, and clambered onto his lap. And Cash was climbing onto the bale to sit next to his new favorite person, Unker Kane. So Faith set down her backpack and unzipped it, handing out sandwiches and water bottles.

  “This is awesome,” Joe mumbled around a bite of sandwich. “All Zach knows how to make is grilled cheese.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Zach protested.

  “Too much of a good thing isn’t always a good thing,” Joe said sagely, taking another big bite, then a swig of water.

  “Have a seat,” Kane said to Faith, gesturing at the empty bale next to him.

  Faith sat down and turned to Zach. “I have a phone message for you. Irma Tunney called. She said she could start tomorrow.” Faith didn’t want to say too much in front of the kids. If she was going to turn them over to Irma, she wanted a chance to explain it to them first.

  “Tomorrow? The children?” Kane sounded puzzled. Had Zach not spoken to him about this?

  “We need a nanny,” Zach said matter-of-factly. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then lifted his shoulder in a careful shrug. “Faith is leaving, and Tricia’s not back yet.” His voice broke on those last few words, and once again Faith felt as if she was abandoning them in their time of need.

  Kane didn’t say anything to that, nor, thankfully, did he look at Faith.

  “So when did she say she could start?” Zach asked.

  “She said you could bring the kids to her apartment tomorrow.”

  Zach nodded his head slowly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “But she said she’d have to do it at her apartment in town,” Faith added.

  “Apartment?” Kane blurted out. He turned to his father. “If she’s going to be a nanny shouldn’t she come here?”

  “I thought that’s what she said,” Zach said, looking puzzled.

  “Sorry,” Faith said, glancing over at the kids to see if they understood anything they were talking about. “And she wants more money than you offered. She wanted to make very sure I mentioned that part.”

  “That sounds like Irma Tunney,” Joe said, rolling his eyes.

  “You know her?” Zach asked.

  Joe nodded slowly as if trying to figure out what to tell them. “Everyone knows about Irma Tunney. She’s a little bit crazy and has three yappy dogs she treats like her children. She dresses them up in little outfits for the different seasons.”

  “Oh boy,” Faith said, glancing at Hope and Cash.

  “That’s…worrisome,” Kane said, leaning back against a barn post and taking another bite of his sandwich, one arm curled gently around Cash. Kane’s eyes slowly drifted to Faith. He was trying to act casual, but she could tell he was tense.

  Hope eased herself off Zach’s lap and headed towards the ladder leading to the loft. Cash was right behind her.

  “Up?” she asked, pointing at the ladder. “Go up?”

  “No, honey. You better stay down here,” Kane said, getting up and bringing them both back to the straw-bale picnic.

  “I should take them back to the house,” Faith said, getting up. “They need a nap.”

  “Horse. A horse.” Hope pointed out the door and then, before anyone could stop her, scooted out the door.

  Kane jumped up and ran after her.

  Faith grabbed Cash and followed Kane out the door, Zach and Joe right behind her.

  Kane had managed to hook his arm around Hope’s waist, catching her before she climbed up the corral fence where the horses were standing.

  “Ride horse,” she said pointing to them. “I ride horse.”

  “No, honey,” Faith said as she came up beside Kane. “Uncle Kane and Grandpa are too busy. And it’s nap time.”

  Hope twisted away from Faith, reaching toward the horses. “Ride horse,” she called out.

  “It’s fine,” Kane said. “I did promise her, after all.”

  “I’ll get a halter,” Zach said, walking toward the tack shed.

  “I thought we had to finish the corrals today,” Joe muttered.

  “We will,” Kane said. “We’ll work tonight until they’re done.”

  Joe mumbled something under his breath, but Kane ignored him.

  In a matter of minutes, Zach had caught one of the horses and slipped a halter on him. He led it out of the corral, Joe closing the gate behind him.

  “Are you sure you want to put that little thing on that horse?” Joe asked.

  “This is Cusco,” Kane said. “He’s bombproof. I’d trust him with anyone.”

  Faith smiled at the term, the ultimate compliment for any horse. And she knew firsthand how bombproof Cusco was. Once, she and Kane had been riding and the horses scared up a deer. It had bounded right in front of them on the trail.

  Kane was riding another horse, which had jumped back, reared, and almost unseated him.

  But Cusco simply stood, watching, almost bemused.

  “I wanna ride,” Cash called out once he realized what was going on.

  “You’ll get your turn,” Kane said, setting Hope carefully on the horse. “Grab here,” he told her, lifting up a hunk of Cusco’s mane. “That’s your handle.”

  Hope looked tiny on the horse, but Faith pressed down her concern. Kane knew what he was doing. She believed that. Yet it still felt scary, seeing Hope atop such a large horse.

  She was completely unfazed, however, rocking a little as if to get the horse moving.

  “Look at her,” Zach said, a note of pride in his voice. “She already knows what to do. Just like her mother.”

  “Tricia was fearless on a horse, that’s for sure,” Kane said. “Didn’t surprise anyone when she was crowned Rodeo Queen.”

  Kane led the horse around the yard, keeping an eye on Hope, ready to catch her if she fell. Hope’s smile almost split her face, she was so happy. Zach had lifted Cash to the top of the rail fence, so he could see. Faith stood back, watching the little tableau.

  The kids seemed happy in spite of not having their mother around. It probably helped that they now had four adults around them, spending time with them.

  Last night Hope had been crying again, and Faith had slipped between the two children, wrapping her arms around them, holding them close. What would happen when she left? Would someone cuddle them if they woke up in the night?

  “Me ride,” Cash called out, wriggling out of Zach’s protective grasp. Zach caught him before he fell, and Joe reached up to support him as well.

  Kane brought the horse back to the fence, lifted a protesting Hope off the horse, and put Cash on. Hope yawned and rubbed her eyes as Zach set her on the fence.

  “Just a short ride,” Faith called out as Kane led the horse away from them. “They’re both tired.”

  Kane nodded his acknowledgement as he walked away.

  Even though his twill shirt was sprinkled with sawdust, his blue jeans dusty and torn, his cowboy hat battered and worn, he exuded a familiar appeal that created a lightness in her heart. A sense of coming home.

  She closed her eyes a moment, as if blocking him from her vision would erase the feeling.

  It didn’t work.

  She opened her eyes and saw him leading the horse her way. His eyes found and held hers, and their deep blueness nearly stripped away the fragile defenses she was struggling to maintain. Her breath, once again, caught in her throat as memories of them together became so real she had to put her hand on her chest to hold them in.

  Thankfully, Cash was ready to get off the horse, and with a quick farewell, Faith settled Hope on her hip and took Cash’s hand.

  Back at the house, the twins were asleep in minutes. Faith got up, sliding her hands down her thighs as she glanced out the window. She couldn’t see the corrals from here, but she could hear the faint ringing of the hammers through the open window.

  Her guitar was propped in the corner and she grabbed it, sitting down on the floor. She played softly at first, watching the twins to make sure it didn’t wake them. But they were dead to the world.

  She played a few bars of a song, then fooled around with the tune, then segued into something she’d composed herself. Gavin, the leader of the Prairie Wanderers, had caught her before a rehearsal once, playing a song she had written. She’d felt completely self-conscious, but he had encouraged her to keep at it—to let her creativity flow. Keith, the bass player, wasn’t quite as encouraging. As an award-winning musician, he’d felt he had the authority to criticize what she was doing.

  Not for the first time, Faith wondered why she had let him put her down like that.

  Gavin had asked her the same question numerous times.

  That was before things had gotten really bad.

  Faith’s fingers hit a wrong note, and she stopped, gripping the guitar neck. Keith had been a mistake—one of her bad choices. After Elliot had bailed on her, she’d gotten so lonely, and Keith had initially been understanding and supportive of her music and talent. So, in her loneliness and, if she were being honest, rebellion against Kane and her grandfather, she’d hooked up with him. It hadn’t taken her long to realize Keith wasn’t good for her. He was just one more bad choice in a line of them. But, by that time, she needed desperately to prove she hadn’t thrown everything with Kane away for nothing.

  No, for less than nothing.

  So she’d stuck it out until she couldn’t, which was way too long. Then she got a ride out of town, which took an unexpected detour and landed her right back where she’d started. Apparently, you couldn’t run from your past. Or hitchhike from it.

  You have a plan, she reminded herself as she picked out another tune. A step toward a different life and better choices.

  The notes wove through her soul, nourishing a deep and empty part of her. This was who she was. Her identity.

  Her heart folded at the thought that she wouldn’t have a reason to play her guitar anymore when she moved to Calgary. She had been down that road, and sadly enough, it hadn’t yielded the results she had hoped it would. All it had done was place more guilt and a constant heavy regret on her shoulders.

  And now, she felt as if leaving was letting these children down.

  Faith didn't know why she felt so depressed. This was exactly what she wanted. Zach had found a nanny, which meant she was free to go.

  Then why wasn't she more excited about the idea?

  Excitement was overrated, she reminded herself. Life just happens, and you need to roll with it. She played a few more songs, then put her guitar away and walked out of the room, leaving the children still sleeping.

  Thankfully, the rest of the day slipped by quickly. She did some housework, played with the kids after they woke up, and prepped and put dinner on the stove.

  She thought maybe she should text Kane, but thought better of it. Kingdoms might rise and fall, horses might be calling, cows might be calving, but when Grace cooked supper, everyone showed up at the dot of six. She always said she didn’t need a bell. You either showed up on time or you missed dinner.

  For her, however, suppertime came and went, and they never came. Perhaps the cows had started calving in earnest and the men couldn’t get away, but when they did come in, they’d be starving. So she and the kids ate, but she set aside three plates of food, covered them, and put them in the refrigerator.

  After dinner, Faith took the children through their usual bedtime routine, singing them a silly song she’d made up while they were in the bath. Already they were used to her, comfortable around her, and now she was going to disrupt all that.

  You can’t stay here. You’re getting too close to Kane. It won’t work. It can’t work.

  He deserves better.

  And it was that final thought that set Faith’s confusion to rest.

  She had to leave.

  Chapter 13

  “Okay, thanks very much. We’ll be waiting.” Zach hung up the phone and sat at the table, his brow furrowed in concern.

  “Who was that?” Kane said. “Is it news about Tricia?”

  Zack shook his head. “No, that was Floyd, the real estate agent. He wants to bring the buyer by next week sometime instead of on Monday.”

 

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