- -
- 100%
- +
Nell nodded and glanced at Travis. “Listen, everyone, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier. I guess I’m more nervous than I realized about this contest.”
“That’s all right, Mom.”
“No apology necessary,” Travis said, thinking it was unusual these days to find anyone willing to apologize. It was a sign of maturity and inner strength, and he admired her for it. In fact, there seemed to be quite a bit to admire about Nell Bishop….
“Have fun at the carnival,” she said, stirring her chili.
“We will.”
“If they don’t mind, I’ll tag along just for the fun of it,” Travis said to Nell. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on a Ferris wheel—probably when he was younger than these two; and maybe he could convince Jeremy and Emma to go on it with him.
He’d never spent much time around kids, although his books were geared to them. Life was full of ironies such as this, he reflected. Valerie used to say he related to children because he’d never grown up himself, and he supposed it was true. She’d meant it as an insult, but Travis had considered it a compliment.
They had a wonderful afternoon on the midway, and he loved every minute. He let Jeremy and Emma spend part of their allowance, but he paid for most of the rides. They went on the octopus, a ride he remembered from his boyhood, and Emma covered her eyes, screamed the entire time, then insisted they do it again.
“Don’t spend all your money on us,” Emma said when he bought them each a huge cotton candy.
Travis was half-tempted to say there was plenty more where that came from, but decided it would be a crass comment. “Don’t worry…” he began.
“Be happy,” Jeremy completed for him.
“Right,” Travis said and chuckled. He enjoyed children, always had. That was one reason he’d chosen to write for the age group he did. His overwhelming success had surprised even him.
“In that case, could I have some popcorn, too?” Emma asked.
Laughter bubbled up inside him. Both of these children were forthright and honest, hardworking and appreciative—and they had a sense of humor. It would be unfair to compare them to children in New York, since he knew so few, but he was sure these two were special. As special as their mother.
“Have you met Dovie?” Emma asked a short while later between mouthfuls of popcorn.
Dovie—not dove. A name. “No, I haven’t.”
“You gotta meet Dovie,” Jeremy said, directing him away from the carnival rides.
They led him to a large booth set up close to the chili cook-off area. A friendly, slightly rotund, older woman stood in front of a colorful patchwork quilt.
“Hi, Dovie,” Jeremy said.
“Hi, Dovie,” Emma echoed.
“Hello, Dovie.” Travis figured he didn’t want to be left out.
Dovie looked at him and blinked, as if she was afraid she should’ve recognized him and hadn’t. Jeremy and Emma burst out laughing.
“This is Travis,” Emma said and reached for his hand. It was an innocent gesture, but it tugged at his heart.
“He’s staying at the ranch,” Jeremy added.
“From what I hear, I’m the first paying guest,” Travis explained.
“Pleased to meet you,” Dovie said, holding out her hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m wondering if I could interest you in a raffle ticket for this fine quilt.”
“Of course.” Travis reached for his wallet.
“The Dorcas Group at church is raffling it off to raise money for missions.”
“How much?”
“A dollar each, or six for five dollars.”
Travis pulled a ten from his wallet. “Give me twelve tickets.”
Dovie flashed him an appreciative smile.
“He’s a good guy,” Jeremy said proudly.
“I like him, too,” Emma added.
Travis tucked the ticket stubs securely into his hip pocket and wished Dovie luck with the quilt.
“Thank you. How long will you be in town?” she asked.
It’d been a common question all day. “I’m not sure yet.”
“I hope you enjoy yourself.”
Emma took his hand again. “You ready?” she asked. “For the chili judging?”
“Sure,” he returned.
“Is it time?” Jeremy asked.
Emma nodded.
A crowd had gathered around the chili cook-off area and the judges, five of them, stepped forward to do their taste tests. The samples were numbered so it was impossible to tell who had cooked which chili.
“That’s Ellie Patterson,” Jeremy whispered. “She owns the local feed store.” A pretty brunette sampled the first taste and nodded in approval.
“I hope that was Mom’s,” Emma said.
So did Travis. The taste she’d given him the day before was fabulous and nothing like any chili he’d tasted before. He’d accidentally discovered her secret ingredient was beer but had been sworn to secrecy.
In his short visit he’d learned quite a bit about Texas chili, which was different from anything he’d tasted in New York City or on his previous travels. In Texas the chili was thick with meat and spices and it wasn’t made with beans.
“That’s Mr. Jordan,” Jeremy said, identifying the next judge. “He owns the Western-wear shop.”
Someone called Billy D, owner of the local tavern, and Adam Braunfels, a restaurateur, tasted next.
The last one to try the chili samples was a large rancher type.
“Who’s that?” Travis asked.
“Pastor McMillen,” Jeremy whispered back.
That surprised Travis. The man looked like he’d be more comfortable on a horse than in a pulpit.
After all the judges had sampled the entries, they cast their votes. The crowd grew quiet with anticipation as the town sheriff, Frank Hennessey, stepped forward with the results of the voting.
Emma stood next to Travis with her eyes tightly shut, her hands raised and fingers crossed.
Sheriff Hennessey cleared his throat. “It was a difficult decision this year, but it appears that one entry stood out as the most flavorful. The voting is unanimous. The winner is—” the faint sound of a drumroll could be heard in the background “—number five.”
Travis frowned, not knowing who the winner was until he noticed Nell. She stood there as though in a daze.
“Nell Bishop,” Frank Hennessey shouted cheerfully as a stunned Nell moved slowly toward the microphone. “It gives me a great deal of pleasure to present you with this check in the amount of five hundred dollars.”
Nell might be in shock, but Travis noticed that she snapped out of her stupor fast enough when it came to reaching for the check. The crowd loved it.
Following the competition, spoonfuls of chili, dished up in small paper cups, were left for the crowd to taste. People surged toward the table that held the samples labeled “number five.”
“Yay, Mom!” Emma said, rushing forward and hugging her mother.
“This is really cool,” Jeremy said. He exchanged a high five with his mother.
Travis barely knew Nell Bishop, but he was as thrilled that she’d won the cook-off as if the success had been his own.
NELL WAS EXHAUSTED. Exhilarated but exhausted. Adam Braunfels, one of the judges and the owner of the Chili Pepper, the best restaurant in town, pulled her aside when the competition was over. He told Nell her chili was the best he’d ever tasted and that he’d like to talk with her later about the possibility of buying her recipe. He wanted to serve it in his restaurant. Nell could hardly believe her ears.
Following their conversation, Adam handed her a ticket for a free meal and suggested she stop off at his booth for dinner. Nell sat at one of the picnic tables at the far end of the rodeo grounds and savored a barbecued-beef sandwich and a heaping cup of coleslaw. It was the first time she’d eaten all day; she’d simply been too nervous before.
Jeremy and Emma were with their grandmother, who’d taken them home. The kids had chattered incessantly about Travis Grant. Apparently he’d shown them the time of their lives and they sang his praises to all who’d listen.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Her thoughts seemed to have conjured up the man. Travis stood directly across the table from her, holding a cup of coffee.
“Please.” Nell gestured toward a chair, and Travis sat down.
“Congratulations again,” he said.
“Thank you.” She was dying to tell someone about her conversation with Adam Braunfels, but held her tongue. Nothing was definite, and she didn’t want to say anything until the details were settled.
“From what I understand, I owe you a debt of thanks,” Nell said. “The kids told me this was the best rodeo of their lives, and all because of you.”
“I was just about to thank you for sharing them with me. They’re terrific kids, Nell.”
“I think so, too.”
She pushed aside the rest of her dinner and reached for her coffee. After being on her feet all day, she was grateful to be sitting. “Ruth drove them home,” she said unnecessarily. She’d stayed to clean up the kitchen area and talk to Adam, but was so relaxed now she wasn’t sure she’d find the energy to move.
“I heard someone say Willie Nelson was coming for the dance later,” Travis mentioned.
“Don’t believe it.” Nell hated to be the one to disillusion him. “This is Willie Nelson country. We love him, and we send him an invitation to a picnic in his honor every single year.”
“He’s never come?”
“No, but then, we don’t really expect he will. He’s got bigger and better places to perform. We understand that and love him, anyway.” Whether or not Willie showed, the people of Promise would continue to enjoy his music. Willie Nelson represented everything they loved about country music.
“Tired?” Travis asked.
“A little.” An understatement if there ever was one.
“Too tired to dance?”
It took a moment to understand the question. Travis Grant was asking her to dance with him. She stared at him, unsure how to respond. It was kind of him, offering to be her partner. With anyone else she would have found an immediate excuse to decline. Not with Travis. For one crazy moment she actually considered it.
“Thank you, but no,” she finally said.
If she’d disappointed him, Travis didn’t let on.
Nell checked her watch, thinking it was time—past time really—to head home. The band, a popular local group, was playing in the background. The stage wasn’t in sight, but well within listening range.
“They sound good,” Travis said.
They did. Much better than Nell remembered, but then, it’d been more than three years since she’d stayed for the evening festivities.
All at once a crazed cheer rose from the audience and the announcer’s voice came over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce the good people of Promise, Texas, to Willie Nelson.”
Nell’s gaze flew to Travis. “This has got to be a joke,” she said.
But even before the words were out, the opening strains of “Whiskey River” echoed across the grounds.
Her fatigue gone, Nell leaped to her feet and hurried toward the dance area. So did everyone else within shouting distance. Travis was right behind her.
Nell and Travis never did get to see him. The crowd grew so thick they couldn’t do more than listen. Willie sang three numbers to wild applause, then suggested everyone dance. The music flowed, smooth and easy. People around her paired off, even though they weren’t anywhere near the dance floor.
Travis smiled down at her. “Shall we?” he asked, stretching out one hand.
Nell couldn’t stop looking at him long enough to decline. It wasn’t that Travis was a handsome man. His face was too angular, his features too rugged to be considered pleasing.
He took her lack of response as answer enough and slipped his arm around her waist. His hold was loose and gentle. A lifetime ago Nell had loved to dance. Jake had possessed two left feet, but he’d made an effort for her sake.
Travis danced as if he knew exactly what he was doing—and as if he enjoyed it. What surprised her was how well they moved together, how gracefully.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he said with a laugh. “Big men aren’t all klutzes.”
“The same applies to big women.”
“You’re not big,” he countered. “In fact, I’d say you’re just about perfect.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, and his fingertips lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Nell didn’t know what madness possessed her, but she closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in a fantasy. She didn’t pretend that the man holding her was her dead husband. That would have been too painful. Instead, she fantasized that she was a different kind of woman, willowy and lithe, petite and beautiful. Like the young Audrey Hepburn of Sabrina, a movie Nell had loved all her life.
It was the night for such dreams.
The dance ended almost as soon as it had begun. Too soon. Nevertheless, she didn’t dare to continue. Didn’t dare to indulge in any more fantasies.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve never enjoyed a dance more.”
“Me, neither,” Travis said, his voice low and sounding vaguely unlike him.
Of one accord they turned and walked across the grounds, toward the parking area.
“Nell.” He stopped her in the shadow of the grandstand.
“Yes?”
“Don’t be angry.”
“Angry? Whatever for?”
“For this,” he whispered. He turned her around to face him, then lowered his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER 4
HIS KISS LEFT NELL FEELING lightheaded, as if she’d been out in the sun too long. His lips lingered on hers, his arms firm about her waist. He would have kissed her a second time, she sensed, if she hadn’t moved her head just then. She needed a moment to compose herself, to gain perspective and deal with what had happened—what she’d allowed to happen. At any point she could have stopped him…and hadn’t.
“I…wish you hadn’t done that.” Her voice trembled, shaky with shock and wonder. What astounded her as much as his kiss was how much she’d enjoyed it.
“Are you looking for an apology?”
His voice was close to her ear and she realized that he still held her.
“I could give you one if you wanted,” he went on, “but it wouldn’t be sincere.”
She smiled at his words and eased away from him. There was definitely something in the air tonight that had caused her to behave so completely out of character.
“It’s because of today,” she said aloud. “The whole day.” One of the best days she’d had in three years of grief and struggle.
“The day?” Travis repeated, walking at her side as they continued toward the parking lot.
She glanced at him, surprised she’d spoken aloud. Since she had, she couldn’t very well leave him in the dark. That would be rude and unnecessary. If he was to continue paying for room and board, then she had best set boundaries between them now. Kissing was definitely out of bounds.
“Naturally I’m flattered that you’d want to kiss me.”
“I’d like to do it again, if you’re not opposed.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
He was quiet after that, but not for long. “What did you mean when you said it was because of today?”
She exhaled slowly. “Winning the chili cook-off. The kids having such a wonderful time. Willie Nelson showing up like that. Dancing in the moonlight…I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t thinking—otherwise that kiss would never have happened.”
“How weren’t you yourself?” he prodded.
Nell was much too tired to endure an inquisition. “I just wasn’t.”
“How?” he pressed.
“I was happy, excited…”
He couldn’t seem to leave it at that. “You aren’t normally?”
“No,” she returned shortly. “Not for the last three years.”
A silence followed her words. Nell heard his sigh.
“You must have loved him very much.”
She didn’t hesitate. “More than life itself. In many ways I died with my husband. Nothing will ever be the same again.”
They paused in front of her battered pickup. The Dodge was well past its prime. It’d been ready for the scrap heap when Jake was alive, but Nell had coaxed three more years from it; she prayed the truck would last another year.
“I disagree,” he said.
His words cut into her thoughts. She raised questioning eyes to him. “What do you mean?”
“You loved Jake, and it’s obvious you two shared something very special. But you didn’t die with him. The woman I kissed is alive and healthy. She’s vital and lovely and passionate.” He raised his hand as if to touch her face, but changed his mind and slowly lowered it. “I felt your heart pound against mine. The woman I kissed is alive, Nell. She has a lot to live for.”
“I—”
“You might prefer to think of yourself as dead, but you aren’t.”
His words surprised her more than his kiss. She didn’t know how to respond, how to react. Ruth had been saying the same thing to her, but in different words. All this time she’d resisted, afraid she’d lose even more of Jake than she already had. This was dangerous stuff, too dangerous to think about right now. She’d leave it for another time.
“You haven’t dated since Jake died?” Travis asked.
She shook her head.
“What’s the matter with the men in this town?” he asked in a way that suggested they were idiots.
“Grady Weston asked me to the big summer dance last year.”
“And?”
“And I turned him down. Glen Patterson, too.”
“Nell, no.” He planted his hands squarely on her shoulders. “Wake up. Look around you. Breathe in the cool night air and let it fill your lungs. Let yourself feel.”
He spoke with such intensity all she could do was stare at him.
“You don’t believe anything I’ve said, do you? I can see it in your eyes.”
Instantly she lowered her gaze. “I’ll never have with anyone else the kind of love I had with Jake.”
“Of course you won’t,” he said.
The man said and did the most shocking things.
“Jake was Jake,” he continued. “Any relationship you might have with another man will be different from your marriage to Jake because that man will be different from Jake.” He paused. “The problem, Nell, is that you haven’t seen it this way. The way you see it, any other man is destined to fall short because he can never be a replacement for the original.”
She had to admit Travis made sense. It was exactly what Ruth and Dovie and several others, Savannah included, had been trying to tell her. Either she hadn’t fully understood or she hadn’t been ready to listen.
It hit her then that Travis spoke as if he was familiar with this type of loss. “You lost your wife?” she asked him.
Now it was Travis who looked away. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What manner?” He’d prodded and pried, now she did the same.
“I’m divorced.”
“You loved her?”
“Very much,” he said, “and I assumed she loved me. But apparently I was wrong.”
Nell waited for him to go on, and after a moment he did.
“She met someone else.” Travis buried his hands deep inside his pockets as though he felt a need to suppress his anger, even now. “Someone who could give her the things she needed, the things I couldn’t—and I’m not just talking about money.” He sounded philosophical, but beneath his matter-of-fact statement, she recognized his pain. Recognized it because she’d experienced a similar pain.
“Tony, Val’s new husband, sets her on fire,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t.”
Nell might have accepted the words at face value if not for one thing. He’d held her and kissed her. There was definitely fire in him, and it was burning strong. Maybe his ex-wife hadn’t provided enough kindling, she mused—and felt some amazement that such a thought had occurred to her. “Bitterness wouldn’t solve anything, so I decided to do what I could—go on with my life, put the past behind me.”
“Have you?”
“I like to think so.” He said this as if he expected her to challenge him. “How is it we’re talking about me? You’re the one who’s still living in the past, not me.”
“Really?”
Travis chuckled and held up his hand. “Enough. Your point is well taken. We’re both among the walking wounded.”
Nell smiled. “Perhaps we could learn from each other,” she suggested.
Travis nodded. “Perhaps we can.”
They drove back to the ranch in separate vehicles. Travis pulled into the yard seconds behind her.
“Good night,” she called, offering him a friendly wave as she headed toward the house. A single light shone above the back porch door. In all likelihood Jeremy and Emma were sound asleep; it would surprise her if Ruth was still up.
“’Night, Nell.”
Once inside the house, she climbed up the stairs to her room, undressed in the dark and sat on the edge of her bed, reviewing the events of the day. When she turned on the bedside lamp and took out her journal, it wasn’t the five-hundred-dollar prize money she thought of. Instead, she found herself writing about Travis’s kiss and the discussion that had followed.
JEREMY AND EMMA had been up for at least an hour by the time Nell got out of bed. Sundays were just as hectic as schooldays because chores needed to be finished before they left for Sunday School and church.
Nell had coffee brewing and was cracking eggs for French toast when the kitchen door opened and Travis strolled casually inside. “’Morning,” he said, helping himself to coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, whipping the eggs into a frothy mixture before adding the milk. The griddle was ready and she had six slices of egg-soaked bread sizzling in short order.
“You coming to church with us?” Jeremy asked as he and Emma dashed in.
“Ah…” Travis glanced at Nell.
“It’s the Lord’s day,” Emma said severely as if there should be no hesitation on his part.
“You’re welcome to join us if you wish,” Nell said.
He didn’t show any sign of reluctance. “I’d enjoy that.”
At breakfast Jeremy sat on one side of Travis, Emma on the other, the children accepting him as easily as they would a much-admired uncle.
“We’re lucky Mr. and Mrs. Patterson didn’t have any rooms left to rent,” Jeremy said.
“Real lucky,” Emma agreed.
“With the rodeo over, the Pattersons should have plenty of room,” Ruth muttered as she walked into the kitchen, yawning.
The news landed like a bombshell in the kitchen. The children stared at each other as though they’d just learned the horrible truth about Santa Claus. Nell felt an immediate sense of disappointment, but Ruth was right. Phil and Mary would have space available for Travis now, and the accommodations would be far more comfortable than a too-short mattress in the bunkhouse. At Phil and Mary’s, Travis wouldn’t need to worry about a goat eating the socks off his feet, either.
“That’s true. Mr. Grant could move into town,” Nell said, trying to sound as though it made no difference to her. It shouldn’t, but hard as she tried to convince herself it would be best if Travis left, she hoped he wouldn’t.
Every eye went to their guest. “Move into town?” he repeated, glancing at each in turn. “Would anyone mind if I stayed on here? Your goat and I have recently come to terms. It would be a shame to leave now.”
She shouldn’t be this happy, Nell decided, but she was. She really was.
“WHAT TIME IS IT?” Frank Hennessey mumbled as he rolled over in the large feather bed and stretched his arms to both sides.
“Time for you to be up and dressed,” Dovie said. “Church starts in less than thirty minutes.”
“Church,” Frank groaned. “Dovie, you know how hard it is for me to sit through Sunday service.” But he eased himself up in bed to enjoy the sight of his wife fluttering about the room, hurriedly dressing. Dovie was a fine-looking woman and he took pleasure in watching this woman he loved.
It’d taken him long enough to make the leap into marriage. Not many men waited until they were sixty years old—maybe that was why the decision had been so hard. He might have remained single all his life if not for a woman as wonderful as Dovie. Their arrangement was perfect, he’d thought. Twice a week he spent the night. Two of the best nights of any week.