Trusting The Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen

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      “He didn’t exactly make the letters he wrote to us easy to find.”

      “They weren’t hard to find, either,” Lauren said, stifling a yawn. It had been a long, tiring day. Her head ached from thinking and phoning and planning and from reading her father’s letters.

      After his cancer diagnosis, their father had written each of the girls a letter apologizing for his behavior to them. It had been emotionally draining reading his words.

      Though regret dogged her with every sentence her father had penned, she couldn’t forget the tension that had held them all in a complicated grip each time they came to visit. He alternated between domineering and absent, angry and complacent. Though Lauren was sad he was gone, his loss didn’t create the aching grief losing her mother and grandmother had.

      But knowing that he did care, that he had felt bad about their relationship, had eased some of the residual bitterness from their time together.

      “So what did you think about what Dad wrote?” Jodie asked. “Do you feel better about him now?”

      Lauren reached over to the coffee table and picked up the handwritten letter Jodie had given her shortly after she’d arrived.

      “I never had the issues with Dad that you did,” Lauren said. “We never fought like you guys did, so I don’t think I had as much to forgive him for. Knowing that he had sent money to Mom after their divorce helps. Mom always made it sound like he didn’t support her and us at all. I don’t want to get all psychoanalytical, but I think his absence in our lives, and how he treated us when we were here, had repercussions for all of us.”

      “Probably. Even Erin, who has always toed every line in her life, followed every rule without questioning, has had her relationship issues.” Jodie shifted herself on the couch again. “I thought for sure she and that doctor guy she was dating would get married, but they broke up over half a year ago.”

      “She say anything to you about why they broke up?”

      “Not a word. I know she’s secretive, but she’s been freaking me out with the radio silence she’s been maintaining.” Jodie sighed.

      “I know, but at least she’s staying in touch.”

      “If you want to call the occasional two-word text with emoticons staying in touch.”

      “It’s better than nothing.” Lauren had her own concerns about Erin, but she also knew her twin sister. Erin was a quiet and private person, something their ebullient younger sister didn’t always understand. When she wanted to talk, she would. “You have Finn now, and it looks to me like you’ve found a place to settle after all the wandering you’ve been doing.”

      “I have. I’ve learned many things about myself over the years, and Finn has helped me through a lot. He makes me feel...complete. Loved. Treasured.”

      “I’m happy for you,” Lauren said, trying hard to keep the note of envy out of her voice. She knew how unworthy Jodie had felt for much of her life. Lauren could identify all too well and was thankful her sister had found someone. Was thankful Jodie dared trust someone again.

      She wasn’t sure the same could happen to her.

      “Oh, Lauren. I’m sorry,” Jodie said, sitting up, instantly contrite. “I shouldn’t be...all...happy and stuff.”

      “Of course you should,” Lauren hastened to assure her. “I am happy for you. So happy. You had so many disappointments in your life. You deserve this.”

      “Don’t know if deserve is the right word, but I am grateful,” Jodie murmured. She gave Lauren a reassuring smile. “There’s someone for you. I just know it.”

      “There might well be,” Lauren said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I don’t want or need another relationship.”

      Jodie nodded, but Lauren saw her glance at the diamond ring on her finger. Her satisfied and peaceful smile created a nasty twist of jealousy.

      At one time Lauren had worn a ring, too. At one time she had been making wedding plans.

      She wasn’t ready to go there again. Between her father’s neglect and anger, and Harvey’s lies, and her past bosses’ treatment, she’d had enough.

      But your father apologized.

      She held that voice a moment, realizing that the apology had gone a long way to helping her settle the past.

      However, he still had placed conditions on them. And as she fought a touch of resentment over that, a picture of Vic sitting across from her, holding her gaze, slipped into her mind. She knew Vic wasn’t letting go of his claim on the ranch until he knew, without a doubt, that her father hadn’t written anything up.

      Which meant he would be around more than she liked. Not that she was attracted to him. She was never going down that road again.

      * * *

      Vic drove the tractor into the yard and pulled in front of Keith McCauley’s shop, frustrated that he hadn’t checked the amount of twine he had left in the baler before he started out this morning. He should have taken more with him, but he had been rushing all morning ever since he overslept.

      Too much thinking last night, he told himself as he climbed out of the tractor. Too much on his mind. Dean. His widowed mother.

      The missing deal with Keith. If he didn’t find the papers, Lauren was ready to sell the ranch. At a price he couldn’t afford.

      He’d prayed about it and struggled to release it all into God’s hands, but he kept pulling back.

      Stay focused. You’ll find the agreement.

      He just wasn’t sure when that was supposed to happen.

      He stepped into the shop, the light from the open door slanting into the dark of the cool building. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the indoors from the bright sunlight outside.

      But as he walked across the uneven concrete floor, he heard rustling and clanging coming from inside. He walked closer, listening. He reached for the door just as it opened under his hand.

      Lauren stepped out carrying a shovel.

      She wore blue jeans today and a dark T-shirt. Her hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and as she looked up at him, the shovel fell to the floor with a clatter, her hand on her chest as she stumbled backward.

      She would have fallen, but Vic caught her by one arm, pulling her upright. They stood that way a moment and he caught a whiff of her perfume.

      She stared up at him, her eyes wide, a soft gray in the low light. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, some grass stuck in her hair.

      “Oh. It’s you,” she said, breathless as she pulled away from him.

      The speed with which she did it almost unbalanced her again, but this time she grabbed the door handle, looking hastily away.

      “Yeah. I just needed some more twine for the baler.” He poked his thumb over his shoulder. “Sorry I bothered you.”

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