A Certain Hope

As much as he wanted to condemn her for that, Reed didn’t think it would be kind or wise to knock her when she was already so down on herself. “Don’t go blaming yourself,” he said. “You did what you’d always dreamed of doing. Stuart was—is—so proud of you. You should be proud of your success.”

“I am proud,” she said, her laughter brittle. “So very proud. I knew he was lonely when I left, Reed. But I was too selfish to admit that.”

“He never expected you to sacrifice your life for his, April. Not the way I expected things from you.”

“But he needed me here. Even though she’d been dead for years, he was still grieving for my mother. He never stopped grieving. And now…it’s too late for me to help him.”

“You’re here now,” Reed said, his own bitterness causing the statement to sound harsh in the silent house.

April turned to stare over at him. “How do you feel about my being back?”

Her directness caught him off guard. Reed could be direct himself when things warranted the truth. But he wasn’t ready to tell her exactly how being with her made him feel. He wasn’t so sure about that himself.

“It’s good to have you here?” he said in the form of a question, a twisted smile making it sound lightweight.

“Don’t sound so convincing,” she said, grimacing. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else tonight than sitting here with me.”

“You’re wrong on that account,” he told her, being honest about that, at least. “You need someone here. This is going to be tough and I…I promised your daddy I’d see you through it.”

That brought her up off the couch. “So you’re only here as a favor to my father? Out of some sense of duty and sympathy?”

“Aren’t those good reasons—to be helping out a friend?”

“Friend?” She paced toward the empty fireplace, then stood staring out into the starlit night. “Am I still your friend, Reed?”

He got up to come and stand beside her. “Honestly, I don’t know what you are to me—I mean, we haven’t communicated in a very long time, on any level. I just know that Stuart Maxwell is like a second father to me and because of that, I will be here to help in whatever way I can. And yes, I’d like to think that we can at least be friends again.”

“But you’re only my friend because you promised my father?”

“Since when did this go from the real issue—a man dying—to being all about you and your feelings?”

“I know what the real issue is,” she said, her words stony and raw with emotion. “But since you practically admitted you’re doing this only out of the goodness of your heart,” she countered, turning to stalk toward the hallway, “I just want you to know I don’t expect anything from you. So don’t do me any favors, okay? You’re usually away when I come home. You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll get through this somehow.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said, hurt down to his boots by her harsh words and completely unreasonable stance. But then he reminded himself she was going through a lot of guilt and stress right now. It figured she’d lash out at the first person to try to help her, especially if that person was an old flame. “Guess it’s time for me to get on home.”

“Yes, it’s late. I’m going to check on Daddy, then I’m going to bed.” She started for the stairs, but turned at the first step, her dark head down. “Reed?”

He had a hand on the ornate doorknob. “What?”

“I do appreciate your coming by. I feel better now, having eaten a bit.” She let out a sigh that sounded very close to a sob. “And…thanks for the shoulder. It’s been a long time since I’ve cried like that.”

He didn’t dare look at her. “I’m glad then that I came. Call if you need anything else.”

“I will, thanks.” Then she looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about what I said. About you not doing me any favors. It was mean, considering you came here in the middle of the night just to help out. That was exactly what I needed tonight.”

Reed felt his heart tug toward her again, as if it might burst out of his chest with longing and joy. He wanted to tell her that he needed her, too, not just as friend, but as a man who’d never stopped loving her.

Instead, he tipped his head and gave her a long look.

“I’ll be here, April. I’ll always be right here. Just remember that.”

Chapter Three

April pressed the send button on the computer in her father’s study, glad that she had someone to talk to about her worries and frustrations. Then she reread the message she’d just sent.

Hi, girls. Well, my first night home was a bad one. Daddy is very sick. I don’t think he will last much longer. I sat with him for a long time—well into the night. Then Reed came in and made me eat something. Okay, he actually carried me, caveman-style, into the kitchen. Still Mr. Know-It-All-Tough-Guy. Still good-looking. And still single, from everything I can tell, in spite of all those rumors we’ve heard about his social life. He was very kind to me. He held me while I cried. And I cried like a baby. It felt good to be in his arms again. But I have to put all that aside. I have to help Daddy, something I should have been doing all along. Today, Reed and I are taking a ride out over the ranch, to see what needs to be done. I hope I can remember how to sit a horse. Love y’all. Keep the prayers coming. April.

That didn’t sound too bad, she thought as she took another sip of the rich coffee Flora had brought to her earlier. She’d told Summer and Autumn the truth, without going into the details.

Oh, but such details.

After the devastation of seeing her father so sick, April hadn’t wanted to go on herself. But Reed had made her feel so safe, so comforted last night. That wasn’t good. She was very weak right now, both in body and spirit. Too weak to resist his beautiful smile and warm golden eyes. Too weak to keep her hands out of that thick golden-brown too-long hair. Too weak to resist her favorite cowboy. The only cowboy she’d ever loved.

You’re just too emotional right now, she reminded herself. You can’t mistake kindness and sympathy for something else—something that can never be.

Yet, she longed for that something else. It had hit her as hard as seeing her father again, this feeling of emptiness and need, this sense of not being complete.

Thinking back on all the men she’d met and dated in New York, April groaned. Her last relationship had been a disaster. All this time, she’d thought she just hadn’t found the right one. But now she could see she was always comparing them to Reed.

That had to stop. But how could she turn off these emotions when she’d probably see him every day? Did she even want to deny it—this feeling of being safe again, this feeling of being back home in his arms?

No, she wouldn’t deny her feelings for Reed, but right now, she couldn’t give in to them, either. They had parted all those years ago with a bitter edge between them. And he’d told her he wouldn’t wait for her.

But he was still here.

He’s not here because of you, she reminded herself. He’s here because he loves your daddy as much as you do.

She couldn’t depend on Reed too much. She had to get through this one day at a time, as her mother used to tell her whenever April was facing some sort of challenge.

“One day at a time,” April said aloud as she closed down the computer. But how many days would she have to watch her father suffering like this?

“Give me strength, Lord,” she said aloud, her eyes closed to the pain and the fear. “Give me strength to accept that with life comes death. Show me how to cope, show me how to carry on. Please, Lord, show me that certain hope my mother used to talk about. That hope for eternal life.”

Turning her thoughts to her father, April got up to take her empty coffee mug into the kitchen. She wanted to watch to see how the nurse fed him, so she could help. She wanted to spend the morning with him before she went for that ride with Reed. Actually, she didn’t want to leave her father’s side. Maybe she could stall Reed.

He’d called about an hour ago, asking if she wanted to check out the property. Caught off guard, and longing for a good long ride, April had said yes. Then she’d immediately gone to check on her father, only to find the nurse bathing him. April had offered to help, but the other woman had shooed her out of the room. At the time, a good long ride had sounded better than having to see her father suffer such indignities. But now she was having second thoughts.

“Finished?” Flora asked, her smile as bright as her vivid green eyes. Flora wore her dark red hair in a chignon caught up with an elaborate silver filigree clip.

April put her mug in the sink, then turned. “Yes, and thanks for the Danish and coffee. You still make the best breads and dainties in the world, Flora.”

“Gracias,” Flora said, wiping her slender hands on a sunflower-etched dish towel.

“And how you manage to stay so slim is beyond me,” April continued as she headed toward the archway leading back to the central hall.

“Me, I walk it all off, but you? You need to eat more pastry,” Flora said, a hint of impishness in her words.

April turned to grin at her, her eyes taking in the way the morning sunlight fell across the red-tiled counters and high archways of the huge kitchen. Even later in the year, in the heat of summer, this kitchen would always be cool and tranquil. She’d spent many hours here with her mother and Flora, baking cookies and making bread.