Rocky Mountain Homecoming

“Maybe you’ll get to meet my daughter, Libby, and her friend, Luke, in a couple days.” He shoved a hand into his coat pocket.

The eager smile that tipped her full lips seemed to brighten the room. “I’d love to.”

“That’s right,” Zach commented, remembering how much he’d enjoyed the last time Libby and Luke had visited. “They’re c-c-coming out this week, aren’t they?”

“Once every two weeks, that’s what you said, right?” Ben pulled a hand over his shadowed jawline.

“Absolutely,” Zach put in, nodding. “It was fun having them t-tag around with me last t-t-time.”

Ben’s low chuckle rumbled quietly in the room. “After those two begged me like a pair of unmannerly pups, I finally relented and asked Zach if he’d mind if they came out every now and then and helped around the ranch.”

Her quizzical gaze hadn’t left Zach. “That certainly is nice of him.”

He grasped the chair, trying to remain unaffected by her rapt attention as he willed his throat and mouth to relax so that his words could come out whole. “I’ll mmmmake sure to find some tasks for them to d-do.” He took a long deep breath to settle himself. “That is if they sssssstill want to come out.”

Obvious concern flashed momentarily in Ben’s gaze, but he seemed to know not to bring it up right now and for that Zach was inordinately grateful.

“Are you kidding me? They talk about their time here, nonstop.” Ben lifted his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “But you really don’t have to pay them this time.”

Zach scowled. “A good man is worth his wage. It’s a g-g-good lesson for them to learn.”

After a long pause, Ben gave his head a single nod. “All right. You drive a hard bargain. If you insist on paying them, then go ahead.”

Zach wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved his seven-year-old niece and Luke, an eleven-year-old boy Ben had taken under his wing two years ago. The boy’s mother had lived a harlot’s lifestyle. Ben’s caring influence on the boy had gone a long way in giving the child a chance. When a fire had nearly taken the boy’s life, and his mother’s, she’d made a dramatic turn for the good. She’d even worked alongside Ben and his wife, Callie, to get the Seeds of Faith Boarding House, a refuge for women in need of a fresh start, off the ground.

Ivy cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I am so tired I think I may fall over.”

Jerked out of his discomfort, Zach stepped around the table to stand beside her. He’d caught her in his arms once already today. He’d catch her again, if need be.

“You’ll have to come over and have dinner with my family when you’re feeling rested,” Ben remarked.

The smile she gave Ben had Zach wishing for one himself. “Thank you. I would love that,” she replied.

Ben nodded her way. “You’ll let me know if your father needs anything. Right?”

“Yes, of course.” Her eyelashes whispered down over her eyes.

“G-G-Good night, Ivy,” Zach said, keeping his voice low as he ushered her to the stairway. He would’ve walked her on up to her bedroom door just to make sure she was all right, but in no way did he wish to appear overly eager. Nor did he want to seem at all inappropriate.

“Good night, Zach,” she responded, the hint of jasmine wafting to his senses as she ascended the generous staircase.

As her footsteps faded, Zach turned to face his brother.

Ben gave a long sigh as Zach walked back into the room. “All right. Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Zach braced himself. Ben’s big-brother demeanor wasn’t all that comforting, seeing as how Zach was the focus.

Ben jammed a hand on his bag. “I mean with her. With you.”

Crossing to the table, Zach stacked Ivy’s plate on top of his. “She came home to see her father. That’s what. And he insisted I have dinner at the main house tonight—not that that’s uncommon. I eat here more often than not,” he added, grasping her napkin as visions of her pressing it to her lips ricocheted through his mind. He thumbed the linen fibers, half tempted to breathe in any lingering scent of her there. “I couldn’t exactly disregard a sick man’s request, could I?”

Ben gave his head a slow shake. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

Zach swallowed hard, struggling to gather himself as he tightened his fist around Ivy’s napkin. It wasn’t Ben’s fault that Zach couldn’t seem to abandon his confidence-shattering feelings for Ivy.

When Ben rested a hand on Zach’s shoulder, his sympathetic manner had Zach squirming. “What is this with you stuttering again? I haven’t heard you stumble over your words in a very long time.”

He met his brother’s worried gaze. “I’m just fine.”

“Now you are. But just a few seconds ago, you were stuttering almost as bad as you did a long time ago.” Ben’s brow cocked in concern.

“Do you think that that fact escaped my notice?” Resisting the urge to shrug from his brother’s touch, he willed his feet to remain planted. “I am painfully aware of the fact.”

“Why now? Why all of a sudden?”

“It’s not that bad,” Zach defended, knowing, even as the words passed his lips, that it wasn’t that good, either. He might not be stuttering every sentence, but it was there, bold and sure. When Ivy was around, he seemed to have no control over his tongue, just like before. “See, I’m fine now. I haven’t stuttered for several minutes.”

“But you haven’t had a problem for a long time,” Ben argued, withdrawing his hand from Zach’s shoulder. “Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Zach threw back, inwardly cringing at the lameness of his response. He picked up the dinner plates and headed toward the swinging door leading to the kitchen.

Ben followed and grasped Zach’s arm, bringing him to a halt. Ben cleared his voice—something Zach and his brothers had defined as a this-is-serious sign. A growing sense of panic swarmed Zach’s waning confidence. He didn’t want to discuss the topic. Not now. Not ever. “Did something happen? I mean something bad?” Ben queried, dipping his head to grab Zach’s attention. “Listen, I know you’ve never really talked about what happened when you first began stuttering … and I can understand why. You were eleven. A raw age for something so traumatic.”

Any age was a raw age when it came to that. Sometimes Zach wondered if the devastating impact of that event would ever lessen. Once he’d grown tired of the effects beating him down, he’d fought back. Hard. But as much as he battled for confidence and wholeness of speech, a cavernous place in his heart still gaped wide open.

“What happened back then isn’t up for discussion.”

“The most we ever found out is that you got separated from the group of school kids you were with,” Ben continued, ignoring Zach’s declaration. “And that somehow you fell into an abandoned mine shaft. Isn’t that right?” Ben probed, obviously hoping Zach would seize the opportunity to rehash the past.

Struggling to keep his breathing even, Zach dragged in a lungful of air. He braced a hand on the doorknob as images from twelve years ago flashed through his mind.

He’d been head over heels in love with Ivy from the first grade, falling over himself to carry her books. Her lunch pail. Helping with any task, big or small, she’d allow him the privilege of doing. He’d dreamed of her more nights than not, of whisking her away from evil captors, of braving the worst of elements to carry her to safety. His whole life had hung in the balance as he’d been on the ready, waiting for any opportunity to garner her coveted attention.

She’d never shown him the slightest interest.

But when he’d tagged along with a group of kids into a cave just to be near her, and when he heard her screech in fright, he’d seized the moment. It’d been his chance to shine. To prove himself worthy of her affection. The moment he’d dreamed of.

Ivy had laughed in his face. The brilliance in her eyes sparking in the lantern’s light had grown almost brighter than the noonday sun as she’d made it clear that she didn’t need his gallant gesture.

Hugh Bagley’s riotous laughter had echoed off the cave’s dank dark walls, along with the other kids. Zach had utterly embarrassed himself. Hugh had hung back long enough to warn Zach to keep his paws off Ivy. Then he’d given Zach a rough shove, sending him stumbling backward, falling hard and long into an abandoned mine shaft.

Zach had hated confined spaces—still did. Loathed the unknown elements that hung like a mire of webs in the obsessive darkness. Still, he’d been too prideful to call for help, at first, anyway. But after Hugh and the others continued on, leaving Zach swallowed up by a darkness he’d never imagined, he’d called. Prayed. Yelled. Screamed until his voice had turned raw.

No one came.

It seemed that even God hadn’t been listening.

He’d remained trapped for two whole days, and by the time he finally found a way out—scratching and clawing at the walls until his fingers bled, the soles of his boots were worn to shreds and his words refused to come out as anything other than a stutter.