The Single Dad's Guarded Heart

“WOW, JO BETH AND HER MOM are really, really nice, don’t you think, Dad?” Dean gushed as he shoveled in the last of his second helping of gumbo, plainly anxious to run after the departing duo.

Wylie paused, a soup spoon halfway to his unsmiling lips. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he thought about this woman and her child.

Hell, who was he kidding? He found too much to like about Mick Callen’s twin sister. She had grit, and he admired that in a woman. She seemed to like Dean, which was more than could be said for the boy’s mother. Shirl had left him a mere babe in arms. He scowled. Marlee smelled—well, feminine. Sweet and sexy, the way a woman should smell.

“They’re okay,” he drawled reluctantly, letting as much time lapse as he dared. “Thing is, son, we don’t get deliveries often. Mrs. Stein didn’t say how long it’d take for Mick to recover. Soon as he’s well, he’ll fly our orders in again.”

“Dad! She said to call her Marlee. Mrs. Stein is Jo Beth’s grandmother.”

The mention of the girl’s grandparent suggested another question. Where was Mr. Stein? Junior, not the girl’s grandfather.

Divorced? Probably. Hadn’t Jo Beth rattled on and on about their life in San Diego? City folk. Even if Marlee Stein had once lived here, he knew how it was when women had a hankering for city living. Of course, he’d had other issues with Shirl than just her dislike of the backwoods. Like the fact that she’d lied to him.

“Dad…you aren’t paying attention. I finished my soup. Can I go and get the books Mick sent? One’s about bears, I bet.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you coming to say goodbye?” Dean had jumped up from the table, but he hovered half in, half out of the doorway, clearly expecting his father to follow.

Wylie’s first tendency was to tell Dean to run along. The more often he let the image of Marlee Stein burn into his brain, the more discontent would invade his jaded soul.

But he knew how excited Dean got watching planes land or take off. He couldn’t trust the kid to keep well away from the propeller. “I’m coming,” he said.

After Dean got his books and the pilot was strapped in for takeoff, Wylie hauled the boy far enough back to avoid the wind from the prop. Dean and Jo Beth began waving madly at each other. Wylie extracted his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and covered his eyes. He curbed the temptation to wave to Marlee. They hadn’t become fast friends as the kids had. Still, he stood at the end of the runway and watched her lift off much more smoothly than she’d landed.

He looked up and kept track of her slow circle. As her flight pattern brought her back over his head, Wylie noticed she dipped her wing the way Mick always did. His way of saying solong.

IN THE AIR, MARLEE COULDN’T resist making one last flyover of moody Wylie Ames. The guy didn’t even bend enough to acknowledge her leaving. He’d just covered his eyes with those damned mirrored shades and lazily hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets as he stood immobile. The arrogant wide-legged stance served to warn any newcomer off this corner of the world. His corner of the world.

“Mama, I like Dean,” Jo Beth said into the mouthpiece, as Marlee had shown her to do before the trip. “Can I call him when we get home?”

Marlee’s lips twitched. She thrust the elder Ames out of her mind. “Listen, kid, you’re a little young to be running up a phone bill talking to a boyfriend.”

“Ma…ma! Dean’s my friend—friend is all.”

“I’m teasing. How about if I let you call him next week if his dad’s auxiliary motor doesn’t come in? If it does, I guess we’ll fly it up here.” She wouldn’t have expected the possibility of a return trip to the ranger’s cabin to bring a sense of excitement. But for whatever reason, it did.

“Oh, I hope the motor comes, Mama. We can stay for lunch again. And I’ll get to see Boxer Bear.” Jo Beth bounced excitedly.

Marlee dropped her sunglasses over her eyes to cloak her reaction to the memory of their recent lunch. “Don’t count on it, tiddledywink.” In spite of a definite sexual awareness the man had stoked in her, Marlee wouldn’t put it past Wylie Ames to garnish his gumbo with fish bones next time—if he knew that she and not Mick was slated to make his delivery.

CHAPTER THREE

GLENROE LODGE SAT in a pocket carved out of conifer trees. A single fire road led in and out of the site. Someone had constructed a runway that was little better than two grass tracks long enough to clear the trees on takeoff. Bush pilots loved the adventure and the challenge of taking off and landing in tricky conditions. Marlee wasn’t so far removed from hitting the deck of a carrier in a pitching sea that she enjoyed the thrill provided by Glenroe’s runway. But she was nevertheless pleased when she set the Piper Arrow down sweetly. If Ranger Wylie Ames had seen this, he wouldn’t have accused her of bouncing a plane around.

In the backcountry, a plane’s arrival was cause for excitement. Marlee barely had her door ajar when she saw the lodge owners on the porch. Guests rushed out of rustic cabins tucked almost out of sight deep in virgin timber.

Once she left her plane, Marlee lifted Jo Beth down, then pulled out the first box of Glenroe supplies. They’d ordered mostly dry groceries, such as bagged rice, beans and pasta, canned vegetables by the case and fifty-pound sacks of sugar and flour.

Unlike Wylie, Finn and Mary Glenroe let her carry the delivery to the lodge.

“Land sakes alive.” Mary elbowed her husband’s ribs. “It’s not Mick Callen bringing our order. If my old eyes don’t deceive me, it’s his twin come home. Marlee, what a pleasant surprise. When we saw the little girl run out from the plane, Finn and I were racking our brains trying to recall if we forgot to write down a family due to check in today.” Mary wrapped Marlee in a warm hug.

Marlee introduced Jo Beth, then hastily repeated the information she’d given Wylie about Mick’s latest bout of surgery.

It wasn’t until Finn Glenroe limped over to open the lodge door and pointed to where Marlee should stack the supplies that she remembered a tractor had overturned on Finn years ago and caused him to lose one leg.

Three dogs, ranging in size from large to miniature, rushed the opening and got tangled in Marlee’s feet.

“Mama, dogs!” Jo Beth squealed. “May I pet them?”

“Lord love you for asking so politely,” Mary chimed in. “Tinker Bell, the Chihuahua is skittish. Lola, our spaniel is the offspring of our old dog, Daisy. Your mama may remember Daisy. Lucifer is Finn’s bluetick hound.’ Bout all he’s good for is eating, sleeping and hunting.” The plump woman smiled at Jo Beth. “You sit yourself down yonder in one of the wicker chairs, those animals will gather round begging for attention.”

Jo Beth’s eyes grew big. “My grandmother said we couldn’t have pets while my daddy was sick. But Pappy Jack said he and Uncle Mick might get a dog. I hope they do.” The girl sat and, sure enough, the dogs bounded up to lick her.

Two of the guests—city-folk-turned-fishermen-for-a-week by the looks of them—offered to help Marlee carry supplies from the plane. She revised her thinking that Wylie had muscled her aside because he thought her puny. She’d forgotten in the real world, men assisted women. In the military, everyone pulled his or her own weight, and that’s what was expected. She let the men take some boxes, and thanked them.

“Marlee, have you two eaten lunch? I can easily scare up sandwiches.”

Marlee started to say they had to head home straight away, but Jo Beth piped up, “Me and Mama ate lunch with Dean Ames and his daddy. Dean’s got his very own bear.”

“A bear, you say? That doesn’t surprise me much.”

Marlee halted beside Mary. “I almost forgot. Ranger Ames sent back two pie tins. I put them in one of your supply boxes.”

The last of Glenroe’s guests, who’d plunked down a sack of flour, paused halfway down the steps. “Little lady, you’ll wanta take care flying into Ames’station. Heard tales floating around a year or so ago up along Kootenai River. Mary can fill you in. Fact is, a lone woman and a girl…you can’t be too careful.”

Marlee frowned as he whirled and trotted off in response to a call from his buddies who were gathered at the lake. Colorful fishing flies fluttered around the brim of the man’s floppy hat.

“Dave Modine, don’t be an old gossip.” Mary shook a finger at his scrawny back. “Sit a spell, Marlee. I have fresh cake and coffee. Catch me up on what all you’ve been up to since last you flew in here with Pappy. How is he? Mick said he has good days and so-so ones. Finn looks at Pap’s iffy health and says we’ve maybe got a couple good years left. Then we’ve gotta think about selling out and moving to town.”

“Gosh, Mary, you’ve had this place since before I was born.” Marlee stripped off the gloves she’d donned to better grip the bulky crates, and pulled out a wicker chair. “I take it neither of your boys plans to keep the lodge?”

“Nope, we sent them off to college where they met city girls. Matt’s an insurance broker in Spokane, Washington. Lewis teaches history in Bozeman. So does his wife.” As the woman spoke, she dashed in and out of the lodge, setting plates and cups on the glass-topped table sheltered from the afternoon wind by an ivy-draped trellis. “I’m surprised to see you back in Whitepine. Mick, now I understand.”

Marlee knew, of course, that she’d have to explain about Cole. She hadn’t expected that merely mentioning his death would be so difficult. After all, it’d been a year. And in her heart she’d guessed some six months before that, they were losing him. She lowered her voice and stumbled through minimal facts.

Mary listened, sad eyes cutting to where Jo Beth sat petting an oversize cat that had curled up on her lap. “I’m right sorry, Marlee. A woman your age shouldn’t have to lose her man when she’s still raising young’uns. How do you cope?”

“The navy chaplains do a fair job preparing personnel to accept loss.” Marlee patted the chair beside her, encouraging the older woman to sit. “Mary, when you scolded that fisherman, Dave, for gossiping, did you mean there’s no truth to the rumors concerning Wylie Ames?”

“Jo Beth, honey,” Mary called out. “Inside and down the hall is a place where you can wash up if you’d like a slice of chocolate cake. Would you like milk or juice?”

“Mama, may I have cake and milk?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Ms. Mary asked you, though. You can answer her directly.”

“Grandmother said I should always ask before I take anything to eat from a stranger.”