True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(65)

Adam watched the three women chat happily about Emily’s plans and realized they shared a bond of friendship that was just as close as family. They’d created this themselves, something he wasn’t ever going to do by hanging out at the bunkhouse alone each night. It was hard to be happy, really happy, when his men—his brothers—were dead. That’s what he’d been telling himself for months now.

But he was happy—being with Brooke was making him happy, whether at night wrapped up in their secret, or during the day, working at her side. He looked at the teenagers, so involved in their own lives, oblivious to what might await them out in the world. He remembered those days, when the world had seemed full of possibilities. It could be that way again for him.

After the teenagers had gone, and Brooke wiped down the last table, she approached Adam, who was helping his grandma into her coat.

“Did I mention how much I love your dress, Mrs. Palmer?” Brooke asked, smiling.

“It catches the young people’s attention, of course,” the older woman said. “And that’s often the first battle.”

“Did they enjoy your readings?”

“I think they did. Oh, they giggled a bit, and the boys rolled their eyes, but some of them left here feelin’ more calm about their future, and that’s all you can ask.”

Brooke looked up at Adam and found that having to keep herself so friendly and neutral around him was much harder than she’d thought. They worked together much of each day, even had lunch together, but there were so many people around them at the ranch, and everyone was busy. She could concentrate on her work, or her discussion of work, and include Adam as a coworker rather than a lover.

It was much more difficult being around her best friends—who knew her so well—and Adam’s grandma, and finding a way to be pleasant and friendly, although not too friendly. She kept almost touching him, or leaning against him, all because of the physical intimacy they’d been sharing. It was making her tense, and she was glad the evening was almost over.

She put her acting skills to use and smiled up at him. “Josh and I came to town together earlier, and I told him to take the truck, and I’d find a ride home. Adam, would you mind?”

“We’d love your company, dear!” Mrs. Palmer said, patting her arm.

When the maintenance worker arrived to lock the doors, they all left, waving good-bye in the parking lot. The drive to the Widows’ Boardinghouse passed quickly, and Adam helped his grandma inside. As he got behind the wheel again, Brooke jumped into the front seat and saw Mrs. Palmer’s purple drawstring bag.

“Whoops, she left her cards,” Brooke said. “I’ll be right back.”

She dashed up the kitchen stairs and opened the door without knocking, as she always did. To her surprise, she found Mrs. Palmer still in her coat, the cane on a hook by the door, a giant plate in her hands as she ate voraciously. At the community center, she’d picked at her food like an injured bird.

Brooke came to a stop, unable to hide her grin. “Ah-ha, caught you!”

Her guilty expression gave everything away. “Oh dear. You already knew?”

Brooke nodded. “I didn’t share my suspicions with Adam.”

The widow put a hand to her chest. “Thank goodness.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

With a sigh, Mrs. Palmer crossed to the table with her usual brisk gait and set down her plate. “I’ve been . . . exaggeratin’ a bit. I was desperate to get Adam to visit and perhaps stay. Oh, every year he flew in for a couple days, or he had me come visit him, but these last six months since his discharge . . . I’ve had a bad feelin’. Even my cards were tellin’ me somethin’s wrong. You see, I never got to be with him all that much when he was a child. Funny, isn’t it? He lived right here, but his mother, my only child, resented how close he was to me. She used me when she needed me, and when she wanted to punish me, she didn’t let me see Adam.”

Her voice broke a little, and Brooke felt a pang of answering sadness that brought tears to her eyes.

Mrs. Palmer held up her hand and gave a trembling smile as she went on. “I was her reward to him. When he was good and docile and did everythin’ around the house, he was allowed to visit me for a night. His clothes were too small and smelled like cigarette smoke”—she bowed her head and had to lay her hand on the table—“but if I gave him new things, he and I were both punished.”

“Oh, Mrs. Palmer,” Brooke said, putting her arm around the woman’s trembling shoulders. “How terrible for you.”