Devil's Spring Page 3

  “I’m just thinking out loud right now. She might even do it for free for a while, until we get back on our feet again.”

  “It would be a perfect solution.” Portia settled back down beside her husband. “Do you really think she’d want to watch them? I mean, they are a handful.”

  “She raised me and my brother, and we were hell on wheels.”

  She chuckled and squeezed tighter against him. “I can imagine.”

  “Well, the only way we’ll know is to ask her. I’ll see her in the morning and see what she says.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Now, I have another task for you. Are you up for it?” A slow smile spread across her lips. Her eyes sparkled, and she kissed his hand.

  Boone gave her a salacious grin. “Have I ever said no?” He flipped her over and slid on top of her. “Now stop talking, so I can get my job done.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, lifting her lips to his. “Your word is my command.”

  Chapter 5

  Boone pushed back from the table, sated after feasting on a hearty breakfast of steak and eggs. He’d arrived early at his parents’ farm and had been just in time to join his father, brother, and mother for breakfast. Of course, if he was honest with himself, he had to admit he’d timed it that way.

  He wiped his mouth with a checkered cloth napkin and turned to his mother. “Mom? That was delicious.”

  Tessie Hawke waved a hand at him as if to shoo a fly away. “Oh, Boone. It was just scrambled eggs and pan-fried steak, nothin’ fancy.”

  He stood and carried his dishes to the sink. “It’s always special when you make it.”

  His father cocked his head. “By golly, son, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were buttering up your Momma for something.”

  Boone barked a laugh. “Well, maybe I am.” He turned to his mother. “You got a few minutes before I head out to the barn?”

  “Sure, honey.” A question formed in her eyes. “But what the heck are you scheming at now? I recognize that look in your eyes.”

  He refilled her coffee cup and joined her back at the table. Ned and his father made their exit and vanished into the pre-dawn morning.

  “You know me too well.”

  She chuckled. “That I do. Okay, son. Spill it.”

  Boone leaned forward, tenting his fingers. “Well, I have an idea. It’s just a wild notion, so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it, or anything like that.”

  “To do what?” Tessie shifted forward as if to meet his thoughts half way.

  “Portia and Grace are going to be working again. We need someone to watch the kids. And I was wondering if you’d like to babysit Caroline and Joey. Full time.”

  “Wow.” She stared at him with widened eyes. “You mean all day long?”

  He swallowed hard. “Yes. But we’d pay you. At least some.”

  She straightened, as if rising to the task. “I’m not saying it’d be easy, what with all I have to do for the farm. But I could try.”

  “I know they can be a pretty big handful.”

  She slapped his hand. “I can handle them. I did it with you and your brother, for Heaven’s sakes.”

  “But that was years ago.”

  She tried to stifle a laugh. “What are you saying? That I’m decrepit now?”

  He sat back. “Hell, no. But those kids make Portia and me tired. We watched them both last night. It was a three-ring circus.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes. You just need to be set up right, son. With lots of toys and books. We could bring down all your baby things from the attic. I still have all your toys, you know.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you kept all that stuff.”

  “Well, I did. Good thing, too.”

  He stood and stretched. “What do you think of twenty bucks a day? Is that a terrible salary?”

  She looked as if she were mentally calculating the total. “Actually, that could pay for the electricity bill.”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “It would be wonderful. We’re getting behind, son. You know that. And this could help us stay afloat for a while longer.”

  “Okay, then it’s a deal. Portia starts her job in a few days. You up for it that soon?”

  “Bring ‘em on, Boone. I can’t wait.” She stood and hugged her son, holding him close. “I love you, boy. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  “Love you too, Mom.” Boone kissed her cheek, and then headed out to the barn to help with the chores, feeling lighter in his heart than he had felt in months. This might just work out, after all.

  ∞∞∞

  Grace found her mother leaning over the washing machine, sobbing into her arms. “Mom? What in the world is the matter?”

  Daisy lifted her tear-stained face to her daughter and sniffled. “Nothing. I’m sorry, honey. Just ignore me. It’s silly.”

  “Come on. Tell me. What’s bothering you?” She took Daisy by the arm and led her into the living room, where Portia sat on the floor playing with Caroline and Joey.

  Portia looked up. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “I’m fine.” Her mother waved a hand at her, as if there was nothing wrong.

  Grace guided Daisy to the couch. “There now. Just get comfortable and take a nice, deep breath.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  “Seriously. What’s going on here?” Portia said, turning to her mother after winding up the toy truck for Joey. “Are you sick, Mom?”

  Daisy blew her nose with a tissue she’d tucked into her sleeve and heaved a sigh. “No. I’m okay. It’s just…” She looked down at the children and sniffed.

  Grace put a hand on her mother’s forearm. “What is it?”

  Daisy leaned back. “I’m just mad that I can’t watch the babies. I hate what I’ve become. A gosh darned weakling, that’s what I am. And I’ll never see them now that they’re going to the Hawke’s farm every day.” She started crying again. “I’ll miss them so much.”

  Portia redirected baby Caroline back into the livingroom. She’d been heading for the porch door and was getting way too smart for her own good. “You’ll still see them. Honest.” She maneuvered around the toy-strewn floor and sat beside Daisy. “And if you want, we’ll ask Tessie if she could manage to come over here a few days a week.”

  Daisy fluttered a hand in the air. “Oh, goodness, no! I wouldn’t want to interrupt her daily routine on the farm. I know she cooks three square meals a day for her men. Just like I used to do for Dirk.” She teared up again. “Now he does all the cooking, God bless his soul.”

  Grace hugged her mother for a long time. “Mom, it’s all good. Dad loves taking care of you. It makes him feel useful, he told me that.”

  Daisy glanced up at her. “Honest?”

  “Absolutely.” She leaned in for another hug, winking at Portia over Daisy’s shoulders.

  Portia stroked her mother’s arm while keeping one eye on the toddlers. “You’ll still see the kids for breakfast and dinner. And you can read them a bedtime story every night like you always do.”

  “True,” Daisy said, sniffling a little less.

  “Portia’s right, Mom.” Grace leaned closer to meet her mother’s eyes. “And it won’t be forever. Once we start selling horses again, I can pitch in a few days a week to watch the kids. Then you’ll see them all the time.”

  Daisy reluctantly smiled. “I guess. Thanks, honey.” She put her tissue back in her sleeve and took hold of her daughters’ hands, squeezing them tightly. “God willing, we’ll work this out.”

  She dropped onto the carpet on all fours, slowly approaching the children. “Now, who wants a horsey ride?”

  “Mom! Be careful,” Grace said, running to her side.

  “Oh, stop, Gracie. You can’t tie me up and keep me on that couch. I want to enjoy them while I can.”

  The sisters exchanged a resigned look.

  Portia smiled and held out her hands palm up. “Okay, I’ll go finish the laundry, then.”

  Gra
ce shrugged. “And I’ll finish the dishes.”

  “Good girls,” their mother said between neighs. “Now be gone and let us play.”

  Chapter 6

  Anderson leaned out of the bunkhouse shower, reaching for a towel from the rack. He patted his face dry first, and then worked down his body, feeling for the first time in ages as if things might work out in his life.

  First of all, he had a gorgeous daughter. Caroline was a gift, and he’d never stop thanking God for her. Wondrous, amazing, and almost too good to be true, the baby was one of the best things that ever happened to him. Aside from Grace, of course.

  Secondly, Grace hadn’t succumbed to her awful addiction since Caroline was born. She was tempted, though, and admitted it. So he had to tread carefully on this assumption. The battle wasn’t won yet.

  Lastly, Dirk had promised Grace twenty-five percent of all sales that came into the farm after the horse shows. Even if they sold one horse a month, they could soon pay off the Jeep and have money leftover to pay down debt. And now that the electric, water, and heating bills were off their backs for a while, they’d be able to catch up on the past due payments for Grace’s therapist.

  He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Yes. Things might work out, after all.

  He combed his hair, shaved, brushed his teeth, and stepped into his khakis and blue Oxford shirt, feeling confident and hopeful. Padding barefoot into the bedroom, his eyes swiveled to Grace, who stood examining herself in her new jodhpurs in the mirror.

  “Do these pants make me look fat?” She turned back the other way, as if another angle would change her opinion.

  Anderson just smiled. “My God, Grace. You look simply Rubenesque.”

  She frowned. “What? Wait. Isn’t that just a nice way to say I’m plump?”

  “Hell no,” he said. “You have curves in all the right places. I wouldn’t change one thing about how you look, my dear.”

  “Really?” She flashed a pleading expression. “You’re not just saying that?”

  He laughed. “No. Matter of fact, if I weren’t already late because of our tryst this morning, I’d rip those clothes off you and ravage you all over again.”

  A smile bloomed on Grace’s lips. “Oh, Anderson. I love it when you talk like that. Are you sure you can’t take another ten minutes this morning?” She swayed when she walked toward him, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a deep kiss.

  Anderson felt himself grow hard, but he had a staff meeting at eight and knew they’d all be waiting for him if he dallied another second. “Honey. I want you so badly I can barely stand up. But I just can’t. Not today.” He gave her a sweet kiss. “Rain check?”

  She stepped back and pouted. “Oh. All right.”

  A knock at the door convinced Anderson he’d made the right choice. He opened it to Dirk, who stood outside holding the reins of a pretty chestnut mare.

  “Sasha’s all ready,” he said. “You up for this, Grace?”

  The horse danced in place, eager to get moving again.

  Grace smiled and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Ready, Daddy. Let’s go put Sasha through her paces.”

  ∞∞∞

  Portia pulled into the parking lot of the Green Mountain Nursery. She held onto the steering wheel of her old Toyota Corolla and let out a long-held breath. With a sigh, she looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “You can do this.”

  Wiping her perspiring palms on her jeans, she opened the door and headed for the office.

  Marty was waiting for her with several tall stacks of papers arranged on her desk. “I’ve got a bit more to teach you, Portia, before I head out next week. Pull up a chair and let’s dig in.”

  They worked for the rest of the morning, and Portia only stopped to call Mrs. Hawke, or Tessie, as she’d insisted Portia call her, twice. Both times she heard the children chattering happily with the music of Disney’s “Aladdin” in the background.

  Was that where Boone got his cocky attitude?

  She smiled at the thought and after exchanging a few words with Tessie, thumbed off her phone, feeling satisfied that Tessie was managing the kids just fine.

  It was hard coming back to the nursery, as much as she’d loved the job itself when she worked here years ago. She adored working with the plants, figuring out how to best display the flowers and vegetables, and dealing with the gardeners who stopped by to browse, buy, and often chat about their choices with her.

  But it wasn’t the same in the back parking lot, where she’d been abducted by the maniac, Murphy. She avoided the area as best as she could, and tried not to think about the cabin where he’d kept her hostage for two horrible years.

  He’s dead now. Stop thinking about him.

  It was easier said than done. She’d been in regular counseling sessions for years now, trying to make peace with the time he’d stolen from her. Even though she was so busy with her son these days, so much so that she didn’t really have time to stew over Murphy, he still lingered in her subconscious, ready to leap out and scare her in her nightmares.

  She had the same dream almost every night.

  She was back in the cabin. Tied to the bedposts, wearing the stupid damned nurse’s uniform he’d forced her to parade around in. Every time, he loomed over her, naked and hairy. She always ended by screaming, waking up Boone, and waiting in his arms for the shakes to subside.

  “Portia, honey?” Marty asked. “You okay?”

  Portia pulled herself back to the spreadsheet on the laptop Marty had been sharing with her. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m fine.”

  “You’re thinking about what happened here, aren’t you?” Marty had always been intuitive, but this time it was almost spooky.

  “How did you know?” Portia said.

  “I was worried about it all along.” She shuffled a pile of paper and set it into a hanging folder in her desk. She closed the drawer gently. “Think you’ll be okay?”

  “Of course. He’s been dead for a year now. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

  Marty beamed. “Good girl.” She patted Portia’s shoulder. “I'm so darned proud of you.”

  Portia returned a confident smile, but wasn’t sure it was real.

  Maybe being in this place would be good for her, though. Didn’t they say facing your fears was therapeutic? Well, she was definitely facing her fears. She just had to be sure not to go out in the back lot in the dark. She might even have a motion light installed out there, just to calm her nerves.

  “Okay. Where were we?” Portia asked.

  Marty continued to go over the accounts and programs used to order plants and supplies for the next two hours.

  Portia forced her brain to study and learn. Before she knew it, it was time to head over to the Hawke farm to pick up the children on her way home.

  She’d made it through her first day, and felt ridiculously proud of herself.

  Chapter 7

  Dirk leaned on the fence with one boot on the bottom rail, watching Grace put Sasha through her paces. His daughter was a little rough around the edges, but she seemed to be picking up where she left off years ago, settling into the saddle like a professional. The mare was full of the dickens, but his daughter stayed on board, in spite of a few spirited bucks. Grace let her know who was boss in no uncertain terms and Sasha seemed to settle down once she’d had a few moments of misbehaving.

  He laughed at the idea. There was never a question but that Grace was the boss, no matter what the circumstances. That pushy attitude had been hers since birth.

  He chuckled again. Yeah. She’d sure as heck put them through the ringer over the years. But now, she seemed to be finally settling down herself. She had a good husband. A beautiful daughter. And a family that loved her.

  Normally, when things were going badly with Grace, he’d see signs in Portia or Daisy. He’d hear quick whispers in the hallway that stopped when he approached. Furtive phone calls at night. And finally, an appearance by Anderson
looking haggard and worried.

  But he hadn’t seen any evidence yet of Grace reverting.

  Damn, those had been hard times. And he really felt bad for Anderson. Aside from her years of addictions, and in spite of her physical beauty, Grace had never been easy to live with. Self-centered, easily bored, and never satisfied unless she was spending money—never wisely—his daughter was one wild creature.

  Yet there was something about that girl that just tore up his heart. She’d always felt second best to Portia, her “perfect” older sister. And until Portia’s life had been nearly destroyed by that bastard Murphy, Grace had really seemed to hate her.

  Not now, though. They got along like sisters should. And recently, as a mother, Grace had seemed to mellow. She almost glowed every time she talked about little Caroline. It was like she needed that baby to ground her, to make her grow up.

  He called to her as she rounded the bend. “Doing great, honey. Now make her do some figure eights.”

  “K, Dad.” She urged Sasha into a controlled trot and stopped her at the center of the ring, tracing the pattern of a figure eight in first the trot, and then the canter.

  “Good job. She’s really listening to you. I think you’ll be winning us some ribbons this summer.”

  Grace smirked at her father. “Of course we will, Daddy. This is Mirage’s baby. She’ll win every class.”

  ∞∞∞

  On her third day of babysitting, Tessie got up her courage to take the kids to the grocery store. She found a parking spot near the shopping cart corral in the lot, realizing she’d have to maneuver both children into a cart. They had these giant kiddie carts now with two side-by-side buckle-in seats and little steering wheels for the children to pretend to drive. She wished they’d had them when her boys were little. She spotted one in the lineup and silently cheered. So far, so good.

  She slid the shifter into park, unbuckled, and jumped out to grab the cart before anyone else spotted it. Sighing with relief, she eased the cart next to the car, and then unbuckled little Joey from his seat. She set him in the cart, figured out how to snap the belt around him, which wasn’t at all like the old-fashioned buckles that you squeezed or snapped, then turned to Caroline. “Okay, little girl. Here we go.” She fumbled with the baby’s car seat buckles for a few frustrating seconds—they were so complicated these days—and then lifted the child into the cart beside her cousin. “There you go.” With both children finally secure, she grabbed her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and locked the car. “Phew. This was harder than I expected. But we’re good now. Let’s go, my dears.”