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Big Sky Family
Charlotte Carter
Single mom Ellie James has returned to Montana for a fresh start and a new job at a local school.She sure could use the support of hometown rancher Arnie O’Brien, especially when she faces the opportunity to step up as director. But this cowboy still holds a grudge from when Ellie left him behind eight years ago.Can Arnie trust God’s plan and take a second chance on the girl who got away? He and Ellie will have to put aside the past to face the future together.
Ellie moved forward until she was only a few paces away from the man she hadn’t seen in years, the man she once loved.
“Hello, Arnie.” Her mouth as dry as the sandbox at school, she spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
His attention remained focused on her daughter, Torie, for a moment before he lifted his head. He squinted as he looked up at Ellie. There seemed to be no spark of recognition in his eyes.
“I’m sorry my daughter was so forward. I’m afraid she’s quite an animal lover.” Reaching for Torie, she said, “Give someone else a turn now, honey.”
Awareness flickered in his eyes, and he shot the child an assessing look. “Same red hair. I should’ve known.” His voice was as flat as his eyes yet she read an angry denunciation in them.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah.”
Big Sky Family
Charlotte Carter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Then Jesus said to his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
—Luke 14:12–14
Special thanks to my editor, Emily Rodmell, who made this book so much better.
Chapter One
Her heart as thick in her throat as if she’d swallowed a ball of yarn, Ellie James drove the van over the cattle guard of the O’Brien ranch. She had once loved the man who had owned the ranch—and had abandoned him eight years ago.
Guilt pressing in on her, Ellie glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at her six young preschool passengers. She’d been their teacher at Ability Counts Preschool and Day Care Center in Potter Creek, Montana, for a week. She already loved each of the four-year-olds in her class. Three had physical disabilities—cerebral palsy, spina bifida and a prosthetic leg. The remaining three were simply normal kids, including her own daughter, Victoria.
All the youngsters were the best of friends, which proved the value of mainstreaming disabled children early.
“There’s horses!” Carson, her spina bifida boy, screamed.
Billy and Shane echoed Carson’s high-pitched announcement.
Ellie flinched. “Inside voices, please.”
A dozen quarter horses grazed in a beautifully fenced pasture to the right of the drive.
“Carson’s getting anxious,” her daughter, Torie, said.
“Yes, he is.” She glanced at her sparkly eyed, little minx of a daughter, the child’s hair almost the same shade of auburn as her own. She counted God’s blessings, as she had every day since Torie had been born. “I bet you’re excited, too, Torie.”
“I wanna ride a great big horse, not a pony.”
“We’ll have to see what kind of horses they have, honey. And remember, you’ll have to take turns with your friends.”
Ellie followed her employer’s van, filled with another half dozen preschoolers, down the long, dusty drive toward the core of the ranch. Up ahead, the sun glistened off the two-story white farmhouse. The nearby barn appeared sturdy and well maintained, and beyond that a new house was being built, the framing in place.
Her nerves settled a bit. The ranch was not the rundown, shabby place she remembered. Instead, this ranch was a prosperous enterprise.
Surely Arnie O’Brien was gone by now, had moved away, found another life, the ranch sold. The new owners would be the ones who welcomed the preschoolers.
She parked behind the van driven by Vanna Coulter, the owner and founder of Ability Counts. In the corral a mixed group of six saddled horses waited for their young riders.
“All right, children. Let’s remember to help our friends.” She activated the special lift that would enable Carson to exit in his wheelchair. Anne Marie, who used crutches, stepped onto the lift, as well. Ellie lowered the lift, and the other youngsters exited in a more traditional fashion.
“Hold hands with your partner.” The children were so excited, their eyes wide, that she had trouble keeping them together. “Let’s see what Miss Vanna has for us.”
Her little clutch of youngsters started forward, Torie helping to push Carson’s wheelchair. Jefferson, her quietest boy, stayed close to Anne Marie. The morning was already warm, and most of the children were wearing shorts. Ellie suspected by the end of this outing, she’d be happy to trade her lightweight slacks for a pair of shorts, too.
As they reached Vanna and her group of students, a man in a wheelchair rolled out of the barn and came toward them.
Mouth open in stunned disbelief, Ellie watched in amazement as Arnie O’Brien approached.
Each stroke of his hands on the wheels of his chair propelled him forward. The muscles of his darkly tanned forearms flexed and corded. His shoulders were broader than she remembered. Beneath his ebony Stetson, the tips of his silky black hair fluttered in the breeze he created by his sheer strength and power. His sculpted cheekbones and straight nose spoke of his Blackfoot Indian heritage on his mother’s side.
A beautiful golden retriever mix trotted along beside him.
“Hey, kids. Who wants to ride a horse?” he called out.
The children sent up a cacophony of “I do! I do!” and raised their hands, waving them in the air.
Torie tugged on Ellie’s hand. “Mommy, the man gots a doggy. Can I pet the doggy? Can I?”
“I … I don’t know.” Her head spun. By coming back to Potter Creek, she’d assumed her path might cross Arnie’s again—if he was still living in the area. But she’d thought that would be a long shot. To find her former love still at the ranch so many years after his brother’s reckless driving had paralyzed and nearly killed Arnie shocked her. She’d expected …
She shook her head. She had no idea what she’d expected.
But she hadn’t expected the familiar fluttery feeling around her heart or the sense that she’d given up something special by leaving Potter Creek eight years ago. No matter that Arnie, barely out of a medically induced coma, had told her to leave. To go away. She’d deserted him when he most needed her. She’d broken the trust they’d had in each other.
Torie broke away from the group. She made a dash for Arnie and his dog.
Before Ellie could call her back, Torie slid to a stop right in front of Arnie.
“Hey, mister, can I pet your doggy? I love doggies. Does he like little girls? Can I pet him, huh?”
Arnie quirked his lips into a half smile. “Everyone can pet Sheila, but you have to do it one at a time.
Okay?”
Not waiting for additional encouragement, Torie squatted down in front of Sheila, who sat calmly while the child stroked her head and ran her fingers through her golden coat.
“She’s bea-u-tiful,” Torie crooned.
The other children edged forward. Ellie moved with them until she was only a few paces away from Arnie. Unconsciously, she fingered the silver cross she wore around her neck, a gift from her father the year she graduated from eighth grade. Only after Torie was born and Ellie had made her peace with the Lord had she begun to wear it again.
“Hello, Arnie.” Her mouth as dry as the sandbox at school, she spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
His attention remained focused on Torie for a moment before he lifted his head. He squinted as he looked up at Ellie. There seemed to be no spark of recognition in his eyes. Only a blank stare.
“I’m sorry my daughter was so forward. I’m afraid she’s quite an animal lover.” Reaching for Torie, she said, “Give someone else a turn now, honey.”
Awareness flickered in his eyes, and he shot the child an assessing look. “Same red hair. I should’ve known.” His voice was as flat as his eyes, yet she read an angry denunciation in them.
“It’s been a long time,” she said.
“Yeah.” No smile. A single word in bitter acknowledgment.
The sting of his response forced her to look away. She had no reason to expect anything more, but it still hurt. “Who wants to pet Sheila next? Remember to be gentle.”
She drew Torie to her side, a protective hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Sheila’s a very nice doggy, Mommy. Maybe someday we could have a doggy, too?”
“We’ll see.”
As Carson approached Sheila in his wheelchair, Arnie’s brows tugged together in apparent confusion. He glanced back at Ellie.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I’m teaching at Ability Counts Preschool. I started this week. Four-year-olds.”
“That’s ironic, isn’t it?”
Before she could explain how she’d worked hard to earn her degree in early childhood education and added an elementary school teaching credential to her résumé, Arnie’s younger brother, Daniel, sauntered out of the barn. Easily recognizable with his long legs and the cocky way he wore his hat on the back of his head, he called to the youngsters.
“Hey, what’s taking you guys so long? Isn’t anybody planning to go riding today?”
Instantly, the children lost interest in Sheila. They walked, ran and wheeled their way to the barn. In a quick maneuver, Arnie turned his wheelchair around and drove purposely after them.
Vanna and Ellie followed more slowly. A woman in her late sixties, Vanna stood nearly six feet tall and wore her gray hair closely cropped. But it was her smile and obvious love for all “her children” that endeared her to those who attended the preschool as well as their parents.
“The two young men hosting us have been a wonderful help to the school,” Vanna said. “Arnie’s on our board of directors, a very valuable resource. He’s also on the Bozeman Paralympics board. He’s trying to start a regional program to train local teenagers with physical disabilities for Western riding events. All the organization offers currently are English-style equestrian events, which leaves some of our kids without an event that appeals to them.”
At some level, Ellie wasn’t surprised that Arnie was involved with programs for people with disabilities. Of the two brothers, Arnie had been the serious, solid one, often at odds with his wilder, more rambunctious brother.
As a nineteen-year-old, Ellie had been stretching her wings, ready to try anything, while Arnie generally watched with amusement as she tried to break her neck with some half-baked stunt Daniel had cooked up.
Arnie, in his quiet way, had given her balance when she needed it. She hadn’t had that anymore when she first moved away to Spokane, to her regret.
Arnie and Daniel separated the two groups of youngsters. Daniel took his clutch of four-year-olds into the corral to ride, while Arnie lined up his kids for a lesson in grooming horses.
Needing to keep her distance from Arnie, not wanting to feel that tingle of excitement or the slashing pain of guilt, Ellie followed Daniel into the corral. He introduced the children to Marc, an older teenager who would assist the kids.
Daniel turned to Ellie. “If you can help out, that’d be …” He stopped midsentence and frowned. “Ellie?”
At his recognition, her first smile since she arrived at the ranch lifted her lips. “The bad penny has returned.”
“Hey, no, it’s great you’re back.” He glanced toward the barn and frowned. He hesitated. “Does Arnie know?”
“Yes, we’ve said hello.” Barely. His greeting had been less than enthusiastic, which she should have expected.
With the ease of a working cowboy, Daniel picked up Carson and hefted him into a special saddle on a sorrel. He began securing the grinning boy so he couldn’t fall off. “Yeah, well, that’s Arnie for you. The quiet brother. I know who’ll really be glad to see you again.”
“Who’s that?” Most of her high school friends had moved away, and she’d lost track of them.
He instructed Carson to sit tight until everyone had mounted. “Mindy. You know, Aunt Martha’s grandniece?
She’s Mindy O’Brien now.” He stood a little taller, and his chest puffed out with pride.
Ellie’s eyes popped open and her jaw dropped. “You married Mindy?” A couple of years older than Ellie, Mindy had helped her learn to knit one long-ago summer, when Mindy was visiting her aunt.
“Yep. Tied the knot last spring.” He bent a little closer to her. “We’re expecting a baby come the end of the year.”
She gasped with delight and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, that’s wonderful! We were friends only that one summer, but I remember her well.” She glanced around. “Is she here now?”
“Nope. She manages Aunt Martha’s Knitting and Notions shop. She’ll be back in time for supper.”
Daniel moved on to boost Torie into the saddle of a buckskin who’d been waiting patiently for a rider. Her skinny, bare legs poked almost straight out to the sides.
“What’s my horse’s name?” Torie asked.
“This is Patches. He’ll take real good care of you.”
“I like Patches!”
As Ellie helped Shane mount, she promised herself she’d stop by the knitting shop as soon as she could find the time. It’d be great to see Mindy again. She certainly hadn’t expected her friend to return to Potter Creek after she’d gone back to Pittsburgh without saying goodbye to anyone.
Then again, when Ellie left Potter Creek, she hadn’t expected to return home to stay, either.
But fate—and in Ellie’s case, a good dose of stupidity—
had changed the best-laid plans. An unintended pregnancy plus a man who had no intention in being a father changed a lot in a woman’s life.
She sincerely prayed this current change was one for the better.
Chapter Two
Talk about being skewered by a wild bull!
That evening on the back porch of the ranch house, Arnie forked the three T-bone steaks he’d barbecued onto a serving platter. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon thinking about Ellie James and how she’d showed up out of nowhere. He could’ve been knocked over by a newborn calf.
She taught handicapped kids.
She’d walked out on him after the accident, unable to face life with a cripple. Probably a good decision, he admitted. The best thing for her. But not for him, he thought selfishly.
Was she living some sort of a twisted penance now? Forcing herself to care for those who repulsed her?
She had a daughter, a beautiful sprite of a child with Ellie’s lush red hair that captured sunbeams and the same hint of freckles across her nose.
Where was her husband? The child’s father?
Arnie had no answers to his questions and assured himself that he didn’t want any. Ancient history. Better to leave it that way.
Daniel pushed open the screen door. “Hey, bro, Mindy’s got the salad and rolls on the table. Are we gonna eat those steaks sometime tonight, or are you gonna let Sheila scarf �em down all by herself?”
“I’m coming.” With the serving platter across his lap, he rolled into the kitchen. Always his faithful companion, Sheila was right beside him, her toenails clicking on the tile. She’d get her share of steak on the bone he’d give her after dinner.
“Oh, those look delicious.” Mindy was already seated at the round oak table, the same table where Arnie and Daniel had eaten since their childhood. The same table where their drunken father had yelled and railed at them for no particular reason and had sometimes slapped them silly.
Daniel, a rebel at heart, had always gotten the worst of it.
But those days were long gone, and even better days lay ahead.
Blonde and blue-eyed, Mindy had had a certain glow about her since she’d married Daniel. That glow had blossomed even more once she discovered she was pregnant. Having lost a child from her first marriage, she cherished the new life growing in her.
A stab of envy zinged Arnie right in his solar plexus. Why did Ellie have to come back to Potter Creek, reminding him of all the things he’d never have, like a wife and children of his own?
He selected a steak for himself, put it on his plate and passed the platter to Mindy.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you move into your new house,” Mindy said. “You’d better promise to come here for dinner every night.”
“You only say that because you want me to be your kitchen slave,” Arnie teased.
She laughed. “Never a slave. A highly valued chef is closer to the truth. And a great brother-in-law,” she added.
“I vote for the slave part.” Daniel plopped the third steak on his plate.
Arnie snorted. He reached for Daniel’s hand and Mindy’s, and they linked hands with each other. Arnie bowed his head. “Dear Lord, thank You once again for the food You have provided. Bless us and keep us safe, including little Rumpelstiltskin, who’s growing in Mindy’s tummy. Amen.”
Choking, Mindy grabbed for her glass of water. “We’re not going to name our baby Rumpelstiltskin!” she croaked.
“Well, you’d better come up with something better pretty soon.” Cutting into his steak, he gave Mindy a wink. “Uncle Arnie is growing quite fond of little
Rumple.”
Laughing, she shook her head. They ate in comfortable silence for a while; then Daniel asked Mindy, “How was the shop today?”
“Busy for a Friday. The knitting and needlepoint club is getting ready for the church’s Autumn Craft Fair. All the ladies want to have items to sell to help raise money for the church. Baby caps and sweaters are the most popular for the knitters. I had to place a new order for baby yarn this afternoon.”
“Sounds good. My wife, the entrepreneur.” Daniel forked another bite of meat into his mouth and talked around it. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. Ellie James is back in town.”
For a frozen moment, Arnie held his knife poised over his steak.
“Ellie? I remember her,” Mindy said. “Is she here to stay or just visiting her mother?”
“I guess she’s here to stay. She’s got a job with the preschool that comes out for Friday riding lessons. She was with them this morning.”
Mindy turned to Arnie. “She was such a fun person. So energetic I could barely keep up with her. She used to hang out with your crowd.”
Keeping his eyes focused on his dinner, Arnie nodded as he cut his steak. “Yeah, she hung out with us.” And as she got older, she wasn’t just hanging out. Mindy had been gone before Ellie and he had become a couple. She wouldn’t have known how Ellie had kicked the possibility of a future together to the curb when she cut out for Spokane.
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Mindy’s suddenly chirpy, singsong voice grated on Arnie’s nerves. “Maybe we can all get together again. It’d be fun to double-date sometime.”
He turned on Mindy, glaring at her, his pulse thundering in his ears. “That’s not gonna happen. Not ever.”
Just because Ellie had moved back to Potter Creek did not mean he had to see her. Or think about her. Or remember the numbing pain in his chest he’d lived with since she left.
Nope. He intended to stay far away from Ellie James.
He imagined she felt the same way about him.
The house where Ellie grew up, just outside of Potter Creek, was a one-story white farmhouse with bedrooms added onto the back, a covered porch along the front and a mudroom stuck onto one side like a wart. A detached, oversize garage and workshop had served to shelter farm equipment, and a small barn and corral had once housed Ellie’s horse, Samson, but had remained unused for years.
After Ellie’s father died two years ago, her mother had leased out all the surrounding farmland, retaining only the one acre where the house and outbuildings stood.
With a sigh of relief to be home, Ellie parked her compact car near the side entrance. As she had expected, the first week of school had been a challenging one.
Seeing Arnie this morning had been even more difficult.
He hadn’t been at all pleased to see her. Anger had simmered right below the surface of his detached manner toward her. Rightfully so, she admitted.
She’d been the one to leave. She’d started a new life hundreds of miles away. She’d felt so guilty about what she had done, she’d made some foolish mistakes.
None of which meant she had forgotten Arnie.
He’d told her to leave more than once.
Torie popped open the back door of the car. “I gotta tell Grandma BarBar about my horse.” Slamming the door closed, she raced up the steps and into the house to relate her adventures to her grandmother Barbara.
Briefcase in hand, Ellie followed at a more leisurely pace.
“… rode a horse named Patches around and around. I kept saying �Giddy up,’ but the man wouldn’t let Patches run fast.” Torie paused only briefly to take a breath. “Then another man gave us brushes, and we brushed and brushed a horse. The horse was very dusty. That made Carson sneeze.”
Sitting in the kitchen, at the long white-pine table, Grandma BarBar listened to Torie’s tale, nodding where appropriate and making encouraging noises. A little overweight, Barbara wore wire-rimmed glasses, and her hair had lost most of the auburn color it once had. The permed curls were nearly all gray.
Ellie set her briefcase on the counter and idly checked the day’s mail, which her mother had dropped in the woven basket.
“The man with the brushes showed us how to clean the icky stuff out of the horse’s hoof. He had a doggy he let me pet, and he said he had to sit in a wheelchair all the time �cause his legs didn’t work anymore. I told him Carson’s legs didn’t work, either, but I still liked him.”
Barbara lifted her head. “Ellen? Where did the school take the children to ride?”
Without glancing toward her mother, Ellie tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Turns out it was the O’Brien ranch. I’d been so busy all week, I hadn’t thought to ask Vanna where we were going.’“
“The man in the wheelchair was real nice, Mommy.”
“Yes, honey, I know.” Ellie returned the mail to the basket. Bills and a newsletter from the agricultural extension service were of no interest to her.
“It was Arnie O’Brien, wasn’t it?” Barbara said, a stunned expression on her face.
A guilty flush warmed Ellie’s cheeks. “Yes, Arnie was helping the children. So was his brother. Daniel’s married now, and they’re expecting a baby.”
“Mommy, if I learn to ride a horse really, really, really good, can I have my very own horse? Please, can I? I would loooove to have my own horse.”
“I’m sure you would, honey. But horses are expensive and take a lot of care.” Working in the child care business was not exactly a lucrative profession, though it should be. What made it ideal for Ellie was the opportunity to work with mainstreamed handicapped kids and live at home with her mother, mostly rentfree. Being near her mother, who’d been depressed since she’d become a widow, was an added bonus. Ellie hoped having an exuberant child around would lift her spirits.
“We could ask the man in the wheelchair to come take care of my horse. He was very nice.”
Ellie swallowed hard. Not a good plan, sweetie.
“Little Miss Chatterbox,” Barbara said, “why don’t you go wash up? It’s almost supper time, and I want to talk with your mother.”
Torie’s slender shoulders slumped. “I know. You want to talk about grown-up things.”
“Go on, Torie,” Ellie said, although she wasn’t eager to pursue the topic her mother no doubt had in mind. “Wash your hands and face, and don’t forget to use soap.”
Skipping and hopping, Torie did as she’d been told.
“I’d better go clean up, too,” Ellie said, eager to avoid any discussion about Arnie.
“I do hope you won’t be taking up with that young man again.”
Ellie bristled. “No worries on that score, Mother. I doubt that he’d be interested.” Her actions eight years ago had shut that door permanently. Actions her mother had advised and encouraged.
“Just as well,” Barbara sniffed.
After Arnie’s accident, Ellie’s mother had encouraged Ellie to move away from Arnie. Barbara’s brother, Bob, had been born with cerebral palsy and was severely handicapped. Watching a loved one suffer pain and humiliation haunted Barbara. She didn’t want her daughter to endure the same difficult experience.
To her shame and regret, her mother’s constant concern about Arnie’s future had added to Ellie’s ultimate decision to leave Potter Creek and move to Spokane.
The first of a long litany of mistakes she’d made that had changed her life.
With the Lord’s help, she’d turned her life around. But that didn’t mean that a proud man like Arnie would ever be able to forgive her for turning her back on him.
Early Saturday morning, a gang of volunteer construction workers showed up at the O’Brien ranch. Most of the guys were from Potter Creek Community Church. As the half-dozen pickups pulled to a stop, Arnie rolled out to meet them.
“I’ve got a big pot of coffee ready,” he announced. “And Daniel went into town early for fresh doughnuts. Help yourselves.”
Like a pack of ravenous chowhounds, the men gathered around the coffeepot on what would someday be Arnie’s back porch. Their wives and girlfriends would show up around noontime with picnic baskets full of lunch makings. Building his new house was like an old-fashioned barn raising, and he was grateful for every bit of help he got.
Since Daniel had announced he was going to marry Mindy, Arnie had planned to move out of the old ranch house and into his own home. Now that Mindy was expecting, providing his brother and his wife some extra space was even more important.
Given the cost of construction, bringing the plan to fruition would have been impossible without the help of his friends. In fact, half the community had lent a hand in one way or another.
Coffee and doughnut in hand, Tim Johnson, a licensed contractor and good friend, sauntered over to Arnie. “We’re gonna start putting up the exterior plywood sheathing today. If that goes well, next week we could be adding the siding.”
“That’s terrific, Tim. You know how much I appreciate your help. All the guys’ help.”
“No problem. If the situation was reversed, you’d be there for us.”
“I’d sure try to be.” But Arnie knew he’d never have a chance to return the favor, at least not in the same way.
“I got my chimney guy to say he’d come next week so we can get the flashings in before the siding goes up. He’s giving you a good price.”
“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it.” One of the lessons he’d learned after the accident was that he’d never be as independent as he had been before. For some things, he’d have to rely on others. That had been a hard truth to swallow, and it still didn’t go down real smoothly.
Daniel came striding across the distance from the barn, a tool belt around his waist. Apparently he had finished mucking out the horse stalls and was ready to go to work on the house.
“Hey, you guys,” Daniel said to the men still hanging around the coffeepot. “You can’t stand around drinking coffee and eatin’ doughnuts all day. We gotta get this house sealed up tight before the first snow flies.”
“Yeah, yeah. We know, Danny boy.”
“Hey, who made you the boss?”
Amid a lot of friendly joshing and gently barbed comments, the men set to work. Guys grunted as they lifted heavy loads of plywood. Hammers banged nails home. Orders were shouted out. Power saws whined.
The heat of the day rose. Sweat darkened the back of the men’s shirts and dripped from their chins.
Arnie wheeled his chair up the temporary ramp into his living room and looked around. His pride, his gratitude, were tempered by the knowledge that he’d never share this house with someone who could be his partner in making it a home.
A sense of betrayal rose bitter in his throat.
Ellie!
Even knowing she’d done the right thing to leave him, he couldn’t quite accept that the woman who had cried at his bedside and held his hand for five solid days after the accident had actually walked out of his life. She hadn’t stayed to fight for their love.
Now she was back.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Chapter Three
The white steeple soared above Potter Creek Community Church, glistening in the morning sunlight, a beacon of hope and a promise of the Lord’s love.
Holding her daughter’s hand, Ellie followed the path to the building that housed Sunday school classrooms. She’d grown up attending this church, and now her daughter would enjoy the same experience.
Somewhere between her sixteenth birthday, when she decided her friends were far more fun to be with than attending church, and her surprise pregnancy at age twenty-one, Ellie had lost her faith. Or, more accurately, she had simply ignored the teachings of the Lord.
Nothing like realizing you were going to be a single parent to drag a woman back into the folds of the church. That and praying for forgiveness of her sins.
“Will I know anybody in my Sunday school class?” Wearing a summery dress and her shiny Mary Jane shoes, Torie stretched her little legs in order to step over the cracks in the sidewalk. “We’ll have to see, honey.”
Ellie introduced herself and Torie to the teacher. In less than two minutes, Torie was playing with the other children in the class.
Kissing her daughter goodbye, she went in search of her mother, who was saving her a seat.
Off to the side of the main entrance a group of churchgoers had gathered around a table. The banner on the wall behind the table read Support Paralympics.
Ellie’s steps slowed. Her mouth dried. As though she had no control over her own feet, they angled her directly toward the table and the person she instinctively knew would be sitting there.
As she drew closer, the two men who had been blocking her view stepped aside. Arnie spotted her the moment the men moved away. His dark eyes flared momentarily before he could shutter them and coax his expression into one of disinterest. His short-sleeved sport shirt revealed the deeply tanned column of his neck and his muscular arms.
“Looks like you’re all dressed up for church,” he said.
Ellie’s tongue swept across her dry lips. “Yes. I just left Torie in the child-care room.”
“I didn’t know you ever went to church.”
“I don’t remember you as a regular churchgoer, either.”
“Good point. Having a near-death experience forces a guy to take a look at his life, make some changes.”
“Having a baby out of wedlock does the same thing.” She cringed, wondering what Arnie would think of her. Wondering if he would condemn her for sleeping with a man outside the sanctity of marriage.
His brows lifted slowly but not in condemnation.
“No husband?”
She held herself very still. “Turned out he wasn’t interested in being a daddy.” Or a husband, for that matter. Foolishly, she’d given herself too easily to a man who couldn’t or wouldn’t cherish her.
A small V formed between his brows. “Torie’s a cute kid. He’s missing something special.”
She smiled, and some of the tension that had kept her nerves as taut as a piano wire eased. “I think so, too.”
“So do you want to be one of my sponsors?” He shoved a glossy brochure across the table to her. “I’m trying to raise a couple of thousand dollars for the Bozeman Paralympics organization. We’re hosting a marathon race in a couple of weeks, and I’ve entered the wheelchair division. I want them to start a Western riding event. You know, cow cutting and trail riding. Events like that. The money will help them do that.”
“Sure, I’ll sponsor you. Vanna said something about you working with the Paralympics group.”
“A couple of years ago some guys in the organization dragged me to Bridger Bowl outside of Bozeman and took me skiing.” He handed her a pledge form.
“Skiing? How could you—”
“I’m on a wheelchair basketball team, too. We won the regionals last year.” He lifted his chin, challenging her to question him.
“Congratulations.” Her admiration for all he had overcome kicked up a notch.
“Paralympics is like Ability Counts Preschool. It’s not your disabilities that matter, only your abilities.”
She heard chastisement in his voice and knew she deserved the rebuke. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he stopped her.
“The prelude’s started. We better get inside.” He put some paperweights on the stack of brochures and pledge forms. “You can bring that back to me after church, if you’re still interested.”
“Of course.”
He wheeled out from behind the table and gestured for her to precede him inside, a gentlemanly courtesy. She stepped in front of him, fully aware that he was right behind her. His eyes were on her, his unseen gaze raising her temperature, sending a rush of heat to her face and a wave of guilt to her conscience. Her hand shaking slightly, she took a program from the greeter at the door.
Why on earth had she walked right up to his table? She’d vowed to steer clear of the man. With a firm grip on the church program, she promised she wouldn’t forget again.
She spotted her mother in a pew halfway down the first aisle and slid in beside her.
“Did you have problems with Torie?” Barbara whispered.
“No, she’s fine.”
“What took you so long?”
“I, uh, stopped to talk with someone I knew,” Ellie hedged.
“Oh, that’s nice, dear.”
Pastor Redmond, who looked to be in his fifties, stepped out onto the stage and raised his arms, asking the congregation to rise for the first hymn.
Fumbling for the hymnal, Ellie dropped her program and the pledge form Arnie had given her. Barbara bent to pick them up.
The organist played the first few bars of “Just a Closer Walk with Thee;” then the congregation and choir joined in.
Barbara nudged Ellie with her elbow and handed her back the pledge form. “With a daughter to raise, I didn’t imagine you had extra money to give away. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with him again.”
Ellie’s face flamed hot. Her jaw clenched, and she put the pledge form on the pew beside her.
Other than being a paraplegic, there was nothing wrong with Arnie O’Brien. He was trying to support a worthwhile organization, a worthwhile cause.
In Ellie’s view, that made him more able-bodied and worthwhile than the good-time Charlie who had impregnated her and then deserted her, leaving her to raise their child alone. She should have steered clear of Jake Radigan.
Just as she should stay clear of Arnie now, but for a far different reason.
Before his accident, Arnie O’Brien would never have deserted a woman or his child. That nobility, that sense of responsibility, hadn’t changed simply because he was confined to a wheelchair.
She believed that with all of her heart.
In contrast, Ellie had walked away from the man she’d loved. Scarcely the action of a noble woman. Rather the foolish action of a nineteen-year-old girl.
Propelled by her anger at her mother, and maybe at her own mindless decisions, Ellie scribbled in a larger pledge amount for the Paralympics than she could strictly afford and wrote a check on the spot.
After the church service ended, she ducked out the side door while her mother waited to speak to the minister. She hurried to retrieve Torie from her classroom and returned to find Arnie back at his table, raking in more pledges from his friends.
“Look, Mommy. Arnie’s here!” Breaking away from Ellie, Torie beelined it across the patio to Arnie’s table. Instead of stopping in front of the table, she squeezed in behind it, next to Arnie.
Sheila stood, backing away from her spot next to Arnie to avoid being stepped on by Torie. Arnie leaned back in his chair, equally startled by child’s sudden arrival. “Hey, squirt. What’s up?”
“I want to ask you an im-por-tant question.”
He glanced toward Ellie, his lips twitching with the threat of a smile. “Sure, ask away.”
Torie’s face scrunched into its most serious expression. “If my mommy bought me a horse of my very, very own, would you come take care of it for me?”
Ellie choked. “Victoria James! You’re not supposed to—”
“I don’t know, squirt,” Arnie said with equal seriousness. “That would be a big job to take care of a horse.”
“I know, and I’m too little. I get a dollar a week allowance. I could pay you that much.”
By now those standing around Arnie’s table were fully engaged in the conversation, to Ellie’s mortification.
“High time you earned an honest dollar, Arnie,” a man said.
“Isn’t she cute?” a woman said. “I bet when she’s a teenager, her father will have to guard the door and lock the windows to keep the boys out.”
Ellie had heard enough. “Come on, Torie. We have to find Grandma.”
“But Arnie hasn’t said he’ll take care of my horse yet.”
“You don’t have a horse, so why don’t we worry about who’s going to take care of it if and when you have one?” With an apologetic smile, she handed the pledge form and check to Arnie.
He glanced at the form and the check, then looked up at Ellie. “Preschool teachers must earn more than I realized.”
“No such luck, but a guilty conscience can make a person feel generous.”
“No need for you to feel guilty.”
That was nice of him to say, but she knew it was a lie.
He held up the check. “Don’t you want to hold off on this in case I don’t actually finish the race?”
“You’ll finish. I don’t doubt that for a moment.” She took Torie’s hand. “Tell Arnie goodbye, honey. Grandma’s waiting for us.”
With her daughter in tow, Ellie hurried toward the parking lot. Having such an outgoing child had its disadvantages.
A muscle pulsed in Arnie’s jaw as he watched Ellie and her daughter scurry away. His hands grasped the armrests of his chair, turning his knuckles white.
He had to get a grip on his volatile emotions—a boiling mix of anger, longing and grief—whenever Ellie showed up.
In eight long years he still hadn’t figured out how to do that.
Chapter Four
“Shane, we don’t throw sand at our friends.” Ellie quickly corrected the boy’s behavior Monday morning, during outdoor playtime at the preschool.
It was the second week of classes, and she already felt more comfortable with her students, knew all their names and their differing personalities.
They seemed more at ease with her, as well.
On this hot September day, most of the children wore shorts and a T-shirt, their arms and legs darkly tanned from a summer in the sun.
Squinting, Ellie scanned the play yard to check on her other students just as a van pulled into the parking area. A moment later, Arnie rode the wheelchair lift down to the ground. Sheila hopped right off and waited for him.
Ellie’s heart stuttered an extra beat and her breathing accelerated. She wondered what had brought Arnie to the school.
Some of the children recognized him and his dog.
They raced to the wire fence, shouting his name. Torie was there first.
“Arnie! Arnie! Did you bring your horses?” she cried.
“Not today, squirt.” He reached through the fence to tweak Torie’s nose. “Hey, kids, you having a good time at school?”
They clamored to answer him all at once, a chorus of high-pitched, excited voices.
Without giving it any thought, Ellie strolled toward the fence and Arnie. He looked dressed for wrangling cows, well-worn, faded jeans, blue work shirt and black Stetson firmly in place. Despite the wheelchair, he managed to radiate sinewy strength, constrained only by his self-confidence.
“Good morning.” Her voice a little husky, she forced a smile. “I hope my check didn’t bounce already.”
His lips twitched, and a sparkle appeared in his dark eyes. “No one has deposited it yet. Should I be worried?”
“No, of course not,” she gasped. “I just thought—”
“I came by to see Vanna. There’s a school board meeting Thursday night. They’re going to vote on Vanna’s request to turn Ability Counts into a charter school, kindergarten through third grade.”
“Yes, Vanna mentioned that to me.” Vanna’s dream of expanding Ability Counts from four preschool classrooms to a school for all primary grades was a big reason Ellie had been so eager to accept the job here. The school board hearing was a first step.
“I’m going speak to the need for specialized services for disabled kids. I wanted to touch base with her before the meeting, and I was in town, anyway.”
“I think she’s in the office.”
“Good. See you later, kids.” He started to roll up the ramp, then stopped. “Are you coming to the board meeting?”
“Yes. Vanna wanted as many supporters as possible to attend. We’ve asked all the parents to be there if they can.”
He held her gaze for a moment, making Ellie wonder if he was pleased or dismayed by her answer. Then he nodded. “I’ll see you Thursday night.”
He wheeled away, Sheila trotting along with him. Ellie exhaled. After all these years, he shouldn’t have any effect on her. No racing pulse. No shallow breathing. No ache for what might have been.
But he did affect her. Like a direct shot of caffeine into her veins. A shot she’d better get over soon, before she made a fool of herself.
“All right, children,” she said, shaking off the image of Arnie’s muscular arms and his sweet smile for the kids. “Let’s go inside for story time. Can you all please line up at the door?” She gently herded the youngsters toward the classroom.
Before she had the children settled down, Peggy Numark appeared at the classroom door. Short and petite, Peggy looked like a pixie and would never be taken for the fifty-year-old teacher that she was. More like a mother of one of the children.
“Ellie, Vanna would like to see you in the conference room. She asked me to take your kids for a few minutes.”
Ellie frowned. “Now?”
Without any further explanation, Peggy said, “Come along, children. Miss Peggy has the best story she’s going to read to you.”
Dutifully, the children trailed after the energetic teacher.
With a puzzled shake of her head, Ellie headed for the conference room, located near Vanna’s office. She arrived to find Arnie still meeting with Vanna.
Ellie slowed her pace. “Peggy said you wanted—”
“Yes, come in, please.” Vanna waved her in the door. “I need to pick your brain a bit.”
“She already picked mine,” Arnie said, deadpan. “And discovered it was empty.”
Ellie’s lips twitched. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Not when you know I spend my days talking to a dog and a bunch of cows,” he countered.
Sheila shook her head, rattling her collar, as though she disagreed with Arnie’s statement.
Choosing a chair opposite Arnie, Ellie sat down at the long table. “What did you need?” she asked Vanna.
“I want it to be obvious to the school board members at the meeting Thursday that we have a lot of support in the community,” Vanna said. “I’m not quite sure how to do that in a subtle, but very visible, way.”
“I suggested everyone could wave little American flags,” Arnie said. “I think Nate at the grocery store probably has some.”
“I’m not keen on that idea. Not specific enough.” Vanna’s brows lowered in thought, and she rubbed her left arm.
“Maybe a campaign-style button,” Ellie said. “Something big enough to be seen at a distance, with Ability Counts printed on it.”
Vanna brightened. “Well, now …” She turned to
Arnie. “What do you think?”
“I’ve always thought Ellie was more than just a beautiful woman. She’s smart, too.” His steady gaze latched onto hers, but he didn’t smile.
For a moment, Ellie couldn’t breathe. Was that what he’d really thought of her? Could that possibly still be true? It was impossible to read his thoughts when he sent such a mixed message.
Vanna eyed Arnie with interest and smiled. “Then I’d say we have a winner. Can you find out where to get those buttons made?” she asked Ellie.
“I may have to drive to Manhattan, but a copier store should be able to do the job.”
“Perfect,” Vanna announced.
She stood to end the meeting, and Ellie followed suit, still hearing the echo of Arnie’s words in her head. Beautiful and smart.
After school, Ellie drove the ten miles to Manhattan. She made the arrangements for the buttons to be ready in time for the meeting, then decided to stop on the way home to say hello to Mindy at her shop in Potter Creek.
“How come we’re going to a knitting store?” Torie asked.
“A friend of mine works there. I want to say hello to her and have her meet you.” Ellie checked the rearview mirror and eased out of her parking spot. “Does she have any kids I can play with?”
“I’m afraid not.” Reversing direction, she drove out of the parking lot and turned west, toward the center of Potter Creek. The small town served a population of maybe five thousand people in the surrounding area. For any major shopping excursion, the locals drove to Manhattan, or all the way to Bozeman. “Maybe she’ll have some yarn crafts you’d like to make.”
“Are you going to buy some yarn to make me something?”
“I might. You could use a new sweater for fall.” Main Street looked much like it always had: grocery, hardware and drugstore on one side of the street; a diner, real estate and newspaper offices on the opposite side. At the far end of town, a brick building served as city hall and was adjacent to the popular public swimming pool. A stark contrast to downtown Spokane or even to the suburbs of that sprawling, big city with its traffic congestion and the press of a growing population.
To its advantage, however, Potter Creek was a size that a person could get her brain wrapped around, a comfortable, friendly place to live. Schoolkids rode their bikes on Main Street, and neighbors caught up with local news while lingering in front of the grocery store.
Home, Ellie thought. She’d stayed away too long.
She pulled up in front of Aunt Martha’s Knitting and Notions. The front window featured posters of class offerings and autumn specials on wool yarn. A cute knitted vest adorned a clear-plastic mannequin.
“We’re here,” Ellie announced. “Out you go.”
Dozens of memories flooded Ellie. Aunt Martha teaching her to knit, despite Ellie’s initial lack of enthusiasm. Making friends with Mindy, dragging her into attempting new things, like floating down the river on a homemade wooden raft. When the raft fell apart, they both nearly drowned. The ever-responsible Arnie had to rescue them.
A frown tugged at her forehead. The reckless driving accident with his brother behind the wheel had stolen so much from Arnie, not just the use of his legs, but his self-image, as well. Adjusting to his new circumstances had to have been difficult.
Guilt tightened a knot in her stomach. You should have stayed to help him, she thought.
Holding Torie’s hand, Ellie stepped inside the small knitting shop, setting off tiny wind chimes above the door.
“Oh, my …” she murmured. Over the years the shop had been upgraded and was chock-full of merchandise. In addition to bins of all types of yarn, one whole corner area displayed needle-craft samples and bins of thread in every color imaginable.
Mindy appeared from a back room. “Ellie? It’s you, isn’t it!” Arms open wide, she rushed forward to embrace Ellie. “Oh, my goodness. Daniel said you were back in town, but I wasn’t home when you came to the ranch and I missed seeing you at church. I’m so glad you dropped by.”
“I had to check out my old haunts, right?” One of those smiles that comes from the heart and lightens your spirits lifted Ellie’s lips. “I can’t believe the changes you’ve made to the shop. And by the way, I understand double congratulations are in order, Mrs. O’Brien, on your marriage and your pregnancy.”
A quick flush colored Mindy’s cheeks as she laughed. With her blond hair and fair complexion, blushing had once been the bane of her existence, particularly when Daniel had flirted with her.
“And this must be your daughter Daniel was telling me about,” Mindy said. “I understand she wants a horse of her own.”
“I’m afraid that’s not in our immediate future. Victoria, say hello to Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Hello.” Torie shook hands with Mindy. “Do you like horses, too?”
“I certainly do. My husband raises some of the finest quarter horses in the whole state.”
Torie put on her most serious expression. “Maybe someday my mommy could buy a horse from you.”
Ellie hooked her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “I’m afraid Torie’s a bit fixated on horses these days.”
“Most kids around here are.”
“I told Torie you might have some craft projects suitable for her.”
Mindy brightened. “I do. I’ll be getting more in before Christmas, but come see what I have now.” She took Torie’s hand and walked her to the back of the shop.
Ellie followed. When she was living in Spokane, working full-time as a waitress and taking as many college classes as she could manage, plus caring for Torie, it had been hard to make friends.
Coming back to Potter Creek meant she’d have more time and have the chance to renew old friendships. Perhaps that was what coming home was all about.
“Do you run the shop all by yourself?” Ellie asked.
“Mostly. Sometimes Aunt Martha fills in for an afternoon or two to give me a break, and I have Ivy from the diner stand in for me occasionally.”
Ellie frowned. “How are you going to handle things after the baby arrives?”
She smiled brightly. “Oh, I may close down for a few weeks. Then I’ll bring him or her along with me. That should work for the first year or so.”
“Watch out for those toddler years,” Ellie warned, thinking her friend might not fully realize what an energy drain a child could be. “There’s no keeping them corralled in a playpen then.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Mindy conceded.
While Ellie and Mindy caught up with their respective lives Torie searched through the assortment of craft possibilities.
“So, um, where’s Torie’s father?” Mindy asked.
“I haven’t a clue. Apparently, being a father wasn’t on his to -do list.” Jake Radigan hadn’t been a college student, but he’d hung out with some of the guys, showing off his motorcycle, revving the engine. Apparently he was a good mechanic, because he kept his friends’ junker cars running, working out of a garage behind his rental house.
His “wild side” had attracted Ellie, she supposed. His lack of roots.
That same lack of roots meant that he rode off into the sunset on his bike virtually the moment he learned Ellie was pregnant.
In retrospect, that was probably for the best.
Torie returned from her search in the back of the shop with an “Old Woman in a Shoe” craft that she could lace with red yarn and hang on her bedroom wall.
“I found some yarn that would make a pretty sweater for me,” Torie announced.
“Well, then, let’s take a look.” Ellie followed her daughter to a wall filled with bins of yarn. Mindy joined them.
Torie held up a skein of emerald-green sport-weight yarn. “The green goes with my eyes.”
“Yes, it does, sweetie,” Mindy announced.
Ellie thought so, too. The pale green eyes were the only trace of Torie’s father she saw in her daughter.
“All right, honey. We’ll have to pick out a pattern you like.” During the evenings, sitting with her mother, watching TV, would be a good time to knit.
After pouring over pattern books and making a selection, Ellie was paying for their purchases when Mindy said, “You’ll both have to come out to the ranch for supper one day soon.”
Credit card in hand, Ellie stiffened. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“You must. My favorite brother-in-law is the best cook in the world. He and Daniel remodeled the kitchen years ago, so it’s totally accessible for him. You should taste his chili.” She brought her fingertips to her lips and kissed them. “Absolutely delicious … if you don’t mind burning your tonsils out, as Daniel would say.”
A nervous titter escaped Ellie’s lips, but eating dinner with Arnie—at the ranch or anywhere else—wasn’t on her to -do list. Or, more importantly, on Arnie’s list, despite what he’d said about Ellie’s intelligence and looks. Those words had been for Vanna’s benefit, hadn’t they?
“It’s sweet of you to ask. But you know, I’m still settling in.” She gave Mindy another quick hug. “We’ll get together soon, I promise.” Sometime when Arnie is far, far away.
“But you and Arnie used to have a thing going. I thought you’d want to—”
“That thing was a long time ago, Mindy.” Ellie didn’t imagine for a moment that Arnie would want a repeat of their past. “Sometimes you just can’t go back.”
Waving goodbye to Mindy, Ellie ushered her daughter outside.
A few minutes later, as she pulled into the driveway of her mother’s house, she thought about how the tension between her and Arnie—the undercurrent of anger he exuded—was her fault.
In a small town such as this, she would be seeing him often. She needed to clear the air. Apologize. Whether he acknowledged or accepted her apology was up to him.
She needed to make the effort.
Chapter Five
Wiping her sweaty palm unobtrusively on her skirt, Ellie braced herself Thursday evening for whatever might happen at the school board meeting. She kept a smile on her face, desperately trying not to let her nerves show. Whatever happened tonight was important to the future of Ability Counts.
Standing at the back door of the Potter Creek Elementary School multipurpose room, she greeted parents and supporters of Ability Counts as they arrived. She gave each person one of the campaign-style buttons she’d ordered in Manhattan so they could demonstrate the community’s support to the school trustees.
They were, after all, elected officials.
“Hello, Mrs. Axelrod,” she said, handing Nancy’s mother a button. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
Mrs. Axelrod pinned the red, white and blue button on the lapel of her lightweight jacket.
Smiling, Ellie turned to greet the next parent coming in the door.
Instead of a parent, however, it was Arnie who wheeled into the multipurpose room, Sheila trotting proudly along beside him. Dressed in a long-sleeved Western-cut shirt with a turquoise bolo tie, Arnie looked every bit the contemporary Indian chief come to take charge. His white shirt set off his sun-burnished complexion, and the squint lines formed a fan at the corners of his eyes.
“Looks like you’re the flower girl passing out roses at a wedding,” he said.
Her eyes flared at his mentioning a wedding, and she struggled to dismiss the comment as meaningless. “As you know, we’re hoping for a sea of red, white and blue to influence the board members.”
“Hope it works.” He patted his chest right over his heart. “Pin away.”
She hesitated. Everyone else had pinned on their own button.
Trying for casual, she handed Arnie the box of pins, took one and bent down to pin it on his shirt. Her face close to his, she caught the hint of mint on his breath and the faint aroma of a woodsy aftershave on his smooth cheeks.
Her fingers trembled as she slid the pin through the fabric of his shirt.
“Careful. I bleed easy.”
She lifted her gaze from the pin to his eyes. Dark. Deep as a mountain pool. Captivating. They immobilized her with their intensity.
She pricked herself. “Ouch!” Stepping back, she sucked on the tip of her finger, tasting blood.
His lips curved up ever so slightly. “Maybe I ought to pin it on myself.”
“Good idea.” A tremor shook her voice, and she licked her lips. She handed him the pin, which he attached to his shirt with ease.
“Nothing to it.” The amused crook of his brow caused a little flip of Ellie’s stomach.
Only when he wheeled down the aisle did Ellie take another breath. That man had the most amazing effect on her, not that it mattered. Obviously, her effect on him was negative, a keep-away-from-me reaction, as though she were the carrier of a dreaded disease.
Except he’d asked her to pin the button on him.
The closest she’d been to him in the past eight years.
A shiver raised gooseflesh on her arms. Close enough for a kiss.
The multipurpose room had begun to fill, and the school trustees were beginning to take their places on the risers at the front. Five of the six trustees were men; two of them she recognized as merchants in town. The one woman, who looked to be in her sixties, was wearing an Ability Counts pin. No doubt Vanna’s friend and a supporter.
When the chairman gaveled the meeting to order, Vanna signaled Ellie to come sit next to her in the front row. She started forward before she realized she’d have to squeeze past Arnie, whose wheelchair was parked at the end of the row, in order to get to the seat Vanna had indicated.
So be it. Being up front to support the expansion of Ability Counts was part of her job. Her career. Arnie would simply have to live with it.
So would she, Ellie thought as she eased past first Sheila, then Arnie, to take her seat.
“How’d we do for supporters?” Vanna asked.
Ellie showed her the box of pins. She’d started with fifty, and now there were less than ten.
Vanna smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. “Our families are loyal. The trustees have to give us that.”
Ellie agreed. But that didn’t mean the trustees would vote their way. Based on her research, no school board in the state of Montana had yet approved a charter school, claiming all the limited tax dollars should be used to support public schools. If Vanna could pull this off, it would be amazing.
It didn’t take long to get through the agenda to the request from Ability Counts.
“I believe Ms. Coulter wishes to speak to her request,” the board president said.
Vanna stood. “I do, Mr. Wright. Thank you.” She made her way to the podium.
Ellie remembered having Patrick Wright as her government teacher in high school. Retired now, he’d been an adequate teacher, she supposed, although the subject hadn’t been of much interest to her. Now she wished she’d paid more attention.
“Honorable trustees, ladies and gentlemen,” Vanna began. “I’m sure most of you are aware of Ability Counts Preschool and our specialized program to integrate disabled youngsters and mainstream them with �normal’ children. Although, in my view, every child is an individual with unique abilities, so using the term �normal’ is a misnomer. I’m grateful that a good many of our parents and friends are here this evening to support turning Ability Counts into a charter school.” She turned to the audience. “Thank you all for coming.”
Vanna went on to describe studies that proved the value of early mainstreaming of disabled children, the benefits to the normal students as well and the advantages to the community such a school would provide.
Then she invited Arnie to speak.
He wheeled himself to the podium. Vanna handed him the microphone before she took her seat again with an audible sigh and an expression that suggested she was bone weary.
Ellie gave her employer an encouraging smile.
Arnie addressed the trustees with Sheila sitting alertly at his side, almost as though she was witnessing to the need for special programs for the disabled, as well.
“As most of you know, I became disabled as an adult. I’d already ridden a horse, played football, gone out on dates. But imagine what it’s like for a child who spends his entire life with his peers literally looking down on him, running faster, jumping higher than he can. How does he gain his self-esteem when he is so different? Not by shunting him off with others who have the same problems. No, he or she has to be accepted and befriended by those who don’t see him or her as different.
“That’s what Ability Counts accomplishes by integrating young children in a way that makes them all feel normal.”
Ellie’s heart expanded with pride in the school’s accomplishments and in Arnie’s ability to communicate the value of Vanna’s dream. She knew the audience didn’t see Arnie as disabled. Not in any way that mattered. He was far too competent and confident, a natural leader. A man to be reckoned with.
She wished her mother could see Arnie as she did. Surely she’d realize how lucky any woman would feel to be loved by such a man.
And how stupid Ellie felt for having walked away from even the possibility. At nineteen, she’d been too young to fully realize what she was giving up.
A few parents took a turn at the microphone; then the trustees stated their positions.
The one woman on the board supported Ability Counts. The men, however, cited practicalities: budget limitations, public funds for public schools, adequate existing programs.
The final vote was five to one against creating a charter school.
Dipping her head in disappointment, Ellie closed her eyes and tried to accept the trustees’ verdict. In the past few years, she’d learned that God’s will didn’t always coincide with what she wanted—or thought she wanted.
But in the end she had to trust the Lord knew what He was doing.
That was a leap of faith that didn’t always come easily.
Vanna patted her on the shoulder. “Chin up, my dear. This was only the first skirmish. The battle has barely begun. Let’s have a cup of coffee and mull over our strategy for the next round.”
She smelled of citrus. Oranges ripening in the sun, he thought.
Using the hand controls of his specially equipped van, Arnie drove to the diner after the meeting. He chided himself for letting Ellie get so close. For agreeing to have coffee with her and Vanna. For risking the temptation of being near her again.
What had he been thinking?
He had to be the biggest glutton for punishment this side of the Continental Divide. If he kept this up, it would be all downhill from now on.
“Your master isn’t the swiftest wheel on the chair,” he said to Sheila, who was safely harnessed on the floor behind him.
Apparently agreeing, Sheila whined and laid her head down on her outstretched paws.
Vanna and Ellie had beaten him into town. Vanna held open the diner’s door, and he wheeled inside.
The interior of Potter Creek Diner was decorated in early Western decor with paneled walls, old photos of rodeo cowboys and stuffed animal heads mounted around the room. Although Arnie had done some deer and elk hunting in the days when he’d been able to walk, he’d never been eager to have the animals stuffed and mounted in his house. It was enough that they’d provided meat for the family and neighbors.
“Hey, Ivy.” He wheeled his way through the maze of tables to where the owner’s daughter had made room at a table for his chair. No other customers were around, and it was only an hour until closing. “Not much action here during the late shift this evening.”
“It was busier early.” In her early twenties, Ivy had dark eyes and brunet hair, which she wore in a ponytail when she was working. “I don’t mind working late. When it’s quiet, I can get my homework done.”
“College, right?” he asked.
A flash of pride shone in her eyes. “I’m majoring in fine arts, but I’ve gotta take a whole bunch of art history classes if I want to graduate.”
“Good for you,” Vanna said, taking the seat opposite him. “Do you know Ellen James? She grew up in town and came back to teach in my preschool. This is Ivy Nelson.”
The two younger women greeted each other. Ellie sat down in the chair next to Arnie. Close enough that he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in her striking blue eyes. He inhaled, wondering if he could catch that citrus scent again, then chided himself for being such a fool.
“What can I get for you folks?” Ivy asked. “Just coffee for me,” Vanna said.
“I’d better have decaf,” Ellie said.
Arnie looked up at Ivy. “Make mine the leaded variety, and I’ll have a dish of your double dark chocolate ice cream.”
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