Heart of a Rancher. Renee Andrews
white-blond hair, luminescent in the moonlight, shifted against her shoulders as she nodded. “Yes, busy. Noisy. And even though we were supposed to be relaxing, I don’t remember it that way. But this is so serene.”
John found it extremely satisfying to hear her describe his own feelings about the ranch. MaciJo had considered the setting boring, a place where no one would want to stay for life. In fact, the one girl he’d fallen for had been determined to find a way out of Claremont, and she’d done just that when she got the scholarship to Vanderbilt. But Dana knew everything about life in the city and about life with an abundance of money—something else MaciJo had wanted that John couldn’t provide—yet she appreciated the tranquillity and simplicity of the ranch. “One thing I remember most about my parents,” he said. “They called this place God’s country. I’d have to agree.”
“Georgiana mentioned that your parents had passed on and that you handled the farm and took over raising your younger brother while Landon was overseas.” She pushed back in the rocker, then added, “That must have been hard.”
She had no idea. John should’ve realized that Georgiana had probably filled her in on his past. Women had a natural urge to share, and John had hardly revealed anything about that time with anyone. But hearing her bring it up brought back the memories of those years and how he’d struggled to make ends meet. He’d been so focused on work and holding on to the farm that he’d almost lost Casey, both physically and spiritually.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, and John realized that he’d been so caught up in the painful memories that he hadn’t answered her.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just that I went through a lot then, but we made it. With God’s help, Casey and I made it.”
“What happened?”
John swallowed, unsure of how much he wanted to tell. Sure, he’d been chatting online and talking on the phone with her for several months, but he didn’t really know her yet, and he hadn’t opened up with anyone about how difficult that time had been.
She cleared her throat. “You probably don’t want to talk about it. I guess it’s because I didn’t have much of a family—just my father and my brother—that I feel drawn to know about other family relationships. But I shouldn’t have asked.”
Typically he would say that it was okay, and stop at that, but for some reason he felt closer to Dana than he had with anyone in a very long time, and he felt compelled to share the rest. “I couldn’t pay the bills with money from the farm, so I took another job at the feed store and then another job working the third shift at the steel plant, the job I still have.”
“You were working around the clock, weren’t you?” Her rocker creaked as she leaned toward him. “Like the schedule you still have now?”
“My schedule now is a breeze compared to life back then. It was tough, and I didn’t handle it that well.” He tilted his head to see if he heard any voices from inside the house, and he heard the faint sound of Georgiana and Landon talking. He was glad they were occupied, because he wouldn’t want Landon to hear this confession. Sure, Landon knew John had had a hard time, but he’d never told his older brother how guilty he felt about Casey’s accident.
She shifted again in her seat, her body language telling him that she was interested in his past and in his struggles. “Sounds like you didn’t sleep much back then, either,” she said.
“I got enough, but sleeping wasn’t the issue. Not being there for Casey—that was the bigger problem.” He let the emotions he’d pushed to the recesses of his mind and heart ease forward and continued. “He got in with a bad crowd, turned away from his faith, away from me, and turned to alcohol.” John took a deep breath, pushed it out. “I was so focused on work that I didn’t even realize I was losing him, not until he got behind the wheel drunk. He had his girlfriend with him, our preacher’s granddaughter, Nadia.”
She stopped rocking, and although he turned his focus to the fields, he could sense that the woman next to him had turned her full attention to him. “Did he—did they have an accident?”
John nodded. “He was speeding when they hit a tree not far from where you had your accident today. Casey was banged up, but he was okay. But for a while there, we didn’t know if Nadia would make it. I’ve never begged God so hard to help, to heal her and forgive Casey. And to forgive me.” He hadn’t admitted the blame to anyone, but he did now. Oddly, relief flooded him with the admission.
“I’m so glad they were both okay.” She paused. “Casey is better now?”
Pride at how far Casey had come since that horrible night filled John’s soul. “Found God again and turned away from the wild group at school. Got the grades he needed to get accepted to Alabama, and he’s doing well there. He’s taken an interest in web design and has already created a few websites. His first semester was in the fall, and he made the dean’s list.” He grinned.
She smiled. “And Nadia?”
“She’s at the high school. She’s a year younger, but they are still dating. He comes home every few weeks to see her. It’s only a couple of hours’ drive from Tuscaloosa.”
“That’s wonderful. And I’m guessing your relationship with Casey is stronger, too, because of what you went through together? Going through hard times brings people closer, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” John still didn’t look at her, but kept his attention on the fields, the moonlight, the grazing livestock. Surprised at himself for opening up this much, he didn’t think he could look at her now, because if he did, she might see too much, become too close. He’d kept his distance from others, particularly from women, since the pain of MaciJo. Working around the clock and tending to the farm helped him maintain his distance and kept his dating to a minimum, but over the next few weeks he suspected he’d spend more time with Dana Brooks than he had with any female in the past decade. And the fact that he felt comfortable with her, comfortable enough to tell her about the guilt of Casey’s accident, didn’t bode well. Because in a month, she’d go back to the city. He cleared his throat, prepared to tell her that he should head home and get some sleep before his shift started at the steel plant.
But then her words stopped his progress.
* * *
“I never went through any hard times like that, didn’t have any struggles in life at all, until those last weeks with my father. And it’s sad to say that I don’t think we ever really knew each other until we went through that time together. Maybe it was because my mother died when I was born that he didn’t want to open up, didn’t want to get hurt again. But even though I was with him often, I didn’t really know him until he realized he was dying.” She remembered those last weeks, when he finally acknowledged what was important and tried so hard to make sure she understood and didn’t make the same mistakes that he’d made. “I just wish we’d had more time together like that, and I wish Ryan would have spent more time with him then, instead of concentrating so much on keeping the company going while Daddy was sick.”
She barely held back her tears, and when John finally turned and looked at her, his golden eyes filled with understanding, her tears slipped free. He’d opened up to her tonight, and now she’d done the same, telling him more than she’d shared with anyone but Ryan. And her brother hadn’t understood, no matter how many times she’d tried to explain the change their father had undergone before he died, but the handsome cowboy sitting next to her on the porch did.
He leaned toward her, reached out and rested his hand on top of hers. The warmth of his palm covered her skin, his fingers gently wrapping around the sides of her hand. “It’s good you got to spend that time with him.”
“I feel as if I just dumped a lot on you,” she said, blinking past the tears and forcing a smile. “Don’t know what came over me.”
He returned the smile, the mood shifting and the tension between them easing with the gesture. Then he squeezed