Her Hill Country Cowboy. Myra Johnson
side except to shower, change clothes and eat. Not that Christina had been aware the first few weeks while she’d lain in a coma, but later, as she recovered, her father had confirmed her suspicions.
Then five months in a rehabilitation hospital, where Christina had a talkative teenage roommate for the first several weeks, then a nosy grandmotherly type for the remainder of her stay. The past year and a half, she’d lived at home with her parents. And Gracie, of course. Christina blessed the day the service dog had come into her life. Gracie’s training included sensing Christina’s agitation whenever memories of the accident intruded or something else triggered an anxiety attack. A nudge with a wet nose would remind Christina to breathe again and to focus on the present, not the unchangeable past or the uncertain future.
Like now. As Christina sat at the small table in the kitchenette, Gracie’s soft whine alerted her to the fact that she’d scarcely eaten half of the delicious meal Mrs. Peterson had sent over. She tore off a piece of ham and offered it to the dog, who happily gobbled it down.
Concentrating on the tasty supper and Mrs. Peterson’s kindness helped Christina put the stress of the day behind her. After washing the dishes and stacking them on the tray to return in the morning, she unpacked a few things and arranged her daily medications in the bathroom medicine cabinet. She didn’t like having to depend on prescription meds and prayed the day would come when all these drugs for depression, anxiety and migraines would no longer be necessary.
She swallowed her nighttime pills, then changed into her pajamas and propped herself up in bed with the novel she’d brought along. Gracie hopped up beside her and snuggled in close, laying her head on Christina’s knee.
Before Christina had read two pages, her cell phone rang. Recognizing the chime she’d assigned to her mother, she snatched the phone off the nightstand. “Hi, Mom.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” Her mother couldn’t disguise a note of worry. “Where are you? Did you get there okay?”
“All tucked into my cozy little cabin. A day late, but I’m safely here.”
“I was worried after you called from the motel last night. You sounded so frazzled.”
“I told you, it was just travel stress. You were right—I had no business trying to drive straight through in one day.”
“Well, I’m glad you had sense enough to stop for the night and get some rest.” Mom sighed through the phone. “Honey, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”
Gracie crept closer and nuzzled Christina’s arm. Her expressive eyes seemed to say, You’re fine. I’m here. Just breathe.
“Mom, I told you, I need to do this. Yes, it’s going to be hard, but I’ve got to start depending on myself again.”
“But you could have done so right here in Little Rock, with Dad and me close by if you needed us.”
Christina combed her fingers through Gracie’s thick coat and sought the words to help her mother understand. “I love you, Mom. And I can never, ever thank you and Dad enough for how you’ve been there for me every step of the way. But if I’d stayed in Little Rock, it would be too easy to fall back on your support when any little thing went wrong.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, of course not. But I wouldn’t be getting better. I need to get stronger, Mom.” Tears pricked Christina’s eyes. “And I need you to help me by giving me the space to do it.”
Her mother grew silent for a moment. “Are you telling me not to call? Not even to find out how you’re doing?”
Swallowing hard, Christina squeezed her eyes shut. “Just for a while, okay? I promise I’ll call you in a few days, after I’ve had a chance to learn my new job and...” She started to say, see if this is going to work, but that would only play into her mother’s concerns, not to mention feed her own.
“Chrissy...”
“I’m really tired, Mom, and I’ll be getting an early start in the morning, so I need to go.” Christina forced a smile into her voice. “Give Dad a hug for me. Love you both. Bye!”
She clicked off before her mother could wheedle another minute or two of conversation out of her. It was barely past eight, but two days on the road had taken their toll. After slipping on a robe and slippers and tucking the cabin key securely into her pocket, she took Gracie outside for one more trip before lights-out.
As she looked up into the night sky, a gasp caught in her throat. Never in her life had she seen so many stars! The words of a psalm bloomed in her thoughts and swelled her heart: The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
She could do this. With God’s help, she’d get back into life and once again stand on her own two feet.
* * *
By noon the next day, those feet Christina was so insistent on standing on hurt like crazy. She’d trekked from the main house to the storage building to cabin after cabin with Marie Peterson.
Marie’s first request, gently worded but firm, was that Gracie remain outside the guest cabins, the public rooms in the main house and the kitchen food-preparation area. “Well-groomed and obedient as Gracie is,” Marie stated, “we have to abide by health department regulations and can’t risk complaints about dog hair or allergy issues.”
Christina understood perfectly, and at each cabin she asked Gracie to stay outside by the door. It was enough to know the dog waited nearby.
Learning what her housekeeping duties consisted of, where supplies were kept and how to find her way around the ranch had taken most of the morning. And not once had she caught a glimpse of Seth Austin. Since his macho-looking maroon truck was nowhere to be seen either, Christina guessed he’d gone off somewhere with his children and was intentionally avoiding her.
“So the soiled sheets and towels go in this bin,” Marie said as they stood in the workroom behind the garage. “And then a service picks them up once or twice a week as needed and delivers a fresh batch.”
“Got it.” Jotting the instructions in her pocket-size notebook, Christina glanced longingly at a metal folding chair propped against the wall. “You said you aren’t expecting guests until the weekend, right?”
“They’ll start trickling in sometime tomorrow, but most won’t arrive till Friday afternoon. You’ll need to tidy their cabins each day while they’re at meals or out on excursions or whatever.”
Good, she needn’t worry about too many personal encounters, one huge reason why she’d initially thought this housekeeping position might be something she could handle.
What she hadn’t weighed into the equation was the amount of physical labor involved. Pushing a fully loaded maid’s cart from cabin to cabin would require the use of muscles Christina hadn’t called upon in longer than she cared to admit. At home, her parents paid for biweekly maid service, which had made it easy to grow lazy about everyday household chores. Mom’s hovering hadn’t helped, and she wouldn’t accept that babying Christina so much only prolonged her recovery.
Marie scanned her notes on a clipboard. “That about covers it. Ready for some lunch?”
“Starved!” Christina tucked away her notebook, already overflowing with the lists and reminders she relied upon daily, and fell in step with her employer on the path to the house. “I’m planning on picking up some groceries this afternoon, though.”
“No hurry. You’re welcome at our table anytime.”
“Thanks, but...” Christina’s voice faded as she caught sight of Seth leading a horse out of the barn. He moved with the same easy grace she’d observed yesterday when he’d carried the turtle across the road.
“Oh, good, Seth’s back.” Marie climbed the porch steps and yanked the cord of a big iron bell hanging from the eaves. The sharp clang made both Christina