A Love Like Ours Read online

  “I talked with her both times I went over to the Porters’ for lunch. She seems wonderful.”

  “She is. Did you know that she and Bo have been struggling with infertility?”

  “My mom mentioned it to me.”

  “They’ve been trying for a baby for two and a half years. Meg had a miscarriage six months ago.”

  “I hadn’t heard that part.” Sympathy pricked Lyndie. “I’m so sorry.”

  “When and if Meg and Bo finally have a baby, I’ll be the happiest person, next to them, in all of Holley. Meg’s awesome. I was able to get my degree and a job with Dr. Dean because of her.”

  Amber worked as a nurse for Holley’s beloved family doctor. Even Lyndie had been a patient of Dr. Dean’s back in the day.

  “Jayden and I just left Whispering Creek three months ago.” Amber motioned to the living room. “If this place looks like a starter apartment, that’s because it is a starter apartment.”

  “In that case, it’s a great starter.”

  “I agree.” Amber carried the tray to the kitchen table.

  Their fabulous old brick building had once housed Holley’s Candy Shoppe. It was situated in the Victorian section of town, just a half a block from the historic town square. Amber rented out the first floor, which had once functioned as the kitchen and candy store. Lyndie rented out the second floor, originally the owner’s family dwelling.

  Despite that Amber’s apartment did resemble a starter—it was on the bare side and the mismatched furniture all bore the stamp of hand-me-downs—Lyndie liked Amber’s half. The apartment reflected its tenant’s personality: genuine, casual, unpretentious.

  The bay windows that surrounded the table framed a view of Amber’s five-year-old son sailing back and forth on a swing suspended from a tree branch. The roomy one-acre lot, almost all of it behind the house, doubled as Jayden’s personal amusement park.

  Amber leaned out the back door. “Jayden! Your hot chocolate’s ready.”

  In response, he jumped off the swing when it reached its forward-most point, launching himself into the air. Amazingly, he managed to land on his feet without breaking his shin bones in half. The scent of cool, crisp afternoon air followed him indoors.

  “Hi, Jayden.”

  “Hi, Ms. James.” He gave Lyndie a high five before they settled around the table. Despite the day’s cool temperature, his face had flushed from exercise and the light brown hair at his temples looked sweaty.

  “Are you having a good day?” Lyndie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She suspected that Jayden used ma’am and sir on everyone because he knew he needed something endearing to help counteract his mischievous streak and boundless energy. Jayden was a tornado in 5T clothing. A lovable tornado with missing top front teeth and hair that stuck up adorably in the front, thanks to the styling gel Amber used on it in the mornings.

  “Did you bring your dogs?” he asked.

  “They’re upstairs today.”

  “What’s your cat’s name again?”

  “Mrs. Mapleton. She’s taking a nap on my windowsill.”

  “She’s always taking a nap.”

  “That’s very true.”

  Amber lifted her mug. “Thank you, Dr. Dean, for closing your office at three on Wednesdays.”

  “Thank you for inviting me to join you for coffee,” Lyndie said to Amber.

  “Thank you for bringing the coffee and all the fixin’s.”

  Jayden pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Can we drink now?”

  “Have I told you guys yet today that I love my job?” Amber asked.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Okay, drink.”

  They took sips that caused them all to sit back and lick whipped cream from their upper lips. The hot milky coffee slid down Lyndie’s throat, warming her.

  Jayden aimed a white-topped grin in Lyndie’s direction. “Have you been doing any drawings?”

  “I’m still trying to sketch and develop ideas for the story I told you about.”

  “The fairy one?”

  “Right, the fairy one.”

  Jayden pulled a disgusted face and began listing all the reasons why he liked superheroes better than fairies.

  Lyndie had launched Starring Me Productions, her line of children’s books, five years ago to supplement her income as a rider. From the beginning, her central idea had been to make each book customizable.

  Parents could put their child’s name into the story, but not only that. Because of Mollie, she’d made sure that parents could also choose fonts and sizes to make reading easier for kids with learning differences, as well as a variety of formats for kids with special needs. So far, Lyndie offered ten different picture books on Starring Me’s website, featuring everything from pirates to firemen, princesses to mermaids.

  Clients all across the country had been emailing her and sending her Facebook messages asking if and when she planned to add a book about fairies to her collection. The people had spoken, and the (little female) people wanted fairies. She planned to have a fairy book available in time for the Christmas shopping season. Since each book took between four and six months to create, she needed to get busy.

  Except, for the first time ever, she’d been having a world of difficulty hitting on an inspiration that gave her that necessary flash of excitement. Which had begun to worry her.

  Today, with Tall, Dark, and Brooding on her mind, her artistic efforts had totally bombed. Reason number five hundred why it was advisable to have oneself for a boss: Even when you hadn’t earned it, you could still treat yourself to a coffee break.

  “Have you settled on a plot that you like yet?” Amber asked. “For the fairy book?”

  “No. I still haven’t figured it out.” She lifted her shoulders.

  “Beat a person hard,” Jayden said, “who, uh, gives up.”

  Amber broke into laughter. “No, honey. The quote is, ‘It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.’ Babe Ruth.”

  “That’s a relief.” Lyndie sipped her coffee. “I wasn’t really looking forward to a hard beating.”

  Jayden finished the last bite of his cookie and sprang from his seat. His attention, which never remained long on any subject, had been captured by two squirrels bounding across the backyard.

  “Honey, here.” Amber reached a napkin across the table toward his face. “Let me just wipe your mouth—”

  Too late. Jayden had already dashed outside.

  “Remember to shut the door,” Amber called halfheartedly.

  The two women watched Jayden chase the squirrels until they darted up a tree. He peered after the squirrels for a few seconds, then planted his stomach on the swing’s seat and used his tennis shoes to push himself in circles, twisting the rope arms of the swing around and around.

  “So.” Amber regarded Lyndie with gentle interest. She was the sort of person, unlike Lyndie, who could wear gray nail polish, turquoise eye shadow, lots of mascara, and make it all look good. “Let’s bring this conversation back around to Jake Porter. I still haven’t heard the full scoop.”

  “What else would you like to know?”

  “Was he anything like you remember him being as a kid?”

  “Yes and no.” Lyndie wrapped both hands around her mug. “Some things about his face were so familiar it was uncanny.”

  “Like?”

  “The way his mouth moves when he talks, the color of his eyes. The whole time we were talking, I was trying to reconcile my memories of him with who he is now.”

  “What was his personality like back then?”

  “He never was a huge talker. He was sensible, way more sensible than I was. Patient and trustworthy. Calm.”

  “Calmness is a nice quality, isn’t it? Not really Jayden’s strength.” Amber tipped her head toward the boy who’d raised his arms and legs and was spinning wildly as the swing unwound. “What about Jake’s scar?” Amber asked. “Were you able to adjust to that okay? I’ve seen pe
ople look away from him when they’re talking to him because they’re either uncomfortable with it or they’re trying to pretend not to notice it.”

  “The scar didn’t bother me. My sister has cerebral palsy, so I guess I’m used to physical stuff that’s not so pretty.”

  Amber nudged the cookies toward Lyndie. They each took one.

  “I think Jake’s handsome.” Amber held her cookie suspended. “They say around town that before his accident he was the best-looking of all the Porter brothers, which is saying something.” She took a bite. “They’re all gorgeous. If Jake didn’t scare the tar out of me, I’d date him.”

  “Has Jake dated anyone since his accident?”

  “No one. Sort of like me. I haven’t gone out with anyone in years. I’ve been thinking lately that it might be time for me to get back out there and go on some dates.”

  Amber was three or four inches taller than Lyndie, with the sort of curvy figure men salivated over. Her straight brown hair had been expertly cut in a blunt line at her shoulders. It always looked professionally blown-out even though Lyndie knew Amber did it herself. “You’re beautiful, Amber. You won’t have any difficulty finding men to date if that’s what you want to do.”

  “What?” Amber pulled her head back, genuinely surprised. “You’re the beautiful one, Lyndie.”

  “No!”

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  “I’m short and my hair’s flyaway crazy.”

  “Your hair’s flyaway pretty.” Amber gave Lyndie a look that brooked no arguments. “The problem isn’t with you or me. The problem we’ll face is with the male dating pool around here.”

  Amber’s use of we’ll in the sentence struck Lyndie with unease.

  “Have you been to church and to Deep in the Heart, the country-western place?” Amber asked.

  “I’ve been to both.”

  “Then you’ve seen the selection of available men in this county. I daydream about finding someone cute and Christian. But I already know that if I decide to put myself out there, I’ll need to widen my net. I’m a single mother, and I have access to the medical secrets of just about every man in this town. Those are two big strikes against me.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “If we are able to find a good bachelor somewhere, whoever he is, he’s going to want you, Lyndie.”

  “He’s going to want you, Amber. I’m not the dating type, anyway.” Lyndie finished her cookie and brushed the crumbs from her hands. The flavors of chocolate and sugar lingered in her mouth.

  Amber angled her head. “Not the dating type?”

  “This hair’s really annoying me.” Lyndie swept her hair into a topknot, extracted a pen from her purse, and speared it through her bun to keep it in place.

  “Still waiting,” Amber said, “for you to explain why you’re not the dating type.”

  “I’ve never been that interested in dating,” Lyndie admitted. “I’ve been focused on my riding and my illustrating ever since I can remember.”

  “And?” Amber prompted, unimpressed.

  “I’m really close to my family. They need me.”

  “And?”

  “I’m comfortable around people. I’m enjoying hanging out with you right now, for instance—”

  “Thank you.”

  “—but I’m an introvert at heart. I like being on my own, just me and my animals and my paintbrushes.”

  “I’m not buying it. Don’t you ever miss having a man in your life?”

  “Occasionally.” Lyndie had lonely days. She had moments, lying in her bed unable to sleep, when she pined for someone to love who’d love her in return. But for the most part, she’d learned to roll with her bouts of sadness.

  “Do you want to get married one day?” Amber asked.

  “Sure. I just don’t know whether a husband is in God’s plan for me or not.”

  “Are you easily attracted to guys you meet?”

  “No.” In fact, it was unusual for any man to stir her. She got asked out now and then, sometimes said yes, and even more rarely felt sparks. Even when she did feel sparks, though, they started dwindling by the fourth or fifth date. She was always relieved when she convinced the guys to move on.

  “Have you had many boyfriends?”

  “No. You?”

  “My story’s the opposite of yours.” Amber pulled the cookie box in front of her and closed its plastic lid. “I was a serial dater. You know that girl in middle school and high school who had one boyfriend after another?”

  Lyndie nodded. Girls who dated anything with a pulse baffled her.

  “That was me. In the end it left me heartbroken and penniless and the unwed mother of a baby whose father’s a sociopath.”

  “A sociopath?”

  “I wish it weren’t true, but it is. He’s in prison now.” They both glanced toward Jayden. His football had lodged between some branches. Repeatedly, he threw his soccer ball toward it, trying to free it. Amber’s fingers moved around the perimeter of the cookie box, crimping it closed. “When Meg took us in, I knew I’d been given a second chance I didn’t deserve. I got myself right with God, and I swore off men. With my lousy track record, I knew that even one attractive guy could mess up my priorities.”

  “But now you’ve accomplished your goals.”

  “Yes. I’m twenty-seven and I’m wondering if I trust myself enough to start dating again. I think I do. I think I’m ready.”

  Twenty-seven, Mollie’s age. Vibrant, healthy Amber couldn’t have been more different from her sister. “Then go for it,” Lyndie said.

  “If I do this, we’re both going to go for it. I’m not going to let my eligible upstairs neighbor sit at home with her paintbrushes on Friday and Saturday nights.” Amber grinned. “I wish you could see the horrified expression on your face right now. It’s comical.”

  “I’m happy sitting at home with my paintbrushes.”

  “You’re not afraid of Jake Porter. You’re not afraid of racing Thoroughbred horses. You’re brave, remember?”

  “Not about the singles scene. It’s my weakness.” Lyndie would rather be unattached than deal with the singles scene, as her unmarried-and-thirty status proved.

  Amber leaned her forearms against the table, her focus on Lyndie. “How about we make an agreement? In the next three months, we’ll each go on three dates.”

  “With whom?”

  “That’ll take some figuring out. But we can do it. We’ll help each other find guys to go out with. Just three dates, Lyndie. It’ll be good for both of us.”

  “Can all three dates be with the same man, or do they have to be with different men?”

  “Are you kidding? The same man would be great. Frankly, it’ll be a miracle if either of us can find a man in the next three months that we want to go on three dates with.”

  Lyndie had come today for coffee and friendship, not to be roped into awkward blind dates with people half as appealing as her Cavalier King Charles spaniels.

  “Think of it!” Amber said. “This will give us a reason to get dressed up—to wear high heels!”

  “I’m not sold.” She’d never understood why women made such a huge fuss over men.

  “Fine. I can see I’m going to need to bribe you.” Amber considered for a moment. “If at any point in the future you need someone to take care of your animals for you, I’ll do it.”

  Lyndie sat up straighter. When Mollie went into the hospital next—it was a when not an if, unfortunately—she’d need help with her pets, and she hated putting them in a kennel. “I’d so appreciate that—”

  “Not so fast, Miss Illustrator Lady. First you have to agree to three dates.” Amber extended a hand so Lyndie could shake on it.

  Lyndie eyed the hand, then her friend, whose expression held the glint of challenge. “You’re not as sweet as I thought you were,” Lyndie accused.

  Amber released a huff of laughter. “I’m very sweet. It’s just that I’ve lived long enough to gain some street smarts, t
hat’s all.”

  “I have a feeling,” Lyndie said as she shook Amber’s hand, “I’m going to regret this.”

  Chapter Three

  Early morning mist and darkness shrouded the training track at Whispering Creek Horses. Lyndie took a seat in the viewing stand, the metal bleacher hard, cold, and faintly ridged beneath her.

  Like everything connected to Whispering Creek Horses, the track before her looked top of the line. It had been equipped with an irrigation system, starting gate, and modern lighting. Two riders were already out, one jogging a horse, the other working his mount at a gallop.

  Below her and to the side, Jake stood against the inside rail just next to the track’s entrance. When he finished talking with one of his hand-walkers, he turned in her direction and sent her a burning glare.

  It was so scathing that she almost laughed. How had he known she was here? She could have sworn she’d taken her seat silently.

  He went back to ignoring her.

  She studied Jake’s profile, wishing she knew more about what had happened to him in Iraq and how it had affected him. She didn’t know for sure the extent of his physical injuries. Did he have other scars? Lingering aches?

  He wore the same brown hunting jacket and black Stetson he’d worn the day before yesterday. His face remained as unsmiling as it had been then. He didn’t appear to share a friendly rapport with his employees, precisely. Yet from what Lyndie could tell, they fully respected him. One of his riders pulled up, listened attentively to Jake’s instruction, then set off at a trot. Lyndie’s veteran gaze tracked them.

  Because of her cross-country move, it had been more than a month since she’d been on a horse. Too long. She never felt more like herself than she did on horseback.

  Growing up, she hadn’t spent her weekends the way other girls her age spent theirs—playing soccer or swimming or attending birthday parties. During California’s racing season, she’d spent her Saturdays and Sundays sitting beside her dad at the nearby horse tracks. During the off-season, she’d passed her free time either drawing horses or sprawled on the living room floor watching them race on TV.