A Mother at Heart (4 page)

Jake watched as Miriam picked her way through the puddles on the driveway to the passenger side of the truck, clutching a bright red anorak tightly to her. To his surprise she had on a pair of sturdy hiking boots. He reached across the seat and opened the door. Miriam stepped in, a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume filling the cab as she shot Jake a grateful smile.

Jake twisted the key in the ignition and tried to ignore that irresistible smell that telegraphed her presence.

The only sounds in the cab were the hum of the heater fan and the slap of windshield wipers on the window. Just like yesterday, silence lay between them.

And suddenly Jake was tired of it.

“How long do you plan on staying here?”

“I figure about ten days. I was hoping to go to a real estate agent today.”

“Do you think that's long enough to sell your farm?” Jake tried to inject a casual note into his voice. It made him angry that she could so easily talk of selling her farm. The idea bothered him for so many reasons.

“Probably not, but I could only spare that much time here. I have work to go back to.”

“Modeling?”

“Yes.”

Her quiet reply made Jake take a chance and look at her again. She was looking straight ahead, her
mouth pressed into a firm line, her fingers wrapped tightly around each other.

“If you don't mind my intruding, you don't seem too eager about it.”

Miriam laughed shortly, pressing her thumbs together. “It pays the bills.”

Jake looked back at the road again. He was sure it did. Paula had often spoken with outright envy of how much she figured Miriam made, doing what she did.

He sighed, tapping his thumbs lightly on the steering wheel as he tried to find something to say. He felt awkward and gauche, and he didn't like it.

But she wasn't the Miriam he used to tease; she wasn't the Miriam who used to laugh at everything. In spite of his original antipathy toward her, he felt old feelings resurfacing, and through new-old eyes, he could see a sadness in her.

They turned a corner, and there was her car.

Jake stopped and frowned over a new problem. Town was west and Miriam's car was facing east.

“We'll have to tow it back to the house to get it turned around,” he said, thinking out loud.

“Why don't you pull it to the next approach and turn in?” Miriam suggested.

Jake rubbed his thumb along his chin, shaking his head. “Then I won't be able to back out.”

“How about pushing it around? It's just a small car.”

Jake chewed on his thumbnail, considering.

“You still chew your nails?” Miriam asked, her voice tinged with laughter.

Jake jerked his head around, suddenly self-con
scious. “I don't chew my nails,” he said, dropping his hand.

“That's what you always said.” Miriam smiled again at the shared memory, and once again their eyes met.

Why couldn't he look away? Why couldn't he just casually return the smile and turn his head? It was just mechanics—lift mouth in casual way; move neck muscles. Mission accomplished.

But other messages were ruling his head right now. Like how much narrower her face was than before, how the light caught her high cheekbones, accenting them. He suddenly noticed a delicate fan of wrinkles from her eyes, smudges of shadows beneath them. There was a weariness to her features that he hadn't noticed yesterday.

Jake took a deep breath, pulling himself back to the dilemma at hand.

“It's not a big car,” she said again. “We could push it.”

Jake considered this new suggestion, and then, with a shrug, said, “We can try.”

Jake jumped out of the truck, shut the door and walked over to the car. Miriam was beside him.

“I could push, and you could work the steering,” Jake said quickly. “The road isn't too muddy yet, so we should be okay.”

“Let's try it.” She pulled the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car, then put the key in the ignition and put the car into neutral. She positioned herself, gave Jake a nod, and on his count they started pushing. The car was small, just as Miriam had said, but it was also low. Jake had to bend far
down to get any kind of leverage, and going on his knees wasn't an option.

“Do they get any lower?” he grunted as he strained to move it.

“Not much,” Miriam said.

“I'm surprised you didn't bottom out on these roads.”

“You always—” Miriam took a breath and pushed harder “—talk this much…when…you're working?”

Keeps me from thinking, he thought.

The car was moving, slowly, but fortunately it was turning in the right direction. The road might just be wide enough.

Jake was bent over so far that he couldn't see what was happening, so when Miriam called out “Stop, stop,” he didn't know why. He looked up just in time to see her jump into the car. He was totally unprepared for the jolt as the car came to an abrupt halt. His hands slipped up the trunk of the wet car, his feet slipped on the wet gravel. The next thing he knew, he was lying flat out in a dirty puddle of water, rain dripping down his neck.

He sucked his breath in and lay there a moment as if to assimilate what had happened, embarrassment and the icy water seeping through his clothes, each vying for his attention. The water won out as he shoved himself off the ground, getting his hands dirty in the process. Amazing how quickly one could go from feeling competent and in charge to humiliated and out of control.

“Are you okay?” Miriam poked her head out of the car and quickly put on the emergency brake. She
got out, and as she took a good look at him, he saw her hand fly to her mouth. Her lips were pulled in and she glanced quickly down, then up again.

“You're laughing at me,” he said, pulling his wet and dirty coat away from his chest, water dripping down his face. “I'm in absolute misery here, and you're standing there laughing at me.”

“Sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by her hand.

He saw her shoulders shake, and then, as he looked down at his soaking wet pants and coat, he started smiling himself.

Jake wiped the dirty water off his face with the cuff of his coat. He looked over at Miriam now, and saw her eyes dancing. “You better stop laughing, Miriam Spencer, or your hair won't look so clean anymore.”

“I'm not laughing,” she said, dropping her hand, forcing herself to look more serious.

But then he felt a clump of mud dislodge itself from his hair and slide down his face. Jake swiped at it, but it was too late. Now Miriam was laughing out loud, her arms clutching her midsection.

“I'm sorry,” she gasped, lifting one hand as if in surrender. “I'm sorry.”

Jake laughed. Then, shaking his head, he walked over to the truck. “Well, you just stand there and giggle like a girl—I'm going to get the rope.”

He pulled the tow rope out of the back of the truck and walked over to Miriam's car. His pants were wet anyhow, so he knelt in the gravel, staring under the car with dismay.

“Can I do anything?” she asked, squatting down beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, forcing himself to look serious. “You can get that little body of yours under this car and hook this on.”

Miriam looked taken aback. “Okay,” she said quietly, wiping her hands on her coat as if in preparation.

“Kidding,” he said, grinning at her.

“You rat.” She gave his shoulder a push, almost knocking him over.

“Don't start anything you can't finish, Mims,” he said with a mock warning tone and a wink. The nickname came easily to him and so did the wink.

Miriam's expression grew serious. “I haven't heard that in years,” Miriam said, dropping her hand and straightening. Then she turned away. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said quietly.

Jake looked down at the rope, shaking his head. Keep your mind on the job at hand, he reminded himself. He was surprised at how readily her old name had rolled off his tongue, surprised at her response to it. With difficulty he shrugged the memories away, and bent over to find a suitable place to hook up the rope.

“You'll need to ride in the car,” he said to Miriam as he got up, pleased at how casual he managed to sound. “I'll go slow, and you'll have to brake before I do. I'll touch the brakes lightly when I need you to brake, okay? I'll give you lots of time.”

“Where are we going?”

“Denny's Auto Parts. I'm sure they'll have something for you, or they'll find it. There's no dealer in town for that make of car.”

She gave him a curt nod and got into the car. Jake
hesitated a moment, then turned and walked back to the truck.

As he drove, Jake kept alternating between looking at the road ahead and at the car behind him, his mind on neither. He kept wondering why he had called Miriam “Mims.” The name had come from a deep place he had forgotten about. He had used Mims only in times of affection.

He sighed and flicked on the radio, hoping the music would keep his mind occupied. But he couldn't forget the brief connection they'd shared when it seemed that all the ten years between them had never been.

B
y the time they got to town, the rain had quit and the clouds above were starting to break. The weather-person had promised blue skies and wind tomorrow. Jake hoped that would keep up, so he could be in the fields again by Monday.

When they pulled into Denny's, he got out of the truck, undid the wet and dirty rope, and coiled it up, while Miriam went inside. He threw the rope in the back of the truck.

“You're lucky,” he heard Denny say as he walked into the office. “We just parted out a car with a rad that will fit yours.”

The young man at the counter sported a tattoo on each hand, a bizarre haircut and a full beard. Denny was a terrific mechanic, although a trifle tough—the complete opposite of his fellow worker, Ryan, who had short hair and was clean-shaven. They both wore grease-stained overalls and, right now, foolish grins. They were unable to keep their eyes off Miriam.

It irritated Jake for a moment. He didn't like the way they were looking at her, as if she were some exotic specimen they had never seen before.

“You done in here, Miriam?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “They said they'll have it done in a couple of hours.”

“Funny. I never manage to get such quick service,” Jake said, his voice laced with irony.

Denny shrugged, grinning. “You know us, Jake. We aim to please beautiful women.” He leaned on the counter and glanced at Jake, his eyebrows raised at the sight of Jake's shirt and pants. “What were you doing?”

“I fell in the mud pushing Miriam's car,” Jake answered tersely.

“Well, I sure appreciate the service.” Miriam bestowed a polite smile on them. “Is there a place I can wait while you work on it?”

“You can sit here, or you can tell us where you will be and we can deliver it.” Ryan smiled, leaning closer.

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. These two were so obvious, it was sickening.

“I think I'll go to town. I have my cell phone. I'll let you know what's up.” She smiled at them both and left, leaving two dazed men staring at her.

“She looks so familiar,” Denny said to Jake as the door creaked closed behind her.

“She should. We used to go to school with her.”

“That Miriam Spencer is ‘Sticks' Spencer?” Denny's mouth almost dropped open. Jake felt an unaccountable surge of anger at the memory of that
hated nickname. Miriam had always laughed it off, but he also knew how it bothered her.

“Wow, she sure became babe material,” Denny continued, stroking his beard.

“She is quite attractive,” Jake said, cringing at his own prim note.

Ryan threw him a knowing smirk. “Oh, very quite,” he said with a laugh.

Jake caught the door handle, feigning nonchalance. “Well, gotta run. Let me know if anything changes with Miriam's car,” he said.

“She gave us her cell number.” Denny craned his neck as if to get another look at Miriam, who was once again sitting in Jake's truck. “But I'll call you, too, just in case.” Denny gave Jake a wink, as if congratulating him. “She back for a visit?”

Jake only nodded, uncomfortable with Denny's obvious assumption—that he and Miriam were going to try again. He knew he should correct the misconception, but he figured people would know for themselves, once Miriam was gone.

When Jake got outside, Miriam wasn't in the truck. He frowned, and then he saw her walking down the road toward town.

“Miriam!” he called out. “Where are you going?”

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “To town.”

“I'll bring you,” he said, stifling his exasperation. Did she really think he would just go back to the farm, leaving her to fend for herself?

“That's okay. You don't have to.”

“Come back and get in the truck,” he said brusquely.

Miriam hesitated. Then, with a shrug, she turned and came back. He waited for her by the passenger side of the truck and held the door open for her.

Miriam threw him an oblique glance and got in.

Jake walked around the front and climbed awkwardly into his truck, the wet denim of his pants clinging to his legs and constricting his movements.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked as he drove out of Denny's yard.

“Doesn't matter. Is Raylene's place still around?”

“No. She moved to Denver.”

“Denver? Why there?”

“I heard some cowboy in town for a rodeo caught her fancy, and she sold the place and left.”

Miriam laughed at that.

“What's so funny? Can't you see old Raylene Dansers losing her heart to some old bull rider?” Jake said with mock dismay.

“Bull riders don't get that old,” Miriam said, grinning.

“Actually, he was the header half of a calf-roping team. You can do that sitting down.”

Miriam laughed again, and Jake felt a lightness pervade the once-heavy atmosphere. “I'll take you to the new place in town,” he said impulsively. “You can see how much Waylen has changed.”

Miriam looked sideways at him and, to his surprise, smiled. “Thanks, Jake. That sounds good.”

A few minutes later Jake pulled up in front of a small café that Miriam remembered as having been a bakery.

“Where did the bakery go?” Miriam asked, getting out of the truck.

“Moved into a new complex downtown.” Jake got out and stared down at his dirty pants. He really looked like a hick compared to Miriam.

He glanced up to see Miriam smiling at him. “Don't worry about your pants. I don't care if you don't.”

He made it to the door ahead of her and opened it for her.

“Still a gentleman,” she said lightly as she stepped through the door.

“Tilly raised me right,” he returned, following her in.

“Hey, Jake.” Peter Thornton, a farmer who lived down the road, waved to Jake from his seat as they came in. “The rain send you to town this morning, too?”

“Yeah,” Jake said briefly. He didn't want to stop, but small-town protocol deemed that he do so. “You done seeding yet?”

“Got another 60 acres to do.” Peter leaned back in his chair and looked past him, then back to Jake with a grin. “How about you?”

“Pretty close to done.” He glanced back at Miriam, who stood just behind him, her hands clasped in front of her. He didn't want to keep her waiting through the usual give and take of farming talk. Besides, he wanted her to himself for a while. “Well, take care. Talk to you later.” After a casual nod, he walked across the nearly empty café to the window.

He was thankful the café was quiet this morning.

Miriam sat down at the table and looked around with a smile. “Nice place.”

“They opened about a year ago. They're doing quite well,” Jake said, leaning on the table.

The waitress was already at their table, a pot of coffee in her hand. “Menus?” she asked.

Jake shook his head. “Just a cup of coffee for me,” he said.

Miriam looked up. “Thanks, I'll have the same.”

They watched as the waitress filled their cups, then was gone again.

“You didn't used to drink coffee,” Jake said, pulling his cup closer.

“I started while I was modeling. All that waiting around.” She took a careful sip from her cup, avoiding his gaze. Jake wanted to ask her more, wanted to know about her world—and yet didn't. He didn't know where to start asking about the life that had taken her away from him and Waylen. Yet he had to—it was who she had become.

“So what is it like—modeling?”

Miriam looked up past his shoulder and shook her head lightly. “Busy. A lot of rushing around because there's a ton of people involved in a shoot.” She laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant laugh. “The work isn't so bad. It's how you get treated after a while.”

“And how is that?”

“Like a thing—a centerpiece that gets pulled on, tweaked, changed and molded. Some girls love all the attention, but I felt like an object.”

Jake heard despair in her voice. Despair and the same weariness he could see in her eyes. “So why are you going back to it?”

Miriam gave a graceful shrug. “The money is good.”

It wasn't hard to tell that she didn't like the work. He didn't want to accept that Miriam Spencer—a girl who never seemed to care what she wore, who used to wear her long brown hair tied back with a shoelace—had turned into this elegant woman who spoke easily of doing work she disliked merely because the money was good.

“Well, you've done it long enough—you must have quite a bit of it by now,” he said sardonically.

She said nothing, only lowered her eyes—but not before Jake saw the flare of pain in them.

He felt like a heel. He had no right to judge her. Not when he himself often wished for better crops, for higher prices. Money was important to him, too.

He wondered what to say next. Wondered what he could say to bring some measure of amicability back to the conversation. Because he discovered, suddenly, that he wanted to know more about her, to find out what had happened to her.

As he watched her carefully sip her coffee, he felt a familiar stirring, an awakening of old feelings. She had been a friend—one of the first he had made here. Miriam had been the one who introduced him to other people, who included him in her circle, who made sure he was always socially comfortable. The friendship they shared had quickly changed and become more intense. Miriam was the first girl he had really loved.

And now, in spite of the complete change in her, and in spite of knowing she was going to be leaving, he was feeling attracted to her again.

Fool that he was.

He wanted to leave as if to outrun his own feelings, but there was no polite way to do so. He had invited her here.

The door opened and a woman called out a greeting to Peter, then walked over to their table.

“Hey, Jake, how are you doing?”

Jake looked up and met the smiling face of Donna Kurtz. “Doing good, Donna. How about you?”

“Busy. I just took a break from working at the church.” She pulled at her paint-splattered T-shirt and flashed a crooked grin. “I thought you were going to come?”

“I'm sorry. I forgot they're painting there today.” Jake felt guilty. “I'll be right over.”

He turned to Miriam, who was looking up at Donna with a wistful expression on her face. “Miriam, you remember Donna, don't you?”

Donna's mouth fell open as she recognized her old friend. Then she was leaning over, hugging Miriam hard. “My goodness,” she said breathlessly, “Look at you, Miriam Spencer.” Donna clutched Miriam's shoulders, and shook her head in disbelief. “Have you ever changed! What are you doing back here? How come I never knew?”

“I just came back yesterday,” Miriam replied.

“Really?” Donna glanced at Jake and then back at Miriam, her smile changing. “And you and Jake already met up with each other.” The innuendo in her tone was unmistakable.

Jake figured he'd better dispel that notion immediately. “Miriam's car broke down not far from our place. I brought her into town to get it fixed.”

Donna nodded, but her smirk showed that she didn't quite believe it. “It's just like old times, seeing you two together again.”

Jake wished she would stop assuming a relationship between them. It made him yearn for something that wasn't going to happen—Miriam's next stop was a real estate agency.

He glanced at his watch. He had other things to do, other obligations. If Denny was as fast as he said he could be, Miriam didn't have much longer to wait. “I should go and help at the church,” he said to Miriam, trying for a light tone. “If you need anything, you can find me there.”

She nodded as her eyes met his, then looked back at Donna. He felt dismissed, and pushed his chair back.

“See you back at the church,” he said, sending her a quick grin.

Donna nodded, then took his place opposite Miriam.

He stopped at the till and paid for their coffees, then walked to his truck. As he got in, he could see Donna and Miriam through the window of the café. Donna was leaning forward, and Miriam's face held that same wistfulness he had seen before.

As he started the truck, he wondered what was going on behind those deep brown eyes of hers. Once he would have been able to read the slightest nuance, but now she was as unreadable as a legal document.

He sighed and pulled away. As if he didn't have enough on his mind, now he had to go and complicate his life with this woman who was so different from the one he had once loved.

“I still can't believe you're here.” Donna rested her elbows on the scratched red Formica tabletop, sipping her coffee, smiling across at her old friend. “It's been years and years. Too long.”

Miriam acknowledged the comment with a nod, and kept folding the napkin on the table in front of her. More guilt. “I know and I'm sorry.” She lifted her eyes to Donna. “I don't think there's anything I can really say to excuse or brush it all away.”

“I heard a few bits and pieces from Paula just after you left, but that's about it.”

“Paula and I stayed out of touch, as well—” Miriam stopped, sorrow over their mutual friend thickening her throat. “Sorry.” She looked down, blinking quickly. “I still can't get past her death.”

“It happened a while ago for me, but I can imagine it's a shock for you, just finding this out now.”

Miriam drew in a long breath to compose herself and then looked up at Donna. “After she got married, the relationship faded away.”

“I imagine.” Donna took another sip of coffee, but held Miriam's gaze. “You know, when I saw you sitting here with Jake, it seemed just like old times.”

“That's all they are, Donna—old times,” Miriam said sharply. Donna's words struck too close to her own yearning. It had been hard to acknowledge Jake's marriage to Paula, but it was all the harder now that Paula had passed away. If Paula were still alive, Jake wouldn't be available.