Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) (20 page)

“I know you said seven, but it’s brutal out there and I’d
rather not spend my evening waiting outside in the cold for a
cab, so…oh…”
Angela stopped halfway to Jeffrey’s desk, nearly dropping
her laptop. A large man sat on the leather brocade sofa. He
quickly averted his gaze, stood and pulled on his powder blue
blazer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing around the office, “I’m
looking for Jeffrey Sykes. Is he here?”
“No ma’am.” The man shuffled past her toward the door,
refusing to look at her.
Angela kept her eye on him, unable to figure out why she
recognized him. Then she looked down at his meaty fingers
and remembered what they’d looked like curled around the
handle of a knife. He was out the door and in the hallway when
it hit her.
“Stop!” She rushed into the hall. “Stop right there! What
are you doing here?” Angela caught up to the large man and
grabbed his arm.
Jeffrey turned the corner, a stack of papers in his hand.
“Remember this man?” she asked Jeffrey. “He was in your
office!”
The man held his hands up in surrender. “Just working on
my investments,” he insisted. “I don’t know who you are lady,
but-”
“You’re that man from the drilling coalition. You were in
my house. You threatened me.”
“Angela, come on. You have it wrong. This gentleman
made an appointment. Leave us. Mr. Jones,” Jeffrey turned to
the man and ushered him back through the office door, “I
apologize for my employee’s misconduct. Please, let’s continue
our discussion. I’ll join you in a moment.”
“Tanner!” Angela called out before Jeffrey could shut the
door. The man’s head jerked automatically in her direction. He
gritted his teeth, immediately regretting the knee-jerk reaction.
Jeffrey shoved the door shut, into Tanner’s red face, and
turned to Angela.
“I knew it!” Angela said as Jeffrey took hold of her elbow
and led her to his secretary’s desk. “Are you doing business
with him? Don’t you remember who that man is?”
“Angela.” Jeffrey sighed and leaned onto the desk. He kept
his gaze on the floor, working his lower lip between his teeth.
“Don’t lie to me,” she pleaded.
Jeffrey looked into her eyes.
“Please,” Angela said, her chest tightening, “whatever we
are now, or whatever we were, please let it be enough to earn
your honesty. I deserve at least that much.”
Jeffrey clasped his hands together, his shoulders hunched.
“I needed you, Angela,” he said quietly. “You have no idea
how important you are to this firm…to me.”
“Tanner’s not from the coalition, is he?”
“He is.” Jeffrey sighed. “He’s also been a client of mine for
years. Happy coincidence.”
“You put him up to it. He
threatened
me. I slept with a knife
beneath my pillow that night.”
“It was the only way to get you back.” Jeffrey took her
hand. “I know it wasn’t the right thing to do. I’m sorry you
were scared, but I needed you to think the coalition was a
threat. I did it for the firm. For us.”
Angela slid her hand from Jeffrey’s, the words scattering in
her thoughts.
“I did use my connections to make sure the coalition will
leave the arena alone,” he said. “I kept my promise.”
“How kind of you.” She crossed her arms over her chest,
warding off a sudden chill.
“Angela.” He stood and reached for her. She shook away.
“Your boyfriend’s safe. The coalition won’t touch Cole.”
Jeffrey’s eyes hardened. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She shook her head. “I might have stayed in Grace if it
weren’t for you, for our
deal
.”
“You would’ve come back anyway. There’s no way you
would have stayed in that town. After six months the novelty
of your cowboy would have worn off and you’d be back with
me. You and I both know it.”
Tears of rage burned behind her eyes. She pushed past him
and hurried down the hall.
“He won’t want you now!” Jeffrey called after her. “Those
cowboys value loyalty, a quality you’ve never had!”
Angela walked faster, her heart beating erratically. She
walked into her office and shut the door behind her.
She thought of Cole’s goodbye and the anger laced in his
last kiss. The way he’d called her
Angela.
She kicked off her shoes and lowered herself to the floor,
giving in to the sobs aching in her throat.
****
A
cold front bore down on Denver, forcing rodeo
spectators under thick blankets and jackets as they feasted on
five-dollar hot dogs and watered down beer.
Children ran and chased each other through the stands and
walkways. The bravest adults, or those who were arrogant
enough to show off, tried their hand at the mechanical bull out
front. Many never made it past the first jolt, and very few
would come to find out just how long eight seconds could
seem. But it kept them amused and it kept them warm, biding
time until the rodeo began.
“Ooh boy, I tell ya,” chimed one of the announcers, “it
sure is cold out there tonight. And I ain’t even gonna tell ya
what the cold does to a bull’s mood. Ooh-ee we are in for a
treat tonight, folks. It’s a night for heroes to shine and for
losers to go home to mama.”
“Speaking of heroes,” said the second announcer, “we got
none other than Cold Jordan, seasoned veteran for going on
two decades, fightin’ a bronc tonight.”
“I hear he’s been given lucky number seven,” the first
announcer added, “and you better bet he’s gonna need a ton
of luck. First competition since that arm and elbow injury sent
him home last spring. As luck – or rather, misfortune – would
have it, Cole drew Old Harley, the very same pony that
shattered his arm in Cheyenne.”
Murmurs passed through the crowd.
“He’ll have to work extra hard tonight,” the announcer
continued. “With three months gone, he’ll have to take first
place tonight for even a shot at making it to the Tulsa
Nationals.”
Cole stood by the rear chutes. He wore his lucky chaps and
an old Stetson, his boots scuffed and worn. Some revered him
as one of the greatest rodeo stars to grace the ring, and he was
touted to die a legend. Others claimed he was too old and had
passed his prime.
Tonight, Cole agreed with the latter.
Hands at his waist, he squinted up at the crowd. The
murmurs faded out and the first competitor took to the ring.
He began to pace behind the chutes, waiting for his turn.
He would score important points just from the rough
bucking Old Harley was known for. But he knew those points
alone wouldn’t qualify him for the Nationals. He knew what
needed to be done.
The buzzer cued him into position. He climbed over the
gate and settled onto the bronco’s bare back. Then there was
nothing else but heat and muscle beneath him, no sound but
the echo of his own breathing, the blood pumping through his
veins.
He took the rigging in his hand. His hand trembled. The
shouts of the crowd flooded in; his focus slipped. Sweat
beaded on his forehead and pooled onto his upper lip. He lost
his grip on the rigging and every separate voice, every single
shout assaulted him like daggers.
It’s been too long. You’re too old
.
The buzzer sounded again. It was his turn.
Cole’s hand found the rigging again. He wouldn’t give in
this way. Closing his eyes, he shut out the shouts and counted
the heartbeats of his adversary, willing his own heart to beat
the same rhythm.
When he was certain his focus had returned, he opened his
eyes and tipped his hat. The chute swung wide open.
The bronco fought good and hard, but the man fought
harder. Luck
played no
part, but Lucky Seven, as
the
announcers had dubbed him, walked away with a first place
trophy and a nice chunk of points to take him one step closer
to Nationals.
But Cole knew he would not be taking that trip to Tulsa.
Eighteen

Angela turned up the Christmas music and sipped her tea,
examining the huge tree in her living room. She adjusted the
golden gossamer ribbons that cascaded down the branches,
and then lit candles scented of pine and cinnamon, which she’d
placed strategically around the living room.

She was grateful she had negotiated the full deed to the
Greenwich Village apartment into her contract. It was hers
again, more now than it had ever been.

The bell had her rushing to the door. The moment she
swung it open Sophie leaped into her outstretched arms with a
shriek, nearly knocking both of them down. Michael came in
behind her with their suitcases and a stack of presents. He
pulled his sister into his free arm and Angela held on, thankful
their relationship had been made whole again.

If that was the only good thing to come from her time in
Grace, it gave value to every tear.
Sophie bounced beside them, waiting for her chance to hug
Angela again. “I can’t believe this place! It’s amazing!” she
squealed as they hugged once more. Angela squeeze tightly,
grinning so much her cheeks began to hurt.
Angela and Michael shared a secret glance. Michael patted
his shirt pocket and winked. They were the only two who knew
there was an engagement ring for Sophie in that pocket.
****
“That’s it,” Sophie declared as they set down their loot
after a day of shopping, “I’m moving in.”
Angela laughed and unknotted her scarf. “You are
welcome to move in, of course, but you know you’d hate it
here.”
“Yeah, probably.” Sophie grinned and plopped onto
Angela’s white slip-covered sofa. “But you love it.”
“I do.” Angela knelt in front of the Christmas tree and
arranged their gift wrapped packages.
“It suits you,” Sophie decided.
Angela looked up at her friend, and felt silly for that warm
feeling of approval that washed under her skin.
“I miss Grace,” Angela admitted. She spent entirely too
much time straightening a silver ribbon on a package she’d
bought for Sophie. “So…how is he?”
“I wondered when you’d get around to asking. Word
around town is he’s miserable.”
Angela sat back on her heels. “It is awful that it makes me
happy to hear that?”
“Nope.” Sophie dug into a bag and pulled out a box of
chocolates, holding it out to Angela. “Love is crazy like that.”
Angela shook her head. “It was never like that with us.”
Sophie shook her head and opened the box. “Yeah, and
I’m the queen of England.”
“We’ve been over this, Sophie. I’m home now. I’m happy.”
“And the suit…Mr. Jeffrey…is it like ‘
that
’ with him?”
Sophie made a stately pose, pantomiming Jeffrey’s businesslike
stature.
In spite of herself, Angela chuckled. Her friend’s
impression was spot on. Angela walked on her knees to where
Sophie sat and took a piece of chocolate from the box.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she said. “Or Cole. I have
a feeling you and Michael are both going to have a fabulous
time tonight. Let’s talk about that.”
****
Angela glided on the ice and looked up at the gray sky,
smiling as the cold air nipped her face. The sun had settled
behind the towering buildings. The fading light dispersed
across an overcast sky, slowly slipping into the darkness. The
glow of lights on the eighty-foot Christmas tree loomed over
the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. Somewhere in the distance
bells chimed in tune with Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.”
She was on her third lap and Michael still hadn’t convinced
Sophie to brave the ice.
“This is insane,” Sophie sputtered as Angela came to a
snowplow stop at the wall beside them. “Why would anyone
think to put dangerous weapons beneath their feet and then try
to use them to walk on ice?”
“You don’t walk,” Angela said, laughing, “that’s why you’re
having such a hard time with it.”
“I really just wanted to see the tree,” Sophie said
apologetically, clutching onto the low wall. “Can’t we just get
some hot cocoa and watch?”
Sophie took a step in retreat, off the ice and onto the
padded floor surrounding the rink. Michael’s face fell as his
romantic plans for the evening crashed and burned. He
followed his girlfriend off the ice as Sophie shot an envious
glance back over her shoulder at the skaters gliding by. Michael
pulled her to a stop and spoke into her ear. Sophie narrowed
her eyes. She looked at the ice again and then back at Michael.
He said something else, she smiled, and the two of them started
to make their way to the rink.
Angela pushed off again as Sophie and Michael took those
first tentative strides, wondering what he said to convince her.
Whatever it was, Sophie was obviously glad she gave in.
She beamed and giggled like a little girl. Michael laughed,
struggling to keep himself upright as Sophie clung to him, her
feet slipping every which way.
After a few laps Sophie managed to skate on her own, even
daring to use the push-glide method, instead of the teeny baby
steps she had used at the start.
Angela pushed at Michael’s back. “Go on ahead. There’s
girl talk to be had here.”
Michael skated ahead and Angela hung back with her
friend.
“How did he get you to do it?”
“He said I should trust him to not let me fall.” Sophie
didn’t look up from the ice. She concentrated on her
movements. “That the hardest part is letting go of the control
and once you learn to just go with the motion, it’s easy.”
Angela slowed to a stop.
Realizing Angela was no longer beside her, Sophie tried to
stop and turn, but she slipped and lost her balance. Michael
hurried back and grabbed hold of Sophie, steadying her before
she crashed to the ice.
“Angie?” Sophie asked once she was secured in Michael’s
arms. “What’s wrong?”
Angela thought of Cole holding her in Grace as the
memories broke through, his confession beside the pond, and
dancing with him beneath fireworks.
“Trust him to not let me fall.”
“Angie?”
Angela looked at her brother and Sophie. Snow fell in the
space between them.
“He refused to say the words,” Angela said, her mouth
barely able to get the words out. “But everything he did…he
was begging me to stay.”
Standing in the middle of the rink, with skaters hurrying
past them, Angela lifted her face to the snow. She thought of
the miracle of those tiny crystals, each one uniquely crafted and
so perfectly white. She held her hand up to catch a few on her
glove. The snow could be cold and dangerous, but at the core
it was made up of these crystals, which were purposely
designed to be unique and beautiful. And in the storms of
Angela’s life, there was the beauty of redemption, forgiveness
and love. She knew now that she would never have been able
to see the intricacies of grace, nor the way it was all woven
together so perfectly, if not for the pain.
She smiled at her companions, who looked at her as if
she’d grown an extra head. “I have been such a complete
moron,” she laughed and took each of their hands.
They skated together for a few minutes, and then Angela
winked at Michael. She let go and slowed, allowing him and
Sophie to move ahead. Michael stopped and lowered to one
knee, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Sophie covered her
mouth with her hands as Michael confessed his love and asked
her to marry him.
“Let it Snow” played over the sound system. Angela let the
tears come, laughing as Sophie leaped into her new fiance’s
arms and sent them both flailing onto the ice.
****
The Montana landscape surrendered to the gentle assault
of snow. Cole hiked up his collar and entered the stable to add
another log to the furnace. Horses whinnied and scuffed their
hooves. They were already tucked into turnout coats to wait
out the cold night.
He walked out of the stable, his boots crunching through
six inches of fresh snow beneath the clear night sky. Stars
winked through the darkness. He picked out Orion, the hunter
constellation hovering above the horizon and facing east.
Cole faced the same direction, thinking of Angie in New
York. He remembered her walking along these same fences in
her stilettos and a business suit. She had been ready to run even
before she had taken that first step back to Grace. She may
have stayed for a time, but he had known from the beginning
he’d have to let go.
He hadn’t counted on falling in love with her.
He sighed and walked up the porch steps, kicking snow
from his boots. The house greeted him with the twinkling
lights of the Christmas tree, the warmth of the heater prickling
his exposed fingers. He rubbed his hands together. Remnants
of the day still lingered in the living room: empty cups and halfeaten meat trays, torn giftwrap and a petered out fire. It was
evidence of a gathering of friends, and of a home wellaccepting of them.
Now it was empty.
Cole wandered to the tree and smiled at the angel ornament
his mother had made from pipe cleaners and construction
paper during a blizzard one year. “Merry Christmas, Angie,” he
said, thinking of the little girl named for an angel and dragged
through hell, and then the woman who had emerged from the
ashes, and somehow ended up in his arms. He thought of her
on his doorstep at the beginning of the summer, when he’d
barely recognized her, and then her terrified cries as she
recalled everything that had been done to her.
She’d been the girl no one had wanted, but he had wanted
her…then and now. Yet, he hadn’t been able to bring himself
to ask her to stay.
The ornament twisted on its branch. Cole reached up to
steady it, but he knocked the angel off the tree. It bounced off
the branches and fell beside the sofa. He bent to pick it up, his
hand coming into contact with a velvet box.
****
Angela’s boots crunched over the fresh layers of snow, a
million stars blinking above her in the crisp Montana sky. She’d
had the heat on full blast, but her toes, fingers and nose were
frozen. Bundling in her coat, her scarf useless in the wind, she
looked up at the eves of the house and contemplated getting
back in the car.
A light flickered in the window. He had a fire going, and
the promise of warmth drew her toward his door.
He opened the door before she was even up the porch
steps, stopping in his tracks when he saw her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, coming up the last step. “You’re
going somewhere. I don’t mean to…I mean, I don’t want to
intrude. I just...”
She took a step closer, the warmth of the fire escaping out
of the open door and into the frigid night. Cole wore a thick
jacket, his cowboy hat traded in for a wool fisherman’s cap.
“I had to come home.” She closed her eyes and drew her
eyebrows together. “I
wanted
to come home,” she corrected.
“My choice is to be here. To be with you, Cole.”
He continued to stare at her, his stance solid.
“You were right,” she continued. It was convenient that
Jeffrey gave me a reason to leave. I was afraid to stay, so I took
the out he gave me. Please, say something.”
Nadine walked through the door and onto the porch, her
gaze on a plastic container in her hand. “Thank goodness you
haven’t left yet and I caught you. My, it’s a chilly one, isn’t it? I
fixed you a late supper, in case you get hungry on the plane.”
She shoved the container at Cole and looked up, gasping
when she noticed Angela in her peripheral. “She’s here!” the
maid said to Cole, and then turned to Angela. “Isn’t it funny?
You’re here, and he was just going to go-”
“Nadine,” Cole said, “can you give us a minute?”
Nadine said nothing more. She quietly took her container
back and smiled widely at Angela, and then disappeared into
the house.
The moment the door closed Cole crossed the distance
between them and pulled Angela into his arms, lifting her feet
off the ground as he swung her around.
She let out the breath she’d been holding and laughed as
he set her down and kissed her forehead, her teeth chattering.
“You’re freezing,” he said, “come inside.”
He ushered her through the door and brought her to the
chair beside the fire. Lights twinkled on the Christmas tree and
other pieces of holiday cheer littered the room. She slipped out
of her jacket as Cole settled onto the ottoman and took her
hands.
“Where are your gloves?”
“I don’t know. I forgot them.”
He reached behind her to grab an afghan from the back of
the chair, wrapping it around her shoulders. Taking her face in
his hands, he leaned his forehead against hers.
“When we were kids,” he said, “you always had to one-up
me. Like the time you swore you could swing higher on the
rope over the pond. And you did. You almost landed on the
other side of the pond instead of in the water, but you did
swing higher than me.”
She shook her head as he leaned away. “What are you
talking about?”
“I was on my way to see you, Ang. I was going to come
riding up on my white horse – or in a yellow cab, I suppose –
and tell you I was an idiot not to ask you to stay.”
“Cole, I-”
“And I was going to give you this,” he interrupted,
reaching inside his jacket pocket for a red velvet box. “And I
was going to tell you that I don’t care if the coalition gets the
arena. We’ll fight it together, or we’ll let them have it. Either
way, if you promise to marry me, to be my wife, I’ll have
everything I’ve ever wanted.”
He opened the box to reveal a perfect diamond solitaire
flanked by two rubies, but he kept it close to his chest and did
not offer it to her.
“And I don’t care if it’s not your choice, because I’m going
to be selfish about this. I love you, Angie. I need you. Please
come home.”
Then he closed the box and slipped it back into his pocket,
leaned over and folded his hands between his knees.
“Anyway,” he shrugged and looked away, “that’s what I
was planning to say on your doorstep in New York.”
She let out a shaky, watery laugh and held her left hand out.
“Just give me the stupid ring.”
He stared hard at her for several seconds, and then the joy
broke through and he couldn’t hold the ruse any longer.
Laughing, he took the ring back out and held it to her.
“I didn’t ask you to stay in Grace when I first had the
chance,” Cole said, slipping the ring on her third finger, “but
I’m asking you now. Come home, Angie. I retired from rodeo.
I don’t want either of us to run anymore. We’ll make a life
together, you and me. With or without the arena. Come back
to Grace.”
The memories of the summer streamed through her
consciousness like the reels of a movie on fast-forward. Every
tear, every frustration and heartache, and each and every
moment of confusion were all part of the journey that led them
here; to this new beginning and a life lived out in faith, trusting
in the man who would fight the storms to keep her.