Montana Secrets

Lexi's laughter reached them then, drew their attention to the action taking place outside the windows. The little girl's smiling face represented all that was good in the world.

Unprofessional tears threatened. Grace blinked them away, blaming them on fatigue and the emotions that came with returning to North Star and seeing Seth so broken and defeated.

“Look at her. So loving and full of life. You are her example, Seth. If nothing else, your pride alone should keep you fighting, just so you can show her how it's done.” He wouldn't look at her, but she was glad to note he didn't take his eyes off Lexi.

“Pride doesn't change anything. I could've walked after that horse threw me if pride had anything to do with healing.”

“Then what about responsibility? Would you let Lexi give up? Would you let her stop living if she'd been the one thrown off the horse? Or would you love her so much you'd help her cope? You're only a cripple—” how she hated that word! “—as long as you cripple yourself. It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and
do
something about it.”

Dear Reader,

Characters are funny beings because they come to writers out of nowhere, take hold of our lives and do not let go until their story is told. After a back/shoulder injury I found myself in physical therapy striving to be stronger and watching the ever-present news channels while I struggled through the sessions. My mind was already using the experience as fodder for a story. I had a physical therapist heroine, a name, a mental picture of her. But what about her past? What kind of life had she led? That was something I still had to figure out.

Over the course of the next few sessions, the news headlines were full of seemingly normal men from seemingly normal lives who'd been arrested or convicted for unspeakable things. And as writers are a sensitive lot, I couldn't get those men or their crimes out of my head. What happens later when those young victims grow up? How do they recover?
Do
they recover? My heroine now had a past, and I had a difficult story to write, both emotionally and spiritually.

Montana Secrets
is about secrets, but it's also about forgiveness. Forgiving others isn't always easy, and for Grace it's next to impossible until she learns that acceptance is part of forgiveness.

Montana Secrets
is my first published novel and I'd love to hear from you. Please visit me at www.kaystockham.com or send me a note at P.O. Box 232, Minford OH 45648.

God bless,

Kay Stockham

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

G
RACE
K
ORBIT FLINCHED
when a book slammed against the wall three feet to the right of her head.

“Next time I won't miss. Get out.”

Gathering her courage, she peered into Seth Rowland's bedroom, unable to see much because of the dark blinds covering the windows. Too bad they didn't block the smell. Musty air and a decidedly unpleasant aroma assailed her.

“You gotta hearing problem? None of you've managed to fix me yet and I'm sick of waiting for a miracle.”

Grace was shocked. This wasn't the Seth she remembered. Taking a deep breath, she ignored his order and went inside, hoping her instincts would protect her from any additional flying objects. Three steps in, her foot landed on something soft and skidded an inch to the left.
Eeeew.

But the goo sticking to her foot explained the smell. At least part of it. The pungent odor of a too-ripe banana filled her nostrils. She lifted her shoe,
hobbling momentarily and, using the light streaming in from the connecting bedroom, spotted the outline of an overflowing trash can. She shook her foot over the container until she heard a dull
thunk.

“How about I open the blinds and windows?” she asked, her voice husky as she scraped the sole of her shoe over the edge. That done, a steadying breath full of dust and the lingering smell of fruit propelled her quickly through the mess.

“How about you go—” Seth finished his crude suggestion. Grace winced, but she'd heard worse.

She trailed her fingers along the wall until they found the drawstring pull of the blind and yanked hard, although she regretted it instantly when the dust flew. She waved one hand in front of her face while unlocking the sash with the other. Cold, crisp air flowed in.

Seth's eyes bored a hole into her back as Grace made her way to the second window, thankful the sunlight enabled her to maneuver around the messy room, which looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in weeks.

Mindful of the dust, she raised this blind slower, giving the task more attention than it deserved due to a sudden nervousness. How had she ever convinced herself she could do this? See Seth again? Talk to him,
touch
him? But in the same vein, how could she have said no?

She stared outside, at the dirt-and-gravel road leading away from the house, and knew this was one window she'd better keep closed. Otherwise she'd have a hard time fighting the temptation to climb through and make a run for it.

Unable to postpone the inevitable any longer, she turned. “Seth, I—” Grace gasped at the sight of him and hated herself because she wasn't quick enough to squelch the revealing sound. He heard, too, because his gaze narrowed on her and she knew the exact moment he recognized her—and she realized in an instant Jake hadn't told Seth his ex-girlfriend was to be his next physical therapist.

Seth's eyes widened, then he looked away. But in that moment in between she saw it all. Saw the cold, bitter distance she'd created. The anger and upset and breath-stealing pain.

Seth's guarded stare reminded her of an injured, cornered animal, fighting back out of instinct, but unsure of whether or not he really wanted to continue the battle.

Oh, Seth.

Lucky for her he appeared as shocked to see her as she was to see him in such a condition. She fell back on six years of training and experience. Lessons hard learned and refined by taking on some of the most difficult cases others had given up on. Like Seth.

Squaring her shoulders, she swallowed. “It's good to see you, Seth. Do you throw books at everyone who comes through the door or just me?”

Jaw tight, he continued to glare. “I thought you were— Ah, hell
no,
” he growled as understanding replaced his shock.

She forced herself to move closer with a confidence she didn't feel. “That's right. I'm your new therapist.”

Grace crossed her arms over her chest, hoping it looked like a gesture of strength, even arrogance, instead of what it really was—an attempt to control her quivering limbs.

He laughed, the sound gruff and low, sending shivers through her.

Seth glowered at the door. “Jake!”

Moving forward another step, she was amazed at the difference in the man she'd known compared to the one before her. Ten years ago Seth had been clean-cut and entirely too handsome, God-gifted with one of those rugged, craggy faces that only got better with age. Tall and lanky, he'd had a natural swagger and smile that stopped what little traffic North Star, Montana, could lay claim to.

Now the handsome cowboy was gone, and in his place was a bitter and broken man with eyes that burned hot with anger, and an appearance that stated
quite clearly Seth didn't care what happened to him. Not anymore.

“He isn't—”

“Jake!”
When Jake didn't appear, Seth turned to her. “You've had your look at the cripple, now get out.”

Her nails dug into the flesh of her arms. The sharp pain stiffened her resolve and reminded her, for the moment at least, she was the one in charge. She just had to prove it to Seth. And to herself.

“I can't leave you like this.”

He laughed without humor. “You didn't have a problem leaving me before. Now's no different.”

Now
was
different, but her reasoning was the same. And as badly as she wanted to do as he said, to turn tail and run, she was just as determined to stay.

She shook her head. “I'm good at what I do, Seth. What do you say? Will you work with me?”

A vicious curse filled the air, succinct with fury.

“Fine, I'll leave,” she said, careful to keep her voice from shaking even as she raised it to be heard over his ongoing litany. Seth stilled, then smirked in triumph, and that's when she decided he needed a firm kick in the rear. “That is, when you're able to get out of that bed and throw me out yourself.”

Neither of them moved. They wound up playing a childish game of Stare Down until finally, Seth bit
out yet another long string of curses. “Jake had no right!”

“He's desperate to help you.”

Help him? Seth scowled at her. There was no helping him. With every day that passed and every therapist that came and went, the angrier he became, because nothing happened. Nothing. The doctors' diagnoses were wrong.

“You can't.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Don't let it hit you on the way out. Better yet, do.”

Dust mites floated through the air as she stood there wearing an expression so pitying he wanted to hurl something at her again.

Tall and athletic, Grace still had a natural beauty. Her strength showed in the way her shoulders were squared and braced. The way her chin jutted in determination.

He'd kissed that chin. Run his hands over her body and listened as she sighed, loving the sound and loving her despite the way she'd immediately pull away and establish distance between them. He should've realized she didn't feel the same about him, should've known something was wrong before he'd made a fool of himself.

“I understand your anger at being paralyzed, Seth. I'd be angry, too.”

He laughed, unable to quell the bitterness. What a line, that. How could she possibly understand?
Had she ever had to ask for help to take a leak? Endured the indignity of having an audience present for the sole purpose of making sure he didn't fall off the pot the first time he was able to actually use a toilet instead of a bedpan?
No one
understood.

“You don't understand so don't pretend you do. You want to move and you move. You want to walk and you walk. I
don't.
”

“I'm here to help you fix that.”

He searched for something else to throw. Not at her, just something to take the edge off. “I don't want you here! You couldn't wait to get out of town ten years ago, but at least you did us both a favor and left before I did something stupid like ask to marry you!”

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her eyes avoiding his. “I should've handled things between us better, but I didn't want to hurt you and I—I wanted to go to college.”

“I never would've asked you not to go and you know it. You had a choice, Grace. Two scholarships—a school here where we could've seen each other or a school back east. You made your decision. You left in the middle of the night and ran, as fast and as far as you could, dragging Brent behind you.”

“You wouldn't listen to me,” she argued. “Things were going too fast. I tried to tell you that—”

He ran a hand over his face. “Any slower and mo
lasses would've beaten us in a race. You made your point. You wanted away from me,” he said. “Now I want away from you. You're not welcome here, Grace. Get out of my house, off my ranch and don't come back.”

Grace flinched at his words but didn't say anything. Instead of leaving, she approached his hospital bed, making her way through the minefield of books, plastic plates and ranching magazines. Now, there was a kicker. He could read about ranching, but he'd never again be able to do the physical labor he loved so much.

“You have to deal with this,” she said, nodding to indicate his legs. “Lying here is getting you nowhere, and I can't leave you like this if for no other reason than what we once meant to each other.”

“And what was that?” Seth injected a cruelness into his tone that belied all acknowledgment of their past. He slid his gaze over her again, hoping, praying, she'd go scurrying from the room the way his sister-in-law, Maura, always did. Not Grace though. No, she simply lifted her chin another notch, making him grit his teeth so hard pain shot up to his temple.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, though. Mostly because he was beginning to notice new things about her. Like how her chest rose and fell with her breathing, how she was too thin for her height and
her clothes were baggy, as though the weight loss was recent. Shadows stained the skin beneath her green eyes and she looked tired and drawn. Even a bit brittle. As if a good strong wind would make those board-straight shoulders of hers snap.

Had she worried about coming to Montana and facing him after what she'd done? Heaven above, he couldn't help but think she'd never have had the courage to return had he been healthy and whole and the man he'd once been.

He stared at her chest and the fullness there, not giving a rat's ass if he offended her or made her uncomfortable, as it always had in the past. Problem was instead of intimidating
her,
the sight nearly undid
him.

“You're fired.”

“You can't fire someone you didn't hire.”

Her voice was husky and rich, tart, like warm, mulled cider on a fall night.

“I'm staying, Seth, and you'd better get used to having me around. The sooner the better.”

She followed her brassy warning with a shrug, but the movement was stiff, and now that she stood within reaching distance, he saw a slight quiver to her hands. The twitch of a muscle near her too full lips. Maybe she
was
nervous about facing him. He hoped so, anyway. God knew he had little else to hope for anymore.

“I will make you a deal, though…if you're interested.” She propped her hands on her hips, widened her stance.

He almost laughed at the sight. Almost. Because like it or not, he was curious as to what she was offering.

“What deal?”

“I'll leave…if you can beat me at arm wrestling.”

Then he did laugh. “You can do better than that, Grace,” he murmured, relishing the dark flush that stole over her cheeks at his tone.

Her wide, full mouth pursed. “Arm wrestling is a matter of strength. If you can beat me at that, you should be able to handle your wheelchair fairly well. I'll let Jake know, and maybe if you're lucky, he'll back off on wanting you in therapy. Unless you're afraid to lose.”

“I wouldn't lose.”

“Then what's the problem?”

She meant it. She actually had the nerve to stand there and taunt him. He sucked in a sharp breath as the red-blooded male in him staggered. Grace was strong, no doubt about it, but he was still bigger, broader, with more than thirty years of ranch life under his belt and enough anger to self-combust. “You'll leave?”

“With bells on.”

He stared her down, waiting for her to look away,
fidget, something to indicate she wouldn't hold true to her word. “Fine,” he growled. “I'm sure there's a cowbell out in the barn somewhere.”

She raised a slim brow. “No backing out, Seth. You have to come with me and give Maura and Jake a chance to clean your room.” She looked around, her nose wrinkling, and shaming him even though she didn't say more.

“You've got a deal,” he snapped. “Get that table over there and quit stalling so you can leave. You're good at that, remember?”

She didn't comment as she walked over to the adjustable tray that went with his hospital bed and pulled it into position. While she did that, Seth pressed the button that raised the head of his bed, then scooted higher, silently cursing his body when the chore was harder than it should've been. He got himself settled and looked up in time to find her eyeing his legs with speculation.

“I'm going to have to move your legs to sit properly.”

He offered a grunt she took as consent, and in a no-nonsense move she grasped his ankles through the sheet and shifted his legs, then hopped up on the bed and sat facing him with her elbow braced on the tray.

“Ready?”

He ignored the glint in her eyes and shoved his
pillow down around his waist to allow him to have maximum stability. Placing his hand against hers palm to palm, he fastened his grip, unwillingly registering the feel of her smooth, cool skin.

“On three,” she said, her eyes darting away from his.

Now,
that
reminded him of the teenage girl he remembered.