Next Door Daddy (8 page)

“Nate's an incredible man. But I'm fine as I am. Really,” she said firmly.

Sam brought out their plates at that moment and Polly was relieved. But as everyone bowed their heads to say a prayer of thanksgiving, she thought she saw Esther Mae wink at Norma Sue.

P
olly shoveled dirt from the wheelbarrow and ignored the ache in her back. She wasn't really a yard person by some people's standards, but she liked big flower beds with low-maintenance plants that promised to bloom from spring until late fall. She'd always been a busy person, and finicky plants just didn't fit into her lifestyle. For now, that philosophy would have to work on the grounds of the bed-and-breakfast. But later, maybe next spring when she had her first year behind her, she would stretch herself and really bring this huge yard to life. She could envision arbors and trailing vines and all sorts of nooks in which guests could sit. It felt good thinking about the possibilities.

At the moment she was working on a round bed out in the center of the front yard, where she was going to place a birdbath and surround it with flowers. For now, she was just preparing the soil. Next week she'd actually do the plantings. And she was going to have plenty of advice from the ladies when they came to help. From listening to them, she could tell they knew all the plants that worked best in Mule Hollow's dry climate. They'd also mentioned they were all going to bring her some things from their own yards. She was really looking forward to that.

“Hey, Mom!”

After his riding lesson, Gil had called to see if he could check cows with Nate. She was startled to see the two of them walking from the backyard.

“We rode Taco to check the cows out there.” He waved his hand, indicating the pastures that stretched behind the house. Polly's two acres were surrounded by land owned by Nate. There weren't any cattle in the pasture next to the house. They were out there, somewhere beyond the trees.

“It was getting late and Gil was hungry, so I thought I'd drop him off and bring his bike over tomorrow.”

“That's great.” Polly swiped at her nose, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She probably had dirt all over her face. A glance down at her tank top and shorts confirmed she wasn't filthy, but close to it.

“You need any help?” Nate looked from her to the dirt she was spreading out.

“No. I'm fine. So did you have fun?” she asked Gil.

“Yup. Nate says I can help with a roundup one of these days.”

“Oh, did he now?” She cut her eyes sharply at Nate.

Nate put his hands on his hips and looked at her reassuringly. “Not until he's ready. But you have a natural-born horseman on your hands.”

She'd overreacted, and she gave him a smile of apology. “Sorry. He is a natural athlete.”

“It's okay. Looks like he takes after you.”

Polly shook her head. “Marc was the real athletic talent in the family. I just like to ride bikes.”

“I'm a chip off the old block,” Gil piped in. “That's what Grandpa McDonald says. He's got bunches of pictures and trophies of my dad's. He says all mine are going to go on the shelf right beside them.”

“You keep working and you'll be able to add some horsemanship trophies and ribbons to the mix.”

“Awesome.”

From inside the house, a mournful wail came. Polly hadn't let Bogie out while she was working because she didn't want him getting underfoot. “Why don't you go clean up and eat a sandwich? I'm going to work a little longer.”

She felt a little guilty about the sandwich for supper, but today had been a busy day.

Nate reached for her shovel. “Why don't you go take care of him and I'll finish unloading this dirt?”

Polly pulled the shovel out of his reach. “Oh, no. I can do it. Besides, Gil loves to create his own sandwiches. I keep the refrigerator stocked for him.”

Nate grinned at her. “You are a stubborn woman, Pollyanna McDonald.”

Her grip tightened on the shovel handle. She felt a little foolish refusing his help, especially when he was smiling like that. “I can do this.”

“I didn't say you couldn't. I said I wanted to help.”

“You want me to bring you a soda when I come back, Nate?” Gil asked. He was grinning, too.

“Sure. If your mom says I can stay.”

Polly looked from one to the other and gave up. “Fine. But get your own tool.”

Nate chuckled. “I'll be right back.”

Polly watched him stride toward the back of the house like a man on a mission. He'd been in her shed and knew where the assortment of garden tools was.

When he returned, he went to work beside her, shoveling and spreading the dirt. “So, what do you have planned for out here?”

Polly paused to shove hair out of her face with the back of her hand. The wayward strand immediately fell exactly where it had been tickling her damp cheek. It was nearing six o'clock, so it wasn't as hot as it had been, but she knew her face was probably pink from exertion beneath the dusting of grime. Ignoring her vanity, she met his gaze. “Well, for this year, something as maintenance free as I can get it.” She told him what she had planned and mentioned all the ladies coming out next week.

“Now, that should be interesting,” he said as he handed her his shovel. He grabbed the handles of the empty wheelbarrow and headed toward the dirt pile across the driveway.

“They're really a lively lot,” she said.

That got her an amused glance. “Now,
that's
an understatement.” They both grinned at the truth of his comment. “But they've done wonders for Mule Hollow with all their wacky matchmaking schemes, town festivals and theater productions. No telling what they're going to come up with next. I'd believe anything, though, because I never thought I'd see the day that a bunch of cowpokes would stand up on a stage and sing.”

“Have they tried fixing you up yet?” She watched his expression carefully. She wondered if he suspected that they were trying to now. She also was wondering why on earth she'd brought this up when she was already uncomfortable enough.

His lips flattened and his knuckles whitened on the handles of the wheelbarrow. “I'd think they'd have to be pretty desperate to set their sights on me. Pollyanna—”

“You can call me Polly. It's a lot shorter.” Why had she said that?

They'd reached the dirt and he'd parked the wheelbarrow now. He took his shovel and settled thoughtful eyes on her. Her heart skidded at the intensity. “I like Pollyanna,” he said gently. “It suits you.”

Polly's nerves frazzled further and the laugh that escaped her rode on the wings of attraction. The very idea took the wind from her. “And how's that?” she managed to say, trying to hide her discomfort.

“You make people smile.”

His comment totally took her by surprise. Especially since his expression had changed in an instant and was far from smiling. It made her think he'd just as soon she dropped off the face of the earth when he turned away and plunged his shovel into the dirt with all the force of sledgehammer.

“You don't have to act so happy about that,” she said. He slid his gaze toward her as he dumped the dirt into the wheelbarrow.

“I bet before your husband died, you really made people smile.”

“If you're asking if I was different before Marc died, the answer is yes.” She studied Nate's profile.

“So was I.”

There it was again. The connection. Polly looked away and started working. He did, too. They were two people trying to find their way. Her chest felt tight with emotion.

“Did you get angry?” he asked after a minute.

“Honestly, no. At least not in the sense you're asking. Everyone told me I should expect it, that I would and that it was a normal progression toward healing. But I didn't.” The tightness in her chest had eased some. She paused, suddenly wanting to talk. She turned back to face him, glancing at Gil. “There were times when I could feel anger trying to build up inside me. But when that started I reminded myself again of how blessed I'd been and still was to have loved Marc at all.”

Nate held her gaze as he handed her back the shovel. It did things to her insides. Polly took a deep breath to settle her stomach. “God gave me so many blessings. First he gave me a remarkable life with the love of my life. And then he gave me Gil. How could I be mad at God about that?”

Nate lay his hand on Polly's arm. “Can we continue this later?”

She looked at his hand as a mixture of emotions swirled inside her. “Okay.” She blinked, meeting his gaze and feeling as shaky inside as the smile she gave him. He squeezed her arm and his touch almost scorched her skin, or at least it felt that way. Polly swallowed hard and felt more than a little disturbed by her reaction. Nate turned away and reached for the wheelbarrow just as Gil slid to a halt beside him.

“I got food in my belly so I'm good to go. Can I push that thing?” He held out a grape soda to Nate.

“Hang on to that for me.” Nate chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at Polly, clearly totally unaffected by the touch, she thought. “When we get over there you can help. I loaded this up with almost more than I can handle.”

“Okay,” Gil said, trotting beside Nate, as happy as Polly had ever seen him.

“I may just have to give the young man a job. What do you think about that?”

“A job!” Gil exclaimed. “Woo-hoo! Can I muck out some more stalls?”

“Only Gil would find cleaning out horse stalls fun,” Polly commented.

Nate grinned, and Polly shook herself mentally to shift focus to him and her son. It was one thing for him to offer an occasional afternoon. But a job?

“Only if I can pay you, though.”

“You mean with
money?
”

“Well, sure, pardner. I'm not going to have you work that hard for nothing. A man needs to be paid for his work.”

Standing beside the flower bed, Polly felt her heart do a spin. Gil's eyes grew twice their normal size.

“Wow,” he said. “Did you hear that, Mom?”

“I heard. But really, Nate, it's not necessary.” She hated seeing Gil frown but it was true. She didn't want Nate thinking he was obligated to have Gil underfoot just because they were neighbors.

“For you, maybe, but I could use some afternoon help every now and again.”

Gil's smiled bloomed again. Polly bit her lip and held Nate's gaze. The man was impossible. “Okay, then. But you will not pay him.”

“I certainly will.”

“I pay him an allowance for the chores he does around the house. He doesn't need your money.”

“These aren't chores. This is a job, and a man can always use a little extra cash.”

Polly didn't really appreciate his bucking her on this issue. Gil was her son. She looked at Gil and he was almost pleading with her with his eyes as he hopped from foot to foot in his excitement. She took a deep breath. “What if you paid him in riding lessons?”

“Yeah!” Gil yelped, liking the compromise.

Nate grinned. “Sounds like a winner to me.” He held out his hand to Gil. “Shake on it. I hire your services and will in turn teach you to be a first-rate horseman.”

Gil turned solemn, then put his small hand in Nate's and shook like a little man. “Sounds like a winner to me,” he said, repeating Nate's words. And Polly had to fight off an unreasonable wave of jealousy. Not for herself but for Marc. These were life lessons he should have been teaching his son.

She allowed herself to feel the grief for what he was missing, then she pushed it aside and smiled at her son.

He was happy. That was what counted. Nate Talbert was a good man and her son had begun to think the world of him.

Her first impression of Nate had been that he was a stern man with little patience. She'd been wrong. Nate would make a great dad. The thought popped unbidden into her mind.

Someone else's dad, she tagged onto the thought. Gil was Marc's son.

“D
id you know that Nate used to be in the rodeo?” Gil asked the next morning, looking up at her from where he knelt rubbing Bogie's belly. They were on the porch and the dog was eating up the attention as he lay sprawled on his back.

Polly fiddled with the strap of her purse and watched Nate pulling up the drive.

She still wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow in the course of the evening Gil had invited Nate to go to church with them. Sunday school, then church after, to be more exact. They'd not been to Sunday school yet. Somehow that had turned into Nate picking them up.

“No, I didn't know that.” But she'd assumed it. She also assumed that before long she would know every detail of Nate Talbert's life. She would know it because her son couldn't stop talking about him. And if he spent more time with Nate, she had realized last night as she sat on Gil's bed and listened to his prayers—which included thanking God for Nate—she was just going to have to get used to it.

Her stomach had a wobbly feel to it as Nate's truck stopped in front of the house. God had blessed her by making them neighbors, giving Gil the opportunity to have a male influence right next door—what more could she ask? Not just an influence, but a great influence.

Still…

“Hey, Nate,” Gil called, bounding off the porch. Polly followed, feet dragging childishly as Nate got out of the truck. He was dressed in starched gray jeans and a pristine white dress shirt with steel-gray piping in western detailing along the pocket and cuffs. He looked handsome, but when Polly met his eyes she realized something wasn't right. He looked as troubled as she felt.

“You look nice,” he said.

His gaze drifted over her and Polly's heart started racing. It had been a long time since a man's compliment had caused her to feel something. She immediately thought about how his hand had felt on her arm the evening before. To her dismay, she felt a heated flush creep up her throat. “Thank you,” she said, then led the way to the truck.

Nate followed her and reached to open the door before she could. “Thank you,” she repeated, because she was uncharacteristically tongue-tied. And all because she was overreacting to a simple, obligatory pleasantry!

Nate seemed oblivious to her flushed face and incoherence as he opened the truck door for her. In fact, as they drove toward town with Gil filling the silence, she became more certain that her first impression when he'd come for them had been correct. Something was troubling Nate. He seemed distant as he listened to Gil, and though he answered every question thrown at him, Polly could tell he was working hard to hide his preoccupation.

The parking lot was full when they arrived.

“Sunday school is in the building at the side,” Nate said, nodding toward the building.

“Thanks, Nate! I told you it'd be easy,” Gil said, scrambling out of the backseat. “There's Max,” he yelped before his feet hit the ground. Immediately forgetting his mother and Nate, he raced away.

Polly felt guilty that she'd been lax in attendance. It hadn't been fair to Gil. “He's always loved Sunday school,” she said, stepping out of the truck, glancing over at Nate. His fingers were still wrapped firmly around the steering wheel. “Are you coming in?” she asked, suddenly realizing that he didn't look like he was.

“I've got a cow that needs checking over on some acreage I lease. I need to do that, then come back.”

He really wasn't coming in. Stunned, she stepped back from the truck. It was irrational. He'd only driven them in because Gil had asked him to, but still, she felt abandoned.

“Then I guess I'll see you,” she said.

He didn't look at her, just nodded, pressed the clutch and shifted into Reverse. “I'll be back.”

Perplexed, she closed the door. His expression said otherwise. Gil called her name and she glanced toward where he was talking with Norma Sue. Still puzzled by Nate, Polly thought maybe she should ask if there was anything she could help him with, but when she looked back he was already driving away.

“Thought for a moment Nate might actually come to Sunday school,” Norma Sue said, coming up beside Polly, startling her out of her musings.

“He said he had a cow to check on,” Polly said in his defense.

“Isn't that convenient? Ranchers always have a cow to check on. 'Course, I'm not one to judge the boy. Thank the good Lord I still have my Roy Don and haven't had to walk in the same shoes as you and Nate. Can't say walking into church alone would be an easy thing to do.”

Polly felt the tug of emotion from the words that she understood so well. Was Nate having the same trouble as she was?

“I'm glad to see you show up, though.” Norma Sue gave her a one-armed hug. “How's it going?”

They started walking toward the annex and instantly, like every Sunday since Marc's death, the same sense of dread sank over her.

It settled heavier around Polly with each step toward the building. “We're settling in nicely.” At least that was true. If only it were true for everything. She hated this, and had begun to think it would never get easier.

“When do you expect to have the bed-and-breakfast open for business?”

With all that they'd talked about at the dinner, the actual opening date hadn't come up. Polly focused. “I'm taking reservations for the summer fair the last week of May.”

“Great! If it has the turnout that we had last year, you'll be able to rent out every room and then some.”

Polly momentarily forgot her rising trepidation. “That's what I'm counting on.”

“Wonderful! Seven weeks and counting, and things are looking better around here every day. Morning, Brady.”

Mule Hollow had its fair share of good-looking cowboys and the sheriff was one of them. He'd been talking with Gil and his friend Max and the boys were obviously excited about whatever it was they'd been discussing. Polly shook his hand and smiled at the giant of a man. The first time she'd met him she'd thought of Matt Dillon and had the confident feeling that Mule Hollow was in very competent hands with him looking out for its safety and well-being.

“Mornin', ladies. Let me get this door for you.”

“Mom, Sheriff Brady says him and Nate used to swim in that pond by our house when they were kids.”

Polly cringed. “Well, don't get any ideas.” The last thing she wanted was to have to worry about Gil jumping in the murky little pond.

“Aw, Mom!”

She slapped her hands to her hips and looked firmly at him, her nerves getting the better of her. “Gilbert Marcus McDonald, you will do as I say.”

His expression fell and he looked at her sullenly. “Not the name. Mom—”

“No back talk, young man. You
will
mind me. Is that clear?” Especially when it came to dangerous things, she almost tagged on, but bit it back. She couldn't shelter him forever and Marc would hate that she was trying to hold him back…but Marc wasn't here and she was his mom. She knew her nerves were extra shot with her anxiety about walking into church as a single woman. And she shouldn't take it out on Gil.

That weighed heavily on her as Gil's shoulders heaved. “Yes, ma'am,” he huffed. “But I'm
eight
years old.”

“Not old enough,” she said firmly, though her mind was spinning with conflicting feelings about the issue. Gil, good boy that he was, looked from her to Max, shrugged, then raced down the hall and disappeared into an open doorway. What was she to do? She couldn't very well just let him climb on roofs and swim in tanks…She sighed. It went against her nature to simply let him flirt with danger. Not that she wasn't trying to ease up.

“Sorry about that,” Sheriff Brady said, and did some disappearing of his own. Obviously, he felt the same way that Marc had felt, that boys would be boys and what didn't kill them only made them stronger.

“Men, they don't even think about how us women worry.” Norma Sue patted Polly's arm. “Don't fret, though, boys thrive in the country. Rip-roaring and learning as they go.”

“I know. That's why I moved here—so I could relax—and look at me, I'm still holding on as tight as I can.”

“You've got a lot on your plate. Don't beat yourself up about it. Now, if you had a man around to bounce things off of that would make a heap of difference.”

Polly's throat clogged. “Obviously it wasn't in God's plan for Gil to have that.”

“Oh, honey, your life isn't over. You've moved to the right town to fall in love again. I'm telling you, we have a great bunch of single men just needing the love of a good woman like you. Nate Talbert is at the head of the list.” Norma Sue smiled encouragingly.

Polly forced herself to breathe. In that moment Dottie Cannon, Brady's wife, came out of the classroom Gil had entered. She taught the class and had invited him the day they'd moved in. She swept gracefully down the hallway and interrupted the conversation with perfect timing. Polly sent the Lord a thank-you.

“Polly, I'm so glad you brought Gil to Sunday school.”

“Oh, my goodness, I just remembered I'm supposed to take Esther Mae's place in the nursery,” Norma Sue exclaimed. “Dottie, will you show Pollyanna where the adult Sunday school is held?”

“Sure, I will.”

They watched Norma Sue plow down the hallway, her flowered dress flapping in her wake.

“You know, they're gunning for you,” Dottie said, her navy eyes twinkling.

Polly grimaced. “Surely not. I mean, I know they've hinted about me finding a good cowboy. But trying to fix me up—they wouldn't do that. Would they?”

Dottie chuckled. “Don't kid yourself. They would.”

Polly gripped the strap of her purse and forced a smile, hoping it would translate to her heart. “So what are my chances?” she asked, trying hard to play along, so as not to seem too panicked by the idea.

Dottie looked at her kindly. “Now, that depends on how you look at it.”