Finding Her Courage Read online

  Normally punctual was a good thing, but Camille had barely made a dent in the dusting. She hadn’t exactly been Miss Merry Maid back in Chicago, and that was with a two-bedroom house the size of a change purse. With this place, she didn’t stand a chance. She tossed her rag in the hamper and went downstairs.

  “Smile,” Nikki said.

  Camille’s mouth automatically moved up at the corners. She’d had plenty of practice fake smiling after Wesley died. This ought to be easy.

  A man and his wife who were just approaching retirement age walked up the path leading to their door. He was wearing a crisp white shirt buttoned all the way up under a navy blazer, and she wore a high-collared dress with a long skirt and pantyhose.

  “Where’s Evie?” Camille whispered.

  “Kitchen. I gave her some paper to draw on.”

  Evie could spend hours drawing animals. One time she’d drawn an entire farm set right in the center of downtown Chicago. Too bad she only drew pictures. A few words here and there would’ve been helpful.

  Camille followed Nikki onto the porch. “Mr. and Mrs. Dupont.” Nikki held out her hand. Mr. Dupont gave it two hard pumps, a businessman’s handshake. Mrs. Dupont touched two fingers to Nikki’s, then quickly drew them back. “This is my sister, Camille.” The handshakes repeated.

  After a long night of tossing, turning and answering Nikki’s questions as best she could, Camille had decided to take Ben at his word that he could sort this out. So she’d told Nikki to go ahead with her pitch as if everything were normal.

  “I thought we’d take a look at the property first.” Nikki stretched one arm out to her left. “All of this land from the crest of that hill toward those riding trails is included.”

  The Duponts started asking questions. A good sign. Camille did a quick cheer in God’s favor. Last night she’d actually prayed to Him. A full-on knees-on-the-floor, hands-clasped-together kind of prayer. The kind she hadn’t done since Wesley’s plane went down two years ago.

  She’d asked Him to help her sell this place fast before the bank took her real home. He’d been pretty quiet on the subject, but when the Duponts stepped out of the house after their tour ended, Nikki flashed her a thumbs-up.

  “It’s charming,” said Mrs. Dupont.

  “Perfect,” said her husband.

  A steady buzz sounded over their heads, like a fly the size of a refrigerator. Camille’s hands grabbed the hem of her shirt and tightened around the fabric. Oh, no, he’s not.

  The buzz grew closer, and the Duponts looked around to see where it was coming from. “What is that?” asked Mr. Dupont. “That’s not your generator, is it?”

  Her brain worked double-time to come up with an answer, but all she got was a big empty nothing. Ty’s plane came into view and started flying circles around her house. Evie came outside and Camille grabbed her hand, wanting to shield her from the sound and sight of it.

  “You live next to an airport?” Mr. Dupont didn’t sound happy.

  “It’s not an airport.” But it was hard to argue that when Ty flew his plane low enough to almost touch the roof of her house. He circled it a couple times, rolled the plane on its side, then landed back on his runway.

  Mrs. Dupont gave her husband a silent look. He nodded, and Camille knew they’d lost this battle. “Thank you for your time.” They started for their car.

  “Wait.” They looked at Camille. Um... “He doesn’t fly his planes all the time.”

  Mr. Dupont shook his head. “Even sometimes is too much for us.” A second later they were driving off.

  Nikki sighed. “Is Ty gonna do that every time? He was so cute at the gas station.”

  When would Nikki learn? “Cute’s got nothing to do with it.” The problem was Ty didn’t take her seriously. Well, that was his mistake. “Keep an eye on Evie.” She half walked, half sprinted down the hill.

  It wasn’t until she passed the horse stables that she heard a squeal and realized Evie was following her. For a little girl she sure moved fast. “Evie.” Her hands went to her hips, but only for a second. She was never really mad at her daughter, even when she was furious with her.

  They’d gone too far to turn around now, especially when her blood was pumping. So she took Evie’s hand and slowed her pace. They passed some horses, and prying Evie away was an unexpected challenge.

  Ty was standing next to his plane when they arrived. This one was yellow and looked about five decades old. There was a boyish grin on his face, equal parts adorable and infuriating.

  “What was that?” She wanted to shout but kept her voice low so as not to scare Evie.

  Ty’s grin widened. “It’s called a barrel roll. I used to do them all the time in the Blue Angels.” He winked at Evie. “Pretty cool, right?” Evie said nothing.

  Blue Angels? Oh, boy, that explained things. She let go of Evie’s hand and rubbed her temples. It was getting harder to stay calm. “Look, I know George liked you, but my lawyer says there’s no way you’re gonna get to keep the land. So you might as well stop all this.”

  The jokester look ran off his face. “Before George died, I promised him I wouldn’t sell his land to strangers.”

  Nice try. “I was with George when he died. You weren’t there.”

  She hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but Ty winced. “I wanted to be, but one of our vets was...going through something. I couldn’t leave him.”

  Vets? Like cats and dogs? All she’d seen were cows and horses. “Do you train veterinarians here or something?”

  Ty cocked his head to the side. “I thought George told you about this place.”

  “He told me about you. Said you were a stand-up guy.” Her opinion of Ty wasn’t nearly so high.

  Ahem. He did fix your car. For free.

  Right. Okay, fine. She wouldn’t deny he was stand-up, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t other things. Like irritating.

  Ty motioned to the land around him. “This ranch isn’t just flying lessons and cheap stunts. I’ve got men and women depending on this place. Flying’s just how I keep it running.”

  Her eyes drifted toward a man with dark, twisted curls that were cut short, deep brown eyes and a prosthetic hand who was moving in the near distance. A woman with a shaved head covered in burn scars followed him with a horse.

  “What sort of ranch is this exactly?”

  Ty rolled his shoulders back. There was pride in his voice when he spoke again. “It’s a veterans’ rehab ranch. We take in military men and women who’ve been hurt and teach them how to be whole again.”

  Wow. Okay. So she wasn’t expecting that. Still, it didn’t change things. Did it? Her inner voice gave no response, so she took things into her own hands. “That doesn’t mean you can just zip over my house whenever you feel like it.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop you from selling.”

  Annoying wasn’t a big enough word. “You’re only thinking of yourself.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  Pompous. That’s the word she was looking for. Well, she wouldn’t let him get to her. She turned to her daughter, seeking reassurance, and saw...nothing. No reassurance, no Evie.

  Camille spun on her heels, her eyes darting left and right. “Evie?” The panic was already in her voice, her heart already mounting an unsteady rhythm.

  Where was she? How could she just disappear?

  Camille circled the plane and saw nothing. She ran toward the horses, thinking Evie had gotten bored and gone looking around. More nothing.

  “Evie? Evie?” In another minute she’d be in full-on freak-out mode. Tears were already starting to rise.

  A gentle but strong hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to face Ty and found the reassurance she was looking for in his eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  * * *

  Ty was go
od at dealing with panic. Two dozen men and women formed a circle around him. Their ears twitched as Ty gave the details. Lost little girl. Six years old. He looked at Camille. “What’s wrong with her?”

  She gave him a look. “Nothing.”

  But Ty knew better. “Camille, I’m not asking to hurt you. I need to know what’s going on with her if we’re gonna find her. She hasn’t said one word since we met. Can she talk?”

  Ty much preferred Camille’s Mr. Spock to the pained expression she gave him now. “No. I mean, she can talk, she just...won’t.”

  “She wouldn’t call out for help?”

  In a low voice so only Ty could hear, she said, “She hasn’t spoken for two years. Not since her father died.”

  He hated causing people pain, but it was better to be truthful than spare her feelings. Ty looked at the group. “All right, we’re gonna have to use our eyes more than our ears on this one.”

  A hand attached to a tall man with a sharp jawline and cloudy gray eyes rose tentatively in the air. “Maybe she went to pet the animals. Kids like animals.”

  Ty almost choked on the surprise caused by the rare occurrence of Emmitt’s voice. Normally when Emmitt spoke, it was in short, clipped tones. This was the most he’d said at once in the last six months.

  “Good thinking, Emmitt. Why don’t you take Camille and head toward the main barn? Dillon and Daisy, can you check the hangar?”

  The rest of the group split up. Ty headed for Honey, one of the few horses he trusted in extreme situations.

  Camille ran after him. “I’m not staying here.”

  He glanced over and saw panic and guilt keeping company in her eyes. “Yes, you are.”

  Her voice hardened. “No, I’m not.”

  “You’re not in the right frame of mind.”

  As soon as her nostrils flared and her chin tilted back, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “Frame of mind? I’ll tell you what frame of mind I’m in. I’m her mother.”

  The blue in her eyes deepened and dared him to argue, but his mom had raised him smarter than that. When a mama bear showed her teeth, you backed off.

  “Do you know how to ride a horse?” A flicker of doubt crossed her face, giving her away. “It’s okay, you can ride with me.”

  Honey whinnied casually at their approach. He stroked her deep golden muzzle and asked her to be extra good. Then he cupped his hands to help Camille up.

  Deep creases formed around the edges of her lips. “You want me to get up there? Is it safe?”

  He couldn’t win with her. First planes, now horses. “The others are searching on foot. We’ll cover more ground if we go on horse.”

  Camille looked uncertain. They didn’t have time for uncertainty. Ty placed one hand on either side of her waist and lifted her onto Honey’s back.

  A squeal, more squeak than scream, sounded from Camille’s mouth. He gave her a moment to either yell at him or calm herself, and was grateful when she chose the latter. “Hang on to me,” he said, climbing up in front of her.

  She pinched the back of his shirt between two fingers.

  “You hang on like that and you’re gonna fall off.” She hesitated, then pulled the back of his shirt into her palm and closed her fist over it. Ty shook his head and got Honey moving.

  The second Honey went into a trot and they bounced in her saddle, Camille lost her hesitation and wrapped both arms around Ty’s middle. He was surprised by the feel of something so soft pressing so close. Mia used to hold him like that. The memory was unexpected. And painful. He tried pushing it away, but that only brought out more painful memories. Jon. The crash. Mia’s back as she turned away from him that final time.

  “This is all my fault.” Camille’s voice cut through his thoughts. He half turned and saw bleary red eyes gazing back at him.

  “Camille, this is my fault, not yours. I should never have argued with you in front of your daughter.”

  “Do you think God will keep her safe?”

  How was he supposed to answer that?

  Easy. The same way he answered clients who spent their flying lesson with their eyes closed. Tell them what they want to hear. “Absolutely.” It wasn’t a lie. Just because God had given up on Ty, it didn’t mean Evie was off His radar.

  Honey’s head made a sharp right and her tail came up, swatting Camille in the back of her head. She started moving faster.

  “What’s she doing?” Camille asked.

  “Honey’s part retriever. She must have heard something.”

  A cry so soft it was almost an exhale came from their right. Camille’s head whipped in its direction. “There!”

  At the base of a northern catalpa with large heart-shaped leaves and snow-white flowers was a tiny girl with a streaky red face. Evie looked up at the sound of the horse but stayed nestled where she was, holding her elbow and crying almost silently.

  Ty brought Honey to a stop. Camille slid off her back, drawing Evie into her arms and holding her so tight it was a wonder the girl could breathe.

  “Why did you run off? Don’t ever do that again.” When Camille finally let go, Evie touched her elbow. “What’s wrong? Let me see.” She reached for Evie’s arm, but Evie pulled back each time. Fresh panic rose on Camille’s face.

  Ty stepped forward. “Mind if I take a look?”

  Camille arched an eyebrow. There was that Spock he was beginning to know so well. “She doesn’t like strangers.”

  “But I’m not a stranger. Not anymore.”

  She tilted her head, thinking, then gave a slight nod. Blond curls were matted to Evie’s face. She peeked out from under them, curiosity mingling with distrust.

  Ty rolled the right cuff of his shirt back and pushed it up as far as it would go, then held his forearm out to her. A long jagged scar he preferred to pretend didn’t exist ran from his elbow to his wrist.

  It looked like someone had tried to draw a straight line on his skin in deep red ink, and instead had decided it would be more fun to scribble outside the lines. “I got that when my plane crashed into the ocean.”

  Evie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She reached out one hand like she wanted to touch it, then quickly pulled back. Camille was looking too, her brow all crinkled.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Ty said. At least not anymore. When it had first happened, he’d thought his arm had been ripped off. “I just thought it might help if you knew that sometimes grown-ups get hurt too.”

  Evie looked down at her own arm, bit her lip, then held it out to him. He turned it over and saw a small scrape on her elbow no bigger than a grape. No real damage a mother’s kiss couldn’t cure. The worry in Camille’s eyes softened, though it didn’t quite disappear.

  “When we get back to the ranch, I’ll have Emmitt take a look, just to be sure. He was an army medic.”

  “Is that the guy who looks like a young Clint Eastwood?”

  Ty had never thought of Emmitt as Clint Eastwood, but he supposed there was a quiet ruggedness that fit the description. He radioed back to the ranch and spread the word they’d found Evie. Camille’s eyes panicked again as he set Evie on Honey’s back, but she held off on any objections. They were a mile from the ranch, and Evie had walked enough for today.

  The gentle hum of Camille’s thoughts was almost audible as they walked side by side. “Maybe I was a little harsh earlier.” She paused and drew in a breath. “I’m sorry about some of the things I said to you.”

  “Some of them?”

  She gave him a look. “Don’t push it. You still scared away our buyers.” Her lips curved down. “But you also found Evie.”

  “Does that mean you’ll reconsider selling the place?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Let’s just talk about it later.”

  Ty had always preferred to fix things fast. Later would be a challenge for him, but he
could handle it. He’d handled worse.

  Chapter Three

  Going through George’s things was harder than Camille had thought it would be. She loved him, but she was irritated with him. What was he thinking giving half his property to Ty? She didn’t get it. And he wasn’t here to ask...or yell at or laugh with or lean on.

  Enough. She was just feeling sorry for herself. It was Wesley’s death all over again. For almost two months afterward, she’d refused to leave the house. Work had dried up, but her tears had refused to do the same. Evie was all that had kept her going, and then she’d stopped talking and Camille had fallen apart in whole new ways.

  One day George had shown up on her doorstep. You wouldn’t come to me, so I came to you. No accusations, no judgments. He’d just set his bag down and slept on the couch for the next month, reading silently from his Bible every night until Camille was strong enough to resume some semblance of a normal life.

  But the new normal included Evie’s doctor visits and piles of medical bills. Wesley’s survivor benefits didn’t include outside specialists with extra long lists of initials next to their names. When George finally left, he’d slipped a fifty-dollar bill into her palm. I can’t, she’d said.

  You can.

  George’s letters continued bringing her fresh fifties. Sometimes there was a hundred, sometimes just a twenty. Whatever he could afford, and always when Camille needed it most.

  She pulled George’s clothes from the closet, feeling like a traitor. First his house, now his stuff. Would any of George be left behind once she was done?

  Better his things go to someone who needs them.

  There. For once her inner voice was easing the panic instead of aiding and abetting it.

  His purple heart was tucked neatly on top of one of the shelves. That was staying with her. She opened the top drawer of the nightstand and set it next to George’s Bible, the only other piece of him she could never part with, even if she couldn’t open it.

  Evie lay on the bed watching a video on her tablet. They’d finally gotten the Wi-Fi connected. When Camille finished with the clothes, she went for the shoeboxes lining George’s closet floor.