Wrangling the Cowboy's Heart Page 14

He didn’t want to go through that humiliation again, trying to reach out to a woman who contacted him only when it was convenient for her. He had spent too much of his life hoping she would come. Hoping she could put him first. He wasn’t doing that again.

  “I don’t think she’s a better player,” Finn said, feeling a bit disloyal. “And in spite of how you think Jodie is doing, I know I can count on her.”

  “I still don’t like this,” Amy said.

  “Well, at the moment, unfortunately, we don’t have any other option.”

  That didn’t come out right, but before he could correct his words, Mandie was talking. “Okay. I think we need another break,” she called out.

  “I better go see if she needs anything,” Amy said, sounding self-important. She strode down the aisle, arms swinging, as if headed into battle.

  Finn joined Jodie at the bench. She was paging nervously through the music, as if trying to find a different order to the notes.

  “Hey. How’s it going?” he asked, as he sat down beside her, though he could tell from the lines around her mouth and the way her eyes skittered to the front that it wasn’t going well.

  “I don’t know. Hard to find the right balance,” she said. She looked up at him, her expression uncertain. “Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe your mother should be playing.”

  Was Amy putting ideas in her head? Or was it the other way around?

  He cupped Jodie’s shoulder, tightening his grip, disappointed at her attitude. “I heard you play the other night. You should be doing this. You are an amazing pianist and I’m not one to hand out compliments easily. Just relax and be yourself. I believe in you.”

  She looked up at him and her smile made him feel better. He bent down and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips. But as he drew away, he still saw uncertainty in her eyes.

  “You can do this,” Finn said. “I know you can.”

  “How do you like my outfit?” she asked.

  Her question was as unusual as it was unexpected. He glanced at her plain clothes, knowing he was heading into murky waters. Was she looking for a compliment? That was so unlike her.

  “Elegant,” he answered. It was all he could muster.

  She gazed down at her pants, smoothing them with her hand. “That’s what I was going for.” Then she gave him a beatific smile and he felt he was back on solid ground.

  “I thought I would stop by before I went on my shift. And to let you know that I won’t be around the next few days. I just got a call from the lady up in Great Falls I’m training those horses for. She wants me to deliver the gelding to her and help her out the first day he’s at her place.”

  “Really?”

  The disappointment in that single word ignited hope in him that Jodie would miss him. He was just overly sensitive to her moods. Things were growing more serious between them and every moment they spent together took him a few steps closer to a place he’d never thought he would be again.

  Making plans around a woman. Letting old dreams resurrect.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “Of course. This is all part of you building up your business.”

  “You gonna miss me?” He couldn’t resist asking that.

  “I will,” she said, reaching up to stroke his chin.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” He gave her another kiss, and then Mandie was calling her, telling her which piece she wanted to do.

  “Sorry. I’ve gotta get back to work,” Jodie said. “Have fun with the horse.”

  “It will be a riot.” He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “See you in a couple of days. And don’t worry about your playing. Just be yourself. That’s all you can be.”

  “I wish I could be better than that,” she replied obliquely.

  But before he could quiz her about it, she gave him another smile, then turned back to the piano. Mandie was at her mic again and giving Jodie the cue to start.

  Finn hesitated, wishing he could pinpoint exactly what seemed off as Jodie played. He had heard her that night when they’d played together. Heard the emotion that ignited the song, brought it alive. He had felt as if the music was a living, breathing thing, filling up the auditorium and his soul.

  Now, she sounded as if someone had deflated her. Technically she played well, but the spark seemed to be gone.

  He wished he could stick around, give her more support. But since making the deal with Dr. Wilkinson, Finn needed the money he would get from his client for part of his down payment. To collect it, he had to deliver the horse.

  He lingered another moment, then sent up a brief prayer. Be with her, Lord. Watch over her.

  Finn sensed she would need his prayers, because something was going on and he couldn’t figure out what.

  He walked across the parking lot toward his truck just as a woman got out of a small red car—a car like the one his dad used to own.

  She wore her graying hair in a long braid down the back of a white shirt worn loose over a pair of flowing white pants.

  His footsteps faltered as he belatedly recognized his mother. She’d worn her hair loose the last time he saw her, and her face had looked less drawn.

  But what was she doing here now? Especially after she’d said she wouldn’t be able to play?

  He walked toward her, frustration and disappointment mingling with a feeling of hope. The same emotions he always felt each time he saw her, each time she sent him an email or text message.

  “Hello, Mother,” he said as she came toward him, her smile hesitant.

  “Finn. So good to see you.” She held her arms up to give him a hug.

  He stepped forward and returned her embrace, then pulled back.

  “Sheriff Donnelly told me you’d be here,” she said, scratching her arm with her fingers. “I was hoping to connect with you.”

  “It’s good to see you,” Finn replied.

  “I wanted to see you. I just want to say I’m sorry—”

  “How have you been?” he asked, cutting off the automatic apology she gave him every time she saw him.

  He knew he should be warmer. Kinder. But disappointment after disappointment with her made him wary.

  Her eyes locked on to his, her expression yearning. “I don’t know what else to say but that I’m sorry.”

  He gave her a strained smile as he acknowledged her apology.

  Forgive me, Lord, he prayed, knowing he wasn’t playing his part as the loving and forgiving son. She has let me down so many times.

  And the fact that Jodie was now practicing in the church auditorium was physical proof of that. The fact that it all turned out well was a blessing in spite of his mother, not because of her.

  “So it seems as if you managed to find a suitable replacement for me,” she said, waving one hand toward the church. The sounds of Jodie’s playing floated out an open window over the parking lot.

  “Yes. Jodie McCauley. She’s very accomplished.”

  Just then a discordant note sounded and Finn tried not to wince.

  “I heard that from Mandie,” his mother said.

  Finn narrowed his eyes as her words registered. “Did Mandie call you?” he asked, unable to keep the defensive note out of his voice. “Is that why you’ve come? To take over from Jodie?”

  He knew she wasn’t playing to her full potential, but surely—

  “No. No. Not at all.” His mother fluttered her hands in protest. “I haven’t spoken to Mandie since...since I told you I couldn’t play.” She pressed her lips together as she hugged herself. “I’m sorry I put you in a bind.” She stopped there, as if sensing her apology wouldn’t be welcome. “I just wanted to make sure things worked out for you.”

  Finn tried not to look at his watch. To acknowledge the ticking of the clock. He still ha
d to go home and load up the horse, then head out. The sooner he could leave, the sooner he could return and support Jodie. He sensed she could use all the help he could give her.

  “Things worked out quite well after all.” He returned his mother’s smile, feeling he was short-changing Jodie by using the word well. “Fantastic, in fact,” he amended. “And now I have to apologize. I’d like to stay and chat, but I have to leave for Great Falls to deliver a horse, and unfortunately, I won’t be back for a day or two.”

  “Of course. You’re a busy man.”

  Her words were like a small reprimand, but she could hardly hold him to account when she had been the one to jump in and out of his own life. She could hardly expect that he would be waiting for her reappearance.

  “Will you be coming to the concert?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “You should. I’d love to see you there.”

  She seemed to consider his request, then nodded. “I think I might. I’d like to see Mandie again. And I’d like to hear Jodie play.”

  Finn glanced over his shoulder at the church, listening. Jodie was playing the piece again. It sounded better, but he knew she wasn’t performing at her full potential.

  “She’ll be great,” he told his mother, praying it would be so. “I hope to see you there.” Then he took a reluctant step back, feeling as if he was abandoning Jodie and his mother both, and feeling more guilty about the former than the latter. “I have to go. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  Then, sending up a prayer for forgiveness, and support for Jodie, Finn got into his truck and drove away.

  * * *

  “Can we run through that one more time?” Mandie called out from her position behind the mic. “I’m not thrilled with how this is coming together. Let’s just start from the top.”

  Jodie nodded, swallowed down a bout of nerves as she shuffled through the sheet music to find her place. This was the second rehearsal, and it hadn’t gone a whole lot better than the one yesterday. Tomorrow was the concert, and Jodie sensed Mandie’s frustration with her.

  This morning Finn had texted her a fun and encouraging message, and the good mood it had created carried her all the way here, until she saw Amy in her usual spot on the front bench. Every practice, the woman showed up, watching, judging, with waves of silent censure emanating from her.

  Jodie wished Aunt Laura would come again. At least then she would feel she had someone on her side. But her aunt had stayed away today and Jodie was on her own.

  It’s about the music, she told herself, placing her hands on the keys, taking in a deep breath. Only the music is important.

  She wanted to do a good job. Make Finn proud of her. She wanted to be worthy of him. Her hands faltered and she hit a discordant note and stopped.

  Even from here she heard Mandie’s suppressed sigh. She knew the singer was being patient, but her frustration was showing.

  I’m trying, Jodie wanted to shout. I’m trying to be the person you want me to be.

  “I think we should take a break,” Mandie said with a stilted smile.

  “We have coffee and goodies in the hall,” Amy said, jumping to her feet. “I’ll go get it ready.”

  “Sounds fantastic,” the singer said, unhooking the cordless mic from her ears and setting it carefully on the table beside her music stand. “You coming?” she asked Jodie.

  Jodie shook her head. “I want to go over this piece again.”

  “Good idea.” Mandie gave her a tight nod, then left, her entourage trailing behind her, her succinct comment making Jodie feel even worse than she had before.

  She sat at the piano, her heart clenching with a mixture of emotions. She missed Finn and she didn’t like the feeling. Missing him filled her with doubts and uncertainties. Missing Finn meant he mattered, which meant his opinion of her mattered, which meant she was vulnerable.

  It didn’t help her flustered state of mind that every time she looked over at Amy she not only felt but saw the disapproval in her eyes.

  Jodie shifted the music around, took a breath, closed her eyes and began playing again. She knew most of the pieces by heart; she’d been playing them every night, trying to get them exactly right.

  The beautiful songs and lyrics touched her soul. So why couldn’t she let those emotions sift into the music?

  Because you’re not good enough.

  Jodie’s fingers fumbled and again the jarring notes rang through the emptiness of the church.

  “You need to relax.”

  Aunt Laura’s voice startled her and Jodie spun around, so incredibly thankful to see her that she felt like crying.

  Her aunt sat down beside her and Jodie gave her a hug, clinging to her.

  “Hey, honey, is everything okay?” she asked.

  Jodie pulled in a wavering breath, about to tell her that yes, everything was fine. But she was tired of trying so hard.

  “I feel so mixed up and confused.” The words tumbled out of her.

  “Why is that?” Aunt Laura asked, her voice gentle, encouraging.

  Jodie turned back to the piano, her emotions wound up so tightly she couldn’t grasp one single thread.

  “This used to come so easy,” she said with a sigh, carefully picking out the tune. “I would sit at the piano and let the music come out. It would just flow.”

  Never mind that this often happened in a bar, as opposed to here, where she felt everyone watched, weighed and measured.

  But she wasn’t about to tell her aunt about that part of her life. Her dear aunt who never had anything stronger to drink than a double espresso.

  “I feel like I’m grabbing at the notes, trying to push them into a box,” she said, her voice strangled. “They don’t fit anymore and I’m trying so hard to make it work.”

  “That’s why it’s not working. You can’t relax when you’re trying that hard,” Aunt Laura said. “Music has to flow from within you. Has to be an expression of who you are.”

  And that’s part of the problem, too, Jodie thought. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She couldn’t go back to who she was before, but didn’t know who she should be. Most of her decisions had been a reaction to her circumstances instead of deciding for herself what she wanted.

  She felt as if she had been trying to edit herself, hoping people would find this version of her more acceptable than the real thing. And most of all, hoping Finn would find her more acceptable. Because since her conversation with Brooke, lingering behind Finn was the image of Denise. The perfect woman Finn had hoped to marry.

  “Could it be you’re missing Finn?” Aunt Laura said with a wink. “Should I call him and get him to come back right away?”

  Jodie flushed, sensing a deeper question in her aunt’s voice. But she wasn’t about to bare her soul, only to be told, vaguely or directly, that she wasn’t the one for him.

  “No. I’ll just have to muddle through this on my own.” She pulled in a breath, tinkling the keys absently. “I’m sure Mandie is wishing right about now that Finn’s mother was playing instead of me.”

  “Maybe. But that’s the other reality. Christie isn’t playing because she left her son in the lurch.”

  “How well do you know Finn’s mom? She wasn’t around much whenever I was here.”

  “I know her as well as anyone else in Saddlebank. She has always kept to herself. She left Finn alone far too much. She used to play for church, but would often not show up, which meant I had to cover for her.” Laura released a sigh that hinted at Christie Hicks’s failings. “I also know much of what Finn does is a reaction to his mother’s behavior. A way of showing the people of Saddlebank that his mom may not be dependable, but he is. That though she made bad choices, he doesn’t.”

  While her aunt talked, Jodie played a random melody, comparing
her life with Finn’s. It seemed neither of them had the best parents. The only difference was that the community was aware of Christie’s failings.

  “Do you think that’s been part of the problem with me and my father?” Jodie asked.

  Aunt Laura frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She toyed with a few more notes, wondering how to broach the subject. “I sometimes think some of my choices were a reaction to what Dad did...how we got along.”

  Aunt Laura touched some keys on the high octave of the piano while she seemed to look for the right thing to say. “I doubt any of our choices are purely ours. I think we are always reacting to what other people do to us. You and your father had a complicated relationship.”

  “That’s a diplomatic way to put it,” Jodie said. But the words came out harsher than she anticipated.

  Her aunt frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She waved off her question.

  “But it does. You know I care about you.”

  Jodie did know. The last few years she’d summered in Saddlebank, when she came to the ranch without her sisters, her aunt always supported her.

  But her thoughts ticked back to the many times she had hesitantly broached the subject of her father’s treatment of her. And her aunt’s puzzlement. Her veiled disbelief and the very tentative comments that maybe Jodie had brought some of her father’s anger on herself with her behavior.

  “I know Dad resented us being at the ranch,” she murmured. It was all she could say.

  “I think he resented the way his life ended up,” Aunt Laura stated. “I don’t think you know this, but your father had big plans. He wanted to join the marines. Leave Saddlebank. And then he met your mother and they got married, and shortly after that your sisters were born. Then you. Your mother had a hard time here. And they fought a lot.”

  “I remember some fights,” Jodie said. “Was it all bad?”

  “Oh, no. There were good moments.”

  Jodie drew up her memory of ice cream in the park and smiled.

  “Just not enough of them,” Aunt Laura continued. “After your mother died and you girls started coming here in the summers, I think he felt lost. He told me from time to time that he wasn’t always sure what to do with you. Especially once you hit your teens.”