He saw immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Pain flashed across her face like lightning. Not for the first time, Boone wondered what the story was behind her children’s drowning.
While he searched futilely for the right words, a wan smile replaced the pain on Hannah’s face. She said, “You’d better get back for the movers. I’ll be along shortly.”
Boone knew when to beat a strategic retreat. Ten minutes later, he opened his front door to Bill Johnson, of Johnson and Sons Movers. “Hey, Bill.”
“Morning, Boone. You ready for us?”
“Sure am. Let me show you where to start.” He led the way upstairs to the bedroom he’d chosen for Trace, explained what he required, gave them a photo and design plan, then left the men to do their work. As he packed his bag, he reflected on the harrowing forty-three minutes between the phone call from Texas, and the moment his family departed. He’d had a helluva time keeping the worry from his manner while interacting with his family. More than once, he’d come close to fessing up to his mom, but instead, he’d pinned his hopes on Hannah.
Thank God she hadn’t let him down. It had been his lucky day when he’d decided to let his little Zippo shine. Doing so lit the way for both of them, didn’t it? Wonder if Celeste had anticipated that. Of course she had.
He had his bag packed and in the back of his Land Rover when Hannah arrived. He was happy to see she carried a duffel and wore a backpack. Not that he’d expected her to beg off, but he wouldn’t relax entirely until they were wheels up.
He stowed her bags before leading her upstairs, where Bill and his men were well on their way to being finished. He picked up a small leather portfolio from the table on the landing where he’d left it and handed it to her. “For notes about what I’ve forgotten.”
He led her to the doorway of the nursery, watching avidly for her reaction. She visibly melted. “Oh, Boone. It’s darling. Just darling.”
He preened beneath her approval, even as he said, “Don’t give me too much credit. I found a photo I liked on Pinterest and ordered everything in the picture.” He’d gone with a forest theme in earth-tone colors. The crib, changing table, and dresser were made from knotty pine, and the accessories included a moose lamp and a “bearskin” rug.
“There’s more stuff in the room next door. A few toys. Lots of things that rock and swing and play music. I don’t know where to put it, and I forgot all about buying clothes.”
Hannah opened the portfolio and jotted a few notes. “Let’s see the other room.”
“It’s the second door on the right.” He gestured for her to lead the way down the hall. There, Hannah stopped abruptly. “A few toys?”
He offered an abashed grin and lifted his shoulders.
“An electric race car set? A bike? Remote control cars? Getting a little head of yourself and Trace, don’t you think?”
“There’s a Baby Einstein play station in there somewhere too.”
Hannah shook her head, stepped into the room, and began surveying the boxes. “Did you order bottles?”
“Yes. And talk about a difficult decision. There are dozens of brands and sizes and styles. How do you know what to buy?”
“Let me guess,” she drily replied. “You bought some of them all.”
“Well, yeah. I can donate what we don’t use to women’s shelters.”
She muttered something about generosity and more money than sense. At the same time, she inspected the contents of what he now considered the overflow room. Pretty soon, she was humming a tune. Recognizing it, he groaned. “‘This Old Man’? Seriously. Thanks for the earworm, Hannah. I’ll be knick-knack paddy-whacking all day. That’s the worst.”
“No,” she absently replied. “‘Wheels on the Bus’ is the absolute worst.”
“Great. Just great.” He shook his head and signaled a retreat. “I’m going to go write Bill his check.”
Bill and his crew took Boone’s request for speed to heart, and they finished up twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Boone doubled the tip for each worker. “You seven men are the only people who know what was delivered to my house today. I know how small-town gossip is. There’s another C-note in it for each of you if you keep the news to yourselves until I return.”
“We are nothing if not discreet,” Bill said. He folded his check and cash tip and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “It’s all part of the job.”
With the movers gone, Boone went in search of Hannah. He found her in the kitchen unpacking baby bottles and loading them into the sterilizer. “You ready to go?”
“Give me five more minutes, and I’ll have this all set up for you to run when you get home.”
“Sounds great.”
Forty minutes later, they were in the air. It was Hannah’s first trip on a private jet. They talked airplanes for a bit before conversation switched to baby gear and child-rearing challenges. However, as they drew closer to landing, Boone lapsed into silence.
The day he’d left Fort Worth, Texas, he’d intended never to return. He’d skipped weddings and funerals and the Fort Worth Stock Show—the favorite event of his youth. He’d inconvenienced his family and disappointed his friends and cut ties with his former colleagues because doing otherwise meant he’d have to go home and face his failures.
Now here he was aboard a jet approaching the landing path to Meacham Field on the north side of the city. “I’m a bundle of nerves,” he admitted to Hannah.
“Not exactly what a person wants to hear from the man who employs the pilot who is landing the plane,” she drily observed.
It was just the light touch of humor he needed to hear at the moment. As the Cessna landed smoothly a few minutes later, he was ever so glad to have Hannah Dupree at his side.
The heat of the summer afternoon hit like a fist when they exited the plane and walked toward the car he’d ordered. Wincing, Hannah said, “Oh, wow. I expected it to be hot, but this is crazy. You can hardly breathe, it’s so hot.”
“It’s why what seems like half of Texas flees to the mountains in the summer. I checked the forecast. Supposed to hit a hundred and five today.”
“Tell me why I agreed to leave Eternity Springs this morning?”
“Because you’re my friend and you have a heart as big as this state.” Then, because his fundamental nature hadn’t changed, he added, “Just so you know, I think you’re hot as Texas too.”
She chided him with a smirk, but he thought she looked pleased with the compliment.
Soon they were on their way to the downtown hotel where he’d upgraded his reservation to a two-bedroom suite before leaving Eternity Springs. As he watched the familiar skyline grow larger with their approach, his melancholy returned. Inside himself, he felt as if someone had cranked down the air conditioner to freezing.
He had thought he’d left his ghosts behind in Enchanted Canyon when he’d decided to adopt the child. He’d spent the long weekend hiking the canyon trails and thinking about history—his own and that of people who had gone before. While poking around the ghost town that brought the Old West to life, he’d reflected on the cowboys and Comanche, and the desperadoes and fallen women who’d called the canyon home. Sinners and cast-outs with debts to pay.