Chapter One
Bear
This has to stop.
It’s not the first time the thought has occurred to me, and it probably won’t be the last. But as usual, I ignore it and pull into the parking lot for the elementary school where my woman is. From where I’ve parked, I have a perfect view of the windows that showcase the classroom filled with kindergarten students.
Faith Turner is the beautiful teacher that changed my life last year and didn’t even know it. I was on my way home to Courage County when I drove through the neighboring town of Sweetgrass River. A tornado had touched down only a few minutes before and nearly leveled the school where she’d been staying with three of her students who hadn’t been picked up yet.
I dug through the rubble and found the kids then her. I carried all four of the unconscious victims to safety and slipped away before anyone could see me. But since then, I keep returning. I can’t walk away from her. There’s something I crave about her presence. She brings me peace. She quiets my soul in a way nothing else has in four decades on this earth.
I want to talk to her. I want to tell her what she means to mean. A lifetime of being able to barely speak has taken its toll. I started working with a speech therapist not long after that night. I thought if I could just figure out a way to talk, I could go up to her and ask her out.
But a year of frequent therapy visits and all I’ve managed are eight words. Small words. Not even impressive ones. Hell, most one-year-old babies have a more complex spoken vocabulary than me. At this rate, it’ll be another decade before I’m able to talk with her.
Since talking to her is out of the question, I’ve resigned myself to doing what I can. I watch her from the shadows and take care of her.
The sleazy landlord that was threatening to raise her rent suddenly had a change of heart after I paid him a visit. The little rust bucket she calls a car got new snow tires last winter. The after-school program she loves so much that was in danger of being cancelled got an anonymous donation that will keep it operating this year. All just so I could make her smile.
Faith walks in front of her classroom, animatedly gesturing at the flower one of her students has drawn on a piece of construction paper. The smile she gives the little boy is blinding even from this distance.
Her dark purple dress clings tightly to her curves, curves that I remember holding. I don’t pray much but the night I found her and realized she was still breathing, I started again. I begged God to keep the other half of my heart alive.
I watch her dismiss her students and clean up after them. She practically floats around the room, looking like a perfect goddess as she does her happy dance. She wiggles her hips and shimmies her shoulders. One night, I want to watch her dance like that. I want to be the reason for her happy dance then I want to pull her into my bed and touch all of her soft curves.
She disappears from the room for a few minutes, and I still stay in the parking lot. It’s my last night here, and I’m savoring it. After tonight, I have to break this habit. I have to pretend that I don’t need Faith or the sunshine she brings into my life anymore.
A few weeks ago, my grandfather passed away. He left the family ranch to his eight grandchildren to inherit, but with a catch. Each Scott brother must marry. He even set me up on one of those mail order bride services.
As much as I crave Faith, I won’t do that to another woman. I won’t come here and watch her when I have a wife at home, so taking my time tonight is my goodbye. After this, I have to let her go.
My phone dings, and I already know it’s a message from Laney. She’s the matchmaker that’s pairing me with my future bride. For now, I ignore my phone. There will be time for that later. For now, my woman is coming back into the classroom.
***
Faith
All afternoon, I’ve felt him again. It’s a presence, the sense of a person that I haven’t been able to shake since that night.
A little over a year ago, I was with three students helping with the after-school program when a tornado touched down. The four of us huddled in the classroom’s closet since there wasn’t time to get them to a safer location.
I don’t remember much after I secured the door, only that the place started shaking and it felt as if the world were ending. Then there was blackness followed by the feeling of being carried. Strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe.
I’ve never been able to find the stranger who dug me and my students out of the rubble. I didn’t even see a face, probably a result of the concussion I’d suffered causing short-term memory loss.
The therapist the school board insisted I see told me it was in my head. She was a spindly little woman with a cold green gaze who said I’d made up the idea of a big, strong rescuer because I was afraid of acknowledging my own strength.
I know what I felt that night. Someone was there, and he’s been there ever since. I didn’t see his face. But I can still feel his presence.
Strange things happen to me now. I’ve never been that lucky and suddenly, things fall into place for me. My landlord backtracked on his ridiculous rent demands, and the afterschool program that I’d hoped would stay open—well, the school board found funding from an anonymous benefactor.
I only wish my stalker would show his face. I want to know who he is. I want to thank him for saving me. I want to know if he’s as amazing as this picture I’ve built up in my head. Probably not but a girl can dream.
Still, it makes it hard to concentrate on my class when I know he’s near. By the time the bell finally rings, a rush of relief runs through me. I love teaching my kindergarten class but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting.
Once the kids are gone and I’m alone, I start my afternoon routine of picking up crayons from the floor and straightening desks. I don’t mind the work, but being around kids every day is hard sometimes.
I’ve craved a family since I was a little girl and my parents died in a car crash. I was bounced around the foster care system after that. Most of the families I stayed with were nothing short of amazing and caring. I know that I lucked out, but none of them ever wanted to keep me. It’s why I’m so eager to start a family of my own even though I’m only twenty-six.
It was why I signed up to become a mail order bride eighteen months ago. In my head, I thought I’d be instantly matched with a cowboy, and we would be having babies by now. But that hasn’t happened and with each passing month and no match, I’d started to think that maybe there isn’t a cowboy for me after all.
Then I got the email this morning. I’ve matched with someone. I haven’t checked his profile though I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just nerves.
As soon as the desks are neat, I square my shoulders and prepare myself for the part of the day I dread the most—seeing Alan. The school principal is probably a nice guy. Maybe he spends all of his free time helping out at soup kitchens or something. But he gives me the creeps. He’s always staring at me and not long after I rejected him last year, all four of my tires were slashed. I couldn’t prove it was him and I’m not willing to damage my career over a he-said-she-said battle.
Just as I expected, Alan doesn’t want anything more than to complain that I’m not giving kindergarten students enough homework. He’s more concerned with the school’s reputation than he is helping our kids succeed.
I nod along, pretending I care before he finally dismisses me and I’m free. Back in my classroom, Monica is already waiting for me. She teaches the third graders here at Sweetgrass Elementary and she’s been my mentor since I first arrived. She’s the perfect blend of sweet and tough, always somehow knowing how to handle every situation.
“I like the blue,” I tell her and nod at the streaks of blue in her hair. The school has policies against the teachers dyeing their hair but nothing about streaking it. A fact she pointed out to Alan when he tried to act high and mighty about it.
She pats her dark hair that’s styled in an artful bun. “Me too. Now what was your news that you wouldn’t tell me over lunch?”
“I got matched,” I admit as I erase the chalkboard, including the doodle that my favorite student left behind.
She doesn’t say anything and finally, I turn to her.
“I thought you’d be more excited,” she whispers. She always senses my moods with perfect ease. If I’d been lucky enough to have a big sister, I know I would have wanted it to be her.
“I am excited,” I lie and automatically, my gaze goes toward the big wall of glass windows. Since the tornado, the school installed shatterproof windows.
“Do you think he’s still out there?” Monica asks as she sips a cup of coffee. She’s the one person that’s never made me feel like I was crazy for wishing the stalker would come forward. I’ve laid awake so many nights wondering why he hasn’t. I’ve made up a million stories about him in my mind, but nothing will ever satisfy my curiosity until I get to meet him.
“Maybe,” I answer even though I know in my heart the truth. He’s still watching over me. Just like he was that night.
“Have you looked at the profile for your new cowboy?” Monica’s voice carries a note of sadness. We both know there’s a very real potential that I could be moving at the end of the school year. I’ll miss my students, but I’m eager to start my family. Besides, rural communities are often in need of teachers.
“I’m scared,” I finally admit.
“Oh, honey.” Monica sets her coffee down on my desk then she’s crushing me in a hug. For a petite little thing that’s barely over five feet, she still manages to hug my towering six-foot frame with surprising strength.
“What if I choose wrong?” I can’t help voicing the fear that’s keeping me from moving forward. When I filled out the form, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say “yes” to the first cowboy that came along. That was before my guardian showed up.
She pulls away from me and gives me a sad smile. “I know you want this man to come forward. But if he planned to, he would have done it by now. I think you need to accept that he’s choosing to stay in the shadows, and that’s not likely to change.”
She’s right. Of course, she’s right. Tonight, I’ll open the email and meet my cowboy groom.