Someone to Watch Over Me. Roz Fox Denny

felt hollow inside, just as she always did.

      Getting out in the fresh spring air did allow Isabella some breathing room. She blessed Trini five times over as she drove along the sun-dappled street where the lilacs already emitted their wondrous perfume. In November and December, Isabella had seriously doubted she’d survive the harsh winter. But the Lord saw fit to give her courage to get through a day at a time. There’d been plenty of setbacks. At least now, from the sound of James Hayden’s call to her mother, they were moving closer to a court date—even though the venue had been changed. Later, she’d call Hayden to see if he’d heard when they might start selecting a jury.

      Thank goodness she had several events scheduled for the next couple of weeks. And lambing would begin at the end of the month.

      Isabella didn’t think she could handle the trial without assurance that at least part of her family would be with her.

      Lost in thought, she parked at the rear of the Arrow-root Inn. The inn had two conference rooms, which they rented out for meetings. The Apple Growers were using the end unit today.

      Head down, arms loaded with boxed lunches, Isabella couldn’t see where she was going. But she could make this run blindfolded. She was startled to bump into something solid the minute she stepped up on the sidewalk.

      “Oh,” she cried, just as a deep male voice murmured, “Whoa there!” Attempting to see around the teetering stack of boxes, she met concerned blue eyes staring back, and shivered as strong male hands slid up her arms to steady her.

      “You?” Lurching sideways sent her load rocking dangerously again. “What are you doing here?”

      After making sure she wasn’t going to collapse on him, Gabe Poston relieved Isabella of most of her burden. The mere feel of her skin left his heart pounding like a kettledrum. He took his time answering. “I live here,” he finally got out. “Well, for the time being. These are no lightweight boxes. Where’s that cart you said you use in town?”

      “For a big cake. These are sandwiches for a group of hungry apple growers who’ll stampede out that door any minute headed for the rest room in the main building.” She was babbling, something she rarely did. “My goal is to deposit this load inside the conference room before I’m mowed down in the rush.”

      Gabe straightened the stack, which he’d shifted to one hand so he could open the door. “Which room? A or B?”

      “B,” she said in a tone indicating she neither wanted or needed his assistance. But he barged in without knocking. Isabella knew she’d have knocked first and then been made to wait while the meeting wound down.

      Rollie Danville, the man seated at the back of the room actually appeared to welcome their intrusion. Most of the others remained attentive to the speaker.

      Rollie wore typical farmer’s garb. Bibbed denim overalls and plaid flannel shirt. He drew out his wallet as he approached them. Then, not wanting to disturb his colleagues, he motioned her and Gabe outside.

      “Thanks, Rollie.” She accepted the check he handed her without looking at the amount. “I have more lunches in the van. And a cooler full of soft drinks. How’s the meeting going? Are apple prices up or down this season?”

      “Up,” he said with a smile. “Your brother Rick is a good haggler. He negotiated well for us at the buyers’ bidding in Wenatchee. We should’ve elected him three years ago. Do you need a hand carrying the cooler before we break?” His gaze strayed to Gabe even as he posed the question.

      Gabe stepped forward. “I’m Gabe Poston.” He returned Rollie’s handshake. “I’ll bring the cooler in for Isabella.”

      “You’re the SOS money man? I thought you looked familiar. Someone pointed you out at Summer Marsh’s wedding. You fellows dickering on another one of our local ranches?” The door behind them opened, and as Isabella had predicted, a stream of men poured out, all hotfooting it toward the lobby.

      She’d turned back to the van intending to collect another load. Interested in Gabe’s reply, she slowed her steps.

      He laughed openly. “News travels. I met with a man this morning who wants to sell his place. This deal is strictly personal and has nothing to do with SOS.”

      Rollie stuck out his hand again. “So I guess a ‘welcome, neighbor’ is in order.”

      “Not quite.” Gabe didn’t accept Rollie’s hand this time. “I made an offer. I expect he’ll counter. Excuse me, sir. I said I’d help Isabella.” Leaving Danville, Gabe rushed over to Isabella’s van.

      “I’m used to making deliveries alone. Don’t let me keep you from more pressing business.”

      “You’re not.” Ignoring her prickly attitude, Gabe lifted out the heavy cooler.

      They unloaded in silence until the van stood empty. Once the last boxed lunch had been deposited inside the conference room, Isabella returned to the sunshine and, with a shade less reticence, thanked Gabe for his assistance.

      He shrugged, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes. He casually tucked his thumbs under the leather belt circling his narrow hips as he said, “It’s straight-up noon. Even shopkeepers have to eat. Let me buy you lunch?”

      “Why?” Isabella pulled her head out of the van. She’d reached inside to the passenger seat to rearrange the flowers Trini had bought. They were belted in to steady the cans.

      “Because we both have to eat.”

      “I can’t. I have…an important…ah, errand.” Her gaze veered again to the bouquets. Unconsciously she fingered the points on a pinwheel.

      “To the cemetery? I’ll ride along and keep the flowers from tipping over.”

      Isabella licked her dry lips and dug in her purse for her sunglasses. She put them on, then raised them again to study this man—a near-stranger who offered to do what even her family shied away from. There was still no sign of pity on his face, nor any in his tone.

      “I promise I won’t crowd you once we get there,” he said softly. “It’s not a journey anyone should have to make alone.”

      Unable to get a word past the sudden lump in her throat, Isabella tried three times to step up into the van. It wasn’t until she felt Gabe’s cool fingers latch firmly onto her elbow that she felt a hairline crack in her tightly banded control. She managed a simple nod. If he saw her response, fine. If not, she’d make the trip on her own.

      But Gabe did see. And he noticed how ragged her nerves were. Quickly rounding the vehicle, he unbuckled and lifted the cans. He sat and closed the door. If asked, he couldn’t have said why he was sticking his neck out. Any moment he expected to have his head lopped off.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      AT FIRST, Gabe Poston’s presence in the van set Isabella’s teeth on edge. She’d made the drive to the cemetery so often over the past ten months that each winding turn in the road was indelibly stamped on her brain. Normally, she drove in silence, needing the time to prepare herself for a visit that never got any easier.

      Isabella especially didn’t feel like chitchatting with a man she barely knew.

      But they’d driven a mile and Gabe hadn’t spoken a word. He didn’t toy with the flowers he held on his lap, nor did he fidget like Isabella’s brothers were prone to do. Up until a few weeks ago, by tacit agreement forged out of her hearing, the family always discreetly freed up one member to make this trip with her. Today, even before Trini had backed out, she’d been determined to go alone.

      But, if truth be known, she wasn’t ready. It was comforting to have someone with her, sharing the lonely journey.

      “Less than a handful of people would do what you’re doing,” she said unexpectedly, her voice hoarse.

      “Holding flowers doesn’t seem like such a hard job.”

      “You