Page 13 of Sweet Surrender

“You have such a pretty voice, Miss Hawthorne,” Angela said. “You don’t sing, do you?”

“Just in church choir when I was in school,” Becca said, shrugging.

“Soprano?” Angela asked.

“How did you guess?” Becca asked.

“Any interest in joining the choir in town?” Angela asked her, winking. “We’re down a second soprano for the tree-lighting event.”

“I’d love to,” Becca said right away.

She was actually feeling a little overwhelmed with everything she had to do as a new teacher. But she had always believed strongly that every teacher needed to be a good example to her students by participating in the community. And this opportunity to do something she actually enjoyed had fallen right in her lap. It was a sign.

“I’ll email you when I get a free minute,” Angela told her with a smile. “Now, you hold that right there, Mr. Lawrence. Don’t move a muscle, don’t flinch an inch, and I’ll be right back with an ice pack.”

Cal grinned.

“Should we call his dad?” Becca asked.

“If they’re not going home, we don’t normally call,” the nurse said, stopping in the doorway. “We usually just send an email home at the end of the day. And this guy’s way too fierce to go home early, right tough guy?”

Cal smiled up at her from behind the gauze.

Angela was off in a heartbeat, leaving Becca alone with Cal.

She couldn’t help noticing that he looked more like a tired child in pain when the nurse left. Maybe that was natural after what he’d been through, but she didn’t like it.

“I think I would feel better just letting your dad know what happened,” she said softly. “Would that be okay?”

Cal nodded.

“Do you remember his number?” she asked, pulling her phone from her coat pocket.

Cal recited the number to her, and she dialed.

5

ZANE

Zane looked out at the herd grazing peacefully on the hillside beneath the expanse of cloudless gray sky. The cows moved slowly, picking at sprouts of grass that peeked through the patches of snow.

But somehow even with the fresh, cold air in his lungs, and the familiar sight that usually brought him serenity, he was still feeling restless today.

He had finished up early in the creamery and then tried to get some maintenance done on the machines. But he’d been unable to concentrate, his feet pacing and his eyes getting stuck on the view out the window instead of the task at hand.

Normally, he loved the tools and the science of the creamery. But Zane grew up on outdoor chores, so he knew when it was better to just get back outside and let a little frosty air and exercise clear his head. And today was one of those days.

So he’d decided to come and help Tripp move the herd up here for more grazing. And as soon as he started crunching through the snow to the barn to saddle up Marty, his childhood horse, he instantly felt more like himself.

Tripp gave a whoop when he spotted them cantering up the hill, and Zane felt the same happy burst in his chest he always felt when he saw his brother.

But the feeling hadn’t lasted. Now here he was again, eyes on the horizon, blood pumping with an urgency over something, even if he wasn’t sure what it was.

It had better not be that pretty little teacher,he scolded himself.

“What’s up with you today?” Tripp asked, riding up on Doc, who gave a snort and nosed at Marty, their breath pluming.

“They’re happy to see each other,” Zane said of the horses, instead of answering.

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