Page 68 of Parading the Cowboy Billionaire (Bluegrass Ranch 4)

Surely God wanted her to do more than spend her time and money cooking in someone else’s house. Alone.

With the potato salad finished and in the fridge to chill, Ginny went into the master bedroom, which was a cozy room with big, muted watercolor paintings on the wall above the bed. She smiled at them, the crazy idea that she should learn to paint with watercolors moving through her thoughts.

As she climbed into bed, she asked, “Is that what I’m supposed to do? Take a watercolor class?”

She started a movie on her tablet but used her new phone to search for watercolor classes in Jeffersonville. There weren’t any—but there was one in Dreamsville, with a woman named Barbara Delaney.

“Barb, of course,” Ginny said, exiting form her Internet browser. She knew Barb, because she had a son who had two children with special needs. They’d come to the private children’s event last July at Ginny’s personal request.

She didn’t have any of her old numbers in this new phone, so she had to go into her email client and the contacts there to find Barb’s number. She dialed, ready to charm her way into whatever class she could. She had no idea why, but it was literally the only thought that had come to her since she’d asked the Lord for help.

“Hello?” Barb answered.

“Barb,” she said. “It’s Ginny Winters.” She felt herself slipping into her fake persona, and she yanked herself right back out. She wasn’t going to talk in that false tone, and she wasn’t going to act like everything was peachy when it wasn’t.

“Ginny, dear,” Barb said in such a pleasant tone that relief rushed through Ginny. At the same time, tears flowed down her face. Barbara Delaney was the picture-perfect grandmother. She could be Ginny’s mother, and Ginny wished she was with the power of gravity.

What would it be like to have a kind parent? One she could turn to when life got hard and she needed somewhere soft to fall?

As it was, she had only one place to go when that happened: Olivia Hudson.

“Are you there?” Barb asked, and Ginny sobbed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice broken. “I’m here.”

“Ginny, my dear, what’s the matter?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, feeling some strength come back to her. Her mind slowed enough to remember the things the pastor had said all these weeks. She wasn’t worthless. No matter where she existed in the journey, the Lord wanted her to come to Him.

She would always be enough for Him.

“I wondered if you’d give me some painting lessons,” she said, smoothing her voice out by the end of the sentence.

Barb remained quiet, and Ginny thought she’d probably scared her with the sobbing and now she didn’t know how to respond. She finally said, “I’m sure I can, dear. Do you want private lessons or a group class?”

“Group is probably fine,” she said, not wanting to be a burden. “How many are in a group?”

“Six, and I have a new group starting on Thursday that has a spot, if you’d like it.”

“I would,” Ginny said, smiling through her tears. “Thank you, Barb.”

They continued to chat about the details of the class, and then a pause filled the line. “I just made two apple pies,” Barb said. “I’d love to bring you one.”

“I’d like that too,” Ginny said. “However, I’m not home right now. I’m…out of town for a few more days.”

“Okay,” Barb said. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” she said. “Really. Thanks, Barb.” She ended the call as quickly as she could after that and laid back on her pile of pillows.

The romantic comedy played in front of her, but she focused on the rough texture of the ceiling above her. “Really, Lord? Watercolor classes? What is that supposed to do for me?”

She amended the question quickly—the class wasn’t for her. It was for the Lord.

She also couldn’t leave Olli and her family in the dark. She’d promised them all that she’d let them know she was okay, and she quickly tapped out two messages. One for Olli, saying,Here’s my new number. I’m doing good today, and I’ve made a delicious potato salad I’m going to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the foreseeable future.

As she waited for her best friend to respond, she put all three of her brothers into one text and sent them a similar message, minus the reference to potato salad. They responded quicker, as no one in the Winters family ever did much without their phone surgically attached to their hands.

She could feel their love coming through in the messages, and Ginny closed her eyes and said, “Thank you, Lord,”

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