“Hell, boy.” Dad punched Rod on the shoulder. “Silverbell might be a little frisky, but Shelby can handle him. She’s named after my mother, isn’t she?”

Rod’s blue eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted between Ryder and Shelby. “Yeah, she is.”

Ryder turned his back on his know-it-all older brother and jogged down the steps. “Let’s get one of those ponies saddled up.”

JULIA SANK onto the porch swing in front of the McClintocks’ ranch house. Her anxiety about Shelby ’s first riding lesson had seeped away as she watched Ryder, one hand firmly on Skipper’s rein, the other on Shelby ’s back, circle the paddock with the pony.

Shelby had accompanied Ryder to the barn to watch him rub down the horse and feed him an apple, and Julia had let her go without a backward glance. Just a week ago, she’d rarely let Shelby out of her sight, except for her stays with the Stokers.

She instinctively trusted Ryder deep in her core.

The screen door squeaked on its hinges, and Julia jerked her head to the side. Rod McClintock, Ryder’s older brother, sauntered onto the porch and settled his shoulders against a post, a toothpick between his teeth.

The first time she’d seen Rod, her heart jumped in her chest. And now she knew why. Ryder resembled his older brother. They had the same strong, handsome face with wide cheekbones and a square jaw. Rod was a little taller than Ryder, a little broader, and much more serious.

His icy blue eyes drilled her, and she suppressed a shiver. He had a reputation as a hard man to please. Many women in Silverhill and beyond had tried, and many had failed.

He shifted his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Is Ryder still with Shelby?”

“He took her to the barn to rub down Skipper.” She released her toe from the porch, nudging the swing into motion.

“I never knew Ryder to be interested in kids before.”

“He worked with Shelby ’s father, and he was…is my friend.” She curled one leg beneath her thigh and continued swinging. “He told you how we knew each other, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I heard the story.”

Ryder wouldn’t have told his brother about Jeremy’s murder and the CD. Ryder didn’t tell his family a lot about what he did. Rod seemed to have his suspicions, but Julia wasn’t about to fill him in.

“Well, I think Ryder feels responsible for me and Shelby, and he’s helping me recover my memories.”

“How’s that going for you?” The lines in Rod’s face softened and his voice warmed.

Julia let out a long breath. Guess he was done with the inquisition. “It’s going great. With Ryder’s help I’m beginning to remember things about my mom. I may even be ready to write her a letter soon and let her know she has a granddaughter.”

“Let who know she has a granddaughter?” Ryder had come around the corner and balanced one foot on the bottom porch step.

“My mother.”

Rod leaned his back against the porch railing and shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth while his gaze meandered between Julia and Ryder. Julia’s cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. Unlike a lot of the good people of Silverhill, Rod had never paid much attention to her and her strange story but his brother’s involvement seemed to pique his interest.

Ryder laughed. “Better go slow with that news. You don’t want to turn Celeste’s hair gray overnight with the shock.”

“Where’s Shelby?” It showed how much she’d come to trust Ryder in such a short space of time that she didn’t jump out of her skin with worry when he didn’t show up with her daughter.

Ryder jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I dropped her off at the side door of the kitchen so Pam could feed her. Is that okay?”

She nodded, and Rod snorted.

Ryder’s brow shot up. “Commentary?”

“Pam must’ve been in heaven getting that little girl in her kitchen.” Rod shoved off the porch railing and headed back inside the house. He twisted his head over his shoulder and murmured, “She’s been waiting a long time for a grandkid.”

“ Shelby did great today.” Ryder sprang up the remaining steps and dropped to the swing next to Julia, sending it rocking back and forth. “She’s a natural. I don’t think she has an ounce of fear in her, and Rod nailed it, as usual, Skipper was a perfect mount.”

“Whoa.” Julia placed a hand on Ryder’s bicep and squeezed. “Slow down. You sound as excited as Shelby.”

“She has that effect on me.” He placed his hand over hers, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb across her knuckles. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you earlier if any more memories are filtering through.”

“Little by little I’m remembering events like snapshots. I-I remember my father.” She placed a palm on her chest as a fist squeezed her heart.

At the end of every day, she lay on her bed and used the relaxation techniques Dr. Brody taught her. For the first time in three years, the techniques worked. Memories like wisps of gossamer thread floated through her mind. She tried to catch the happy ones and wrap them around her fingers, but she seemed to get all tangled up in the unhappy ones instead and they flooded her reeling senses with grief and loss.

Maybe her brain shoveled out the bad memories before the good ones as a kind of protective mechanism, as in, it can only get better from here. If so, this process meant good news about Ryder because try as she might, she couldn’t focus on one memory of him although she felt his presence in the background.

She called Jim every day to report on her progress, and he told her the memories of Ryder might be slower to come because he existed for her in the present.

“Are you there now?”

“What?” She dropped her hands to her lap.

“Are you remembering your father now?” He draped his arm across the back of the swing, his fingertips brushing her shoulder.

“No, I’m thinking about Dr. Brody.”

Ryder withdrew his arm and stiffened beside her. Damn. She’d only been thinking about Jim and his comments about Ryder. Could she backtrack now?

“I mean I’m thinking about Dr. Brody’s assessment of my memories…” She trailed off as Ryder’s frown deepened.

“About Brody.”

She waited, but Ryder suddenly found his fingernail immensely interesting.

“Yeah, what about him?” She tried to nudge the swing into motion again, but Ryder’s feet planted on the porch prevented that.

“Julia, I don’t think Dr. Brody is the best therapist for you.”

“You don’t still think he had anything to do with slashing your tires or the fire at the hotel, do you?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that…” He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “Oh hell, I had him checked out.”

“You had Jim investigated?” She jumped up from the swing and dug her fists into her hips. Just because this man knew her from her past, helped her recover her memories and sent her pulse racing every time he touched her, didn’t give him the right to stick his nose in her personal business.

“Do you want to know what my guy discovered?” He plucked his white cowboy hat from his head, dropped it on the cushion she just vacated, and ran his long fingers through his hair.

She swallowed and nodded.

“The American Board of Professional Psychologists filed a formal complaint against Dr. Brody for inappropriate conduct with a patient four years ago.”

“And?” Her chest ached with pent-up breath. “Did he leave her flowers, rip up her underwear and slash her tires?”

“No.” He pushed up from the porch swing and it rocked back, banging the back of his legs as it swung forward. “He allowed her to spend the night at his place when she separated from her husband. I don’t know anything more than that. The complaint doesn’t give specifics.”

Her knees felt weak with relief and she leaned against the porch railing, wedging her elbows on the top railing. “So you don’t know what happened when she spent the night there? He could have just been giving her refuge. Maybe the husband was abusive.”