by Lori Wilde
“Maybe soon.” He exchanged glances with Deannie, then quickly looked away.
“Any word from Kenny?” Emma asked, rolling her hands into fists.
“Actually, that’s what I came in to tell you.”
Emma’s face paled, and she laid a hand over her heart. “Is anything wrong? Kenny’s not hurt, is he?”
“Kenny’s fine, but he’d like permission to spend the holiday with you and the kids.”
“Since when did Kenny Trueblood ever need my permission to do anything?”
“Since now.”
Everyone looked over to see Kenny standing on the porch, looking humbled.
“Daddy!” Buster and Angel cried in unison.
“Kenny?” Emma rose to her feet, her palm pressed flat against her throat.
“Hello, Emma,” Kenny said, his voice thick with emotion. He let himself in through the back door and scooped up a child in each arm. He kissed his children on the tops of their heads, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his wife’s face.
Something inside Deannie cracked. Another chunk of her defenses broke right off, leaving her vulnerable. How had she gotten so involved in the daily lives of these people? She’d never meant to fall in love with all of them, but she had. For fifteen years, her goal had stayed prominent in her mind—win back Willow Creek.
But she’d discovered things were simply not that easy. From the very beginning, when she had stepped into the Lonesome Dove and discovered Rafe Trueblood was dead, her plans had unraveled, forcing Deannie to question her goals and reexamine her motives. Was recovering her home worth hurting the people she cared about so deeply? How much was she willing to sacrifice for revenge, and what price was too high to pay?
Deannie watched the scene unfolding between husband and wife, her fingers laced together, her back stiff with tension.
“Where have you been?” Emma asked Kenny, her whole body trembling.
“Living in the cabin with Brodie.”
“Why didn’t you come to see us? We have a new baby!
“I was afraid you didn’t want me around.” Kenny hung his head. “I have been little of a husband lately.”
“We worried about you.”
“I got something to tell you, Emma.” Tears misted Kenny’s eyes.
“Yes?” She clutched her hands and stepped toward him. They had eyes only for each other.
“I’ve been so wrong.”
“What are you saying?”
“Brodie’s helped me realize it.”
“Deannie’s been talking to me, too. I’d forgotten how blessed I am to have a family.” Emma smiled gratefully at her.
“Honey, you were one hundred percent in the right. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That’s not true, Kenny. I nagged, I harangued, I made you feel like less of a man.”
“If you hadn’t threatened divorce, I might never have straightened up my act, but I swear to you I haven’t touched a drop of liquor in six weeks. I’ve been going to AA meetings. Brodie’s been my sober companion. I got a job working for Hubert Barnes at the feed store. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
“Oh, Kenny,” Emma said.
He raised a palm. “Let me finish. Brodie wants to give us our half of the ranch. We can build our home on the back acreage. He will also give us a hundred head of cattle to start our own herd.”
“Is it true?” she whispered. “Did you really give up your bad habits for me and the kids?”
“Absolutely, sweetheart. You are the light of my life. Can you ever forgive me?” Kenny dropped to his knees and reached out for his wife. “I love you, Emma. I always have, and I always will.”
“I love you, too, Kenny. From the moment you came driving up to my dorm room at Texas Tech on that bad-boy motorcycle of yours.” Emma sobbed and dissolved into her husband’s waiting arms.
No matter what problems Emma and Kenny faced, their love for each other was clear in their voices, the way they held each other, the lingering looks they exchanged.
But none of it would have happened without Brodie pushing his brother to change.
Deannie’s heart swelled in her chest. Would anyone ever love her like that? Was there a man who could forgive all her faults and overlook her sins? She cast a glance at Brodie, and her breath snagged.
He was studying her intently. His dark eyes narrowed and grew shiny against the sunlight flooding in through the window.
They locked gazes, and time seemed suspended.
She would never forget this moment. It would hang in her brain whenever she conjured up images of the Fourth of July. No longer would firecrackers and barbecue and watermelon dominate her memories of Independence Day. Instead, Deanna Rene Hollis would always remember the date as the exact instant when she realized she had fallen head over heels in love with Brodie Trueblood.
STARING INTO DEANNIE’S EYES, Brodie felt as if he’d finally found what he’d been searching for his entire life—someone to love. Perhaps it was emotions caused by Kenny and Emma’s tearful reunion, but that didn’t change the feelings whipping and diving inside him as Deannie’s gaze merged with his in a head-on collision of the heart.
“I better go check the brisket,” Deannie said, clearing her throat and breaking their connection.
Emma and Kenny, still locked in their embrace, were oblivious.
“How ’bout me and the kids giving you a hand,” Brodie offered, wanting to give his brother time alone with his wife. Truthfully, he was just as eager to be alone with Deannie, but that wasn’t about to happen with Buster and Angel clinging to his hands.
“Come on, troops,” Deannie sang out, picking up a pot holder and a pair of tongs on her way through the kitchen.
He picked up the kids and followed her outside, his gaze riveted to Deannie’s backside. Her thick red mane swished below her shoulders, causing a riot inside him.
Brodie gulped. Six weeks without her had been too long.
Sure, he’d seen her. He’d watched her as she went about her daily chores. He’d talked to her over meals with the other hands. But it had been six long weeks since he’d been within touching distance. His fingers ached to skim her soft skin; his lips hungered to taste her sweet mouth; his nose twitched to burrow against that long, pale neck and inhale her glorious magnolia scent.
“Why don’t you kids go play?” Brodie sat them down and pointed to the swing set. “While I help Aunt Deannie with the food.”
Aunt Deannie.
Where had that come from?
She hadn’t missed the slip of his tongue. She smiled and ducked her head, her cheeks pinking with pleasure. She lifted the lid on the smoker, giving him a potent dose of cooking brisket. Brodie’s mouth watered, but not from the want of food.
“That was really wonderful what you did for Kenny and Emma,” she said, studiously flipping the meat.
“Kenny’s my brother. Nothing makes me happier than peace in the family at last. We talked it through and both realized my father is the one who kept our rivalry stirred up.”
“Oh?”
“We got a lot of hard feelings out of the way.”
“That’s nice,” she murmured.
“Also, out there in the cabin, I had a lot of time to think.”
“What about?”
Darn it, he wished she would look at him. “Us.”
“Us?” she echoed.
Was that fear he heard in her voice? Tentatively, he reached over and touched her shoulder.
She kept her lashes lowered and didn’t look at him again.
“You know,” he said hoarsely. “Us. As in you and me.”
“Brodie…I…”
“I know I said we’d wait three months before we discussed changing our relationship, but these past six weeks without you have been pure torture. I missed you, Deannie, more than you can know.”
Please, he thought, please let her give us a chance.
But she said nothing. Just waited with the tongs outstretched in her ha
nd.
“Look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered and she gulped. Briefly her eyes met his, but then she quickly glanced away again as if desperately hiding something. “I thought you had a lot of reservations about me.”
“I’m not saying we should jump into anything. I just wanted you to know I’m moving back into the house.”
“Thanks for telling me.” She pulled back. “Gotta get supper on the table.”
Reluctantly, he let her go, confused. Did she want to be with him or not? The woman sent mixed messages, and he simply did not know how to read her.
Brodie swallowed hard and realized it didn’t matter. Whatever secrets she harbored were hers to keep. He would back off for now, give her the time and space she needed to come to him. They could work things out. For he was a patient man.
14
It was the Fourth of July, and Deannie hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She’d lain awake all night thinking of Brodie. The day had been busy with activities, but now, after dark, they sat outside waiting for the fireworks display to begin.
One thought circled her mind. She had to leave Willow Creek. As soon as possible. Get out of here before Brodie did what she’d been angling for him to do ever since she’d faked a broken-down car—ask her to marry him.
Because once he uttered those four little words, it would be all over.
Looking over her shoulder, she studied his profile in the gathering twilight, and her heart jerked. He was so handsome, so kind, so honest.
If only she’d known! She would never have started down this road. Her dark motives had repercussions beyond her control. Repercussions that could cause many people pain. In that respect, she did not differ from Rafe, putting her own agenda ahead of everything and everyone.
Sorrow was her penance, losing both Willow Creek and Brodie’s love. Sadness, remorse, and regret melded into a tight ball in her throat. She’d made so many bad decisions. The honorable choice was to disappear from his life forever and spend the rest of her life trying to be a better person.
They were on the back porch in twin rocking chairs enjoying the lazy evening heat. Hummingbirds hovered near the feeder, drinking one last time before settling down for the night. The grass was damp from the sprinklers.
After a hearty supper of sliced barbecue, potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob, and homemade peach ice cream, Kenny and Emma had taken the baby and disappeared upstairs arm in arm, leaving the other two children with Deannie and Brodie.
Angel sat in Deannie’s lap, Buster in Brodie’s. They had already had their baths and dressed in pajamas. Cooter Gates joined them, and he leisurely gnawed on the stem of an unlit pipe while they waited for Rory and the other ranch hands to start the fireworks just beyond the chain-link fence.
Stars lit the edge of the sky as the sun slipped behind the horizon. Crickets chirped. Cattle lowed. Honeysuckle drifted on the air and mingled with the scent of charcoal.
Tears nudged against the back of Deannie’s eyes. Angel leaned into her chest, and Deannie lightly kissed the top of her head. The child smelled of bubble bath and strawberry shampoo.
She would leave tonight after the kids were in bed, Deannie decided. It was the only way.
“You folks ready?” Rory hollered from across the fence.
“Yes!” Angel and Buster squealed in unison.
Brodie chuckled. The happy sound filled Deannie’s ears, twisting her already-raw emotions like the tightening of a screw.
Torture.
Sitting here in the pleasant evening, expecting fireworks, children clutched in their laps, they were the epitome of an ordinary couple on the Fourth of July. The illusion tormented her. Deep inside, this was what Deannie had longed her whole life to recover. Willow Creek. An intact family unit. An honorable man to love her.
Closing her eyes, she swallowed past her grief.
Her goal was within reach; all she had to do was take it, but the victory was hollow. She couldn’t accept it. She’d manipulated and finagled. She’d lied and deceived. Once Brodie knew the truth, he would no longer love her.
Yes, everything she’d ever wanted was within her grasp, but she could not close her fist and take it.
The sudden explosion startled her.
She jumped, jostling Angel into her chin, and Deannie’s eyes flew open just as the rocket flared into a starburst of bright colors.
“Wow,” Buster exclaimed and clapped his hands.
The gunpowder odor, thick and metallic, invaded their nostrils. Rory torched another wick, and the second rocket followed the first.
“Ah,” Cooter Gates exclaimed. “I love the smell of the Fourth of July. It’s nice having kids at the ranch again.”
Deannie lightly caressed Angel’s bare arm and strained to hear Cooter, who spoke softly and was sitting on the other side of Brodie.
Cooter stared unseeingly into the past, his pipe cupped in his palm. “Yep,” he whispered. “I can still remember Gil Hollis’s little girl laughing and squealing when I was the one setting off the fireworks.”
Deannie froze, her heart thumping in her chest. Did Cooter suspect?
“I’ve got a headache,” Deannie said, rubbing her temple. It wasn’t a lie. “Could you put the children to bed?”
“You okay?” Brodie patted her hand.
The tenderness in his eyes, the concern in his voice had her stomach rolling over. She did not deserve his kindness.
“I just need to lie down for a while.”
“Sure, sure. Go on upstairs,” Brodie assured her. “Come on, Angel, get in my lap.”
Deannie transferred the girl to the crook of his arm and almost ran into the house, desperate to escape. She fled to her room, the tears she’d pushed back for so long streaming down her cheeks.
Dropping to her knees, she dragged her duffel bag from under the bed, then began emptying out the dresser drawers and stuffing her things inside. She had to go. It would be far too easy to stay, to pretend she’d never had revenge on her mind. To let herself fall completely in love with Brodie. To marry him, raise his children, stay with him for the rest of her life, and carry her secret to her grave.
But how could she do such a thing? How could they ever build a life together with no real trust between them? How could she spend a lifetime deceiving the man she cared about more than anything? More even than Willow Creek Ranch.
Packed and ready, she lay on the bed fully dressed and waited.
An hour passed.
Outside, the fireworks continued. She heard the resounding bangs, the sizzles and pops. She saw the colored lights flare and dissipate through the thin lace curtains of her bedroom window. She smelled gunpowder and barbecue smoke lingering on her skin and in her hair.
Deannie groaned and covered her head with the pillow, trying her best to shut out everything.
At long last, the noises stopped. She strained for the sounds of Brodie trooping up the stairs. She heard his boots against the wood and his murmured voice as he tucked the children into their beds. Then she heard him moving outside her door.
She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.
The door creaked open slightly. She could feel him standing in the doorway staring at her.
“Good night, Deannie,” he whispered, then pulled the door closed behind him.
She stayed another hour, listening to the old house settle. Finally, convinced everyone was asleep, she slid off the bed, gathered her duffel, took a deep breath, and edged from the room.
Night-lights lit the hallway. All the bedroom doors were closed. Satisfied she was alone, Deannie eased downstairs.
A floorboard creaked, and she caught her breath. Her pulse roared louder than an idling race car engine. The trip through the quiet house seemed to take an eternity, her memory snagging at each step.
Here, on the stairs, was where she’d tripped and fallen, and Brodie caught her in his arms.
There, in the living room, was where she had sat with Emma, holding the baby an
d listening to her friend’s troubles.
In the kitchen by the stove was where she had cooked for the ranch hands.
And the dining room was where she and Brodie had shared their first meal together. She could taste the roast beef sandwiches he’d made.
Fresh tears scorched her cheeks by the time she reached the back door. How she wanted to stay! To leave her sad past behind and embrace the future. But to do so would mean living a lie, and she simply could not go through with it.
Locking the back door behind her, she stepped out into the warm night air, her car keys clutched firmly in her hand. A half-moon hung in the sky, lighting her way across the drive.
She kept her head down, too heartbroken to look back.
“Deannie.” His voice snaked out of the darkness and wrapped around her.
Brodie.
His boots crunched on the gravel. She didn’t have to turn to know he had been sitting in the shadows on the front porch and was now standing behind her.
“Where are you going?” Brodie asked, the confusion in his voice impossible to miss. “You were sneaking off in the middle of the night without saying goodbye?”
She stood like a statue, unable to move, unable to answer.
“Deannie.” His hand closed over her upper arm, and he turned her to face him.
She met his somber gaze, and all resistance left her body. How could she leave this man? She did not deserve him, but how she wanted him!
“Brodie…I…”
“Where were you going?” he repeated, his dark eyes shimmering with unexpressed emotion.
“It’s for the best,” she said.
His grip tightened. “What are you talking about? We’ve got something going on here, you and me. I tried to deny it at first, but my feelings for you won’t go away. I stopped fighting it and let things happen naturally.”
Deannie whistled in a breath. “I can’t do this.”
“I know you’re scared. I know there’s something from your past that’s keeping you on the run, but please, Deannie, don’t shut me out. Give us a chance to work through it.”