by Jean Oram
“He left for home. I told him I wasn’t uprooting my life for him, and that I wanted to go slowly.” His mother’s tone was sharp, full of hurt and bafflingly unfamiliar.
“So he up and went home?” Ryan asked carefully, thinking about a promise Clint had made Levi that might have brought him here.
“Pretty much.”
“Have you talked to him since?”
His mom was silent, revealing the truth.
“You know why he came home?” Ryan said.
“I told him to. I’m not going to put my heart out for someone who leaves me. I’ve been left by three men.” She set her cup down with a thunk.
“Three?”
“I’m counting Cole in that number.” She lifted her chin, covering her emotion just like she had when Ryan had been swept downriver in the flood. He now recognized it as false bravado.
“Why did Cole leave?”
His mom studied something out in the yard through the patio door for a long moment. “I can’t help but wonder if Brant will have a chance with April now,” she finally said.
“Cole left because of April?” That didn’t seem right. They’d dated like wildfire as teens. In and out of a relationship so many times Ryan just assumed if they had a rodeo weekend they’d come home broken up or vice versa. Cole leaving and staying away for several years didn’t add up, but looking at his mother now, he realized he wasn’t going to get more from her than her whispered hope.
“Okay, so women leave,” he said. “Men leave. People leave. Maybe we just need to get over it and move on with life—alone.”
“I think it’s worth the risk of heartbreak,” his mom said, looking up. She stood, taking her cup with her, sweeping a hand over the spot where it had rested on the table.
“You do?”
“You’re too young to give up.”
“If it’s worth the risk, then why haven’t you spoken to Clint this week?” When she stayed silent, taking her cup to the dishwasher, he said, “You know he came home because Levi needed him to?”
She turned to him, unspoken questions changing her expression.
“He was supposed to go to Indigo Bay for three days, and he was gone almost a week. He’d promised Levi to fix the cultivator.” Ryan had wanted to loan it to Carly.
Maria was still, her breath shallow as though in pain.
“Maybe he didn’t leave you,” he said gently. “Maybe he was respecting your wishes, and then came home to support your family.” Ryan stood in turn. “I know you worry about how Clint would fit into our lives, but do you think Dad cared about that when he married Sophia? Maybe you need to take care of yourself for once. I don’t think Clint left you, Mom. I think you’re seeing what you want to see out of fear of getting hurt.”
She turned to face him. “And then, if you’re so smart, why did Carly really leave you?”
“Women have made a career of leaving me, Mom. It’s really nothing new. Life’s better when I run things on my own, and she reinforced that. I’m meant to be alone.” And with that dreadful knowledge lodged in his heart, he pushed his chair in at the table, wishing his problems were as simple as his mother’s.
“You were never lonely?” she asked, her interest genuine.
“Why would I be lonely?”
“You never wished for someone who understood you—the parts deep down inside?” There was a wistful longing in her question.
“No.” He was lying. But it was also true. He hadn’t wished for it, but now that he’d had a taste of it from Carly, he was certain he would wish for it in the future. It would be his own bitter reminder to keep himself in check.
“I think you need to go talk to her.”
“What’s the point?” he grumbled, wishing he could figure out how to start a conversation with Carly that might end up with her in his arms once again.
His mother paused thoughtfully. “You know who won’t leave?”
“Uncle Henry?”
She rewarded him with a wry smirk. “Fiona.”
“Mrs. Fisher?” The diner’s aging waitress was in what appeared to be a lackluster marriage with a man who’d turned cranky after an accident had left him in a wheelchair. The conversations Ryan had overheard between the couple usually left him glad he’d made a vow to stay single.
“I suggested she leave William.”
“But he needs her,” Ryan said, surprised his mother would suggest Fiona leave her husband in such a condition.
“He’s unkind to her. He’s taking his frustrations out on her and she deserves better,” she said simply. “She loves him, but she also has every right to leave him even if she feels she can’t. But she loves him even though this has been very hard on her.”
“Grandma Ruth didn’t leave Carmichael, and he’s an ornery old hound. Maybe it’s a woman thing to be so stubborn about love.” He immediately pictured Carly standing on his front step in the dark, looking positively drained, but still fighting for him, for them.
Man, he was a fool. How could his useless fears and pride be stronger than love?
“If that’s true, then maybe there’s hope for you, after all,” his mom said with a teasing smile.
He let out a huff.
“You know, I heard something in the diner about Carly.” When she paused, no doubt to bait him, he felt the predictable swell of curiosity. “It sounds like something serious took her to Montana on game day.”
Ryan’s throat went dry, a panic building inside him. “Is she okay? She said it wasn’t a family emergency.”
“Maybe you should ask her that yourself.”
“Hey, thanks for helping us out,” Brant said to Ryan at April’s door. Ryan’s brother had a distracted look, as though he’d bought stock at the top of the market and was just now realizing he was about to lose his shirt in a downturn.
Ryan entered the house, taking off his cowboy hat. To keep Levi happy, he’d been over at the ranch helping the hired hands, Hank and Owen, fix fences. He’d told Levi that afternoon that he wanted to remain a partner in the Sweet Meadows Ranch. He’d keep doing his share of the morning chores or hiring Blake to do them for him, but he didn’t want the daily grind of every small decision, and wanted to keep his freedom to follow other pursuits. The brothers hadn’t come to a final conclusion in regards to how the ranch would be run, but Levi had agreed not to buy out Ryan.
“Where’s Kurt?” Ryan asked, looking around the living room. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, decorated simply, a few wrapped gifts underneath. Three days until Christmas.
“He’s in the backyard kicking his soccer ball with April.”
“Cool.” Ryan began walking in that direction.
“We’ll be a few hours.”
“Okay.” He had nothing on the go, unlike before State, and he was antsy, his mind finding way too much time to think about Carly.
“If Heath comes over, he’s not allowed in.”
Ryan’s steps faltered, and he turned to look at his brother. “Say what?” The man wasn’t allowed to see his own son?
“He has visitation rights.”
“And…?”
“He’s been…” Brant’s mouth twisted, as he tried to keep from saying something unsavory about April’s ex-husband.
“Is he violent?”
“He’s been getting drunk. Saying abusive things when he’s not trying to woo her back.”
“So he’s the same guy he was on the rodeo circuit?”
Brant gave him a look so much like their mother’s that Ryan apologized, even though it was the truth. Heath had always been the life of the party, gregarious, fun, full of action and adventure. But when he’d emptied a few too many bottles he could be the back end of a donkey when he didn’t get what he wanted. Having his wife leave him was likely bringing out that side with or without the emptied bottles.
“I can handle him,” Ryan assured Brant. His job was to babysit Kurt, so the kid wouldn’t be subjected to the possibility of seeing his father at his worst s
hould he show up at the lawyer’s offices. “You go take care of April and get things settled.”
The divorce was being finalized with surprising swiftness, and hopefully the custody agreement would soon be as well. Brant, April’s self-appointed bodyguard, was riding along to the lawyer’s office, where she’d sign yet more papers. While Ryan didn’t love that he was getting tangled up in something that could go sideways on both of them, he appreciated his brother looking out for her.
Brant went to get April, and Ryan called Kurt inside. As April left the house, Ryan gently caught her by the arm. “If you need anything, we’re all here for you. Okay? Anything. Day or night.”
Her smile was sad, tired. “Thank you.”
“We’re family.” He pulled her into a hug, releasing her to Brant, who took her elbow and guided her toward the door. “Brant will take good care of you.”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled again, this time looking a little less sad, less tired. “I know.”
“He’s a good man.”
“I know.” She pivoted and placed a hand against Brant’s cheek. In his memory, Ryan could practically feel Carly’s hand doing the same to him. It was a touch that was gentle, reassuring and sweet. It meant you were cared for. “I’m lucky to have grown up with you crazy Wylders. You’re good people.”
“We try.”
Her eyes darkened for a moment. “Well, except you could learn some lessons in listening.”
He glanced at Brant to decipher the comment, but his brother was studiously digging his truck keys from his jeans pocket.
“I’ll apologize to Myles for my unilateral coaching decisions at State.”
“No, you need to…” April shook her head and exhaled. “Never mind. It’s not my business. You know Carly would have been there for you unless something big got in the way. We’re talking go-to-jail-sized reasons.”
Without giving him time to ask what she meant, Brant whisked April onto the porch with a quick goodbye.
Go to jail? He dragged a hand across his mouth as worry set in. Why would she go to jail? And why hadn’t he asked her to get a volunteer screening from the sheriff before letting her work with the team and minors? He’d really let his heart get in the way with her, hadn’t he?
Wait, no. There was no way Carly was a criminal. She had to be the victim in all of it—whatever “it” was. Those trust issues of hers had to have come from somewhere. She’d said something about a shady business partner, hadn’t she? Why hadn’t he asked for details?
His own words about not needing to know, the pushing down of his own feelings of failure welled up as a reminder of why he’d never asked. If he was ever going to be the man Carly deserved he was going to have to face his fears, wasn’t he?
Ryan turned to Kurt, who was standing behind him. “Now what?” he asked the little boy.
“I’m hungry. Can we have cookies?”
“Probably not.” Ryan began moving toward the kitchen. “Where does your mom keep them?”
Hours later, with all the cookies eaten and just about every play in his football repertoire tested on the four-year-old, Ryan dozed on the couch, with Kurt snuggled against him, watching cartoons. The front door opened and he jerked upright, disturbing Kurt. His first thought was Heath and that he’d forgotten to lock the door, but Brant called out a quick hello, putting his mind at rest.
“We ate all the cookies,” Kurt announced to his mom. She looked worn, but a weight seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders. Ryan took that as a good sign.
April fussed over Kurt while Brant saw Ryan to the door, just as Myles was coming up the steps. Their brother’s expression darkened when he spotted Ryan.
“Hey,” Ryan said, receiving a grunt in reply. Still mad over what had happened at State.
“Kurt left this at the Longhorn this morning,” Myles wiggled the purple stuffed unicorn Carmichael had won at the library fundraiser fair and given to the boy.
“Thanks,” Brant said, taking the soft toy. “He wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight without it.”
Ryan shot Brant a look. His brother seemed pretty involved in Kurt’s upbringing beyond his self-assigned protector duties. Brant returned his gaze without so much as a flinch.
“See you for coffee later?” Myles said to Brant as he headed down the steps toward his truck.
“Unless an animal emergency comes up, I’ll be there.”
Ryan raised his hands as if to say What about me? Neither brother looked at him.
“Hey, Myles? I’m sorry.” Ryan’s tone was all wrong, but the effect was a step in the right direction. His brother stopped moving down the sidewalk and turned. “I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you at State. You’re an excellent coach.”
“I know.”
Ryan inhaled, then said, “If you want the team—”
“I don’t want the team,” Myles snapped, storming back up the walk. “I want to be a part of the team.”
Ryan winced, his shoulders tightening as his brother’s fists clenched in frustration. His brother felt as though he’d had no part in the final victory even though he’d been the magic behind the scenes that had brought their boys there.
“Cut him some slack,” Brant murmured. “We don’t know how we would have reacted in a situation like that.”
“No.” Ryan shook his head. “He’s right. Neither of you would have ended up there in the first place. I lost my grip on reality and what was important.” And at exactly the wrong time. “I should have listened to you, and had a conversation before making such an important team decision.”
“You didn’t need to shut everyone out when you saw Priscilla was there,” Myles stated.
Ryan felt the weight of failure press down on his chest.
“You blamed Carly for leaving, but you weren’t even listening to her anymore.” The anger in Myles’s expression surprised him. “She would have been in contempt of court if she’d stayed.” Ryan’s head jerked up. Contempt of court? “And you kicked her out of your life because you think you know what happened. You don’t.”
“I know. I need to listen more,” he said hurriedly. He asked Brant, “Is being in contempt of court the jail comment April made earlier?” He turned to Myles, his sense of failure amplifying along with panic. “Is Carly in trouble?”
He’d thought April had made the comment in a flippant, female-solidarity way, not as an actual warning. But things were adding up way too quickly. Carly had needed him, and he’d been too wrapped up in his own life to notice. He’d noticed the way Brant was going out of his way to help April, a woman who was like family. Someone they all cared about.
And Brant was doing more for April than he normally did for a newly-single woman. He had a history of pretending to be a woman’s new boyfriend in order to encourage her ex to take a hint and move on. But this was more. Brant was stepping in because he had a selflessness Ryan lacked. Had it occurred to Ryan to step up and help April without being asked? No.
And worse yet, he’d shut down the woman he loved any time she’d tried to go deep and tell him things he didn’t think he wanted to hear. He’d said he loved her, but how could he claim that when he’d never fully allowed her in? He’d told her he had, but he hadn’t. Not all the way. If so, he would know more than his family did about this apparent legal problem.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Brant replied. “Carly, not April.”
Ryan laced his hands behind his head and exhaled. “I’m sorry I freaked out when everyone seemed on board with Carly. I made a fool of myself.”
“What do you mean?” Brant asked.
“I listened to you about where to cross the creek, and about marrying Priscilla.”
“We didn’t approve of Priscilla,” Myles pointed out.
“I didn’t know that, but I listened like I did with the creek. Then when Carly came along I think a small part of me thought you were all wrong again.”
“The creek?” Myles frowned at Brant.
“The flood. If I’d crossed where I wanted to, it would have been fine. But I listened to my big brothers, and put your life at risk, Myles. We could have both drowned, and what would that have done to Mom and Dad?”
“You’re holding the creek against us?” Myles asked, looking dumbfounded.
“You told me where to cross.”
“You know what happened to Bonkers, right?” Brant leaned against the porch railing. His blue eyes were watching Ryan, dancing, picking up clues.
“He died of old age.” The boys had come home from school and their father had explained that their family dog had passed away.
“No, the day you got swept into the floodwaters,” Brant prompted.
“Yeah, he’d been running around with us. What about it?” Bonkers had been barking at the sticks Ryan had sent downstream, every once in a while taking a dip into the flood to retrieve one. Cole had snapped at Ryan repeatedly, worried Bonkers would be washed downstream and get hurt. Ryan was used to Levi snapping at him, but having Cole ride him had been new and slightly alarming.
“You know how he broke his leg?” Brant asked.
“None of us do.” Bonkers had been like any ranch dog, sometimes disappearing for up to a day at a time. He’d appeared the morning after the flood with a broken leg. Their father had been prepared to put him down, as he’d been in bad shape, covered in mud and not looking like much. Brant had thrown himself over the dog, sobbing and saying it was a miracle he was alive.
Frankly, Ryan had found it all a bit dramatic, but together the boys had pooled their money and paid to have the dog’s leg x-rayed, set and cast. That was when Brant had decided to become a veterinarian, but Ryan didn’t know why else the story was relevant.
“He got run over or kicked by a cow or something,” he said. It wasn’t uncommon for dogs to get injured due to a momentary lapse of attention on a busy ranch.
“After you fell in, Bonkers tried to cross the river where you’d wanted to. He was trying to get to the other side, to save you. But the rocks suddenly gave way, sending him into the water.”
It made sense that the pile of rocks they’d tossed in willy-nilly had weak points that had been expanded by the water rushing over and around the gaps. It wasn’t a coincidence that after floods they’d often needed to rebuild their crossing points. But in his memory that path had still been solid. How had a light-footed dog been unable to cross?