“We live on a ranch. I married your father.” She laughed. “What do you expect? Now let me go. These calves won’t feed themselves.”
Jake kissed his mother’s brown curls and released her. As she walked toward the stalls, she turned back to look at him.
“Young or not, she must be something very special to catch your heart.”
“She is,” replied Jake. “She most definitely is.”
Chapter Seven
August 10, 1984
Devlin gripped the arm of the seat as the plane hit some turbulence. Normally she loved to fly. Today she was nervous. She was on her way to Denver. Three months ago, Beth had asked her to be a bridesmaid. Thrilled that Mike was finally making an honest woman of her after all this time, Devlin agreed without hesitation. Then it occurred to her. Jake would be Mike’s best man. She hadn’t seen him in over four years. Four long, eventful years.
She thought back to her eighteenth birthday. He never did call. He’d made a break, let her down easily. It hurt that he hadn’t given her an explanation, didn’t say good-bye, and never tried to get in touch with her. Devlin accepted it, tried to get past it, but it still hurt. She missed him. Not a day went by that she didn’t think about him or scan a crowd of people for his face. It was like a bad habit. She’d walk down a crowded street and scan the approaching faces, searching for Jake’s. She expected to catch a glimpse of him in movie theaters, restaurants, museums, airports.
She made sure she wasn’t obvious, and she didn’t mention it to anyone, but the hope that she’d see him again, that he’d find her somehow, never went away. The biggest problem of all was in her bed. Jake was smack in the middle of every relationship she’d had since Denver. A long, hard, hot presence hogging up too damn much space. Now she would see him again in the flesh. Tonight, in fact.
Devlin had no idea how she’d react. She’d been back a number of times to visit Mary and Ken, and her energetic goddaughter Katie. She’d spent a lot of time with Mike and Beth, but Jake was never around. She didn’t know if that was by design or by accident. She knew he lived in Missoula and worked for the Bureau of Land Management. He continued to volunteer for the mountain search and rescue with the sheriff’s department. Mike mentioned he’d bought four thousand acres near Stanley, Idaho and he planned to build a cabin. Devlin tried to be happy for Jake. He was born to live in the mountains. She avoided the topic of his love life like the plague, and so did everyone else. The only thing she knew for certain was that he hadn’t married.
Devlin wasn’t the same lost girl who’d flown away from him four years ago, all her possessions stowed in a backpack. She’d invented a life for herself. It was a good life for the most part and getting better all the time. When Devlin had arrived back in Omaha four years ago, the first thing she’d done was take a taxi to Walnut Hill Cemetery in Council Bluffs to see her family’s gravesite. She’d only been there once. Her aunt had taken her after she was discharged from the hospital, right before they left for Denver. Her aunt had pushed Dev up the hill in her wheelchair. She couldn’t get the chair over the grass and Devlin couldn’t walk, so she had to look at the graves from the sidewalk, a dozen or so yards away. At that time, the graves had been littered with dead flowers. When Devlin arrived in mid-April, they were littered with dead leaves.
On this visit, Devlin had reached down to touch the earth above her family. The soil had been cold and wet. When Devlin pressed her palms to it, all she’d felt was death. Yet when she’d cleared the leaves, she’d seen green, the pale green of Irish moss, the emerald green sprouts of young spring grass, even the forest green tips of irises pushing through the loose dirt. Devlin had recalled a lecture she’d attended in Grinnell. She could hear her mother’s voice as clear as if she sat in the lecture hall.
“The ancients believed life and death to be circular, with no beginning and no end. Endless cycles of time. Everything repeated. In death there is rebirth. In birth, there is already death. I suppose you can look at time and space the same way. Circular. If you could travel in a straight line faster than the speed of light, would you end up at your starting point? Or would you never move at all? Is our universe infinitely circular, or is it ever expanding? Does time move linearly? Or does it double back upon itself? These are the questions you’ll ask yourself for the next few years, possibly for the rest of your life. Physics and religion are a circle. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where one field begins and the other ends. They ask the same questions and sometimes arrive at similar conclusions.”
“I have a lot of questions, Mom,” Devlin sighed, “but no answers. I wish time would come around again, because you could tell me what to do. It only seems to do that in my dreams.”
She’d risen with care, unwilling to disturb the new growth over the gravesites. The wind had picked up. Devlin had slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed farther up the hill. She’d unzipped the pack and lifted out the jar carrying her aunt’s ashes. Standing with her back to the wind, she emptied the jar. The ashes swirled in random eddies around weathered granite monuments before vanishing into the trees.
“Ashes to ashes, Aunt Carolyn. I forgive you.” Devlin had turned away, stuffed the jar into her pack, and headed to the cab without a backward glance.
She had met with the lawyer, Charles Petrakis, in Council Bluffs. He apprised her of all her holdings, how much was in land, how much in investments, the life insurance payouts and her parents’ retirement benefits, which had been assigned to her. She listened in silence. After deciding upon a reasonable monthly allowance for herself, she left the remainder in his capable hands, including the money she’d earned from the sale of her aunt’s house in Denver. Her grandparents had obviously trusted Mr. Petrakis, and she had no reason to doubt that he would do his best for her. At that point in time, she had no idea what she would do with the money anyway.
She had called Mary’s brother Mark from Mr. Petrakis’ office and asked him to meet her. Devlin had already decided that if he wanted her grandparents’ farm, she’d sell it to him at a very fair price. If she thought he’d accept, she’d have given it to him outright, but Delores and Mary not only insisted he’d never accept, they’d told Devlin Mark would be insulted.
Mark arrived with his wife, Angela, wrapping Devlin in a great big bear hug. Devlin was delighted to see him. Like every other little girl in the county, she’d had a crush on him when he was captain of the high school basketball team. He was no longer the tall, wiry string bean Devlin remembered. Mark had grown into a handsome man. He’d filled out, his voice had deepened, and he already looked like a farmer with his clean, faded blue jeans, neatly tucked-in flannel shirt, worn work boots, and the fine lines etched into the corners of his eyes by wind and sun and cold weather.
He had agreed to Devlin’s proposal. When their business was done, Mark turned to her. “Where are you staying?”
“I haven’t made any plans.”
“You’ll come home with us,” insisted Angela.
At first, Devlin declined. She wasn’t sure she could handle that, but then she’d abruptly changed her mind. She wanted to see the farm.
“Why not?” She shrugged. “I’d love to spend some time there.”
So, Devlin had gone with Mark and Angela. Gazing around her at the house, the barn, the exposed wet black earth in the tilled fields, Devlin felt she had finally come home.
The next day, her old friend Jason, Mark and Mary’s younger brother, appeared, two horses in tow. She’d run from the house, leaped into his open arms, and he’d twirled her around the yard until they both fell, dizzy and laughing, into the greening grass. Jason pinned her to the ground, tickling her as he’d done when they were kids. Devlin felt a brief moment of panic at being restrained. She’d reminded herself that this was Jason. They’d known each other since they were in diapers.
“God, you’re a bag of bones.” He grinned a little nervously, rolling off her. “You need to fatten up, girl.”
“Yeah, thanks,” said
Devlin, grinning back. “What’s that old saying—you can never be too skinny or too rich?”
“So, I guess you’re both now, huh?” he teased.
Devlin punched him in the arm, hard.
“Ow!” Jason yelped, pretending to rub his upper arm. “You hurt me!”
“Big baby. C’mon, let’s go.”
She had stood up, then reached a hand to Jason, pulling him to his feet. They brushed the dirt off their clothes, and Jason pulled a few dead leaves and twigs from Devlin’s long hair. She combed it through with her fingers, tying it back in a knot.
The two old friends had ridden bareback all over what was soon to become Jason’s brother’s farm and the adjoining Lyman property. The sun came out when they stopped at their old tree house for a picnic. Jason had packed a backpack with fried chicken, potato chips, apples, and two bottles of Coca-Cola. They sat in the doorway of the weathered tree house, legs dangling in the warm sunshine, leaning companionably against each other. Neither said a word. It almost felt like old times, almost. The day was bittersweet. Devlin knew that no day would be like old times again.
Later, after the real estate contracts were signed, Jason had driven her to the DMV so she could get a copy of the driver’s license she’d lost in the accident. Then they headed to the local Toyota dealership, where she bought a brand new, two-door, five-speed black Toyota Celica. Jason thought it looked sportier than the Corolla. Devlin paid cash. She’d never done anything like that before in her life. She’d never even imagined it.
Driving away from the car dealership, Devlin had felt a half smile on her lips as the image of the girl she had been floated before her eyes, the girl everyone swore would make her parents old before their time. She owed it to her family to make the most of herself. To make the most of what they’d taught her and do the right thing with all they’d left behind.
Two days later, with a promise to keep in touch, Devlin had kissed everyone good-bye and tossed her backpack into the passenger seat of her Celica. Mark tried to insist that she take her grandfather’s shotgun, for her own protection, but Devlin didn’t want to drive with it in the car. He agreed to ship it to her, along with some photos, when she had a place of her own. She headed east on Interstate 80 and didn’t stop until she hit the exit for Highway 146, for Grinnell. Devlin pulled off onto the highway, but after a sudden change of heart, she made a quick U-turn. She merged back onto the freeway and continued on to Chicago.
As her dad used to say, “Who’da thunk it?”
She ended up following a college class around the Museum of Natural History. Before she knew it, she had taken over the lease of a town house on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago from two senior students. She was now a graduate of the Art Institute, with a double major in art history and graphic design.
Just last week, Devlin had learned she’d been accepted into a prestigious two-year internship in textile design with a fashion house in Paris. Jason and his girlfriend had agreed to sublet her town house in September, when he was set to begin law school at the University of Chicago. All she had to do now was close up her home in Grinnell. But she had time. She wasn’t expected in Paris until late December.
Devlin was glad she’d have a few weeks of winter in Grinnell. Winter was her favorite season. After her sophomore year, she’d purchased a two-bedroom farmhouse twenty minutes outside town. It sat on twenty-five acres of pastureland. Behind the house was a large natural pond, surrounded by a thick grove of tall oaks, lacy elm, and fat mulberry. In the spring and fall, the pond made a convenient rest stop for migrating geese and ducks. A pair of golden eagles nested in the tallest oak. In the two years she’d lived there, they’d successfully raised two chicks before they, too, headed south.
Because of school, Devlin spent most of her time in Chicago, but as holidays, vacations, and free weekends neared, her anticipation would grow. Mary worried about the isolation, but Devlin preferred the quiet. She no longer dreaded being alone with her memories, determined not to live in fear of her uncle.
Devlin loved to walk the empty fields in the cold, winter sunshine, searching for rabbit and deer tracks in the snow, sometimes finding those of a fox or a coyote. Every day the animals laid new tracks crisscrossing the old. Following them always filled Devlin with a feeling of renewal. It seemed to her as though life was laid down new again every single day, just like the animal tracks. There were still times when Devlin still felt like that proverbial tree falling in the woods. There was no one to hear. She belonged to no one, and no one belonged to her. When she saw her tracks beside those of the animals, she knew she was real. The tracks made a sound. It was just a very quiet sound.
Devlin allowed her nearest neighbor to use a portion of her acreage to grow corn and hay for his livestock. In exchange, over the past two years, he’d reroofed her house, painted the exterior, and helped her install a woodburning stove.
She’d bought an old pickup truck to keep at the house, using it to haul furniture and fixtures she discovered at flea markets and garage sales. She’d remodeled as much of the interior as she could, sanded and stained the hardwood floors, hired a local contractor to modernize the kitchen and bath, used the walls as her canvas, changing textures and colors depending upon her mood or current project. She’d designed and sewn her own curtains and slipcovers. Her home had a warm, comfortable feeling, but at the same time, she managed to create an iconoclastic, kitschy, secondhand look that her friends from Chicago adored. She loaned the home out to anyone who wanted to get away from the city for the weekend. With the help of her neighbor, she’d even insulated and wired the small barn and set up a studio. Devlin didn’t dare use space heaters, the fire risk was too great, but on days above freezing, she could usually be found there sketching designs or dyeing, waxing, bleaching, or painting fabrics.
* * * *
Another hard bump jolted Devlin out of her reverie. She searched the airplane cabin for the flight attendants, to see if they were strapped in their seats or if they were still passing drinks. From their relaxed behavior, it appeared this was only slightly greater than normal turbulence near the front range of the Rockies.
Glancing at her watch, Devlin figured they’d be landing in twenty minutes. Stomach churning, Devlin thought about Jake There was no person on this planet she wanted to see more than Jake McKenna, yet she was more nervous than when she’d flown to Paris in April for her interviews. If Devlin kept her distance, if she never saw him again, she could console herself with dreams of what might have been. Once she came face-to-face with him, she worried there would be no more pretending. In the brief time she’d known him, Jake meant more to her than anyone on Earth. From the moment she opened her eyes, he had been able to read her like a book. She wondered if he still cared. If Jake was expecting to find the same broken young girl, if he wanted to fix her, he’d be disappointed. Over the past four years, she’d managed to patch her own holes. Maybe she did a half-assed job at times, Devlin mused, and maybe things didn’t always turn out exactly as planned, but she was still standing.
The pilot announced the final descent into Stapleton Airport. Checking her seat belt, stomach fluttering, Devlin took a deep breath. She could no more control her reaction to Jake McKenna than she could stop the world from turning.
* * * *
Jake paced in front of the gate. He was very early. He had flat out told everyone, Mike, Beth, Mary, and Ken, that he was meeting Devlin’s flight, alone. They could all butt out. He’d spent enough time without her. Four long years spent thinking about her every single day, dreaming about her almost every night, seeing her face in every young woman he passed. The very idea of her had ruined every relationship for him. He tried, oh how he had tried, to put her out of his mind, but she never stayed away for more than a few hours. If he was with a woman, no matter how much he enjoyed her company, after a time he’d simply drift out of her life. Jake knew he hurt them, but it came down to the fact that he didn’t want any anyone else. His heart was set on Devlin Barre, and he
felt he’d kept his distance long enough. Four years was a long time to love someone in utter silence.
Beth had nodded her agreement. Mike had slapped him on the back, shoved him toward the door. “Go for it,” he’d said. “It’s about time, you stubborn ass.”
Mary had spoken up. “Devlin has made a good life for herself. She’s put the past behind her. I’m worried that seeing you might stir up all the old memories.”
Ken had disagreed. “I’m sorry, Jake. I forgot to give Devlin your message four years ago. By the time I remembered, I figured it was for the best.”
“I told him to forget about it,” said Mary.
If Mary hadn’t been eight months pregnant with her second child, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew she was right, Jake might have said something he’d regret later. He had to be honest with himself. Things would never have worked with Devlin back then. He hadn’t been ready to settle down, and she was too young, utterly unprepared for a serious relationship. She’d been through too much trauma for either of them to consider it.
Four and a half years ago, he’d torn up the roads getting back to Denver after leaving the ranch. He had wanted to lay his cards on the table, find out what Devlin was thinking, see if they could come to some agreement about how to keep in touch. He hadn’t planned to force her to do anything. Jake had already talked to her about the ranch, and she seemed interested. His parents had agreed she was welcome to stay with them as long as she wished. All his dad cared about was that she was competent on a horse and good with a rifle. If she met those criteria, she was all right with him. Jake’s mom had simply said he had to do what was best for Devlin, do whatever Devlin decided. Well, apparently she’d gone ahead and decided what was best, and whatever it was, left him out of the picture entirely.
When Jake had knocked on Mary and Ken’s front door, he hadn’t known what to expect. Though he’d hated to admit it, he was hurt Devlin hadn’t returned his phone call, but he’d figured as busy as they’d all been with the new baby, she probably hadn’t had time, or maybe it had slipped her mind.
Barrett, Julia Rachel - Anytime Darlin' (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 12