by Brenda Mott
“You’ll have to stand in line,” Trent said dryly. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a way to safely stop Lester.
In the distance, a siren wailed. Would Lester hear it and pull over? Or would he try to outrun the sheriff’s deputies, as well? He might figure he had nothing to lose and drive all the more recklessly. Trent had to get him to stop.
At the moment, double solid yellow lines marked the two-lane highway. Come on, come on!
The minute the lines turned into a single, broken yellow one once more, he gave the Ford all it had and pulled out to pass Lester.
“Now what are you doing?” Bailey asked, panic lacing her voice.
“If he sees the deputies are after him, he might try to run for it. I have to make him stop.”
Trent rounded a corner and nearly collided with the Chevy. Too drunk to accurately gauge his speed, Lester had slowed way down. Trent sped up and moved in front of him, then gradually downshifted the Ford. Lester stepped on the brakes, causing the Chevy to fishtail. In the rearview mirror, Trent could see him shaking his fist, mouthing curses. Macy looked small and helpless in the passenger seat.
Anger filled Trent all over again, and he tapped the brake firmly, slowing the Ford even more.
Lester swerved into the opposite lane and tried to pass Trent, but Trent cranked the steering wheel left, blocking his path. His heart in his throat, he checked the highway for oncoming traffic. He could see only a short distance ahead because the road curved.
Bailey let out an expletive. “We’d better hope no one’s coming around the mountain in the other lane.”
Trent knew he had to do more than hope. Slamming on the brakes, he angled the Ford sideways to block both lanes. The Chevy’s tires squealed as Lester hit the brakes. The pickup swerved left, then right, clipping the Ford’s back bumper.
The sound of tearing metal split the air as the pickup slid into the ditch on the side of the road, the fender scraping an outcrop of rock.
Bailey screamed.
Trent’s heart all but stopped.
The Chevy shuddered to a halt, and Bailey leaped from the Ford before Trent had even brought it to a complete stop on the shoulder of the road.
He threw open the door and hit the dirt at a dead run.
Lester wasted no time in exiting the vehicle. He staggered into the ditch, then up the other side.
Knowing Bailey would tend to Macy, Trent bounded up the mountain in pursuit. “You sorry SOB,” he shouted. “I’m gonna tear you limb from limb!”
A siren pierced the air, and Trent was vaguely aware of the sheriff’s deputies as they jumped from their Blazer on the road below and headed up the mountain. Trent reached Lester before they’d barely started to climb, and took solid satisfaction when his fist connected with Lester’s face. He yanked him up by the shirtfront and met Lester’s frightened gaze, nose to nose.
“Don’t hit me, man,” Lester said, his voice slurred. “I just wanted my truck back.”
“You’re going to jail, bud,” Trent replied through gritted teeth. “And you’d better thank your lucky stars, because those deputies are going to be a lot friendlier to you than I would’ve been.”
Lester’s face paled, and it was all Trent could do not to pummel him to a bloody pulp. Behind him, one of the deputies shouted, “Don’t do it, friend.”
Trent whirled around, and recognition registered. The officer was a regular at Audrey’s Café.
“Hey, Trent. Let him go.”
Reluctantly, Trent shoved Lester away. “He’s not worth it,” he said, looking from Officer Stillwell back to Lester.
Stillwell’s partner took hold of Lester, and Stillwell laid his hand on Trent’s shoulder. “You okay, Trent?”
He nodded, still breathing hard. Funny thing was, he really did feel okay. Letting out his pent-up anger in that one solid punch to Lester’s nose had done wonders.
“I’ll sue you,” Lester threatened, dabbing at his bloody nose.
“I don’t think so,” Stillwell cut in. He spoke to his partner. “I’m pretty sure I saw ol’ Lester here take a swing at Trent. How about you, Davis?”
Davis nodded. “I do believe he did.” He turned Lester around none too gently and handcuffed him. “Come on, Lester, we’re going for a little ride. ‘You have the right to remain silent…’”
Trent’s hands shook with residual anger as he climbed down the mountain and saw Bailey standing beside the Chevy’s open door. He prayed Macy wasn’t injured. Fear gripped him anew and he hurried forward.
Macy had crawled across the seat and now had her arms wrapped tightly around Bailey’s neck as Bailey leaned inside the pickup. “Shh,” Bailey crooned. “It’s okay now, honey. We’ll get the paramedics to give you a ride to the hospital and make sure you’re all right.” She eased back and brushed a loving hand over Macy’s forehead. A blood-caked goose egg had already risen there.
“Is she hurt?” Trent asked.
“She’s mostly just shaken up,” Bailey said.
“I don’t want to go in the ambulance,” Macy said. “It scares me.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Bailey assured her. “Trent and I will follow you in his truck. Okay?”
The ambulance pulled up a moment later, and Macy reluctantly succumbed to the paramedics’ ministrations.
Trent drove with Bailey to the hospital. He had no time to think about his previous visits there, as he concentrated on finding out how Macy was doing.
The nurses, who knew Trent well, allowed him and Bailey to sit with Macy while they waited for Wade to arrive. The poor kid had been scared half out of her wits by Lester’s drunken stunt, but miraculously, she had only the bump on her head and a few bruises. She clutched Bailey’s hand as though she would never let go, while Dr. Bevins checked her over.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Bailey whispered. “I never should have left you alone in the truck.”
“It’s not your fault,” Macy said. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she managed a smile. “My dad leaves me in the truck when he gets gas too.”
Bailey was visibly relieved. Trent was glad she realized that she hadn’t done anything stupid or out of the ordinary. What had happened truly wasn’t her fault. Who could know Lester would pull such a stunt?
Without a second thought, Trent placed his hands on Bailey’s shoulders, massaging her taut muscles with his thumbs. She glanced up at him and smiled, and his heart did a flip-flop.
Could he really end their relationship?
Wade arrived minutes later and reassured Bailey over and over that the only person he held responsible for what had happened to Macy was Lester. Stillwell and Davis came to the E.R. and talked to Wade, then spoke to Bailey about having her pickup towed to the auto-body shop in the next town.
But Trent barely listened. Instead, he focused on Wade, who held his daughter tightly in his arms and kissed the top of her head. Macy clung to her father, wearing a brave smile, drawing strength from him.
Longing pulled at Trent.
He remembered how it felt to hold a child who believed you walked on water. To love and protect her. And he remembered how it felt to stand by, powerless to help when it mattered most. Nothing had been able to stop death from taking Sarah away from him.
Nothing.
His father’s words echoed in his mind:
You can’t crawl into the grave after your daughter.
All this time, he’d somehow felt responsible and guilty for being unable to save his little girl. He’d prayed a million times that God would take him in her place. His prayers had gone unanswered, and he’d blamed himself. If only he’d known about the cancer sooner.
Daddy, my tummy’s poking out. Look.
He’d exchanged such harsh words with Amy over it.
Damn it, you’re the one who gets her into the shower! Didn’t you notice the lump? Didn’t you see?
I didn’t see, Trent! God, why are you blaming me?
Trent closed his eyes. Why ind
eed? The doctors had told him there would have been no stopping the cancer, no matter what. It wasn’t Amy’s fault, or his.
The conversation they’d had in California came back to him now, Amy’s words resounding in his memory: Why can’t you realize that life goes on, with or without us?
And Macy’s:
I don’t know why Sarah had to go to heaven. But I know she watches over me and she wants me to keep riding and having fun….
Trent’s hands began to shake.
After losing his little girl, he’d never wanted to be a parent again. But now, as he watched Wade and Macy, knowing Wade was all Macy had left after losing her mother, something stirred inside him.
He had nothing left. Nothing.
He couldn’t spend the rest of his life this way. Alone, lonely, aching for a child who was no longer here.
Still trembling, he squeezed Bailey’s shoulders possessively. He loved her with all his soul. Could he find a way to share his life with her? Dear Lord, was there room in his heart to love another child?
Bailey had stuck by him all this time, in spite of his stubbornness. She’d given herself to him without hesitation, and he’d repaid her by turning her away. A woman like her had a right to be loved whole-heartedly. Bailey should be with a man who was willing to marry her and give her the family she so longed for.
He wanted to be that man.
Uncertainty threatened again, but he batted it down. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Bailey and vowed to give it his best shot.
She stared curiously at him, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. “What’s got you thinking so hard, cowboy?” She reached up to place her hand over his. “I can practically see steam coming through your hat.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. “Actually, I’ve got something pretty serious on my mind.”
Concern filled her eyes. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure, but I hope it will be.” He choked back the hot achy feeling that clogged the back of his throat. “I have to talk to you, Bailey.”
She stood, and he slipped his arm around her waist.
He took a deep breath. “I have to tell you what happened when Sarah died.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THEY DROVE to her house, and Bailey swayed between worry and curiosity the whole way there. She knew Trent must be thinking about Sarah. But there was more to it than that. Something had happened in the E.R. She’d bet her farm on it.
Trent gripped the steering wheel as though he might slide out of the truck if he let go. Sweat beaded his forehead and his jaw muscles worked back and forth. He said nothing on the ride over to the farm. Bailey wanted to ask him why, but better judgment told her not to. He’d said they would talk. She would wait for the right moment.
He parked in her driveway and climbed from the truck, not touching her at all as they made their way to the house. In the living room, Trent sank onto the couch, and Bailey brought him a glass of ice water. He was beginning to scare her. Had his grief finally pushed him over the edge?
Absentmindedly, Trent took the ice water and took a sip. As he set the glass down on a coaster, his gaze found the black-and-white Appaloosa, which sat on the shelf above the television. As though in a trance, he walked over and lifted the horse. He turned to her, a sad smile on his face. The expression in his eyes made Bailey feel like crying.
“This is Macy’s,” Trent said. “I gave it to her, when—when Sarah…”
She nodded. “I know. She brought it over here tonight to show it to me.”
He sat down beside her, running his fingers across the shiny surface of the Appaloosa’s body.
“Sarah knew she was dying,” he said. His eyes took on a faraway look. “I knew it, too. All the doctors had told us the cancer had spread too far and too fast for there to be any real hope. But Amy wouldn’t believe it. She kept insisting that Sarah would get better. That the doctors would be able to save her.”
He looked directly at Bailey. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to sit by and watch your child slowly slip away. To hold her hand while she throws up, sick from the chemo, and see her long pretty hair fall out in clumps.”
Tears burned Bailey’s eyes, and she reached for Trent’s hand. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”
“Sarah begged me to take her home,” he said. “She didn’t want to die in the hospital. She was afraid…” His voice cracked, and he drew a deep breath. “Afraid that the angels wouldn’t find her there. She wanted them to be able to come to her room, where she said her nightly bedtime prayers. Her dying wish was for me to bring her home. How could I refuse?”
Tears flooded his eyes, and Bailey thought her heart would shatter.
She couldn’t speak. She could only squeeze his hand.
“Amy was furious with me. She kept insisting that if I’d just leave Sarah in the hospital she would get well. She didn’t believe in hospice care. I provided our daughter with the best home care money could buy, but Amy blamed me as Sarah grew weaker. She said it was all my fault, because I’d brought her home.”
Silent tears flowed down his cheeks.
“Those last few hours it was just me and Sarah. I’d asked the nurse to leave. There was nothing she or anyone else could do. Amy refused to sit by and watch Sarah die. She left. Just like that. I wanted to shake her. At that moment, I hated her for abandoning us.
“But Sarah understood. She’d gotten so weak she could barely even talk. And then, all of a sudden, this awesome energy flowed through her. She squeezed my hand—hard—and when she looked up at me, Bailey, I swear it was the first time in weeks that her eyes looked clear and free of pain.”
His lips trembled, and he had to pause a moment before he was able to continue.
“She said, ‘Mommy’s just too sad to wait for the angels with us, Daddy.’ I told her that Amy was tired, and that she’d come back in a little while. But Sarah knew that wasn’t true.” He gazed down at the Appaloosa. “She said, ‘I’m tired, too, Daddy. Too tired to stay awake anymore.’ Then she fell asleep, and she never woke up again.”
Trent’s eyes locked on hers. Abruptly, he let go of Bailey’s hand and set the Breyer horse down on the table.
“Damn it!” he cried, clenching his hands. “Oh, God, Bailey.” He reached out to her, and she took him in her arms and held him as sobs racked him. “I miss her more than you can ever know. I miss her so much that sometimes I want to die, too.”
“I know.” She held him tight, rubbing his back while he cried. “I know, sweetie. Just let it out. Lean on me, Trent, and let it out. I’m here for you.”
He cried for a solid hour.
Bailey cried with him, until her throat ached and her eyes swelled and she could barely breathe.
And then the two of them curled up on the couch and simply held on to each other.
TRENT FELT MORE DRAINED than he ever had in his life, more than if he’d spent the entire day doing hard physical labor.
He lay on the couch with Bailey for a long time, until darkness claimed the sky and the room. As he held her, a sense of peace washed over him. It had felt good to share with her the things that had eaten him up inside for the past year. Things that had kept him from wanting to go on with his life, from wanting to live it fully.
And while they’d lain there, he’d made a decision.
He hoped it was the right one.
Trent sat up, and turned on the lamp beside the couch. He had to see Bailey’s face, and he wanted her to see him, too, so that she could look in his eyes and know that he meant every word he was about to tell her.
When the light clicked on, they both blinked against the sudden glow for a moment. Trent reached out to smooth Bailey’s hair. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she’d never looked more beautiful to him. She’d cried those tears for him, for the pain he felt…and for the daughter he’d lost.
He loved her with all his might.
Trent easily read the expression in h
er eyes. The love she held in her heart for him was there, waiting for him to take. Could she read his thoughts, as well? Did she know he’d fallen in love with her, in spite of his fears, in spite of his determination not to?
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked. Sorrow lined her pretty face. He didn’t want her to be sad.
He nodded. “Bailey, you have to understand something. Ever since Sarah died and Amy left me, I’ve been afraid to let myself enjoy life. Afraid ever to open my heart up to that sort of pain again. I felt numb and dead inside, and I told myself that the best way to handle it was to withdraw from everything and everybody. I believed all I needed was my ranch and my horses, and that I didn’t deserve to have happiness anyway, with Sarah gone. Why should I be happy—how could I possibly ever be—when my daughter was dead?”
“Trent,” Bailey whispered. “Do you really think Sarah would want that? Don’t you think she’d be upset, knowing you felt that way?” She cupped his face gently in her hands. “If you were the one who’d died and left her behind, then she would be your legacy. Instead, she’s gone now, and you are Sarah’s legacy. You’re all that’s left of her. Trent, you have to draw on that and use it as your strength to go on.”
Her words shook him. He knew she was right. Deep down, he’d always known that Sarah would want him to be happy. He just hadn’t been able to allow himself to be.
“I know that,” he said. He took Bailey’s hands in his. “But I didn’t give a tinker’s damn about my life until you came along.” He watched the look in her eyes. He saw hope flicker there, and love, followed by worry.
He wanted to erase that worry.
“The first time I laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And the more I got to know you, the more I admired your spunk, your determination. But your love of life and your ability to move past the things that happened to you as a child scared me.”
“I didn’t understand how you could just forget about the tragedy you’d suffered, losing your parents and being raised in foster homes all your life, and simply move on. I wanted to turn my back on you and forget I’d ever met you. But I couldn’t.” He ran his hands along her shoulders. “God help me, I couldn’t.”