by J. S. Marlo
“No.” Hunter will be gone in the morning. “We’ll bring a couple of lanterns and a rifle.”
Willow neighed when she entered the stable. While Hunter rounded up the rifle and the lanterns, she saddled both their mares.
“Here’s a lantern, Mom.”
Imitating her son, she tied the lantern he’d given her to the saddle before mounting her horse. “Ready?”
“If I say no, will we stay home?”
“Nice try, son. Follow me.”
They left the stable and entered the woods. The narrow, winding trail leading to the clearing didn’t promote easy conversation, so she kept silent until they neared the old shack.
“Mom…there’s something eerie about this clearing. We shouldn’t be here at nightfall.”
“It’s a special clearing where little angels live.” At peace with herself for the first time in a long time, she dismounted her mare and tied her to a nearby tree.
“Angels?” Sounding less than convinced, he jumped off Sweetness and roped her to a branch. “Is this where you come when you disappear in the woods for hours?”
“Yes.” This was her refuge. “I want to show you something.”
The setting sun cast elongated shadows on the coarse vegetation. She walked to the edge of the clearing and knelt in front her sons’ headstones.
“Are those…tombstones?” His rifle slung over his shoulder, Hunter crouched between the stones. “How come I never noticed them?”
“I don’t know.” Over the years, she’d warned her children against playing near the shack in case it collapsed. “How often do you come here?”
“Apparently, not often enough.” His hand trembled as he reached out to touch their names. “Nathaniel Durham? Trevor Durham?” He lifted his head toward her. “Who are they?”
“They are your little brothers, Hunt.”
“Brothers?” Curiosity had ceded its place to a quiet awe. “What happened? How come I never knew?”
“They were twins, but I wasn’t able to carry them to term. I lost them after five months.” Her sons had never drawn a breath. “You’d just turned five when I became pregnant. You wanted a little brother, but when he never came, you forgot.”
As he nodded, her son exhaled a long breath. “Is that why Medusa hated us? Because Ro and I were alive, and the children you had with Dad died?”
“No.” She placed a hand on his forearm, and a bittersweet smile tugged at her mouth. “She’d gone on a long trip, and by the time she came back, I’d lost the babies. So we never told her. There was no point.” Being scorned for not having children was easier to bear than being reminded she’d lost them.
“Dad loved you.” His voice trembled. “Why couldn’t she see that?”
“She was sick, Hunter. When the coroner performed the autopsy, he found a brain tumor. Nothing big, but he thinks it might have been there for many years, affecting her personality.”
“A tumor?” A hint of incredulity tainted his words. “Wouldn’t her doctor have seen it?”
Ollie’s mother had hated doctors, and Riley doubted she’d visited one regularly. “He wouldn’t have run tests if she didn’t complain about it.”
Deep in thought, Hunter stroked the granite lamb guarding Trevor’s gravestone. “That tumor…it doesn’t excuse what she said, does it?”
It wasn’t an excuse, but it was an explanation, one she hoped could lessen her son’s pain and resentment. “At one time, your dad’s mother had a teenage crush on my dad, but he married my mom instead. My parents were happy, while Ollie’s parents were not. Ollie’s father was sent to jail, and his mother raised him alone. Somewhere down the line, she became envious of my mother’s life, a life she felt she should have had, and then she became bitter. She hated my mother for stealing her boyfriend, and then she hated me for being her daughter.”
Hunter dipped his head low. “And she hated us for being your children.”
“Yes.” The legacy of a broken heart and a deranged mind. “Now you have a choice. You can either keep hating her for the rest of your life, or you can remember the one precious thing she gave us and let her go.”
“But she only gave us grief and aggravation.”
“No, Hunter.” The woman had hurt her children and tried to wreck her marriage, but in the clearing, Riley drew the strength to forgive her. “She gave you and Ro a great dad. And she gave me a wonderful husband. And for that, I am grateful.”
***
A wild animal howled in the night, disturbing Blythe’s catnap in the hammock.
He stood and approached the handrail surrounding the veranda. Concerned for Riley’s and Hunter’s safety, he scanned the darkness enveloping the ranch.
Lights flickered in the dark, and hours after they had ventured into the trails, mother and son emerged from the woods and entered the stable.
Relieved at their safe return, Blythe sat back on the hammock and relaxed.
Moments later, a tall, strapping figure walked out and headed for his car before leaving into the night.
Puzzled by Hunter’s hasty retreat, and ready to offer a hand should Riley need help with the horses, Blythe journeyed toward the stable.
The door creaked when he entered. Except for the glow of a lantern hung over the last stall, there was no other light. Careful not to trip over a pitchfork or a bucket, he proceeded toward the last stall where he found Riley lying in the hay. She turned her wedding ring around her finger while staring at the ceiling.
“Would you mind if I joined you?”
A smile lit up her face, and her hands stilled over her stomach. “Please do.”
Longing to hold her in his arms, he lay by her side, extending his arm over her head. To his immense pleasure, she drew closer and nestled the back of her head against his shoulder.
“There’s a sparrow’s nest on the third beam. Every spring they come back, and for a month, the chirping of the chicks drives the horses crazy.”
As much as he searched the dancing shadows created by the lantern, he missed seeing any nest. “Hunter took off in his car. Is that a good or a bad sign?”
She shifted and rolled sideways in his arms. Her soft curves pressed against him, awakening long dormant sensations. He looked at her. With a soft, peaceful smile adorning her lips, she resembled an angel.
“He went to see his girlfriend to tell her he’s going to firefighter school.”
“You convinced him to leave?” Once she shook off the lethargy that choked her, he’d trusted her to push her son in the right direction, but he’d expected greater resistance from Hunter.
The glint twinkling in her green eyes was a sign he needed to stop worrying about her. “Was there any doubt in your mind that I wouldn’t succeed?”
“No.” As he marveled at her courage and resilience, he gently massaged the length of her arm. “You’re an amazing mother, Shamrock.” An amazing woman. “When is he leaving?”
“In the morning, and so are you.”
His hand stilled near her shoulder. “I am? But—”
She pressed a finger over his lips, ending his objection. Her presence filled the void in his heart that he’d never thought could be filled again, and he wanted to keep her in his arms, but he understood he needed to give her space, to give her time to grieve.
“You sold your house, Blythe. You need to pack, find somewhere else to live, and move out. You can’t do it from here.”
Many obligations awaited him, and he appreciated the fact she didn’t mention Claire or the court injunction sought by his in-laws. “What about you? About the ranch?”
“After you’re both gone, I have to arrange my mother-in-law’s funeral. I decided to bury her beside Ollie. Not sure it’s the right decision, but it’s the best one.”
In time, he had no doubt the decision would bring her peace of mind. “I’m proud of you.”
“Well…I did swallow my pride on that one, and I told Hunt I’d haunt him forever if he buries me within a hundred feet of her
. Once she rests in peace, I’ll look at hiring some farmhands so I can go back to work at the studio in October.” As she inched away from him, she propped herself on her elbow and leaned toward him. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
And she grazed his cheek with the softest kiss before leaving him alone.
Chapter Thirty
After parking his car in the street in front of his sister’s house, Blythe walked up the yard.
A hockey net was placed at each end of Beth’s driveway. Between them, two hockey sticks and a red ball were discarded on the asphalt. The family van was nowhere in sight, but the front door was wide open, its entrance guarded by a retractable screen door.
Blythe walked inside and called. “Beth? It’s Blythe.”
“Basement,” she yelled. “I’m doing laundry.”
He found her sorting a giant heap of dirty clothes. “What happened here?”
“It’s called hockey camp, big brother. Between ice sessions, the boys do dryland training outside regardless of the weather. With the sudden downpour we had Monday afternoon and the rain all day yesterday, the field will never dry, and I’ll be chained to the washing machine all week.” She threw a T-shirt caked with mud into the washer. “So? Where have you been? I called you at home on Monday, but I got your voice mail.”
Monday was the day he’d flown to Riley’s ranch. “Why didn’t you try my cell?”
“You know I hate to disturb you if you’re on the go, but I did try again on Wednesday morning.”
Wednesday had been the day he’d flown back. “Why didn’t you leave a message?”
“I just wanted to invite you for supper. I figured that by the time you listened to your messages, supper would be over. Anyway…” With her foot, she pushed a pile of towels off to the side. “I drove by your place in the afternoon, and what did I see on your front lawn? A Sold sign. What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story.”
“See how much laundry I have?” With a large sweep of her hand, she encompassed the floor strewn with boys clothes before picking up a pair of faded gray sweat pants streaked with grass stains. “I have plenty of time to listen to your story.”
“Riley’s husband died.”
The sweat pants slipped from her hands as she stared at him with incredulity. “Say that again.”
“Riley lost her husband.”
“I got that part, but when? How?” She closed the lid and hopped on the washer. “And start at the beginning.”
Unable to resist her inquisitive nature, Blythe leaned against the porcelain laundry tub and gave a comprehensive account of his visit. His sister hung on every word, her gaze never wavering from him.
“I’m not sure what to say.” She repeatedly moistened her lips, a quirk she had yet to control when faced with a troubling situation. “Are you sure she’ll be all right?”
“Yes, she will. She’s an incredible woman, Beth, and I have lots of faith in her.”
“I see.” An enigmatic smile crossed Beth’s face. “I’d like to meet her one day.”
Beth’s fascination for Riley never ceased to amaze him, and he looked forward to the day he’d introduce her to his sister. “She’ll be back in October.”
“I’m counting on it.” A door banged, and loud steps, and even louder screams resounded from the kitchen. She slid off the front of the washer. “The gang is back from the arena. Would you stay for supper, or do you need to finish packing?”
“I’m done.” He’d stowed the books, the tools, and Claire’s effects into a storage unit and packed his clothes into his car. What was left of his life fit in an eight-by-four box. How depressing. “Tomorrow, I’m giving the keys to my realtor.”
“Have you found a new place?”
“Yes, a furnished condo. I’ll tell you about it over supper, but right now, I’d like to see the boys.” On the back seat of his car was a special box of cards that he’d promised to give his nephews. “I have a surprise for them.”
***
“How dare you sell the house without consulting Claire?” The accusatory question welcomed Blythe inside Claire’s room after his Monday morning briefing with Dr. Salinski.
Stopped dead in the doorway, his mouth dropped, and he stared at his mother-in-law, speechless. Consult Claire? She couldn’t seriously expect an answer.
Many years ago, a stunt accident had prompted him and Claire to visit a lawyer and write their will. The lawyer had suggested they grant each other power of attorney in case one of them became incapacitated or unavailable while the other needed to make a critical decision or conclude a transaction. The legal document should have allowed him to terminate Claire’s life support, but apparently his in-laws had the right to contest his authority. Regardless of his current contention with them, Blythe had used his power of attorney to sell their house. And to avoid being accused of impropriety, he’d deposited half the revenue from the sale into Claire’s bank account.
By staying in the doorway and ignoring the moot question about his wife’s consent, he hoped to avoid another confrontation. “What brings you here at dawn?”
“My daughter. Unlike you, I didn’t miss two days last week.”
The notion that she might check the logbook to keep track of his visits didn’t bother him as much as it saddened him.
“Did you forget you had a wife?”
No, but he wished he could forget about having in-laws. “Thanks for the reminder. Where’s your husband?”
“Claire’s sheets haven’t been changed in two days. He’s gone to fetch a nurse.”
Oblivious to the state of the sheets, his wife’s chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the hissing ventilator.
“The sheets are clean. Don’t go berating the nurses.” It wouldn’t improve the excellent care the staff already provided.
“I’m doing this for her comfort. If you weren’t so eager to disconnect her, you’d understand.”
Clenching and unclenching his fists didn’t muffle his exasperation, so he turned around and left before the discussion escalated. To think Claire’s mother used to be a kind and rational woman who’d welcomed him with open arms baffled his mind. For everyone’s mental state, including his own, this waiting game had to come to an end.
As he walked past the nurses’ station, a chime rang. He reached into the front pocket of his khaki pants for his cell, flipping it open with his thumb. “Huxley,” he snapped.
“If you’re in a bad mood, I can call back later.”
A lawyer with a lousy sense of humor. That was a novelty. “What’s new, Rupert?” He pushed the door leading into the staircase and headed down toward the parking lot.
“The judge sided in your favor, but he’s giving your in-laws a week to say goodbye.”
At the news, he paused on the staircase. “I can live with the delay.” It gave him time to make proper arrangements. “Any chance my in-laws can appeal the judgment?”
“They have no grounds. It’s over, Mr. Huxley. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Chapter Thirty-One
All week Blythe strove to avoid his in-laws while attempting to spend as much time as possible by Claire’s bedside. He purposely arrived at the hospital late at night and stayed on the uncomfortable chair until the morning nurse woke him up.
During the day, he scouted funeral homes, but making the necessary arrangements proved to be frustrating. The funeral directors he met shared some unwanted attributes: manipulative, unscrupulous, and avaricious.
“You want your wife to depart in comfort and style,” one of them reeled off. “The triple padding will gently support her body while the luxurious velvet lining will brush softly against her skin.”
Did the directors take all of their clients for gullible idiots? Or did they bank on their clients’ grief, sorrow, or guilt to upgrade to a coffin more expensive than a mid-size car? Their greed disgusted Blythe. Claire would come back to haunt him for the rest of his life if he bought into the three-way adjustable be
d and the interchangeable corner options.
On August thirtieth, he climbed the staircase leading to the extended care wing for the last time. A priest stood at the foot of the bed, reciting prayers Blythe had long ago forgotten. Claire’s faith had enveloped them both, and today he wanted to believe, he needed to believe, in heaven.
Sobbing in each other’s arms, his wife’s parents stood by the window. Blythe acknowledged their presence with a slight tilt of his head. Claire’s dad responded in kind. The acrimony of the last ten months had dissipated, replaced by a sea of sadness engulfing them all.
He sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and took her hand into his. The beautiful woman he’d married had aged into a ghost. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, her translucent skin reverted back to her bronze complexion, her muscles regained their firmness, and her eyes sparkled with life.
“Mr. Huxley?”
The image faded from Blythe’s mind, and he opened his eyes. Salinski had walked into the room and paused by the life-support machine.
As Blythe leaned in for a final kiss, a tear fell from his eye onto Claire’s cheek. He gently brushed her lips with his own. “I love you.”
“Ready?” The doctor sought his final approval.
He swallowed hard and nodded.
Salinski flipped the switch. The screens went blank. And the humming and pumping stopped.
Holding tight to her hand, Blythe waited for Claire’s lungs to expel a last puff of air.
Her chest rose and fell…and rose and fell…
Chapter Thirty-Two
The days grew shorter, the nights became colder, and the trees began to shed their leaves. The end of September had sneaked up on Riley.
Seated on the paddock gate, she waited for Piper. Inside the enclosure, Willow’s foal lay in the sun not too far from his mother. The shy foal needed a name, but she couldn’t decide on what to call him. “Before I leave for the studio, I will name you.”