A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly with the back of one hand.
“You made your bed, Hannah McKettrick,” she told her reflection in the cold, night-darkened glass of the window, “and now you’ll just have to lie in it.”
By the time Doss returned, she’d washed her face, taken her hair down for a vigorous brushing and pinned it back up again. She’d put on a fresh dress, a prim but practical gray wool, and pinched some color into her cheeks.
He had on a brand-new suit of clothes, as fancy as the ones the doctor’s nephew wore, and he’d gotten a haircut and a shave, too.
She was strangely touched by these things.
“I’d have bought you a dress for the wedding,” he told her, staring at her as though he’d never seen her before, “but I didn’t know what would fit, and whether you’d think it proper to wear white.”
She smiled, feeling a tender sort of sorrow. “This dress will do just fine,” she said.
“You look beautiful,” Doss told her.
Hannah blushed. It was nonsense, of course—she probably looked more like a schoolmarm than anything else in her stern gray frock with the black buttons coming up to her throat—but she liked hearing the words. Had almost forgotten how they sounded, with Gabe gone.
Doss took her hand, and there was an uncharacteristic shyness in the gesture that made her wonder if he was as frightened and reluctant as she was.
“You don’t have to go through with this, Doss,” she said.
He ran his lips lightly over her knuckles before letting her hand go. “It’s the right thing to do,” he answered.
She swallowed, nodded.
“I guess the preacher must be here.”
Doss nodded. “Downstairs, waiting. Shall we wake Tobias?”
Hannah shook her head. “Better to let him sleep.”
“I’ll fetch a maid to watch over him while we’re gone,” Doss said.
Now it was Hannah who nodded.
He left her again, and this time she felt it as a tearing-away, sharp and prickly. He came back with a plump, older woman clad in a black uniform and an apron, and then he took Hannah’s hand once more and led her out of the room, down the stairs and into the office where she would become Mrs. McKettrick, for the second time.
At least, she thought philosophically, she wouldn’t have to get used to a new name.
Chapter Nine
Present Day
The weather hadn’t improved, Sierra noted, standing at the window of Liam’s hospital room the next morning. Orderlies had wheeled in a second bed the night before, and she’d slept in a paper gown. Now she was back in the sweats Travis had bought for her, rested and restored.
Dr. O’Meara had already been in to introduce herself, check on Liam’s progress and do a work-up of her own, and she’d signed the release papers, too. Sierra liked and trusted the woman, though she was younger than expected, no more than thirty-five years old, with delicate features, very long brown hair held back by a barrette and a trim figure.
Armed with a prescription, Sierra was ready to take her son and leave.
Ready to face Eve, and all the emotional spade work involved.
Or not.
Just as she turned from the window, Travis entered the room, wearing slacks and a blue pullover sweater that accentuated the color of his eyes. He’d said he owned a house in Flagstaff, and Sierra knew he’d gone there to spend the night.
There was so much she didn’t know about his life, and this was unsettling, although she didn’t have the time or energy to pursue it at the moment.
“Travis!” Liam crowed, as though he hadn’t expected to see his friend ever again. “I get to go home today!”
The word home caught in Sierra’s heart like a fish hook. The ranch house on the Triple M was Eve’s home, and it was Meg’s, but it didn’t belong to her and Liam. They were temporary guests, and it had troubled Sierra all along to think Liam might become attached to the place and be hurt when they left.
Travis approached the bed, grinned and ruffled Liam’s hair. “That’s great,” he said. “According to reports, the power is back on, the pantry is bulging, and your grandmother is waiting to meet you.”
Sierra felt a wrench at the reminder. So much for thinking she was prepared to deal with Eve McKettrick.
Liam inspected Travis speculatively. “You don’t look like a cowboy today,” he declared.
Travis laughed. “Neither do you,” he countered.
“Yeah, but I never do,” Liam said, discouraged.
“We’ll have to do something about that one of these days soon.”
Sierra bristled. She and Liam were committed to staying on the ranch for a year, that was the bargain. Twelve months. The time would surely pass quickly, and she didn’t want her son putting down roots only to be torn from that hallowed McKettrick ground.
“Liam looks fine the way he is,” she said.
Travis gave her a long, thoughtful look. “True enough,” he said mildly. “My buddy Liam is one handsome cowpoke. In fact, he looks a lot like Jesse did, at his age.”
Another connection to the storied McKettrick clan. Uncomfortable, Sierra averted her eyes. She’d already gathered Liam’s things, but now she rearranged them busily, just for something to do.
Half an hour later, the three of them were in Travis’s truck, headed back to the ranch. Liam, buckled in between Travis and Sierra, promptly fell asleep, but his hands were locked around his DVD player. Mentally Sierra clutched the new inhaler, prescribed by Dr. O’Meara, purchased at the hospital pharmacy and tucked away in her bag, just as anxiously.
She had been silent for most of the ride, gazing out at the winter landscape as it whipped past the passenger window.
Travis said little or nothing, concentrating on navigating the icy roads, but Sierra was fully aware of his presence just the same, and in a way that disturbed her. He’d been a rock since Liam’s asthma attack, and she was grateful but she couldn’t afford to become dependent on him, emotionally or in any other way, and she didn’t want her son to, either.
Trouble was, it might be too late for Liam. He adored Travis Reid, and there was no telling what fantasies he’d cooked up in that high-powered little brain of his. He and Travis riding the range, probably. Wearing baseball mitts and playing catch. Going fishing in some pristine mountain lake.
All the things a boy did with a dad.
“Sierra?”
She didn’t dare look at Travis, for fear he might see the vulnerability she was feeling. All her nerves seemed to be on the outside of her skin, and they were doing the jingle-bell rock. “What?”
“I was just wondering what you were thinking.”
She couldn’t tell him, of course. He’d think she was attracted to him, and she wasn’t.
Much.
So she lied. “All about Eve,” she said.
He chuckled at the flimsy joke, but Sierra gave him points for recognizing an obscure reference to an old movie. Maybe they had a thing or two in common after all.
“I imagine the lady’s on pins and needles herself, right about now. She wants to see you and Liam more than anything, I’d guess, but it won’t be easy for her.”
“I don’t want it to be easy for her,” Sierra answered.
Travis hesitated only a beat or two. “Maybe she has good reasons for what she did.”
Sierra’s silence was eloquent.
“Give her a chance, Sierra.”
She glanced at him. “I’m doing that,” she said. “I drove all the way here from Florida. I agreed to stay on the Triple M for a full year.”
“Would you have done it if it weren’t for the insurance?”
Damn it. He was a lawyer. “Probably not,” she admitted.
“You’d do just about anything for Liam.”
“Not ‘just about,’” Sierra said. “Anything covers it.”
“What about yourself? What would you do for Sierra?”
“Are we
going to talk about me in the third person?”
“Stop hedging. I understand your devotion to Liam. I’d just like to know what you’d be doing right now if you didn’t have a child, especially one with medical problems.”
Sierra glanced at Liam, making sure he was asleep. “Don’t talk about him as though he were somehow…deficient.”
“I’m not. He’s a great kid, and he’ll grow up to be an exceptional man. And I’m still waiting to hear what your dreams are for yourself.”
She gave a desultory little chuckle. “Nothing spectacular. I’d like to survive.”
“Not much of a life. Not for you and not for Liam.”
Sierra squirmed. “Maybe I’ve forgotten how to dream,” she said.
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
“Up until now, it hasn’t been a factor.”
“That’s unfortunate. Liam will pattern his attitudes after yours. Is that what you want for him? Just survival?”
“Are you channeling some disincarnate life coach?” Sierra demanded.
Travis laughed, low and quiet. “Not me,” he said.
“You’re just playing the cowboy version of Dr. Phil, then?”
“Okay, Sierra,” Travis conceded. “I’ll back off. For now.”
“What are your dreams, hotshot?” Sierra retorted, too nettled to let the subject alone. “You have a law degree, but you train horses and shovel out stalls for a living.”
This time there was no laughter. Travis’s glance was utterly serious, and the pain Sierra saw in it made her ashamed of the way she’d spoken to him.
“I guess I had that coming,” he said quietly. “And here’s my answer. I’d like to be able to dream again. That’s my dream.”
“I’m sorry,” Sierra told him, after a few moments had passed. The man had lost his brother in a very tragic way. He was probably doing the best he could, like almost everybody else. “I didn’t mean to be unkind. I was just feeling—”
“Cornered?”
“That’s a good word for it.”
“You must have been burned pretty badly,” Travis observed. “And not just by Eve.” He looked down at Liam. “Maybe by this little guy’s dad?”
“Maybe,” Sierra said.
After that, conversation fell by the wayside again, but Sierra did plenty of thinking.
When they arrived at the ranch, all the lights in the house seemed to be on, even though it was barely noon. A glowing tangle of color loomed in the parlor window, and Sierra squinted, sure she must be seeing things.
Travis followed her gaze and chuckled. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks as if Christmas sneaked back in while we weren’t around.”
Liam’s eyes popped open at the magic word. “Christmas?”
Sierra smiled, in spite of the knot of worry lying heavily in the pit of her stomach. What was Eve up to?
Travis pulled up close to the back door, and Sierra braced herself as it sprang open. There was Eve McKettrick, standing on the top step, a tall, slender woman, breathtakingly attractive in expensive slacks and a blue silk blouse.
“Is that my grandma?” Liam asked. “She looks like a movie star!”
She did look like a movie star, a young Maureen O’Hara. And Sierra was suddenly, stunningly aware that she’d seen this woman before, in San Miguel, not once, but several times. She’d been a periodic guest at one of the better B&Bs when Sierra was small, and they’d had ice cream together at a sidewalk café near the casita, several times.
For a moment Sierra forgot how to breathe.
The Lady. She’d always called Eve “the Lady,” and she’d secretly believed she was an angel. But it had been years since she’d given the memory conscious house room.
Now it all came flooding back, in a breathtaking rush.
Travis shut off the truck and opened the door to get out. “Sierra?” he prompted, when she didn’t move.
“Hello!” Liam yelled, delighted, from his place next to Sierra. “My name is Liam and I’m seven!”
Eve smiled, and her vivid green eyes glistened with emotion. “My name is Eve,” she said quietly, “and I’m fifty-three. Come here and give me a hug.”
Sierra finally came unstuck, opened the passenger-side door and climbed down, planting her feet in the crusty snow. Liam scrambled past her so quickly that he generated a slight breeze.
Eve leaned down to gather her grandson in her arms. She kissed the top of his head and met Sierra’s gaze again as she straightened.
“I’ll see to the horses,” Travis said.
“Don’t go,” Sierra blurted, before she could stop herself.
Eve steered Liam into the kitchen, watching with interest as Travis rounded the front end of the truck and stood close to Sierra.
“You’ll be all right,” he told her.
She bit her lower lip, feeling like a fool. It was still all she could do not to grab one of his hands with both of hers and cling like some crazy codependent girlfriend about to be hustled out of town on the last bus of the day.
So long. It’s been real.
For a few long moments she and Travis just stared into each other’s eyes. He was determined; she was scared. And something else was happening, too, something a lot harder to define.
Finally Travis broke the impasse by turning and striding off toward the barn.
Sierra drew a deep breath and marched toward the open door of the kitchen and the woman who waited on the threshold.
“There’s a surprise in the living room,” Eve said to Liam, once they were all inside and she’d shut the door against the unrelenting cold.
He raced to investigate.
“You’re the Lady,” Sierra said, stricken.
“The Lady?” Eve echoed, but Sierra could see by the expression in her mother’s eyes that it was mere rhetoric.
“The one I used to see in San Miguel.”
“Yes,” Eve said. “Sit down, Sierra. I’ll make tea, and we’ll chat.”
“Wow!” Liam yelled, from the living room. “Mom, there is a Christmas tree in here, with major presents under it!”
“Oh, Lord,” Sierra said, and sank on to one of the benches at the table.
“They’re all for me!” Liam whooped.
Sierra watched her mother take Lorelei’s teapot from the cabinet, spoon tea leaves into it, fill and plug in the electric kettle. “Christmas presents?” she asked.
Eve smiled a little guiltily. “I had seven years of grandmothering to make up for,” she said. “Cut me a break, will you?”
Sierra would have tallied the numbers differently, but there was no point in saying so. “I thought you were an angel,” she confessed. “In San Miguel, I mean.”
Eve busied herself with the tea-brewing process, stealing the occasional hungry glance at Sierra. “You’ve certainly grown up to be a beautiful woman,” she said. Finally she stopped her puttering, clasped her hands together and practically gobbled Sierra up with her eyes. “It’s…it’s so wonderful to see you.”
Sierra didn’t answer.
Liam pounded in from the living room. “Can I open my presents?”
“If it’s all right with your mother,” Eve said.
Sierra sighed. “Go ahead. And calm down, please. You just got out of the hospital, remember? Overexcitement and asthma do not mix.”
Liam gave a shout of delight and thundered off again, ignoring her admonition completely.
The electric kettle whistled, and Eve poured the contents into the antique teapot, and brought it to the table. She selected two cups and saucers from the priceless collection and carried those over, too. Then, at last, looking as nervous as Sierra felt, Eve sat down in the chair at the end of the table.
“How’s Liam?” she asked.
“He’s fine,” Sierra answered. “But he’s just getting over a crisis, as you know, so he’s going to bed as soon as he finishes opening his presents.” The bear and the balloon were in the back of Travis’s truck, under the heavy plastic cover, and she
imagined her mother ordering them for a grandson she’d never seen.
“So many things to say,” Eve fretted, “and I haven’t the first idea where to start.”
Suddenly Sierra was tired. And not so suddenly she was overwhelmed. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were—when we met in San Miguel?”
Eve poured tea, warmed beautifully manicured and bejeweled hands around a translucent china cup. “Nothing like cutting to the chase,” she said, with rueful appreciation.
“Nothing like it,” Sierra agreed implacably.
“If I’d told you who I was, you would have told Hank, and he might have taken you and disappeared again. It took me almost five years to find you the first time, so I wasn’t about to let that happen.”
Sierra absorbed her mother’s words quietly. She had mentioned “the Lady” to her father, at least after the first encounter, but if he’d suspected anything, he’d probably dismissed the accounts as flights of a child’s imagination. Besides, elegant tourists were common in San Miguel, and they were generous to local children.
“If I’d been in that situation—if it were Liam who’d been snatched away and I’d found him—I’d have taken him home with me.”
Eve’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “Would you?” she challenged softly. “Even if he seemed happy and healthy, and you knew he didn’t remember you? Would you simply kidnap him—tear him away from everyone and everything he knew? Without thought for any of the psychological repercussions?”
Sierra blinked. She would have been terrified if Eve had stolen her back from Hank, whisked her out of the country in some clandestine way. And she would have had to do exactly that, because even though Sierra’s father seemed benignly disinterested most of the time, word would have gotten back to him quickly, had Eve tried to spirit her away. He would have called out the federales, as well as the municipal authorities, many of whom were his friends, and Eve would probably still be languishing in a Mexican jail.
And she’d had another daughter to consider, as well as a home and a business.
“I’ve been grown up for quite some time,” Sierra pointed out, after long reflection. “What stopped you from contacting me after Dad died and Liam and I came to the States?”
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