Homecoming Ranch

by Julia London

  To which I responded with a succinct, “Nope.”

  I wasn’t going to tell her that the guy he’s working with has called him a bunch of times asking him this question that the other day, he told Luke that he had one more week, and then he was going to have to do something, because this guy couldn’t handle all his work. I heard Luke tell him he’d be back by the end of next week, no problem.

  I was about to tell Julie that, but then the baby started crying and she had to go, and I didn’t try and stop her—the woman talks while my show is on. She was walking out of the house just as Luke drove up. I thought for sure he’d walk right around her and come inside, but no, they sat down on the porch steps and talked for like an hour. When he came in, he was sort of smiling, but not in a happy way, sort of in a “I can’t believe it’s butter” kind of way.

  He took one look at me, pointed his finger, and said, “Not one word about her, Leo. Not one, or I will knock your block off.”

  Well, they don’t call me Big Mouth at the hospital for nothing, and I said, “Agreed. Not one word about Julie. So what’s up with you and Blue Eyes?”

  Luke looked startled and said, “What the hell, Leo? Why are you always trying to create drama where there is none?”

  I said, “Hold up there, Cowboy, I’m not creating anything. You haven’t gone back to Denver, you spend every day at the ranch, and the only person you talk about is Madeline Pruett, and for the first time in like a hundred years, you are not hot to trot after Julie Daugherty. It doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going on here, but I am a genius, and I get it.”

  Luke folded his arms across his chest. He had the same expression on his face that he had when we were teens and he found out I’d been smoking weed at lunch. He decked me and told me that was the best way to get kicked out of football and lose the scholarship I needed to go to college. Turns out the best way is to get MND. But that night, Luke looked like he was going to deck me again. He said, “No, Leo, you’re wrong. I’m just trying to save the ranch so you and Dad have a place to live, okay? And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you that Dad and Grant Tyler thought it would be a great idea to have a damn reunion there that we have to put together. So while I’m trying to figure out how to get the ranch back, I’ve been building showers and extra latrines. That’s what I am doing out there. If you don’t believe me, I’ll put your lame ass in the van right now and drive you out there and shove your head down one. Now shut your damn mouth or I will.” And he stalked off.

  I shouted, “You and what army!” And stuff along those lines, and some choice words I will not repeat here. But for the record, Luke did not answer the fundamental question: How do you build latrines and showers in the dark? Because you can’t. That’s why he is not a genius. He does not think these things through. That’s what I told Marisol, and she told me to lay off Luke. She said, “He does all that he can for you and your dad. He’s always there for you. If he likes the girl’s company, it’s nothing to you.”

  Yeah, okay, she’s right. But it’s like I told her: “I kind of wish he wouldn’t do so much for me, you know? I mean, I want him to get the ranch back, because Dad is going to need it. But I kind of like being in town. People come to see me. My good looks and winning personality have attracted half of Pine River to this door, and I even talked the Methodists into building the ramps Luke said he was going to build and didn’t, because he’s been out at the ranch all week making moon eyes at the Florida chick.”

  Marisol said, “You don’t know that, Leo. You should really learn to keep your mouth shut.”

  Yeah, well that’s not going to happen because that’s all I’ve got left, you know? It’s part of my magnetism.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Luke gave Madeline the honor of hammering the last nail in the temporary showers. She cheered when it was done, hopping about in her shorts and hiking boots, and a skintight T-shirt that had been a distraction for Luke all day. She had smudges of dirt and grime on her face and arms, and an ugly scrape across her knee.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said breathlessly. “I built a shower!”

  “And a latrine,” he reminded her.

  “And a latrine. I’m just padding my resume left and right.” She laughed again, the sound of it reminded him of the soft sound of morning birds.

  “So how are we doing on your list?” Luke asked as he hitched the hammer onto his tool belt and tested the sturdiness of the wall once more.

  Madeline removed the pencil she had taken to wearing behind her ear, pulled a grimy, crumpled list from her pocket, and studied it. She put it up against the wall and drew a line through it. “Done.” Her face suddenly lit with a bright smile. “We’re all done! We’re actually and officially ready for the Johnsons!”

  She stuffed the paper into her pocket and smiled up at him. She glanced around her, then stepped forward, put her hand on his abdomen. “You’re a stud, you know that?” she asked, and rose up on her toes, kissing him.

  “You are too, you know that?” he asked, and caught her around the waist, holding her there, kissing her a little more thoroughly.

  But Madeline put her hand on his chest and with a nervous laugh, stepped out of his embrace.

  It was a fact that they had been together a few times that week. And it was a fact while Madeline had begun to relax, to let her hair down, so to speak, she still managed to keep him at arm’s length most of the time. It felt almost as if there were two Madelines: the wildy sexy, passionate one who showed up when they were alone, making love, and then the careful, controlled, anxious one who was around the rest of the time.

  Luke tried to figure out why that was. He did not want to believe what Jackson had told him, that lawyers had been engaged. If that were true, why wouldn’t she tell him? He didn’t think Libby had hired lawyers—she was too intent on making the reunion a success and already planning for a wedding here to be engaging lawyers. He supposed Emma might have hired them, but that seemed unlikely, as she had no interest in the property that he could see.

  It had to be Madeline. But the woman he was sleeping with was warm and passionate. She was funny when she let her guard down, eager to work. She had slowly come around to the mountain way of life—hell, she’d even fed the dogs this morning. He could not believe that she was plotting to sell Homecoming Ranch to complete strangers while she was with him. But then again, when they weren’t in bed or stealing moments here and there, she was busy running through a list of things to be done. Was it for the reunion, he wondered? Or to prepare the property to sell?

  Another thing that was eating at Luke was that while he understood Madeline was cautious and a little skittish when it came to men, he didn’t get why she was so fearful that someone would discover they were… involved. Luke didn’t know what else to call it: They were involved.

  He looked at her now as she scrutinized their handiwork. “So,” he said as he tested the water pressure in the last showerhead, “nothing left but herding Johnsons around now, is that right?”

  “I think so,” she said cheerfully. “We’ve got the horseback riding and river-rafting lined up. Ernest built a horseshoe court and cleaned up the—what did he call it, the washer pit? The cows are somewhere,” she said, gesturing to the mountain. “Everything is set up and ready.” She beamed at him. “I really can’t believe that we pulled it off.”

  Neither could he. Two weeks ago, he would have sworn there was no way it would happen. “Now what?” he asked.

  “Now what about what?”

  He paused to look at her. “I’m talking about you and me, actually.” He hadn’t intended to ask that now; it had just come out.

  The question obviously gave her pause. Her smile faded and she squinted off in the distance. “Well,” she said, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I guess we’ll be on hand to greet the Johnsons, right?”

  That was the first time she’d mentioned being around when the Johnsons arrived. In fact, she had made it very clear she would n
ot be around for that. He arched a brow.

  She shrugged at his questioning look. “I mean, we’ve gone to so much trouble.”

  “What about the DiNapoli house?”

  “I can… I can get someone to cover that,” she said uncertainly. “We’re talking only one more week, right?”

  “I’m not really sure what we’re talking about, Maddie.”

  Madeline smiled uneasily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because I’m wondering what happens after that.”

  She took a step back—unconsciously, consciously, he didn’t know. “I don’t know. I thought we didn’t have to decide anything right now.”

  “We don’t. But maybe we should talk about it. We don’t talk, Maddie. We get together—”

  “Right, right,” she said, blushing, and looking surreptitiously over her shoulder.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, watching her for any sign of deception.

  “What? Why would you say that?” She seemed truly taken aback, truly offended.

  “I hoped you had given it some thought,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag he had stuffed in his back pocket. Tell me. Tell me you’ve involved lawyers to sell this ranch.

  She bit her lower lip. “Well… I thought maybe you could come to Orlando,” she said timidly.

  His heart sank a little. “And do what?”

  “I know some architectural firms. I could find something for you.”

  “I’ve started a business in Denver,” he pointed out.

  She nodded, as if she’d anticipated this argument. “But you can build anywhere.”

  Luke sighed. So this was where it was going, then—nowhere. The last couple of weeks had been some of the best of his life. He’d felt things for Madeline Pruett he’d not felt for anyone else in a very long time. He could argue that she could do her job here, too, but he couldn’t ask her to give up the life she’d built any more than she could ask that of him.

  But she just had. And she clearly meant to sell Homecoming Ranch yet, even knowing what it meant to him. What really stung was that he knew, had known, the first night they were together in Denver, that this was one messed up relationship, judging alone by the circumstances of how they’d met. Worse, he couldn’t even say to himself what it was he wanted anymore. He just knew that he wanted her. But he wanted her to want him in the same way. And even then, he didn’t know what it meant for either of them.

  Luke bent down and picked up the power drill. “So another week, huh?” he asked lightly.

  She smiled, and she looked, he thought, a little relieved that he wasn’t going to press it. “I think Libby could use the help,” she said.

  “Okay.” He turned back to the work, but something made him look at Madeline again. “Maddie? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  He would remember the look she gave him in the days to come. Her eyes shuttered and she looked, he thought, as if she was in pain. But she shook her head.

  “Okay,” he said, and turned around to gather his tools. Okay. She’d tell him when she was ready. He just hoped that he was ready when she did.

  When Madeline told Libby she was staying, Libby looked like she thought it was a joke. Madeline couldn’t blame her—she hadn’t believed it herself until the words actually tumbled out of her mouth this afternoon when Luke had asked her, what now?

  “Another week?” Libby repeated.

  “Another week,” Madeline confirmed. She’d just come back from Tag’s Outfitter, where she’d bought two more sundresses and two pairs of shorts. And some funky shoes she never would have worn in Orlando, would never have even looked at—but they felt so comfortable, and she imagined herself wearing them to tramp all around the ranch, leading Johnsons about.

  “Why?” Libby asked. “Just yesterday, you told me you’d finished up most of the work you needed to do.”

  That was true. Things had been tense with Libby since Madeline’s outburst. Madeline had tried more than once to apologize, but Libby would not stay in a room with her long enough to hear it. “I just thought since the Johnsons were going to start coming next week, I might stick around and help out. Is that a problem?”

  “No,” Libby said, eyeing her curiously. “It’s just that you’ve made it really clear you don’t want to be here. I thought you were miserable.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Madeline said. “I wasn’t ready—”

  “Stay if you want,” Libby interrupted. “This is as much your place as it is mine.” She walked out of the room.

  On the other hand, Bree seemed very open to Madeline extending her stay. “I kind of need to stay one more week,” Madeline said when she called. “Could you handle the DiNapoli inspection for me?”

  There was a pregnant pause on Bree’s end until she said, “Who is this and what have you done with Madeline?”

  “I’ve still got some personal stuff I need to deal with,” Madeline said, and wondered briefly what that even meant anymore. She only knew that she wasn’t ready to give up this thing with Luke quite yet. Whatever this thing was. She’d spent a week working alongside him, watching him build temporary showers as easily as if they were Legos. He had a great sense of humor, he was careful with Libby’s feelings, and most of all, most of all, he made her happy.

  She was pretty sure what she was feeling was love. Not infatuation, not lust. Love. Real, true love for the first time in her life. That was the frightening thing.

  “Of course I’ll do it,” Bree had said, always eager to get her fingers into the realty business while she studied for her license. “But I can’t close the deal for you.”

  “No, no,” Madeline had assured her. “I’ll be back. I’ve worked too hard and too long to sell that place.”

  Which is precisely what she repeated to Trudi. She would be back. She had finally sold the DiNapoli property, of course she would be back. “I just need to finish up here,” she said. “No big deal.”

  She probably shouldn’t have said that, because Trudi latched onto it instantly. “Really? Because everything is a big deal to you.”

  “No it’s not,” Madeline said laughingly.

  “Yeah, it is. Who are you kidding? I’m super, super surprised. I mean you couldn’t surprise me more if you told me you were moving there. You’re not going to move there, are you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Seriously, you never step out of your bubble. A place for everything and everything in its place—”

  “Trudi, okay!”

  “What about Stephen?”

  Madeline sighed. “What about him?”

  “Mad, come on,” Trudi chastised her. “You yourself said he’s been so helpful. He told me that the broker has people who are excited about the property. What more evidence do you need that he really digs you?”

  “I didn’t know I was looking for evidence,” Madeline said. But Trudi was right. Because of Stephen, she now had a pretty good ballpark of what the ranch was worth. She knew that the Kendricks had no real legal leg to stand on. And she knew that the broker, who specialized in ranch properties, already had a couple of clients who were interested in the ranch. The man said in a day or two he would have some concrete numbers for her to present to Libby and Emma, and then, of course, Luke. She tried to tell herself that she was giving Luke information he needed—that was, how much he’d need to buy the ranch back. But she was being less than honest with herself.

  Just thinking of Luke made Madeline’s face heat. She had lied to him today when he’d asked if there was anything she wanted to tell him. And while Stephen was calling in his friends to help her, she was making love to Luke on the hammock in his mother’s garden, in the Pontiac, in his childhood bed. Madeline Pruett, who Trudi had labeled a Goody Two-shoes, had stepped out of so many bubbles she almost didn’t know herself anymore. She loved Luke. Why was she working so hard to sabotage it?

  “I know Stephen is excited for you to come back,” Trudi continued
blithely. “He said you guys had a long talk last week.”

  Madeline would not have called it a long talk, but they did speak about the DiNapoli sale and what it meant for her career that morning in Denver. There had been lots of “taking over Orlando real estate, rah-rah” talk. “He’s been great,” she agreed weakly.

  “Then call him and tell him you’ll be back in another week,” Trudi said.

  Madeline looked out the window at the mountains. They looked blue in the late afternoon light. She’d noticed that they changed color throughout the day. Sometimes a gold yellow, sometimes rust, sometimes blue. The mountains were always the same, always different.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m here,” Madeline said.

  “Have you heard from Clarissa?” Trudi asked.

  Madeline had heard from her mother only once, and then it was to ask when Madeline would be getting the back child support. Madeline just let her think someone was looking into it—it was easier than arguing. “Not really. I’m a little worried about her. The last couple of times I spoke to her, she’s been talking about people I’ve never heard of, and she sounds drunk half the time.”

  “So what else is new?”

  “I’m not there to keep an eye on her, that’s what.”

  “Mad, you’ve been gone a couple of weeks, that’s all. Do you hear how crazy that sounds? You’re a grown woman—you should be able to be away from your mother for a couple of weeks.”

  Tension began to stiffen Madeline. She was very familiar with Trudi’s opinion of her mother, but that was her mother Trudi was dismissing, a woman who had no one but Madeline. “My mom isn’t like yours, Trudi,” she said quietly. “She needs constant—”