If nothing else, the camping trip should’ve clued her in. She’d felt like a bride on her wedding night because of the man she was with, who was making her dreams come true. There was so much depth between them that she hadn’t been fully aware of it all—a love that was complex, intense, but so gradual and right that she hadn’t seen it happening. As Jackie might put it, it’d sneaked up and bit her on the butt.
And now there was so much more at stake than before. She could confront Miles and lose Reed. At the very least, she’d turn his life upside down. Or she could go home to California and lose Reed. The only thing she couldn’t do was let the deception go on any longer. She had to be free of it before she could be free to love Reed.
He stepped down from the pickup and walked to her, eyes searching hers. He stopped within touching distance but left space between them. He didn’t attempt to kiss her. “Your house is ready.”
“Oh.” He was trying to make amends by starting all over? “Well, I already knew that.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, knuckles pushing his hat back. “What I meant was, it’s ready to move back into. Carried all your stuff over there for you. Seemed that’s what you’d wanted.”
Exactly what she’d wanted. Yet not at all what she wanted.
“Thank you,” she said formally. Where were they going now? Who was going to make the first move?
As if he’d heard the unspoken question, he took that one step to close the distance between them, leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. The touch was feather light but she felt it all the way into her heart. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she said in answer, and her voice cracked. She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned her forehead against him and felt the tension leave his body the same instant it left hers.
“You going to invite that boy in here to drink some coffee with us?” Margene called from inside the house.
“Yes, ma’am,” Reed answered. “She just did.”
*
“Miles, I have to talk to you,” Lainie said as soon as he walked into the office the next morning. Before the last word was out of her mouth, she was on her feet and turning to face him.
When she’d returned from the Cooper house yesterday, her boss was nowhere around, and he was later than usual coming in today. The longer she’d had to wait, the more nervous she got, yet also the more resolved. She had to face her grandfather; face Reed and their love; face herself.
Miles glanced her way. He appeared to be taking in her stance, and not liking it. “No, you don’t.” He resumed walking toward his desk.
She blinked. “Well, yes, I do. It’s...this is important.”
“All the more reason not to talk now.”
“Miles—”
“Want me to spell it out?” He reached for the rotary file of cards and clumsily rotated them. “Fingers crippled this morning, couldn’t sign my name if I had to, and I got a touch of biliousness to boot. Only reason I came in here was to get young Doc Talbot’s number so I can ask for a stool softener. Any questions?” Appearing exasperated with the file of cards, he picked up the whole thing and carried it across the room.
He stopped at the door, turned back. “You okay?” He pointed at her knee.
She nodded, feeling as exasperated as he looked.
“Made it up with Reed?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re fine.”
He left. She sat down, leaned as far back as her chair would allow and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t enough to make the decision and find the courage to carry it through. She also had to make him listen.
*
The next week, which would conclude with Thanksgiving, started out cold and busy. The ranch was shorthanded. Carter and his wife were visiting family in Oklahoma, and Glen Charles was housebound with flu. His oldest son had brought it home from school and shared it with the whole family.
Mack’s contract labor crew was also short because of the holidays, and every man he had was already working. The Lazy L loaned them a wrangler for two days. Miles was feeling better and was out each day in his truck, filling in where he was needed. Lainie suspected that if she were capable of sitting atop a horse or manipulating a brake pedal, she’d also be drafted. Her tough luck she wasn’t; she would’ve jumped at the chance to get some hands-on activity.
Cows had to be sorted by body condition and age then moved to appropriate pastures. The thinnest and youngest got the best pastures and extra rations.
Salt blocks had to be replenished. Water supply was crucial; in a recent drought, when creeks had quit flowing and as tank after tank (man-made ponds) had gone dry, water troughs had been put out near the house and filled with water bought in town. Expensive, but necessary. At most wells, windmills had been replaced with submersible pumps, and everything needed constant checking and fixing. Gate and fence repair was an ongoing, never-ending job.
From sunup to sundown strays had to be routed out and rescued. Lainie learned about “brush rats,” and couldn’t help but grin, though she doubted anyone else saw humor in the situation. Brush rats were cattle who absolutely refused to be gathered, and would actually lie down on the ground to avoid being seen. Dogs found them by smell, and then the stubborn cattle would actually run and fight.
Lainie saw little of Reed early in the week, less of Miles.
Every once in a while she’d see her boss talking to Rosalie, then he’d disappear. She found signs of him in the office—he’d leave work for her or finish up something she’d left for him—but they never crossed paths. Which meant that she had to swallow her uneasiness yet hang on to her resolve. The resultant effect had her feeling as anxious and frazzled as the proverbial long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.
Chapter Thirty-one
As she exited by the kitchen doorway on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, Lainie spied Miles’s SUV driving up.
She drew in a long breath, hoping to quiet the knot of anxiety that formed in her gut at the sight of her grandfather...and the thought of finally being able to wipe the slate clean. No matter where it took her, took all of them, it had to be done.
She detoured to the parking shed, walking as fast as the bum leg would allow. Miles walked out of the shed, saw her, stopped and waited. At least he wasn’t heading in another direction this time.
“Still got the limp,” he observed.
“Don’t you start, too. Miles, we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
She rested her weight on her left foot and crossed her arms. Not again. “What’s up with you? You’re always available to talk, but lately I can’t even find you. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”
“You’ve got something on your mind I don’t want to hear,” he said matter-of-factly.
She felt like the air had been sucked out of her. “What?”
“Give it a while. Get the holidays behind us. You still want to talk then, then we will.”
“But...what...what do you think I—”
“Uh-uh, Lainie Sue. Leave it alone.”
“You can’t gag me, Miles. I won’t let—”
“Put it any way you want. And you don’t have to let me. It’s done.” He walked around her.
Oh, for the love of...
“Is this because I got hurt?” she called after him.
“Part of it. I want you well. Healthy and strong. Till then you just hold on to it, whatever it is.”
She stared after him, blew her breath out in a loud whoosh, then in resignation followed him. He entered the main house but she went on around the corner to her own place.
What, exactly, did he not want to hear? He already suspected who she was and didn’t want to deal with it? Or did he think a problem had developed between her and Reed? If he’d had a hand in Carl Henry’s death and thought she was suspicious, he wouldn’t relish talking about that either. Whatever he thought the issue was, she realized, he wouldn’t want to mince words once they got to it. He’d want her s
trong enough to handle whatever he threw at her.
He was right about one thing: her knee had to heal. Unless she wanted to call a cab and then buy an airline ticket, she was presently confined at Lone Tree.
*
A week before Christmas, once supper was cleared away in the main house, Reed, Randy, Carter and Luke carried in an eight-foot pine and anchored it in its holder in the corner of the dining room.
Each man cautioned another. “Be careful.”
Then, “Watch out.”
“Not that way. Hey! You backed me into the wall here.”
Lucky Glen Charles had gone home to his family and was spared the squabbling. Even the room the tree went into had been debated for five minutes at the front door.
“The drawing room,” Randy said. “It’s tradition.”
“Too remote in there,” Reed said. “We can enjoy it three times a day in the dining room.”
“Should go in that little room in the front,” Luke declared. “Right in the window. Now that’s tradition.”
Miles shrugged, allowing the debate to continue. Lainie thought he was enjoying it. Then Rosalie marched down the hall, pointed into the dining room and kept pointing until they carried the tree in there.
“Red and white,” Luke said as he set up an accessory stool ladder next to the tree. “White lights and red ornaments. Seen it once and it’s pretty.”
Randy shook his head. “Tree’s gotta have color. Needs all kinds of lights and ornaments.”
“You and traditional,” Luke scoffed. “Doesn’t have to be the same every year. Nothing wrong with something different every long once in a while.”
Reed opened his mouth and then closed it. Clearly he was considering the role of mediator instead of leader; the trick was figuring out how to mediate without taking sides.
Retreating from the tree and its combatants, Carter accepted a glass of bourbon from Miles. Apple cider was available, hot and potent, along with homemade eggnog. The ever-present coffee pot and a fruitcake were also on the sideboard. Miles was eyeing the fruitcake.
Despite the holiday atmosphere, or perhaps because of it, Lainie felt blue. The season evoked memories of her parents, special times, special gifts, and made her heart ache. Because of her homesickness—and the lack of harmony among the decorators—she was observing instead of participating. She sat at the table, facing the tree, next to Rosalie, who was on her second cup of hard cider. Nelly sat on the other side of Rosalie, cradling his cup of the strong drink. Lainie stuck with coffee. She feared she’d end up a crying drunk if she sampled the cider.
“Don’t think Luke’s going to win this one,” Carter observed, voice as mild as always. He sat at the end of the table, chair turned to face the tree. Miles sat on the other side of Lainie, one empty chair between them.
“Got to agree with you,” Miles said. “Appears our Randy is growing up. Even Reed backed off.”
“Maybe instead of getting one big tree, you could get a bunch of small ones,” Rosalie suggested dryly. “Then each man could have his own.”
Lainie could too easily imagine a row of men, a row of trees, a row of boxed ornaments, and each man guarding his own. She lowered her face into her hands and giggled. The laugh felt especially good because of the heavy mood that had been hanging over her.
“How come you’re not helping?” Rosalie asked Carter.
“Done my share. Melanie and I did up our tree this past weekend. In red and white, same as Luke wants, and it turned out right pretty.”
“Don’t you be tellin’ them that,” Nelly warned. “If’n you do, Mr. Luke won’t never give up, Mr. Randy won’t never back down, and you ain’t never gonna get this tree done.”
Carter chuckled. “Nary a word, Nelly. I know better.”
Miles got up and freshened his and Carter’s drinks. Rosalie watched, but said nothing.
Looking at her, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and she smiled. “I’m behaving myself. I get two of these, then later I’ll have a sliver of that fruitcake over there and wash it down with coffee, and that’ll do me for the night.”
Once the last strand of lights was in place, Reed plugged the cord into the wall socket. The audience made appreciative noises, but he and Randy weren’t happy with the arrangement of lights and began switching bulbs. Lainie could see this was going to be a long night.
She was also reminded of her mother standing off to the side, tolerantly watching Walter and Lainie exchanging bulbs until they reached the harmony they wanted. Her eyes burned. She massaged them, surreptitiously wiping away the sting.
Although it’d taken a long time for Lainie to make the decision to talk to her grandfather, the resolve had immediately been there to carry it through. But she’d had to accept Miles’s edict about postponing issues he might not appreciate. In one way, she was relieved to defer the confrontation, yet she also felt stymied and resentful because putting it off served no constructive purpose.
Here she was, homesick, yet sitting with her mother’s father. She looked sideways at the family she had left—and found his gaze on her.
Nelly got up to replenish his cup of cider and waited patiently in front of Rosalie, giving her a toothless grin while she tried to decide if she could handle one more cup of the intoxicating drink. Carter put his bourbon down and went to the boxed ornaments. Luke was still grumbling, but joined Carter as he investigated boxes. Rosalie gave Nelly a decisive nod. “Once a year I can indulge,” she told him. And she hiccupped. “Oh!” She looked scandalized.
Miles’s hand covered his mouth as if to stifle a laugh. But until then, the gaze he’d leveled on Lainie had held strong emotion. She’d seen longing in it, and pride and regret. Directed toward her personally, or was it because of the holiday season, and in memory of the two women now gone? Each of them, wife and daughter, had been at an age near Lainie’s when he’d lost them.
Enough, she thought. Homesickness, guilt and dismay had mixed together inside her like a melancholy snowball rolling downhill. It was too difficult dealing with her own life and its losses without taking on the burdens of another. And as far as Miles was concerned, everything was guesswork anyway.
She needed to get out of here. Go brood, go to sleep, or just give in and have a good cry. Her mood would only worsen the longer she remained within the holiday atmosphere. Preparing to stand, she pushed her chair back too abruptly and jolted her knee. Her breath caught but she managed not to gasp, just waited for the leg to ease. Fortunately, no one looked at her. She hoped to make her exit with a minimum of fuss.
Once she was able to get to her feet, she told her companions goodnight then looked across the room and waited to catch Reed’s eye. When he glanced up and saw her standing, he gave her an inquiring look. She shrugged, conveying the message she was leaving early, but there was no problem. His expression changed—still questioning, but asking a different question. She smiled and shook her head, preferring not to have company later. He patted his right knee. Again she shook her head. The knee was fine, thank you.
She turned away, feeling conspicuous because their communication was open to anybody and everybody to read, and took her leave. She made it to the kitchen door before Miles hailed her. She turned.
He reminded her so much of her mother in temperament, in the cut-and-dry way he made decisions and laid down ultimatums. He was aggressive by nature, and stubborn, just as his daughter had been. But beneath the hard exterior, her mother had also had the capacity to nurture and protect. Lainie’s sense of loss was so great at that moment she wanted to run to Miles, bury her face against him and feel secure again in the unconditional love of a parent for a child. But that wasn’t possible with Miles Auburn. Not with the secrets she’d kept. And, she realized, if her mother had gotten that from her father, she wouldn’t have run from him.
“You’re missing your family,” he said softly.
“Yeah, you could say that.” She looked at the door, finding it difficult to swallow past a sore lump in her thr
oat.
Then, in the uncomfortable silence that followed, her gaze returned to his. Go ahead and blurt it out, she thought, don’t let him stop you.
“Miles—”
“Lainie—”
They’d each spoken at the same time, and in that instant, she backed down. When he motioned for her to speak first, she only lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. With her feelings so muddled, she was too drained and blue to dredge up the past. She said lamely, “I enjoyed tonight. It felt like...family.”
“You are family, Lainie Sue.”
Oh, boy. She turned away. “Goodnight, Miles.”
She reached for the doorknob but then turned back. She had to have at least this much. Putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, she stretched up on tiptoes, careful of her right leg. He didn’t appear surprised, just bent his head and allowed her to brush her lips across his cheek. Lainie blinked away moistness in her eyes as she walked outside and to her own door.
*
Christmas Eve morning, Lainie and Jackie shared brunch and exchanged gifts in Jackie’s duplex apartment. It had thin walls, so there was almost a constant murmur of sound from the people next door, but that had been a selling point; Jackie didn’t mind hearing her neighbors because she knew they’d also hear her if she ever needed help.
“Mind you,” she said as she placed a steaming casserole atop the table. “I’m not promising anything here. This is a brand new recipe.”
Full of sausage, eggs, bubbling cheese, green pepper and onion, it smelled as good as it looked. They each tested it with the air of a casserole connoisseur. “Umm.” Lainie sat back with a grin. “It’s a keeper.”
Over coffee and raisin cake they got to their gifts, Jackie going first. When she uncovered the embroidered vest Lainie had found in Lawary’s Western Emporium, she just looked at it for a long moment. Then Jackie thanked her and motioned for Lainie to open her present. Trying to hide her disappointment, Lainie removed ribbon and paper. If Jackie didn’t like her gift, she was welcome to return it. And if that were the case, Lainie would buy it for herself. Then she opened her box and pulled out an identical vest.
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