Caribou Crossing

by Susan Fox

  Embarrassed as hell, Wade nodded awkwardly at the boy. “Sorry, Evan.”

  Miriam looked over, too, brushing dampness off her cheeks. “Oh, Evan.” She rose and went to him. When she reached out to touch him, he flinched away. “We’re so sorry,” she said gently. “We didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s okay,” he said cautiously. His solemn gaze fixed on her face, then traveled to Wade’s, and then landed on Jessie’s. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She sniffled, nodded, then went over to take his hand.

  Though he’d sure rather Evan hadn’t witnessed their family drama, Wade was still glad that Jessie had this friend who looked out for her.

  “I’m sorry, Miriam.” Wade went over to rest his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  “Me, too.” She gave him a shaky smile. “We’ll figure things out, Wade. The important thing is, we love each other. We are partners, and we have to start acting like it.”

  “Agreed,” he said wholeheartedly. He put his arms around her and she hugged him back. For a long minute he held her tight, wishing he never had to let go. They kissed gently, an apology and a promise.

  When he turned again to the kids, he saw they were taking it all in, Jessie with a smile and Evan with a serious expression that was more an adult’s than a child’s.

  “I should drive Evan home,” Wade said. “Is that okay, Miriam?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll put Jessica to bed.”

  “And I’ll come kiss you good night when I get back,” he said to his daughter. Then, to Miriam, “And then we’ll talk. Like grown-ups.”

  Evan got his things, and then the two of them went out to the car. Wade drove down the ranch road and turned onto the two-lane highway into town. He said, again, “I’m sorry about that. We’ve had some troubles lately, but that’s not an excuse for fighting.”

  “You need an excuse?” The question sounded genuine.

  Wade shook his head. “There’s never a good excuse. Not when you love someone.”

  The boy didn’t respond, and Wade glanced over to see him staring out the windshield, his brow furrowed.

  “It won’t happen again,” Wade promised.

  Would the kid tell his parents about the fight? Wade had met them both, but only briefly. Blond Brooke had a vivacious personality. Mo, a half-Asian man, was more taciturn. Both were very good-looking, which made him think that one day skinny, big-eared Evan might turn into a handsome guy. They didn’t seem overly concerned about their son’s activities, maybe because he was so mature for his years. All the same, tonight had to have been troubling for the boy. “Want me to come in and talk to your folks?”

  Evan’s thin body jerked; then he turned and fixed those big, solemn blue-green eyes on Wade. “Why?”

  “To reassure them everything’s okay. I don’t want them worrying about you coming out to the ranch.”

  “Oh,” he said slowly. Then, “It’s okay. They won’t worry. Besides, they won’t be home right now.”

  Evan never said much about his parents. Wade knew that Brooke waitressed part-time, and Mo worked at an auto repair shop, but that was pretty much it.

  When Wade pulled up at the shabby rental house, he reached over to touch Evan’s shoulder. The boy tensed and turned his face toward Wade, expression giving nothing away.

  “You’re a good friend to Jessie,” Wade said. “And to her mom and me. We’ll see you again soon.”

  The boy gave a stiff little nod. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” He slid out from under Wade’s hand and opened the car door. “Good night.”

  Wade drove home quickly, then went upstairs. Jessie was tucked in bed, her mom beside her with an arm around her, reading from one of their daughter’s favorite horse books. This, Wade thought, was what mattered. Yes, he loved Bly Ranch and would hate to lose it, but he could survive anything if he had these two females.

  He hugged them, kissed Jessie, then took his wife’s hand as they walked from the bedroom.

  She turned to him and said quietly, “I’m exhausted. Let’s never fight like that again.”

  He shook his head. “Guess we both have some issues. But fighting’s sure not the way to solve them. Are you too tired to talk tonight?” He hoped not. If he had to give up Bly Ranch, he’d rather know now than worry about it overnight.

  To his relief, she said, “No, I’ll never sleep unless we do. Let’s go down and light a fire.”

  “Great.” That would set the right mood. He and Miriam had enjoyed a lot of good times in front of a fire.

  She went to make tea while he got a blaze going. Then they settled side by side on the couch.

  “So,” he said, “where do we start?”

  She took a sip of tea, then touched his shoulder. “I think I’ve figured out why we fought.”

  “You mean, because we were both upset and we’re dealing with huge issues?”

  “True. But also, we don’t know how to solve problems.”

  “We don’t?”

  “Think about it, sweetheart.” Her eyes were as gentle as her warm hand. “Until this year, we were starry-eyed kids and all our dreams were just handed to us on a silver platter. We agreed on everything. Even buying the ranch. Looking back, I remember that my dad tried to make us look at some cold, hard facts, but we were so excited, we just leaped into it. We both love the ranch, we’d always figured we’d end up here, and we assumed everything would work out.”

  As she spoke, he felt the truth of her words, deep inside him. “Guess that’s true.”

  “We can’t be starry-eyed kids anymore. Yes, we still have dreams, but the silver platter’s gone.”

  “Sure as hell is,” he said ruefully. “And in its place, there’s a hellacious mortgage.”

  “Now we have to work for what we want. We have to learn new things. If we keep the ranch, I have to master the bookkeeping. You maybe have some things to learn about ranching, and have to learn to ask your dad and others for advice. We have to figure out how to do a business plan. And most important of all, we have to share our worries and problems with each other and decide together what to do about them.”

  He rested his hand on her thigh, which was covered by her denim skirt. “You’re pretty smart, wife.”

  “You might have shared your worries if I wasn’t so out of things.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. We each heal in different ways, and you needed time. It was a horrible thing, what happened with our baby.”

  “It was. And it would’ve gone easier for each of us if we’d talked about it. But we didn’t.” She studied his face. “Would you be willing to do that now?”

  He swallowed. He’d wanted to before, yet it meant showing Miriam a side of him she’d never seen. But she was his wife. The person he loved and trusted most in the world. “Yes.” Wryly he added, “You’re determined to see all my weaknesses, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes crinkled as she gave a small smile. “You’ve seen mine, all these months. And you’re still here. I’m so glad of that.”

  “Me, too.”

  Her smile faded and her blue-gray eyes darkened. “What was the worst part for you? About my miscarriage?”

  Oh, hell. The grief was something he wouldn’t mind sharing. But it wasn’t the answer to her question. He swallowed again, and when the two words came, they grated out as if he were dragging them over barbed wire. “The guilt.”

  Her brows drew together. “You mean, my guilt?”

  Confused, he shook his head. “What do you mean? No, mine. I didn’t protect you. I saw the signs there was something wrong. Should’ve gotten you to the doctor earlier.”

  Miriam’s face paled. “Dr. Mathews said nothing could have saved our son.”

  “I know, but maybe you wouldn’t have needed a hysterectomy.” He reached for her hands, hoping she wouldn’t pull away.

  And she didn’t. Instead, she gripped his fiercely. “It was my fault. My body. I’d even been pregnant before. I should have known.”r />
  Seeing the pain in her eyes, he realized something. “You’ve been blaming yourself. And so have I.”

  Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You’re right, I might not have needed a hysterectomy. We could have had more children.” A tear slipped free and ran down her cheek, then another.

  His own eyes were damp. “Yes. That haunts me. Even more than losing our son.”

  She nodded, the tears running free now. “Me, too.”

  He pulled her into his arms, her face resting against his shoulder. Dampness soaked through his shirt. He clutched her tighter, rested his chin on top of her head, and now tears slid freely down his cheeks. “It’s our fault, both of ours,” he choked out. “And we can’t go back and fix it.”

  “We can’t. It breaks my heart.”

  “Mine, too.” And yet, talking about it, sharing the guilt, holding Miriam . . . He actually felt a little better. He hoped she did, too.

  Taking her shoulders, he eased her gently away from him until she gazed up into his face. “We can’t go back, but we can move forward.”

  She sniffed back tears. “We have to.” Then she slipped free, found a tissue in her skirt pocket, and blew her nose. “As partners,” she said firmly.

  With rough fingers, he brushed the tears off his cheeks. “As partners.”

  “We said those vows, for better or worse. We weren’t thinking about the worse, but no marriage is all silver platters. We’re in this together. If one of us has a problem, then it’s the other person’s problem, too, and we need to work together to solve it.”

  When she put it that way, it seemed so obvious. “Yeah, I guess that’s what marriage is all about.”

  Then he took a deep breath, gripped both her hands again, and took the plunge. “You were right. Home isn’t a place. Home is us. You, me, and Jessie. If we have to give up Bly Ranch, if it’s going to hurt our family to keep it, then we have to let it go.” Though the words sent stabs of pain through his heart, he meant them.

  She studied his face for a long time, and he hoped she saw the truth. Then she gazed over at the fireplace. “Remember our Christmas tree?”

  “Yes.” And what did that have to do with anything?

  She turned back to him. “Wade, I love it here. I’ve loved the ranch since the first day I saw it. I never grasped what was involved in owning it, and I still don’t know all of it. But I think it could be worth all the challenges and all the work. Let’s not give up. We’ll do what the bank manager said. We’ll talk to everyone who might possibly help us, we’ll put together a plan, and we’ll do our very best to hang on to this place.”

  It would mean humbling himself in front of his parents, Miriam’s, the neighboring ranchers. Caribou Crossing was a small town. Everyone would know. But then folks probably already knew he was out of his depth and were just waiting for him to admit it and ask for help.

  Maybe they could hang on to the ranch. Build their home here, in the place all three of them loved so much. And in the struggle to do that, he’d have Miriam beside him every step of the way.

  He squeezed her hands. “That sounds mighty good to me.”

  Relief and hope filled him, followed by a surge of love so powerful that had he been standing it would have brought him to his knees. He leaned over, cupped her beloved face between his big, calloused hands, and touched his lips to hers.

  She returned his kiss eagerly.

  Miriam was back, fully present. His warm, giving, sensual, sexy wife. Her lips and tongue told him that.

  When they broke the kiss, he said, “Tomorrow, we’ll get to work. A new day, a fresh start. Tonight, I want to make love with my wife.”

  He prayed she’d say yes.

  Chapter 14

  Miriam felt a little like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. She’d survived a tornado of experiences and emotions and emerged safely back home, where she’d started. And yet “home” was a different place and she was seeing it through new and very grateful eyes.

  She touched Wade’s cheek. “Then take me to bed, husband.” There was nothing on earth she wanted more than to be naked in his arms.

  He rose to adjust the fireplace damper and close the glass door, then came back and held out his hand to her.

  She grasped it and he pulled her to her feet. Arms around each other, they headed up the stairs. As they walked, he tugged her T-shirt free from her skirt on one side. His warm, calloused fingers teased the skin at her waist. For so long, her body had just been an object, a thing she had to tend. Now, it awakened and she felt feminine, sensual. Something tingled through her, the stirrings of arousal.

  Wade locked the bedroom door and turned on the lamp.

  Suddenly, nervousness overcame arousal. She’d lost weight, and she was scarred. Before, Wade had said he loved her stretch marks and the scar from her C-section, but the new scars were ugly symbols of her barrenness. “Turn off the light,” she said, her voice high and strained.

  He studied her, then said quietly, “My wife’s back and I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

  “I look different.” She was different. Barren. Empty. What would it feel like for her, for him, to make love now?

  He smiled, his deep brown eyes warm with love, and smoothed his hand over her hair. “You’re beautiful, Miriam. You were beautiful on our wedding day, and you’re beautiful in that T-shirt and the skirt that shows off your pretty legs. When you’re old and gray, you’ll still be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  Then he touched his lips to hers, and made her believe him.

  In that moment, her nervousness fled. This was Wade. When the kiss ended, she said, “And you’ll still be my handsome love, the only man I could ever imagine being with.”

  They’d shared a bedroom and bathroom all these months, but she saw him with new eyes as she reached up to undo his shirt buttons and peel the edges back to reveal his firmly muscled chest. She shoved the shirt off his shoulders and with wondering hands explored his powerful shoulders, firm pecs, sensitive nipples. He was thinner, yes, but still so handsome.

  She touched her tongue to his nipple, licked.

  His body jolted in reaction.

  It had been months since she’d even thought of sex, but now warm tingles raced through her blood.

  Wade eased her away from his body so he could pull her tee over her head. Then he took off her bra and gathered her close until her breasts pressed against his chest. He groaned. “God, I’ve missed you, Miriam.”

  He was erect already beneath the fly of his jeans. Feeling his rigid length press against her sent more quivers of heat racing through her.

  Emotionally and physically, she was suddenly hungry, desperately hungry, for this man. She unfastened his belt buckle, then went for the button at the waist of his jeans. Eagerly, she yanked down the zipper, pulled down his boxers, and clasped his length like a prize, a treasure. The treasure that would restore her sense of womanhood.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered.

  He jerked and thrust in her hand. “Jesus, Miriam. I want to go slow, to make this good for you.”

  “It’ll be good.” She was already aching and damp between her legs, her body crying out its need. “I need you, Wade. I need us.”

  “Oh, honey. I need that, too. But you have to stop touching me or I’ll explode.”

  Reluctantly, she let go as he fumbled for the fastenings of her skirt. Then denim slid down her hips, hit the floor. Wade’s hands thrust into the sides of her panties and yanked them down, and now she was naked in front of him.

  Quickly, he peeled his jeans and underwear off, then tossed back the duvet.

  Before the duvet settled, she was scrambling onto the bed, holding up her arms in welcome.

  The last time they’d made love—No! She wouldn’t think back; she’d live in this moment. “Now, Wade,” she urged as he eased down on top of her. “Take me now. Hard and fast. So nothing else exists but you and me, together.”

  He groaned, then kissed h
er, fusing their mouths together as his tongue thrust demandingly inside hers.

  She spread her legs, he slipped a hand between them, tested her dampness, opened her folds, and then—“Oh God, yes!” she cried against his mouth as he plunged into her, heated steel driving into her body. And she took him greedily, her hips lifting and tilting to urge him even deeper.

  Her hand thrust into his hair, gripped the back of his head, held him tight. Her other hand stroked frantically down his back, grasped his backside, dug her nails in. “Faster,” she gasped. “Harder.” She wanted this, only this, just the two of them. Man and woman, raw and primitive.

  They weren’t kissing now, just breathing hard against each other’s mouths, him in raw pants, her in needy whimpers.

  Her hips twisted, ground against him. It had been so long since she’d last been aroused that now the building tension was so fierce it almost hurt.

  Wade reached between them, not gently the way he usually did, but she didn’t care. The rough press of his thumb against her clit almost made her scream with pleasure. “Yes, yes, more.”

  Under her hand, his butt muscles clenched and his body drew back for a moment; then with a wrenching groan he plunged into her again and again as he climaxed. Pressure on her clit, pressure on her channel, pulsing jets of come exploding inside her—and everything came together and shattered and she buried her cry against his neck as she came in shuddering waves of ecstasy.

  It took a while for the world to come back into focus. She gazed up to see Wade’s chocolate eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “That was, uh . . .”

  “Exactly what I needed. I love you, Wade.”

  “I love you, too.” He kissed her tenderly, then sat back on his heels beside her on the bed. “That wasn’t exactly how I’d planned for that to go.”

  She studied her gorgeous husband. “No? Well, I believe in second chances. So if you’d like to try again . . .” She grinned at him.

  He grinned back. “There’s that dimple of yours. I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

  “There are other parts of me you haven’t seen in a long time.” She stretched seductively, feeling the return of her feminine power and confidence.