Then, at about nine p.m. as Breck sat with her friends, trying to tell herself that all was well, the phone rang.
“Hello?” Breck answered, her voice quivering with hopeful anticipation.
“Breck?” It was Reese. Breck sighed and let a tear escape and travel down one cheek.
“Reese!” She couldn’t stop the frantic sound in her voice. “H-how are you?” she stammered.
“Terrible,” he grumbled. “I’m here, and you’re there.” She smiled, and a small wave of relief broke over her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “When you didn’t come into work this morning…I was really worried.” It was hard to concentrate with four other women nodding and mouthing questions to her.
“I know, I’m sorry. I was going to call you last night before I left, but it was so late,” he explained. “Hey, I can’t talk long…but everything is fine. Okay?”
She wanted to shout to him, But everything is not fine! I need reassurance. I need you! Instead she managed, “Okay.”
He must’ve heard the anxiety in her voice. “Breck…I really do have to go now,” he told her. “But I mean it. Everything is fine. I don’t want you to worry…about anything.”
“Okay,” she managed again.
“Hey…I’ll tell you what,” he began, “put in for a day off on the sixteenth. Tell personnel that I okayed it. I’ll be back on the fifteenth, and the sixteenth we’ll…do something. Okay?”
Breck felt mildly relieved, but she wondered if he was only trying to pacify her. Something was wrong.
“All right,” she said. “Um…Reese?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you really okay?” she asked. There was a long pause, and it worried her.
“I am,” is all he said.
“Well, I-I guess I’ll see you on the sixteenth then,” she mumbled.
“I’ll call you in a couple of days,” he told her. Then he added, “Breck, I have…I have to do this right now…before we go home for Christmas. And I know you’re a worrier, so I don’t want you to worry about anything while I’m gone. Everything is fine.”
“All right, Reese,” she managed. She felt better, for it sounded like he was still planning to take her back to the farm for Christmas. “I’ll try not to.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I promise,” he told her. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“And we’ll make out…oops,” he chuckled. “We’ll make up for lost time when I get back.”
Breck smiled. Maybe everything was going to be fine. “We will?” she asked.
“Oohhh, yeah!” he told her. “Good night, baby.”
“Good night, Reese,” she said. And he hung up.
❦
“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve come around, Reese,” Ben Thatcher told his son from his seat in his lounge chair by the fire. “It took a good many years…but it looks like you’re finally over whatever sent you runnin’ off.”
Reese turned off his cell phone and sighed heavily. “Oh, I don’t know if I’m over it, Pop. Just…just beyond it.” He looked at the Christmas tree—his mother’s beautiful Christmas tree—and thought how beautiful Breck had been when he’d dropped her off at her apartment before heading back to the farm.
“What did ol’ Wilson say when you told him?” Ben Thatcher asked his son.
Reese chuckled. “He said, ‘Good for you, Reese!’ Though I know it puts him in a corner…trying to replace me.”
“Oh, he’ll find someone,” Ben yawned. “A good investigator is easy to find. A good, hard-workin’ man, however…ain’t.” Ben yawned again, this time adding a stretch for his back. “Still, I think you should’ve told your little treat there what you’re up to.”
Reese hung his head. He did feel guilty for not telling Breck that when he’d dropped her off the night before, realizing his mind and soul were whacked—that his life was messed up—he’d turned back around and headed for home. But he had a plan, and he needed time to implement a few things—get his head together before he faced her again.
“I know,” Reese admitted. “But I think she’ll understand someday.”
“Oh, she will,” Ben said. “She’s a jewel. And you’re a lucky man.”
“I know,” Reese said. “I just hope I can stay lucky.”
❦
That night after the girls had gone—as she lay in bed attempting to find a way to get some sleep—Breck thought over the phone conversation she’d had with Reese.
“Stay calm,” she told herself out loud. “Just stay calm.”
If only he’d said, “I love you, Breck.” If only he’d said, “I miss you,” or something simple like, “I can’t live without you.” Then she’d be able to endure two weeks without him. But he hadn’t said any of those things, and she was left to find a way to function for the next two weeks.
❦
Breck did function for the next two weeks. Perhaps not very efficiently, but she did function. She woke up, went to work, came home, and baked herself silly trying to stay busy. She tried to breathe and live—attempted to find ways of not worrying about Reese and what the future held or didn’t hold for her where he was concerned. Still, it was more than merely difficult. For ever since returning from the Thatcher’s farm—ever since Reese had kissed her and left her in her apartment that Sunday night over two weeks before—Breck had been unable to find a moment of happiness. Yes, he’d called her every few days, and each time he encouraged her—told her not to worry, that they’d spend time together when he returned. But it was hard. If only he’d give her more—a confession of sorts—of love. Of course, she hadn’t told him she loved him—for what if he hadn’t been ready to hear it? Then things might truly be ruined.
With each passing day, city life depressed Breck more and more. She was dissatisfied with it—angry with it—unsettled. Each time she’d think of Katie and Keith and their two adorable little girls—each time she’d think of Marjie and Ben and Nick and Bobby—each time she’d remember the sensations that ran through her body at being held in Reese’s arms and kissed by him—every time she thought of the life she’d led for four days over the Thanksgiving holiday—she experienced despair.
Oh, she realized that everything about that weekend had been glamorized in a way. No one had worked from sunup to sundown trying to make a living off farming. No one had gotten hurt or hurt anyone. No one had worried about bills or making ends meet. She knew the weekend was rosy. Still, she also knew Reese belonged to that life. She’d seen it in him every moment they were there—the way he worked so physically hard helping his dad and brothers with chores, the contented smile on his face when he looked out to the pastures to see nothing but snow and cattle and sky. And she remembered the smile on his face when they’d stood inside the old farmhouse Thanksgiving night. Reese loved that house, and it loved him. Breck had felt it wash over her like a warm rain. She’d loved the house too, and the memory of it had helped her a bit over the past couple of weeks while Reese was out of town. If she felt tears of discouragement coming on, she’d take a moment or two and daydream—dreams of being married to Reese Thatcher and living in the old Thatcher farmhouse—dreams of rounding up cattle in the fall, calving in the spring, bringing in wheat and alfalfa in the summer—and dreams of walking through the woods near the old farmhouse, hunting for the perfect Christmas tree.
It was cruel, that’s what it was, she often thought. Cruel to place such a man in her path if she couldn’t have him. Cruel to show her such a wonderful life if she couldn’t live it. Still, Reese had called her every few nights while he was gone, and tomorrow—tomorrow he would be back. Wouldn’t he?
❦
December fifteenth had been an excruciatingly terrible day for Breck. So much had gone wrong at work. The Allen case was getting very ugly; the Morgan and Dalton cases were worse. After work, Breck plopped down on the sofa in her apartment with a spoon in her mouth, a jar of pe
anut butter in one hand, and a package of milk chocolate chips in the other. On days like this, Breck wondered if she could keep going. Especially now that the part of her job she’d always enjoyed was absent—that being Reese. She choked back the tears that welled up in her eyes at the thought of him. She was hanging on for tomorrow—maybe by the skin of her teeth, but she was hanging on. Tomorrow Reese would be back, and she would know: had he changed his mind about her or not?
There was a knock on the door, and with a heavy sigh, Breck set down the peanut butter and chocolate chips, but not before filling her mouth with one last delicious blob of the two combined. Therefore, when she opened the door to see Reese standing before her, for once her mouth didn’t drop open in astonishment—it couldn’t! It was glued shut with peanut butter.
“Hi,” he said, smiling rather apologetically at her.
“Hi,” Breck managed after finally choking down the stuff in her mouth. It was an awkward moment, and uncertainty hung heavy in the air.
“You wanna grab a coat and come out with me for a little while?” Reese asked. Breck felt anxiety and joy at the same time, and it was rather uncomfortable.
“Work go okay today?” he asked once they were in his pickup. Breck swallowed hard. He was making small talk. Not a good sign. Her insides began to quiver with apprehension. Was he taking her out to break off everything with her?
“It was ugly,” came her honest answer.
He smiled. “I can imagine,” he said.
“How was your trip?” Breck couldn’t help but ask.
“Very productive and enlightening,” he answered.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said.
A few minutes later, Reese parked the pickup in an empty field just outside of the city limits. Breck was afraid to look at him. What would she see—guilt, regret—pity?
“Come on,” Reese said, stepping out of the pickup. Breck opened her door and slowly stepped out too. “Come here,” he said, and she watched, puzzled as he took an old quilt from behind the pickup seat and spread it over the hood of the pickup. She was startled when he suddenly took hold of her waist, lifting her up and setting her on the hood. He climbed on beside her, stretched out on his back, tucked his hands behind his head, and sighed, “Ahhhhhh.”
Breck was completely confused.
“Look at those stars,” Reese mumbled. Breck looked up to see the clear night sky sparkling with bright starlight. “You can’t see them from the city. You have to get out here away from the lights to see them.”
If he were getting ready to let her down easy—throw a fish back in the lake—this seemed a strange way to do it. Breck braced herself. It had been wonderful, her weekend romance with her boss. It had been fantastic actually, and she would remember it forever. That’s what she kept telling herself—better to have loved and lost, as the old cliché went. Yet she could feel the hard lump developing in her throat—the nausea rising in her stomach.
“Wait until we get back out to the farm,” he said. “Remember how amazing stars are out there? I’d forgotten how amazing they were until we were there for Thanksgiving.”
“You mean…you still want me to go there for Christmas?” Breck asked. She couldn’t help it! Her heart was hammering so fast she thought it might knock her off the pickup altogether.
Reese frowned and looked over at her. “Of course,” he said. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” The expression on his face was truly that of panic.
Breck smiled, relief beginning to find its way into her body. “No. No, of course not.”
“Whew!” Reese sighed, shaking his head. “You scared me. I thought you’d gone off and found yourself a better man while I was gone.”
Breck breathed a sigh of relief. Men are so clueless, she thought. Accidentally then, she spoke her thoughts out loud.
“Like I’d ever find a better man than you,” she mumbled. She blushed when she heard Reese chuckle.
“You didn’t worry too much while I was gone, did you, Breck?” he asked her, sitting up and taking her chin in one hand.
Breck gazed into his eyes. They were so beautiful; he was so beautiful.
“I want you to tell me the truth…because…I’ve been a little wrapped up in getting myself straightened out these past couple of weeks, and…and I want to make sure that you didn’t worry too much…you know…doubt me…my feelings for you,” he said.
The moment had come, and Breck knew it. Oh, everything had been perfect over Thanksgiving—the place, the man, the flirting, the romance, the kissing. But life wasn’t perfect, and if she hoped to really have Reese in her life forever, she needed to confide in him—be honest with him—let him know her true feelings.
“I-I did worry,” she confessed. “I thought you…I thought you had changed your mind and decided that Thanksgiving was nice but reality was back now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled a guilty sigh. “I’m sorry, Breck. I-I was kind of messed up after Thanksgiving. Not about you…about me. I had to get some things straight in my mind, and to be honest, I had to be where I couldn’t get my hands on you in order to think straight. Do you understand?”’
“Of course not,” she said, smiling at him. But she did understand—and she was flattered as well as encouraged.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But I’m cool now. I know what I need to do, where I need to be, and…and who I need to be with,” he said, reaching over and taking her chin in his hand.
Suddenly then, he pushed her down so she was lying on the hood of the truck, reached over her, and pulled the quilt up, wrapping them in it.
“I wasn’t just messing around over Thanksgiving, Breck,” he told her as he hovered over her—his mouth a mere breath from her own. “But you sure did a number on me.”
“Really?” she couldn’t help asking. For she still needed reassurance. The past two weeks had been a miserable mess of worry, doubt, and loneliness.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, grinning at her. Breck sighed as she felt him kiss her upper lip gently. “Come on, Breck,” he whispered, kissing her lower lip once. “Throw me for another loop.” He kissed her lower lip again. “I promise, I’ll land on my feet this time.”
And with that Reese’s lips blended with Breck’s in a kiss of reassurance—at first. Reassurance quickly gave way to desire and passion—affirmation—and Breck knew then that whatever the future may bring to her where Reese Thatcher was concerned, his attention to her, his affections, had been and were sincere. No, he hadn’t professed love to her. But she hadn’t professed it to him either. Maybe he was as frightened to confess it as she was. Maybe he just liked her an awful lot. But like could eventually grow into love. Couldn’t it? She knew it could. And so she reveled in the moment—in the feel of being wrapped in his arms under a sky full of stars. Reveled in his kiss and the knowledge that she “did a number” on him. And besides, Christmas was coming! Perhaps Christmas would be as magical as Thanksgiving had been. Perhaps come Christmas morning, she would find Reese Thatcher waiting for her under the tree. Oh, what a gift that would be!
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Breck, can I see you in my office for a minute?” Reese asked as he walked by her desk after lunch. Tomorrow—they were leaving for Christmas with his family tomorrow! Breck could hardly wait! The days since Reese’s return from being out of town had been wonderful. He’d come over to her apartment every night, and they’d talked or watched movies—laughed and kissed. Breck was feeling much more confident of the sincerity of Reese’s feelings for her. And now—now work was almost over for more than a week, and they would be back at the farm by tomorrow night!
“Yes,” Breck answered. “I’ll be right there.” Reese had been working like a plow horse trying to get some loose ends tied up before leaving for Christmas. Breck couldn’t believe how much time he was putting in at the office. In fact, she’d been amazed he’d even taken lunch that day.
Stepping into his office, she obeyed when he said, “Close the
door, will you?” Once the door was closed, she gasped, dropping the yellow legal pad and pen she’d been holding in her hand as Reese took her shoulders, pushing her back against the door before smothering her in a hard, driven kiss. Breck wrapped her arms around his neck—instantly lost in the depth of their kiss. He was like a hungry lion—kissing her with a sort of ravenous appetite, a barely restrained desire! Oh, how she loved the feel of being kissed by him—the way his powerful hands traveled over her arms, resting at her waist a moment—his fingers pressing the small of her back, his thumbs briefly tracing the curve of her ribs. She sighed when he gathered her in his arms at last—gathered her in his arms and against the strength of his warm, strong body. Anyone would’ve thought he hadn’t kissed her for a month rather than a mere sixteen hours.
After several minutes, his mouth left hers, and he smiled down at her, still holding her against the door. “Just needed a little dessert after lunch,” he chuckled.
“Oh my heck!” Breck exclaimed with a smile. She was again amazed at his ability to keep her blushing.
“Now, you get back to work,” he told her. “Quit trying to distract me. I have a lot to do before I can leave tomorrow.” She shook her head and gasped when he swatted her on the rear end as she opened his office door.
“Reese!” she scolded in a whisper, looking up at the angle of the security camera above her desk and hoping it hadn’t caught anything on tape. Still, she smiled at him—delighted—for, although her mother would’ve had a fit at his spanking her like that, she’d seen Reese’s father do the same thing to his mother at least twice a day over Thanksgiving—and she liked the idea Reese would think of doing the same to her.
Still, it was hard to concentrate on anything after being ravaged in his office. Breck was even more distracted—fumbling papers, dropping pens. But the end of the day did come, and somehow, Breck felt as if work would never be the same again. It had been very different when she’d returned from her last visit out to the farm. But now—now she sensed it would be even more so on her return from this one. A small flicker of worry began to spark in the back of her mind because she knew Reese belonged away from the city, out in the open, working hard. But this trip back—what if he began to know it too? What if he decided to stay?
An Old-Fashioned Romance Page 14