Molly undressed and put on her nightgown in a daze. What had happened? This morning, with the prospect of Steve’s departure, her life looked bleak. Now, they’d been given more time together. What a miracle.
The next couple of weeks were full ones for Molly. She worked all day, as usual, but the nights were for Steve. He came to dinner at her house, or they went out to dinner, casual places where they could take Karli. They went horseback riding again, on real horses this time, much to Karli’s delight. The ride proceeded smoothly and with no mishaps, even when they ventured along the path beside the river. On Sunday, they joined Jackson, Sara, and Ryan, and Mike and Rose for dinner.
Molly was happier than she’d been in a long time. More than once, she stopped to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
****
Steve sat at the counter in the hotel’s coffee shop. He’d finished his breakfast of bacon and eggs and was on his second cup of coffee. Other customers came and went, and western music played in the background, but he barely noticed. His thoughts centered on Molly. They’d had a very good couple of weeks. And, he’d been right. Feelings did exist between them, feelings that had grown during the time they’d spent together.
For the first time in his life, he was in love, truly in love. Molly loved him, too. They hadn’t actually said the words, but he felt the emotion each time they were together.
Steve pasted a smile on his face. He was ready to move on, at last. And in a big way.
The waitress came by with the coffee carafe. She filled his cup then glanced up. “You’re lookin’ happy today. You win the lottery?”
“Better than that. I’m gonna get married.”
“Married? Good for you. She’s one lucky gal. If I weren’t already taken, I’d give her some competition.” She winked. “You pop the question yet?”
“Ah, not yet. But soon.”
“Well, good luck.” She smiled and moved off.
Steve sipped his coffee, his head spinning with plans. He was sure Molly would say “yes” to his proposal. They’d be married as soon as possible, and she and Karli would return to New York with him. True, Molly had said she loved ranch life, but he suspected she’d returned to the Rolling R mainly because she wanted to keep Buck’s memory alive for Karli. Once Molly saw Steve’s house in Westchester and had been introduced to his lifestyle, she’d forget all about the ranch. They’d have a wonderful life.
Steve left the restaurant with a new spring in his step. The future looked brighter than it had in a long, long time.
****
“Would you like more chicken, Steve?” Molly held out the plate of stewed chicken and dumplings she’d prepared for dinner. Instead of going out tonight, they were spending a quiet evening at home. When Steve mentioned chicken and dumplings were his favorites, Molly dug out her cookbook and found a recipe.
Steve held up his hand. “Wish I could, Molly, but I’m stuffed.”
She turned to Karli. “How ‘bout you, darlin’?”
“I’m stuffed, too, Mommy.” Karli patted her stomach.
Molly raised her eyebrows. “Both of you stuffed, hmmm? Guess we’ll have to save the ice cream for some other time.”
“No, no, Mommy.” Karli shook her head.
Steve chimed in. “We always save room for dessert, don’t we, Karli?”
“We do.” Karli bounced up and down in her chair.
“Well…all right.” Molly drew out the words, as though reluctant to give in. “Why don’t we have our dessert outside on the back porch?”
“Good idea.” Steve folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. “We’ll help you clear the table first. Right, Karli?”
Karli grabbed her plate by the edges. “I can carry mine.”
“Good girl. You’re a big helper.”
After they cleared the table, Steve took Karli outside to the back porch. Molly followed a few minutes later with a tray of the ice cream. She’d chosen strawberry, which had turned out to be both Karli’s and Steve’s favorite.
Molly and Steve sat in wicker chairs, while Karli settled into her child-size wooden rocker. The air was warm, yet soft, the sky glowing pink over the mountains. A gentle breeze tinkled the wind chimes hanging from the porch ceiling.
Molly took a spoonful of ice cream and let it melt in her mouth. Yum. Maybe strawberry would be her favorite, too. She glanced at Steve. He was gazing her way, his eyes dark and serious. “What?”
“I, ah, your garden looks good, doesn’t it?” He made a sweeping gesture toward the rows of colorful flowers.
She suspected that wasn’t what he had intended to say. He’d seemed preoccupied since his arrival, as though something special were on his mind.
Instead of probing, Molly chose to wait and see what, if anything, developed. “Yes, I’m pleased with the garden.”
“The yard ornaments really add a lot,” Steve continued.
“I like the frog.” Karli pointed to the bullfrog sitting on a lily pad.
Steve tilted his head. “Where’d you get all these?”
“Oh, here and there.”
Molly thought of the butterfly ornament hidden away in the kitchen’s broom closet, and a lump rose in her throat. When was she going to tell him what she knew about Angie? She’d had several opportunities during the past few weeks to bring up the subject, but each time, fear of the consequences made her back off. Yet, each missed opportunity added another layer of guilt to her burden.
Molly scooped up another bite of ice cream, but now the creamy treat tasted sour. Her appetite gone, she let the rest melt in her dish. “Guess I better clean up the kitchen.”
“Do you have to right now?” Steve frowned. “It’s nice sitting out here, and I hoped we could talk.”
The emphasis on “talk” prompted her to abandon her silence and issue a challenge. “Something on your mind?”
Steve tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Maybe.”
Maybe? What did that mean? Then realization dawned. He planned to tell her he’d set a date for his return to New York. Not something she wanted to hear.
Finished with her ice cream, Karli licked her spoon. “Can we play a game, Steve?”
“Sure, but later, after I talk to your mom.”
Molly dragged her attention away from Steve’s perplexing behavior to check her wristwatch. “Your Mr. Muggins program is on in a few minutes.”
“Yay.” Karli jumped from her chair.
Molly stood. “We’ll all go inside. We can talk in the kitchen, Steve.” At least, there I’ll be doing something, rather than sitting passively and listening to your plans to leave us.
Steve nodded and pushed to his feet. “Okay, I’ll get Karli settled with the TV then join you.”
In the kitchen, her nerves jumping, Molly began putting away the leftovers. Mr. Muggins’ familiar theme song drifted in from the living room.
After a few minutes, Steve appeared. “Okay, here I am,” he announced, rubbing his hands together. “What can I do?”
Molly looked up from wrapping the rolls in foil. “Why don’t you load the dishwasher?”
“I’m on it.” Steve stepped to the sink.
They worked in silence for a few minutes then Steve cleared his throat. “We’ve had a great couple of weeks, haven’t we?”
“I’ve enjoyed your company,” Molly hedged, and placed the bowl of chicken in the refrigerator.
“We make a good team.”
Her hand waved a circle, indicating the room. “If you mean right now, then I agree.”
A slight laugh escaped his lips. “No, more than a clean-up team. And, well, there’s something I want to say. I’m not sure this is the right time, but—” He bent to tuck the ice cream dishes into the dishwasher.
Oh, oh, here came his news. Molly picked up a skillet and held it under the faucet’s running water. Her hand shook and some of the water splashed onto the counter.
Steve straightened and looked at her with furrowed br
ows. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” No, I’m not fine. I don’t want to hear about your leaving.
She handed him the skillet then grabbed a paper towel, intending to wipe the counter. Her elbow hit a dish filled with flour, knocking it to the floor. The bowl shattered, and the flour sprayed the floor.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Frowning at her clumsiness, she stared at the mess.
Steve jumped to her side. “I’ll clean it up. Your broom’s in there, right?” He pointed to the small closet at the end of the counter.
The broom closet. Molly’s throat closed. The butterfly ornament was hidden there. What if he found it? No, she couldn’t let that happen. She lurched forward, arm outstretched. “I’ll get it.”
But he had already reached the closet door.
Molly’s heart thumped as though it would leap from her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked in the closet, and whether or not the ornament was still well hidden. She offered up a quick prayer that it was.
Steve opened the closet and ducked his head inside.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Molly held her breath while empty paper sacks and newspapers rustled, and broom and mop handles banged against the closet wall.
“Here it is,” Steve said, his voice muffled. “Whoa, what’s this?”
A sinking feeling hit the pit of Molly’s stomach. She opened her eyes and drew a breath as Steve emerged from the closet. In one hand, he held the broom. In the other, as she had feared, was Angie’s butterfly ornament.
“Here’s a yard ornament you forgot to put in the garden.” As he held out the butterfly, his eyes widened. “Wait a minute, this is one of Angie’s.”
Molly’s shoulders sagged. If only she hadn’t been so clumsy… If only he hadn’t insisted on helping her clean up… If only she’d hidden the ornament somewhere else…
“Molly?” Steve waved the ornament like a flag. “Why is this in your broom closet? Where’d you get it? After all I’ve told you about Angie and her butterflies, didn’t you know this was hers? What’s going on?” The questions poured out like floodwater released from a dam.
Molly swallowed hard but couldn’t dislodge the huge lump in her throat. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked away. “I—I was going to tell you.”
“So, you did know this was hers.”
His accusatory tone made her cringe. She nodded, misery creeping into every pore in her body.
He leaned the broom against the counter and, still gripping the butterfly, folded his arms. “So, exactly when were you going to tell me?”
“S-soon. I—I was afraid to ruin the good time we were having.”
“You were going to tell me when we were not having a good time? That doesn’t make much sense.”
Nausea bubbled up from Molly’s stomach, as though not only the ice cream but also her entire meal had curdled. From the living room came the sounds of Karli’s giggles mixed with canned laughter from the TV. If only Molly could be there, too, enjoying a simple pleasure with her daughter, instead of enduring this agony with Steve.
Steve paced the length of the kitchen and then back again to stand in front of her. “Do you know where Angie is now?”
Molly bit her lower lip and spoke around the lump in her throat. “I might.”
“Start from the beginning, why don’t you?”
Molly’s knees were so weak she feared she would crumple to the floor. “All right. But I need to sit down.” She wobbled to the table and slumped into a chair. He followed, looming over her like a dark shadow, blocking what little light filtered through the window over the sink.
Halting now and then to catch her breath, she told him about buying the ornament from Angie at the country fair, leaving it here with her other ornaments when she moved to Chicago, and discovering it again when Sara returned the collection. “At first, I didn’t realize that particular one was Angie’s,” she said.
“So when did you?”
“The night you helped me in the garden, when you told me about your marriage. After you left, I picked the butterfly out of the box, and as I looked at it, everything fell into place.”
Steve absently fingered the butterfly’s wings. “So, if we’d put the ornaments in the garden that night, I would have seen this one and recognized it, and…”
“And we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” she finished, her voice hoarse and gritty.
We wouldn’t be here at all. You’d be long gone back to New York, maybe with Angie. We wouldn’t have had the past few weeks together. Maybe that would have been for the best.
“You said you might know where she is now. Tell me.”
Molly winced. That was what he really wanted to know, and also what hurt her the most. But he didn’t need to know that. She struggled to keep her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Okay. I bought the plants for my garden at Sky Nursery. It’s on the road to Red Rock, before the cutoff to Turner Road.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen the place in passing.”
“I remembered seeing yard ornaments there. After the night you helped me plant the garden, I went to Sky and looked at the displayed items. Included was a butterfly that resembled Angie’s. I asked Ned, the owner, if he knew who made them. He said they come from a local group that lives on an abandoned farm north of town, known as Dyson’s. That was the name of the family that owned the place before.”
“Is the group that lives there now a cult?”
Molly spread her hands. “I don’t know any more than what I’ve told you.”
Steve slowly shook his head. “So, all this time she’s been here in the area.”
“Yes, and now you can go and find her.”
“I will.” Steve stuck out his chin. “Make no mistake about that. She might need my help, and I want to keep my promise to her parents. But what really disturbs me is why you didn’t tell me all this before? What were you thinking, Molly?”
I was thinking that I love you. I was afraid that if you found her, you’d realize you still love her, and then where would I be? “I was wrong not to tell you.”
A fierce frown creased his brow. “You’ve got that right. You’ve let me down, Molly. Big time.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Barely able to meet his gaze, she stared at her hands.
Steve set his jaw. “I’m not sure ‘sorry’ is enough.”
Molly closed her eyes against the burn of imminent tears. “Please, Steve, go and do what you have to do.”
“Okay, I will. First, though, there is one mess I can clean up.” He strode to the counter, laid down the ornament, and grabbed the broom.
“Let that go,” she said, swiping away a tear that had managed to escape and trail down her cheek. “I’ll clean it up.”
“No, I will,” he ground out. “I always finish what I start.”
After he left, with a terse good-bye and not a word about when or if they would see each other again, Molly realized she still didn’t know what he had wanted to talk to her about.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Steve sat in his car in the parking lot waiting for Sky Nursery to open. He’d been staring at the sprawling wooden building for the past fifteen minutes, especially at the windows, watching to see when the dim night lights would change to bright, a signal business was about to begin. So far, nothing. He shifted in his seat and checked his wristwatch. Ten o’clock. Come on, open up.
The lights inside the store finally blazed on. He jumped from the car and ran up the steps, barely glancing at the pots of geraniums and sacks of fertilizer and mulch on the porch. He reached for the knob just as a burly guy with a white buzz cut unlocked and opened the door.
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, you’re an early bird, ain’tcha?”
“I sure am. Are you Ned?”
“That’s me.” Ned poked his thumb at the bib of his denim overalls and stepped aside. “Help ya with somethin’?”
Steve strode past the man and into the store. “Wh
ere are the seed packets?”
“Over in the corner.” Ned pointed a gnarled forefinger down a nearby aisle flanked with fertilizer spreaders on one side and rakes and hoes on the other.
Steve headed down the aisle, catching whiffs of fertilizer and potting soil on the way. The back of the store opened up into the out-of-doors, where large plants and bushes and fledgling trees were kept. Morning sunshine cast patterns of light and shadow over the area.
After studying the assortment, he selected a couple of packets containing sunflower seeds. He had no idea what, if anything, he would do with them, but making a purchase might help his cause when he got around to questioning Ned about yard ornaments.
Packets in hand, he moved to a display of trowels and clippers. Ned stood behind the checkout counter, filling a plastic container with brochures. He didn’t seem to be paying any particular attention to Steve.
The bell on the front door tinkled as another customer entered. “Morning, Ned,” a woman’s voice called across the store.
“Mornin’, Martha.”
Ned came from behind the counter, and the two began a conversation. Their voices were too low for Steve to understand the words. That was okay; he wasn’t interested in eavesdropping.
Moving to another aisle, Steve spotted what he was looking for—a square box of sand filled with yard ornaments. He hurried over. Made of shiny copper, their price tags waved in the slight breeze drifting in from the nursery’s open back yard. He scanned the assortment, a frog, a windmill, a tulip, a hummingbird, and…a butterfly. His pulse quickened.
Steve grasped the rod supporting the butterfly and lifted it from the sand. He didn’t have to look hard to know the ornament was Angie’s. The cutout designs were hers, as were the exaggerated curls on the insect’s feelers.
Hearing steps approach behind him, he turned to see Ned. “These are interesting.” Steve nodded to the display. “Are they made locally?”
“Yup.”
Steve looked at the tag, hoping for a company name, but it gave only the price.
“Someplace I could visit? I might like to order a quantity of one design.”
Ned shoved his hands into his overalls pockets. “You kin place an order with me.”
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