The drone of an airplane overhead caught her attention. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the plane shining like a silver bullet against the sky’s vivid blue backdrop. Maybe that plane was the one Steve had taken. She imagined him sitting back in the seat, enjoying a drink and reading one of his business journals. He’d probably forgotten about her already.
Molly brushed a tear from her eye. She would never forget him. Never.
****
Jerry met Steve when his plane landed at JFK. Instead of his usual baggy pants and shirt, Jerry wore fitted brown slacks and a crisp tan shirt that looked fresh off the store’s clothing rack.
“Hey, Jer.” Steve slapped him on the back. “What’s with the new look? I almost didn’t recognize you.” Then realization dawned and he laughed. “Ah, I get it. Candace took you shopping.”
Jerry grinned. “Yeah, I let her have her way on that, but I’m holding out on a few things, this being one.” He pointed to the trimmed stubble on his chin.
“Good for you, though I gotta say, the new clothes are an improvement. But, what’s with the big welcome?”
“My partner’s return deserves special notice. I’m sure glad you’re back, buddy.”
“Thanks. Glad to be back.”
At baggage claim, they picked up Steve’s suitcase then headed outside. Steve was ready to take one of the taxis lined at the curb, but Jerry pointed farther down the walk. “We’ve got one waiting.”
When they stopped beside a black limo, Steve’s jaw dropped as he took in the shiny vehicle. “Part of your welcome?” he asked when he recovered.
“Just wanted to celebrate your return first-class. Not to worry—we can afford it. We’re rolling in dough. Wait until you see our profit margin for last quarter.”
Steve grinned. “Hey, maybe I should leave town more often.”
The limo driver hopped from the car and helped stow Steve’s luggage in the trunk, and then they were on their way. Well, sort of, Steve reflected, as they joined a long line of other vehicles crawling at a snail’s pace from the terminal.
On the way into Manhattan, he told Jerry about finding Angie. “She calls the place she’s staying a ‘community,’ but it sounded more like a cult. Can you believe that?”
Jerry pressed his lips together. “Yeah, I can believe it.”
His disgusted tone prompted Steve to ask, “Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Let’s hear the rest of your story first.”
Jerry listened without much comment, looking out the window most of the time, his square jaw set. Steve was so wrapped up in his narrative that he barely noticed when they reached Manhattan, until Jerry said, “Let’s stop for a bite.”
“Good idea. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
They went to Manoli’s, one of their favorite hangouts on the Upper East Side. Over cannelloni and a glass of red wine, the likes of which Steve hadn’t seen since he’d been there the last time, he finished his story. He sat back and took a deep breath. Sharing had taken a toll, but he felt relief, too.
Jerry leveled Steve a serious gaze. “You want my opinion?”
“Of course.”
“Stop taking all the blame for what happened and get on with your life.”
“What life? I mean, what personal life?” For the past five years, his career had been his main focus.
Jerry leaned forward. “That’s for you to figure out. But, for starters, get rid of everything that connected you to Angie. She’s where she wants to be. You can stop being responsible for her well-being. You’ve paid your debt to her parents. You did the best you could.”
Jerry’s words lingered in Steve’s mind. That weekend, he visited the house in Westchester, which, anticipating Angie’s eventual return, he’d kept intact. The two-story, four-bedroom home sat on a quiet, tree-lined street amid similar homes. He walked through the rooms filled with furniture and other items he’d bought for her, remembering incidents from the past that he hadn’t thought of for years. They hadn’t been happy here, he realized. The entire place resonated with their unhappiness.
He left the house and walked out into the front yard. On either side lived families whose kids had been toddlers when he and Angie had lived there. Now they were riding their two-wheeled bicycles up and down the sidewalk. But inside his house, time had stood still while he waited for Angie to return.
Jerry was right. He’d been longing for something that hadn’t existed in the first place. So intent on honoring his marriage vows, on living up to his promise to Ed and Jane, he hadn’t realized his marriage was a total sham. His stomach churned. What a fool he’d been.
At that realization, he climbed in his car and drove to the nearest real estate office. A few hours later, after an agent had visited the house and arranged for an appraisal, Steve signed papers to put the house on the market.
“I know that was tough for you to do,” Jerry said the following day when Steve told him about putting the house up for sale. “But, trust me, you’ll be better off. And, what about the woman you met in Colorado? Can you put that relationship back together?”
The mention of Molly brought an ache to Steve’s chest. He shook his head. “No chance of that.”
He couldn’t go crawling back to Molly. If only he could have found Angie and realized the truth about her and about their marriage before he met Molly.
But that hadn’t happened. By a cruel twist of fate, Molly had come somewhere in the middle.
Chapter Twenty-One
Molly stood beside Sara at the fence enclosing the ranch’s oval training track. They were watching Jackson break in one of his quarter horses. A late August sun shone brightly overhead. Molly tipped back her hat and rubbed away the perspiration dotting her forehead.
Sara had coaxed her into an afternoon walk. “You’ve been working hard all day,” she said with a smile. “Come with me to deliver some refreshments to Jackson.”
Molly had agreed. She helped Sara pack a wicker basket with soft drinks and fresh-from-the-oven raspberry scones, and they headed down the road to the training track.
“How’re Rose and the new baby doing?” Molly asked Sara. Rose had given birth to a seven-pound, three-ounce baby girl a week ago. Molly visited her and the newborn at Valley General Hospital but hadn’t seen them since.
The picnic basket at her feet, Sara rested her arms on the fence’s top rail. “They’re all doing fine. Of course, there is an adjustment when a new baby comes home.”
“I remember those days.” Molly smiled at the memory. “Have they settled on a name yet?”
“Finally. She’ll be Melissa Ann.”
“Melissa Ann Mahoney.” Molly rolled the name over her tongue. “I like it.”
Jackson’s horse gave a loud, shrill whinny, and Molly turned her attention to the track. Jackson was leading the horse around, working him through paces before he attempted to mount him for the first time.
“Hobo looks like he has a mind of his own,” Molly remarked.
Sara nodded. “Unbroken horses always do.”
“He looks like a winner, though.” Molly’s gaze took in Hobo’s broad chest and sturdy legs, characteristics of a good quarter horse.
“Jackson hopes Hobo will be a winner. He and Dirk will train him for racing—once he gets saddle broken.”
Jackson continued leading Hobo around the track, while the horse pranced and tugged on the reins. Then Jackson stopped and approached Hobo, reaching for the saddle horn.
Hobo’s defiant whinny cut the air. He tossed his head, his mane flying, and reared up on his hind legs, hooves pawing the air.
Jackson’s face contorted as he gripped the reins in an attempt to control Hobo.
Still on his hind legs, the horse danced closer to Jackson, until his raised hooves were mere inches from Jackson’s face.
Molly cringed and gripped the fence rail, unmindful of the wood splinters digging into her fingers. She was sure the horse would strike Jacks
on. In her mind’s eye, she saw him falling to the ground, his face all bloody, and with the horse looming over him, ready to inflict more damage.
Sara gripped Molly’s arm then rubbed a soothing line up and down. “It’s okay, Molly. Relax.”
Molly remained rigid. “How can you be sure?” she ground out between clenched teeth.
“Because I just am. I trust in Jackson’s abilities.”
Sara’s voice was soft and reassuring, and Molly relaxed a little.
Sure enough, Jackson skillfully jumped aside, avoiding Hobo’s menacing attack. Jackson tugged on the reins and gave verbal commands to the horse. His exact words were too faint for Molly to hear, but they apparently calmed the horse. Soon all four of Hobo’s hooves were on the ground. A few minutes later, Jackson sat astride the horse. He looked over and gave them a big grin and a salute.
“Yay, Jackson and Hobo!” Sara clapped her hands then circled a hand in the air.
Molly cheered, too, although the lump in her throat kept her from yelling as loudly as Sara.
Later, when she and Sara were on their way back to the ranch house, Molly asked, “Don’t you ever worry about Jackson getting hurt?”
Sara shifted the picnic basket from one hand to the other. “I won’t lie and say I never worry. I know working with wild animals can be dangerous.”
“Look what happened to Buck.” Molly dipped her head and kicked a stray rock from their path.
Moving closer, Sara put her arm around Molly’s shoulders, and they fell into step. “Yes, that was tragic. And I’m not comparing bull riding to horse training. Of course, there’s a difference in the degree of danger involved.
“But, Molly, if Jackson and I are to have a successful marriage, I need to let him be who he is. He loves horses and he loves to train them. Horses are his life.” She laughed. “Besides me and Ryan, of course.”
Sara’s words echoed in Molly’s mind. I have to let him be who he is. “Was that my mistake?” she asked. “When I tried to stop Buck from rodeo riding, was I also trying to prevent him from being true to himself?”
“I’m not passing judgment on you, Molly. You’ll have to decide. But don’t be too hard on yourself. When you first met Buck, you didn’t know he would join the rodeo. Bull riding wasn’t something you were prepared to cope with.” Her hand on Molly’s shoulder tightened. “But I do know Buck loved you and Karli. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Molly looked up, fastening her gaze on the mountains in the distance. “And I loved him. I still do.”
“Of course, you do. But, have you considered there might be another man you could love now? I know you and Dirk have decided to be only friends, but what about Steve?”
They had reached the bakery. Molly shook her head as she pulled away and opened the kitchen door for Sara. “No. Steve and I are from different worlds, and he’s already returned to his.”
Sara stepped inside the kitchen. “He found his ex-wife, didn’t he?”
“Yes, and that was part of the problem.”
While they emptied the picnic basket and put away the leftover scones, Molly told Sara about hiding the butterfly ornament. “I felt awful about that. So foolish.” She stopped and covered her face with her hands.
Sara put her hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Do you know what happened when he finally came face-to-face with Angie?”
Molly met Sara’s concerned gaze. “Just that she said she was happy where she was, and she wasn’t going back to New York with him. But for all I know, she may have changed her mind.”
“He didn’t share much with Jackson, but I do know he returned to New York alone.”
“Maybe she joined him later.” At the thought of Angie and Steve being together again, Molly’s chest tightened. She knew she should be happy for Steve, but the pain of her own loss was difficult to ignore.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Sara gave a wry smile.
“I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but I have to say again, that’s up to you.”
****
“You can’t do it, Molly.” Teresa took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and stepped to a row of empty glasses lined up on the kitchen counter.
“I’m betting I can.” Molly folded her arms and stuck out her chin.
She was using her break time to talk to Teresa about an important matter that had been weighing on her mind. She’d arrived just as Teresa was preparing the children’s afternoon snack.
Teresa shook her head as she filled the first glass. “You’re telling me you can drive Karli back and forth to kindergarten every day and still put in your hours at the bakery? Uh uh. I don’t think so.”
“Well…Sara would have to be flexible,” Molly admitted.
But would Sara be flexible? She’d been firm about Karli attending day care, rather than spending her days in Molly’s office.
“My children take the bus.” Teresa filled the last glass and put the milk carton in the refrigerator. “The driver is a good friend of mine. She’s very caring and responsible. And the teachers meet the bus each day and see that the children get on it to come home.”
“But you know Karli tends to run off.” With stiff steps, Molly crossed to the window over the sink and looked out at the play yard. Karli and two other children were tossing a ball back and forth. Molly’s heart swelled with love. She would die if anything happened to Karli.
“I know.” Teresa placed the filled glasses on a tray and added a plate of whole-wheat crackers. “We’ve been working on that. I know you have, too. And I agree, there’s a risk factor. When isn’t there?”
Molly’s shoulders tightened. “I’m not good with risks.”
“I understand. But you have to let go sometime, Molly.” Teresa raised her eyebrows. “Come on with me while I give the kids their snacks.” She picked up the tray and headed for the back door.
You have to let go sometime. Teresa’s words echoed in Molly’s mind, along with Sara’s words about Jackson. I need to let him be who he is.
Had the time come to let Karli go out into the world under someone else’s watchful eye?
****
“Look, Mr. Muggins, here comes the bus.” Waving Mr. Muggins in the air, Karli jumped up and down and then looked up at Molly. “Do you see it, Mommy?”
Molly shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed down the highway to where a yellow school bus had appeared over the horizon. “Yes, the bus is almost here. But, be careful. Don’t jump into the road.”
Molly glanced at Teresa, who stood nearby with her two children, Lani and David. “Come on, bus.” David made a fist and swung at the air. Lani, who was two years older than Karli and in the second grade, grabbed Karli’s hand. “You’re going to school. You’ll have fun.”
Teresa tucked a lock of hair back into her braid and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you love their enthusiasm?”
“I guess.” Molly swallowed against the lump that clogged her throat.
After Molly and Teresa’s talk two weeks ago in Teresa’s kitchen, Molly had done some heavy thinking.
The decision to allow Karli to ride the bus to school in town hadn’t been an easy one. But after Molly attended the new parents’ meeting, met the teacher and the principal and other staff, she knew Karli would be in good hands.
The bus arrived, pulled to a stop, and the door swung open. The driver, Francine, whom Molly had also met, smiled and waved the children aboard.
“’Bye, Mommy.” Karli held out her arms for a hug.
Her eyes brimming with tears, Molly gathered Karli close and hugged her tightly. “’Bye, darlin’. Have fun. I’ll be right here to meet you when the bus brings you home.”
Karli planted a big smooch on Molly’s cheek, and then ran after Lani and David to climb onto the bus.
As the door closed, Molly blinked away the tears. She kept her gaze glued to the bus until it was out of sight.
Teresa linked arms with
Molly. “She’ll be fine.”
“I know.” Molly mustered a wobbly smile. “But does it ever get any easier?”
Teresa shook her head. “No, I can’t say that it does. Every letting go rips something out of you. But you’ll be fine, too. Trust me.”
That afternoon, Molly met Karli’s bus. Happy and relieved to see her, Molly hugged her tightly. As expected, Karli was full of stories. Her excitement lasted all through dinner and story time. Finally, clutching her precious Mr. Muggins, she fell asleep.
Returning to the living room, Molly crossed to the fireplace mantel where the framed photos sat. Her gaze skimmed over them, each one setting off a flood of memories. Looking at them was like living her life with Buck all over again. She thought some more about letting go. Today, she’d taken a big step in letting Karli go. Maybe the time had come to take another step.
Molly walked down the hall to the laundry room. From a storage closet, she took out a cardboard box and a handful of old newspapers. Returning to the living room, she picked up each photo and, after gazing at it awhile, wrapped it in newspaper and put the bundle in the box. Soon tears were running down her cheeks.
“I wish your life hadn’t ended the way it did,” she whispered to the photo of her and Buck on their wedding day. “But I know you loved us, and we loved you. A part of me will love you always.”
One photo, which showed the three of them standing in front of their house, she let remain on the mantel. Wiping away her tears, she carried the box back to the storage closet.
Then, she opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. Warm night air washed over her, and the smell of sagebrush scented the breeze. She sat in one of the wicker chairs and listened to the crickets chirping. Down the road at Teresa’s, a dog barked.
Somehow, she felt lighter, as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. A burden that, until recently, she hadn’t even known weighed her down.
And yet, there were still decisions to be made.
She’d come back to the ranch because this had been her home with Buck. She thought if she returned, she could have that life back again.
Marrying Molly Page 22