by Ann Roth
This was the last thing Sarah expected. She frowned. “Are you saying Tammy has disappeared?”
“Three days after you were born.” He stared into space, as if seeing the past. “When you were two days old and Tammy was still in the hospital, the adoption people took you away. The next morning, I went to the hospital to pick Tammy up and bring her home, but she was already gone.”
Mr. Becker swallowed audibly and bowed his head for a moment. Before continuing, he cleared his throat. “The hospital staff claimed her aunt had picked her up.” He gave a bitter smile. “How were they to know she had no aunts?”
Mrs. Becker massaged the space above her heart, as if it hurt. “We never did find out who she left with or where they went. And we never learned who was responsible for the pregnancy. Tammy refused to give his name.”
“We heard rumors that she changed her last name to Smith,” her husband went on. “But we couldn’t track the source of the rumor, and the information never panned out. We sold the house and spent the proceeds and most of our savings trying to find her, but after two years of nothing but false hopes and dead ends, we gave up.”
Mrs. Becker’s face remained impassive, but she wrung her hands incessantly. “I wanted to leave Montana and start fresh,” she said. “But we prayed about it and decided that if and when Tammy wanted to find us, she’d come back to eastern Montana. That’s why we stayed close to home all these years.”
“In thirty years, she’s never contacted you?” Sarah asked.
Mrs. Becker shook her head.
“You’d think that, after all this time, we’d have put it behind us.” Pulling off his glasses, Mr. Becker rubbed the space between his eyes. “But when you knocked at the door, everything flooded back.”
Witnessing the couple’s distress put an ache in Sarah’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” she said, wishing again that she’d given them a call before showing up at their door.
Though they were probably only five years older than Mrs. Yancy, at the moment they both looked ancient. Sarah thought about wrapping them in a hug but didn’t want to deal with their probable rejection.
“We’ve been wondering—how exactly did you find us?” Mr. Becker asked.
“I hired a private detective in Boise, a man named Pete Charles. His investigation led me to the house in Saddlers Prairie where you used to live with Tammy. After you sold the property and moved, the trail went cold. I even tried to find your church, but didn’t have much luck.”
Mr. Becker nodded. “That’s because back in 1984, our pastor moved to Nevada and the congregation disbanded. Who did you say told you we were here?”
“Actually, Clay found that out from someone in town whose great aunt lives here. I didn’t get any names.”
“Did Pete Charles happen to find any record of Tammy?” Mrs. Becker asked hopefully.
Sarah shook her head. “Nothing after I was born. We didn’t have her birth date or social security number, and like you said, she changed her last name. Without any of those things, locating her has been virtually impossible. That’s why I came to Saddlers Prairie—to see what I could learn.”
The couple shared a look, and Mrs. Becker nodded. “We can give you Tammy’s birth date and social security number right now. I’ll be right back with a pen and paper.”
“No need—I’ll store the information in my phone.” Sarah input the information, and then put the phone away. “I’ll contact Pete this afternoon.”
Mrs. Becker bit her lip and glanced at the journal and yearbook. “Would you mind if we keep these?”
Having practically memorized the journal, Sarah shook her head. “When we find Tammy, you can give them to her.”
“Thanks.” No longer stoic, the older woman looked close to tears.
Sarah wasn’t far from crying herself. It was time to leave. “I should go,” she said, standing. “Thank you for inviting me over.”
At the door, Mrs. Becker fussed with her hair. “Will you come back again?”
“I’d like to, but it’ll have to be soon. I’m leaving next Wednesday.” Six short days from now.
The woman’s face fell. “But we only just met.”
A thought flitted into Sarah’s head, that when she sold the house in Boise, she’d move to Saddlers Prairie to be closer to her grandparents. Which meant she’d also be closer to Clay—but she wasn’t going to think about that.
“Come for dinner tomorrow night,” Mr. Becker said. “And bring Clay Hollyer along.”
“Yes, bring Clay,” his wife echoed. “He’s your boyfriend, and we want to get to know him, too.”
“We’re not involved,” Sarah said. Not unless you counted the kisses and more....
Her grandmother looked genuinely disappointed. “But I thought for sure...when you brought him along the other day...you make such a handsome couple, and you said he was the one who found out that we lived here. Are you sure you’re not involved?”
Not in any way Sarah wanted to share. “We’re friends,” she said.
“Then by all means, invite him anyway. If he can’t make it, come by yourself. We’ve already missed too much of your life, and we have a lot of catching up to do.”
A cloud seemed to lift from the room, and Sarah smiled. “I’ll be here, and I’ll get back to you about Clay. Should I bring anything? Appetizers, dessert, a bottle of wine?”
“No need. We’ll eat in the dining room—I’ll reserve a table. How about six-thirty?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
Sarah waited for some gesture of affection—a proffered cheek or a hand squeeze. None came. Like Ellen, the Beckers were reserved and unaffectionate.
Still, the afternoon had gone well, far better than Sarah had expected. Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she floated down the elevator and through the lobby.
* * *
BY THE TIME Sarah pushed through the Sunset Manor exit, the clouds had disappeared and the sun was bright and hot—as if the rain and hail had never happened. Overcome by her afternoon with the Beckers, and all that she’d learned, she barely noticed.
Shockingly, Tammy had run away and disappeared. Where had she gone, and where was she now? Sarah wanted answers, and not just for herself. Her grandparents needed to find their only child, and the three of them needed to make up with each other, before it was too late.
And didn’t Sarah know. If only she could see Ellen one last time, clear the air and get rid of her bitterness.
Unfortunately, that was impossible. But the Beckers still had a chance to resolve their differences with Tammy.
Too emotional for the long drive just yet, Sarah wandered down a walkway across the landscaped grounds of the retirement complex, passing seniors of various ages out for a stroll.
After the storm, the air smelled sweet and fresh, and the peace and quiet were broken only by twittering birds and the occasional “hello” exchanged between her and people she met along the way.
As pleased as she was about this afternoon, Sarah also felt raw and shaky from the emotions swirling inside her. She wished she were seeing Clay tonight, so that she could hold on to him when she shared it all. His steady, solid strength and belief in her were exactly what she needed.
The concrete path looped around the grounds, and by the time she ambled toward the parking lot, she felt more in control of herself and ready to make phone calls.
The gazebo stood empty. Sliding her phone from her purse, she speed-dialed Pete Charles and entered the little building. The cushioned furniture looked inviting, but she was still too restless to sit. She leaned against the railing.
“The birth date and SSN should kick up some good leads,” Pete replied after she supplied the information. “But the surname ‘Smith’ won’t get us anywhere—nearly three million Americans share that name. It’
d help if we knew what city and state Tammy lived in, but I’ll see what I can find. Give me a day or two.”
As soon as Sarah disconnected, she punched in Clay’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” he said in that deep voice that made her knees go weak. “I’ve been wondering when you’d call. Are you already back in Saddlers Prairie?”
Sarah smiled and teared up at the same time. Apparently she wasn’t in control of herself, after all. “No. At the moment, I’m standing in the gazebo at Sunset Manor.” She swallowed hard. “And I’m feeling pretty emotional.”
“Tell me.”
With that, the whole story spilled out, starting with Mr. Becker opening the door and ending with the call to Pete Charles. “He’s going to get back to me in a day or two,” she said.
“Sounds promising.”
“Keep your fingers crossed. My grandparents—they aren’t expressive about their feelings, but they did ask me to dinner tomorrow. You’re invited, too. They’re making a reservation in the main dining room here for six-thirty.”
“Me? Why would they want me there?”
“I guess because tomorrow’s Friday night—date night—and Mrs. Becker thinks you’re my boyfriend.” Sarah laughed self-consciously.
Instead of laughing along, Clay remained serious. “What did you tell her?”
“That we aren’t involved.”
“But we are.”
The air rang with the truth in that statement.
Regardless of what she’d told herself last night, there was something between her and Clay that couldn’t be denied.
Sarah sank onto a love-seat rocker.
“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he went on in a low, smoky voice that glided over her skin like a caress.
Her whole body hummed. Closing her eyes against a flood of need, she rocked herself back and forth, working to contain feelings she wasn’t ready for—and failing.
Clay cleared his throat. “Sarah? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” To her own ears, her murmured reply sounded fevered, aroused.
“I wish I were with you now.”
His tone was packed with meaning, and she almost swooned in anticipation. And knew then that, reckless or not, in the very near future, she and Clay would make love.
She stopped rocking and watched a male robin pluck a worm from the ground. “What should I tell my grandparents about dinner?”
“Let them know that I’ll join you. I’ll pick you up a little before six.”
Chapter Thirteen
Freshly showered and wearing his good clothes, Clay crossed Mrs. Yancy’s porch to the front door and wondered who’d open it this time.
After a hectic day at the ranch, his leg bothered him, but otherwise he felt okay. The thought of spending the evening with Sarah made him feel too happy for his own good.
He was also ready to eat a whole cow. His belly was that empty. Dinner should be interesting. He would see for himself how the Beckers treated Sarah.
He was even more interested in after dinner, when he hoped to be alone with her.
The sun was still fairly high in the sky and bright enough that he left his aviator sunglasses on as he rang the doorbell.
From inside, he heard footsteps too light to belong to Mrs. Yancy. Sarah opened the door.
“Hey,” he said, enjoying her appreciation as she checked him out.
“You’re wearing slacks and a sport coat.”
“You said we were eating in the dining room. I brought a tie, too, just in case.” He flipped up his shades and let his gaze flicker over her sleeveless, above-the-knee dress and strappy red sandals that were sexy as hell. “You dressed up, too. I like that outfit.”
“Thanks.”
The corners of her mouth curving a fraction, she stepped aside, letting him in. He smelled her perfume and her own natural scent underneath, and the need to kiss her flared in him.
“Where’s Mrs. Yancy?” he asked, barely curbing his impatience.
“She went out again. I swear, that woman has a more active social life than I ever—”
Clay leaned in and kissed her, lingering until she released the soft sigh he’d begun to crave.
They needed to leave or they’d be late, and he intended to end the kiss. But she melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and his mind blanked.
Sometime later, hard with desire, he pulled back. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.”
“Me, too,” she said, wearing a sweet, unfocused expression that about undid him.
If not for the dinner date with the Beckers, he’d have pulled her close again and forgotten all about food. But he wasn’t about to get in the way of her first meal with her grandparents. “We should go,” he said.
“Right.” For a moment she looked confused, as if she’d forgotten where they were headed.
She grabbed her purse and a tiny little sweater she called a shrug, and they headed for the pickup. Unable to keep his hands off her, he cupped her bare shoulder and steered her forward. Her skin was soft, warm, supple. A surge of need shot through him, and he swallowed.
He helped her into the truck, enjoying the way her skirt hiked up her thighs when she slid into the seat.
“What did you do today?” he asked as he drove toward the highway.
“I met with two more ranchers and started organizing my notes. There’s a lot of information to sort through. How was your day?”
“Busy. We spent most of it inseminating the heifers and cows with bull sperm.”
She did a double take that was almost comical. “Pardon me?”
“That’s how ranchers impregnate their cows.”
She shook her head. “The things I learn from you. And here I thought they used a live bull.”
“Trust me, some bulls prefer to do the work themselves. It’s a lot more fun that way, both for them and their partners.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “But the other way is faster and more efficient.”
“You’d think one of the ranchers I interviewed would have mentioned that.”
“They probably figured you knew.”
“I wonder what else I’m missing by not knowing enough to ask,” she said, sounding slightly put out.
Probably quite a bit. Clay had half a mind to agree to let her interview him for her ranching article. But as much as he liked and wanted her, he didn’t quite trust her and wasn’t about to set himself up again.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t talk about his business. “Since my ranch will specialize in bucking bulls, I had to search around for the right Brahmin sperm.”
“I thought...don’t all bulls buck?”
“Not necessarily. Breeders can actually produce bulls that are prone to buck without using any of the cruelty devices I told you about.”
“Wow. That’s two new things I learned from you in the space of five minutes.”
“Aren’t you glad I came along tonight?”
She flashed a smile. “I certainly am.”
The easy silence that fell between them didn’t last long before Sarah slipped into anxious mode, her expression tense and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“Worried about tonight?” he asked.
“A little. I’m still not entirely comfortable around the Beckers. I found out that one of Mrs. Yancy’s quilting friends used to know the family. Apparently they were super religious and very strict. Tammy had a rebellious streak, and they kept an iron grip on her and did everything they could to lead her down the ‘right’ path.”
“And look how that turned out.” Clay scoffed. “My parents didn’t exactly go easy on me, but they were fair. Before I even had my first date, my dad pulled me asi
de and told me how to be safe.” For which he silently thanked his father on a daily basis. “He didn’t want me accidentally getting some girl pregnant.”
“Ellen and I never had that talk, but she trusted me—as she should have. I was a student council member and an honors student, an all-around good girl.”
Clay could see that. “So you weren’t out having sex at sixteen.” His first time had been exactly at that age.
“Not until my senior year, and we used birth control.”
“Smart.”
“No smarter than you and your girlfriends. Neither of us wanted me to get pregnant.”
“Was it serious between you and him?”
“I thought so at the time, but we were heading for colleges in different states, and decided to break up. Well, I did. I didn’t want to start my freshman year involved with a guy who was seven hundred miles away. He’s married now and has three children. What about you? Did you have a serious girlfriend in high school?”
“Yeah. We went steady for about a year.” At the time Clay had thought he loved her, but after a while, realized he didn’t. “She’s been married and divorced twice and has a kid.”
Sarah looked wistful. “I’d like to get married and have kids some day. And then stay married.”
Clay imagined her with a couple of blue-eyed, black-haired kids. He didn’t let himself think about her married. The thought of her with another man bothered him.
“I like kids,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get married, so I won’t be having any.”
Sarah nodded, but didn’t comment. For the rest of the drive, she didn’t say another word. Clay chalked up her silence to nerves over the evening ahead.
He hoped the meal went well.
* * *
AS SARAH AND CLAY followed her grandparents into the dining room, she was aware of the curious stares. It was obvious that people recognized Clay. Or maybe they just liked watching a gorgeous man saunter confidently across the room. Because Clay was exactly that—gorgeous and self-assured. He was especially striking in a sport coat and slacks, but he was also appealing in jeans and a T-shirt. Sarah suspected he’d look good in rags.