A Rancher to Remember

by Patricia Johns

  “Oh...” Sawyer nodded. “Look, I know this is going to sound a bit weird, but could I hug you now?”

  Olivia blinked up at him, surprised.

  “It was a while ago, Sawyer,” she said, forcing what she hoped was a natural-sounding laugh. She tugged Lizzie’s dress down. “I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I know, but I don’t have many memories rattling around in my head, and that’s one of them. It’s kind of uncomfortable—disjointed, lonely. If I could hug you now, it might make me feel better.” Sawyer put Lizzie down on the floor with her sister, and then looked up at Olivia, those dark eyes meeting hers almost pleadingly.

  “Oh...” Olivia shrugged. If it was for him, and not for her... “I guess that would be okay.”

  Sawyer looked down at her uncertainly for a moment. She met his gaze, wondering if maybe he’d change his mind, but then he slipped his arms around her. It was a soft hug, tender and careful. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and laid her hands on his upper arms. He was stronger and more muscular than she’d realized, and she inhaled the musky scent of him. His arms were warm and his touch was gentle, pressing her against that broad chest of his where his heart thumped strong and slow. She felt him exhale slowly, and he rested his cheek against her hair.

  It was such an unexpectedly tender moment that she felt tears mist her eyes. Maybe she should have let him hug her back then when she needed it most, except now she could clearly remember why she’d refused to let him pull her into his arms. It was because of this—the safety, the comfort, the longing that rose up inside of her at his touch. It was because these gentle arms had been too easy to fall into, and he’d been engaged to another woman. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t felt anything for him, and a hug like this one would have opened the emotional floodgates—the very last thing she needed on a slushy sidewalk in downtown Beaut.

  Sawyer released her, and Olivia stepped back. She let out a shaky little sigh. The toddlers had opened a dresser drawer and were pulling out items of clothing, one at a time.

  “Better?” she asked, forcing a smile.

  “Yeah. I think so.” He met her gaze, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “That’s the first hug of my life that didn’t come from one of my daughters, as far as I can remember.”

  “That isn’t the first adult hug of your life,” she said, shaking her head. She personally remembered several—the kind that had woken up a part of her that she knew was best left dormant.

  “It is today.” His voice was low and warm.

  “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

  Sawyer shot her a grin, then headed over to the girls and picked up a little shirt, folded it neatly and replaced it in the drawer. As soon as it went inside, Lizzie grabbed it back out, and Bella let out a tinkle of laughter. Sawyer picked up the entire pile and dumped it unfolded into the drawer, then scooped up the girls, one in each arm. He pushed the drawer shut with his foot and turned back toward Olivia.

  “We should eat,” he said.

  “Yes, we should.”

  That hug had left a warm feeling around her—the kind that could tip an entire day. Sawyer couldn’t remember why they’d stopped hugging each other, but she did. There were some things that were best saved for romance—like the kinds of hugs that melted all of Olivia’s carefully constructed walls.

  When Sawyer had Mia, those no-touching rules in their relationship were a whole lot easier to manage. But Mia was gone now, and Olivia and Sawyer were both single. She’d never told him what his gentle squeezes did to her heart, and she’d vowed to never enlighten him on the matter.

  But to not remember ever having been hugged...that was heartbreaking, too.

  She’d simply have to keep her heart secure while Sawyer found himself again. The last thing she needed was to fall for Sawyer just in time for him to remember all the reasons they’d never worked.

  * * *

  Later that morning, Sawyer followed Lloyd’s pickup, keeping a safe distance back as they rumbled through the back roads. Lloyd knew how to get to the little country church, and Sawyer didn’t. If he lost Lloyd, Olivia could probably direct him there, but it was the man in him that wanted to do this without her help.

  These turns were confusing, but he watched carefully all the same, hoping to have a sense of the next turn before Lloyd’s blinker started up. So far, nada.

  He’d asked Lloyd about his church attendance before they left, and Lloyd had scuffed his boot in the dirt a bit and shrugged sheepishly.

  “It’s a chance at a fresh start, Sawyer. Church never hurt.”

  And maybe Lloyd had a point there.

  In the back seat, the girls were babbling to each other, and Olivia sat next to him wearing her “one and only dress” that she’d brought along—a calf-length cream-colored dress that made her cheeks look a little pinker and her eyes that much warmer by contrast. She smelled good—like lilacs. She’d wrapped a floral patterned shawl around her, and he noticed her slim shoulders... He was glad that she looked decidedly different from that memory in the snowy street. He needed that—for her to be stronger now, brighter, further away from that heartbreaking day.

  “Is any of this familiar?” Olivia asked.

  “Nope.”

  He couldn’t banish the guilt that he hadn’t remembered Mia yet, either. He’d been her husband—it felt like a betrayal of sorts to have no memories of her. But at least a couple of things had started to resurface, and maybe his memories with Mia would come next.

  Ahead, Lloyd signaled another turn and slowed. Sawyer followed suit and clicked on his blinker. As they eased around the corner, he could see a little white church ahead with a steeple.

  He had that memory of the little wood-paneled room where Mrs. Willoughby had taught him Sunday school, but this church wasn’t familiar at all. It was frustrating—so many memories just on the edge of where he could reach them.

  He pulled into the parking lot, and there was something about that view as his truck eased over the crest of a bump—the church, the open doors, the sunlight splashing across the steps. It sparked something. It started with a feeling of familiarity, and then he got a flash of hands reaching out to shake his. He was wearing a black suit—he remembered that. But he hadn’t seen a black suit in his closet earlier today when he was trying to find something to wear to church.

  “Something happened here,” he said, his heart speeding up.

  Olivia didn’t answer, but when he glanced toward her, she was looking at him with a strained expression on her face.

  He remembered sunlight, and warmth. He remembered people reaching out to touch his arm—not his arm, the babies he held in his arms. People had been gently touching the babies, tears in their eyes. There was a glossy wooden coffin. “It was her funeral.”

  He remembered something of his wife...finally! And the realization was both a relief and a punch to the gut. He couldn’t remember what she looked like, but he remembered the closed lid of the coffin, some fingerprints on the surface, a bouquet of flowers that someone had put on top. Other people must have been holding the babies for a while, because he remembered putting his hand out, his palm flat against the wood as grief tore through him.

  Sawyer pulled to a stop next to his uncle’s vehicle, and he let out a slow, shaky breath. Tears welled up inside of him, but he wouldn’t let them through.

  “Sawyer?” Olivia’s hand touched his arm, and he turned off the engine, then let his hands drop.

  “It’s okay,” he said. He didn’t want to delve into that memory here. It was private, and he didn’t want to let the lid off of those tears. But he had the memory—and he was holding on to it with everything he had.

  “You remember Mia?” she whispered.

  “I remember her funeral,” he said huskily. “It’s something.”

  His emotions clashed inside of h
im, and he looked over to see that Lloyd stood outside the church entrance, waiting for them. There were expectations here. Sawyer pushed open his door.

  “You okay?” Lloyd asked, frowning and stepping closer. Maybe Sawyer wasn’t so good at hiding his feelings, because Lloyd looked downright scared.

  “Yeah, yeah...” Sawyer looked around, trying to center himself. He glanced back at the truck—the girls still in their car seats.

  “She’s buried in the churchyard,” Olivia said quietly, and Sawyer looked past the church toward the graveyard beside it. “I could show you where—”

  “No.” It came out more gruffly than he’d intended. But he didn’t want any company for this, especially not from someone he’d remembered before Mia.

  “Why don’t Olivia and I take the girls into church,” Lloyd said. “And you can go...pay your respects.”

  It was like his uncle had read his mind, and Sawyer looked back into the truck window one last time to see Bella trying to reach her little shoe, and Lizzie chewing on a seat belt strap.

  “It’s fine,” Olivia said quickly. “Come into the church whenever you’re ready. We’ll sit in the back.”

  “Okay.”

  Sawyer met her gaze once more, and he could see sadness swimming there. She shrugged faintly. He nodded, acknowledging the gift of some time alone that she was giving him. Then he started off across the gravel parking lot toward the graveyard. He didn’t remember it, but if Mia was buried there, he’d find her. And maybe with the grave, he’d get some peace.

  He could hear the babble of his daughters behind him, the gentle tones of Olivia’s voice. From inside the church, he could hear the sound of a piano filtering outside, and the tune sounded hauntingly familiar, but again, he couldn’t quite place it.

  The graveyard was fenced off with a low stone wall, and he walked around it to a narrow gate bearing a plaque etched with a verse:

  Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

  An ancient tree from outside the graveyard stretched long branches out over the wall and provided a bit of shade. Most of the headstones this close to the fence were old, moss growing up the sides and the engravings tough to make out. Further back, the headstones got newer, and he walked in that direction. He scanned the names—Robert Eugene, Viola Travis, Candy Newhart... Did he know any of these people in his past? Had any of these people touched his life in some way? He strolled past the headstones, reading names and dates, pausing at a few that had his last name. Were they family? Probably. But he didn’t remember any of them.

  “Lord, let me remember,” he whispered.

  He’d read in Genesis that morning where God said that it wasn’t good for man to be alone, and that void in his head where a lifetime of memories were supposed to reside made him ache with loneliness. Except, he wasn’t entirely alone. He had God. He had Lloyd, his little girls, and now Olivia—this mix of people by his side who kept telling him who he used to be. They’d loved him...or cared about him at least.

  Walter West. That name tugged at something inside of him, something that smelled like Old Spice and hay. He looked at the dates. Could this be his father?

  A flicker of a face teased in his mind—a man with a bushy beard and twinkling eyes. He was peeling an apple with a pocketknife, the peel winding down in a continuous coil.

  Dad. He was certain of it now. This was his father’s grave, and with it came some fragmented memories. A hand on his shoulder, a chipped coffee mug, a deep voice that was slow and quiet.

  We’d best head back if we’re gonna beat that weather.

  Why would those words stick? Maybe his father had said them often. Sawyer rubbed a hand through his hair. But still, some memories were coming back. His memory wasn’t in one piece, and it wasn’t enough by far, but it was better than this strange emptiness he’d been carrying around.

  Sawyer kept walking, and he scanned more names—Taylor, Grouse, McDonald...none of them ringing any more bells for him.

  Then he spotted a small gravestone—a flat one. It looked newer than the others. He stepped closer and looked down at the inscription: “Mia West. Beloved wife, young mother, adored daughter. Rest in peace.”

  This was hers—Mia’s resting place—and his heart sped up. Sawyer crouched down next to the stone and brushed a dried twig off of the smooth surface. His fingers lingered over the engraved name. He’d found her. He looked around himself, at the other gravestones, at the dappled shade left by that overhanging branch... There was a bench not too far off—a stone bench with an inscription to someone else.

  “I’m sorry, Mia,” he said quietly. “I’m trying so hard to remember you.”

  But maybe this was the right place to try. He glanced toward the bench, then sighed and went over to sit down. He could see Mia’s headstone from there, and he leaned back. The sun was warm, and without a breeze, it almost felt like summer. He was waiting to remember something like he had when he saw his father’s stone—some fragment of memory, some glimpse of her face. But when he thought about her, all he could see were those wedding pictures from the album—the dark-haired woman with the pretty smile. The one who felt like a stranger. But he could remember the wave of grief he’d felt at her funeral. He could remember his own sense of loss.

  How selfish did that make him, to only remember her for how her loss had affected him?

  God didn’t seem to be answering his prayer for a flood of memories. Instead, Sawyer sat in the quiet, his heart heavy and the sunlight warm against his legs. The minutes slipped by, and he realized that the music had stopped inside the church, and he could hear the rumbling drone of a voice—the preacher, maybe?

  “Let me remember her, Lord,” he prayed, but there was no immediate answer.

  Footsteps on the cement pathway made him look up, and he saw Olivia. She walked slowly in his direction, then paused when she got closer, giving him a hesitant smile.

  “Where are the girls?” he asked.

  “There are two teenage girls there who have been feeding them Goldfish crackers. They’re all blissfully happy, teenagers and toddlers alike.”

  “Right.” There would be people who knew his daughters better than he did right now.

  “I see you found her,” Olivia said.

  “Yeah... I did.” He scooted over on the bench a few inches, and Olivia came over and sat down next to him.

  “How much do you remember?” she asked.

  “Not a lot. I remember the funeral, mostly. Just some snapshots of memory. I’m trying to drag up more, and I’m not having a lot of success.”

  “Do you remember me being at the funeral?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t remember that. You were there?”

  “Of course I was there. She was my best friend.”

  Sawyer looked over at Olivia and saw the sadness in her eyes. It was a tempered grief, though. Time had started healing things for her. Had it done the same for him?

  “There is one thing I really regret, though,” Olivia went on.

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t come to her grave,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “Why not?”

  “A lot of people came to her funeral—some of them had been horrible to me. I just wanted to get away, I guess. I shouldn’t have left without seeing it, though. I regretted that.”

  Sawyer reached over and took Olivia’s hand in his. Her fingers were soft, and she gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled, looking down at her small, pale hand in his broad, work-hardened palm.

  She was a comfort, and he liked having her here with him, this close.

  “I guess we’re starting over, you and I,” Sawyer said.

  “No, we aren’t,” Olivia said, her voice trembling slightly. She pulled her hand back out of his grip, and he closed his fingers over his empty palm. Had he made a mistake there?

 
“I shouldn’t have done that—” he started.

  “Sawyer, it hasn’t changed,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can’t stay in Beaut.”

  He was silent. What would he do when she left again? But he knew he had no right to ask her to stay. She was supposed to be helping him remember his life with Mia. He had no business getting attached to her like this.

  “You said there were rumors,” he said. “What kind?”

  She looked over at him, her eyes filled with pain. “That I’d slept around. I hadn’t, but no one would believe me. I was the target for every bully and gossip in my senior year of high school. I tried to ignore it, but there were a few boys who were making up these disgusting stories...” She sighed. “And it didn’t change, either, after I graduated. People believe what they want to believe.”

  “It’s been a while, though, hasn’t it?” he asked. “People forget. Or lose interest. Or grow up a bit.”

  “This town has a long memory.” She sighed. “When I came back to help my mom, I saw one of the girls who’d been awful to me—a grown woman at that point—and she said something snide about women ‘like me.’ It was couched in some Christianly inquiry into how I was doing, and hoping I’d found a husband after all of that. I had to hold myself back from slapping her. You’ve never seen a smugger woman in your life when she looked down at my left hand and saw there was no ring. There are people in life who want nothing more than to watch you fail—and in my life, they all live right here. My mother was dying, and it still didn’t stop.”

  “Sounds like plain old bullying,” he said.

  She shrugged. He didn’t remember any of this, obviously, but it made his blood simmer to think about that kind of cruelty. Olivia hadn’t deserved that—he was certain. And a so-called Christian woman had rubbed those malicious rumors in her face? It was disgusting.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I wish I could do something—”

  “You can’t. And you have nothing to be sorry for,” Olivia said. “You were a break from all of that. But the rest of Beaut owes me more than an apology.”