Wild Yellow Clover and Honey Wheat Sage

by Freda, Paula

  “Superfluous, for whom,” Macey grumbled, resentment flaring. She wondered whether she was cursed. Except for Michael, everytime she believed herself in love, the man fled. Maybe, I'm jinxed, she thought. Well, no use burdening the Nelsons with her problems. “All right, at least I know he's not lying in some alley, hurt.”

  JoAnn came back on the phone. “Macey, are you and Michael okay? I mean, is it still on between the two of you?”

  What was the use of hiding the truth. They'd find out soon enough. “No, we're not. Nothing bad, just that we both realized we're not right for each other.” The old Macey blurted out, “I need Cal.”

  She heard Jim in the background chuckle.

  “It's not funny,” Macey remonstrated.

  “No, it's not,” JoAnn said. “And Jim apologizes, for his reaction,” she said, her tone daring him to do otherwise.

  “I apologize,” Jim said, loud enough for Macey to hear.

  JoAnn continued, “Macey, it's no secret to you that Cal has been in love with you for ages. He's proposed to you enough times. And it's clear to us as well that you're in love with him. Can you deny it?”

  “No, I can't,” she grumbled. “I'm an idiot, have been for the longest time. But not anymore, not where it concerns with whom I belong. I'm going home with my parents, at least until I get a job and apartment in Billings or one of the other cities near their ranch. And if Cal hasn't totally gotten over me— well, do I need to say more?”

  “Make sure you write a polite letter of resignation to the firm. Say there's a personal problem at home, and you're needed there for a long run,” JoAnn advised.

  “Okay, that's the least I can do, after all your kindness to me.”

  “Any time, dear. And if you should return, which I have a feeling you won't, there will always be an opening for you at Jim's firm.”

  “I must have done something good in my life, to have earned such good friends. God Bless you all.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As had been their custom for years, Linda and Tanner joined family and friends at Jay's Bar and Grill to celebrate New Year's Eve. For the pair it was an especially festive occasion, as Macey had returned home with them and was back in her old room, at least for the time being. Since her time on her own, their scatterbrained daughter appeared to have matured at a startling rate. No more unfounded talk about Mr. Right or Mr. Wrong. In fact, the silly, impetuous girl was now often quiet and pensive. So much so, that Linda worried her daughter's character had metamorphosed to the opposite extreme.

  Not a word of complaint when her father asked her if she would like to join them for New Year's Eve celebration at Jay's. Her simple reply — a smile and a nod, “Sure, Dad.”

  That was a far cry from the former Macey. Since becoming a teen, she hardly ever wanted to go anywhere with her parents, stating that she frankly preferred the company of her friends instead.

  The moment they entered the bar and grill, Macey's former high school friends clustered about her. Though no one at Jays remarked about her daughter's change, Linda read the surprise on everyone's face. This wasn't Macey. The girl answered questions with politeness, thoughtfully aware of the other's sensibilities. Besides courteous, she actually appeared to weigh her replies before speaking them. Macey had changed, matured, and her fast friends slowly drifted to other parts of the room.

  By eleven o'clock, most everyone who habitually came to Jay's for New Year's Eve, had shown. The Driscolls had come and gone to host their own yearly celebration with their families at their combined horse and cattle ranch. Cal had not been with them. Upon inquiry, Leatrice explained that because of the extreme cold and heavy snowfall last week, he was out taking his turn on the hay truck scattering additional bales of hay for the cattle in the winter pasture. No one was sorrier to hear this, than Macey.

  Linda shouldered her daughter with motherly concern. “Sweetheart, come outside with me to get a breath of air.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Macey replied.

  They both shrugged back into their winter jackets and strolled out to the parking lot.

  The night was cold, but clear, and star-studded, allowing the moonlight free rein. Macey inhaled the brisk air and exhaled with a sigh. Her warm breath created steamy vapor. “I guess I'm too late.” She knew she stated the obvious. Since they had been back, Cal continued not to answer her phone calls, nor bothered even to call Tanner. His tenure as her guardian was over now that he thought Michael had replaced him.

  “Does he know you broke up with Michael?”

  Macey shrugged. “If he'd bothered to answer my calls—“

  Maybe he's hurting too much knowing he's completely lost any chance at winning your heart. I'd say he's purposely avoiding you.”

  “It's the non knowing that's driving me crazy. If I've lost his affections, I need him to tell me. I won't blame him in the least if he wants nothing more to do with me. But I need to know. I mean, he was there for me at every turn, and now suddenly he's gone. Now that I've come to my senses, and fallen head over heels in love with him. At least he should know how I feel.”

  Linda nodded. “I tend to agree with you.” Mouth pursing, she turned to her daughter, a determined look in her light brown eyes.

  “Cal may not be here tonight, but he's in the area,” she said. “We're not that far from the winter grazing field. How's about I drive you to where he's at?”

  They drove a half hour before spotting the truck cab with the attached open trailer bed half emptied of its bales of hay. It was parked on the side of the road, near a snow-coated outcrop beside a tall white cloaked butte. A small fire burned by a makeshift campsite. Cal, bundled in a shearling coat, his ten-gallon hat, and winter jeans and thick-lined boots, sat on a protruding edge of the butte, near the fire.

  “That's Cal, Mom,” Macey said.

  Linda knew the spot. It was a stop that ranch hands on Driscolls' Bar LB sometimes used to rest.

  “I'll wait here till you're sure it's Cal,” Linda said.

  “Oh, it's him, Mom,” Macey reassured.

  “You can tell from this distance?” Linda asked.

  “I'd know him anywhere. See the way he's holding his cup of coffee.”

  Linda glanced at her daughter askance.

  Macey smiled. “He's hugging the cup, letting the steam warm his face.”

  “Yeah, but so would many on a cold night, to ward off the chill.”

  “That's true, but it's the way he does it.”

  Linda shook her head, wondering if her daughter were spouting nonsense, or if Macey did see something that eluded her. “All the same, I'll wait here until you signal me it is Cal. Just tip a finger to your hat. Like your Dad does.”

  “Okay, mother,” Macey smiled, using the formal endearingly. Macey exited her mother's car and closed the door quietly, not wanting to alert Cal as yet to her presence.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cal half sat, half leaned against the foot of rock that jutted forth from the butte's base, much like the stump of a fallen oak. He'd been spreading hay all evening across the snow-cloaked winter pasture. And he was cold and tired. He had removed his gloves and set the pair near the fire to dry. He coddled the metal coffee mug against his face, pressing it against his jaw, enjoying its heat on his skin as it mitigated the frigid air prickling his flesh under the day's growth of brown stubble. Cal loved nights like this and resting under the indigo star-studded sky so close above him that it seemed he had only to reach up and grasp a twinkling star. Perhaps if it were possible to do so, and offer it to the Princess of his choice and win her heart, as the hero had done in a fairy tale his mother had read to him in his childhood, then he might have won the heart of the lady of his choice. He sipped at his coffee, then turned his head abruptly. Living and working on a ranch and the open prairie all his young life, had fine-tuned his senses. A car had parked somewhere in the distance, and footsteps were padding softly over the snow toward him.

  “Who is it?” he called out. “Identif
y yourself.”

  The Bar LB covered thousands of acres. Like many folks in the open prairie, Cal carried a licensed rifle in his truck in case he encountered predators, like hungry wolves or some crazed bull who had ingested locoweed, or person or persons out to no good. And it was customary also for Seth and Leatrice's ranch hands to carry a small licensed pistol on their person, for safety.

  He called out again, “Who's there?”

  No answer forthcoming, Cal slowly opened his shearling coat and drew out the pistol he carried strapped to his waist.

  “Easy, Cal, it's only me,” a childlike voice answered.

  “Macey?”

  She pushed through the shadows toward him. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

  “What are you doing out here at this time of night?” He peered at her face under her lady's Stetson, as she moved toward him, reassuring himself it was her, and replaced his pistol. “As understanding as Michael is, I'm sure he won't be thrilled to learn you came out here to find me at this time of night and on New Year's Eve. You've gotten yourself a good man; don't do anything foolish to spoil it.”

  “Nothing to spoil,” Macey said, reaching Cal. “Michael and I are no longer an item.”

  “Lord, Macey, what did you do to push him away?”

  Macey hesitated answering, measuring her words and their consequences. But the truth must be told, she recalled her father's words whenever she was caught lying. “I made him realize I was in love with someone else.”

  “A better Mr. Right, to your way of thinking?” Cal inquired, frowning, wondering if all he'd suffered these past few months had achieved nil.

  “No, not better. Not as refined, or as educated. But a better man for me. Much more the perfect man ... for me.”

  Cal sighed in exasperation. “And here I thought you'd finally grown up and left your silly notions behind.”

  “I have grown up. And I have let go of silly notions about the perfect specimen. There is no such homo sapien alive.”

  Macey remembered her mother in the car, and turned, made eye contact and tipped a finger to her hat.

  Linda made a U-turn and drove off.

  “Who was in the car?” Cal asked.

  “My mom.”

  “And she condoned your coming out here at this time of night.”

  “Yup, as long as it was you. She trusts you. She always has.”

  “And she figured I'd bring you home, after you told me whatever it was, you came out here to say.”

  Macey nodded.

  Cal shook his head. Women! He thought. “So what is it that you want? Advice about your present intended conquest?”

  “I don't need advice about my intended conquest. I already have his love. Always did. But I was too blinded by those silly notions.”

  She waited while he digested her words.

  He studied her face, read the teasing smile, and the expression in her eyes that told him she wasn't teasing. She drew closer to him, so that the top of her head brushed under his chin. She lowered her gaze, level with a shirt button showing between the lapels of his coat. “Am I too late?” she whispered.

  Macey held her breath, expecting Cal to either shout with joy or to laugh at her and her offer, tell her he'd gotten her out of his system. She didn't expect him suddenly to pull her into his arms, his body responding to every inch of her, as he kissed her passionately. Then as suddenly pushed her away.

  “Is that what you wanted,” he demanded.

  “Cal?” she cried, shocked at his behavior and the mocking tone in his voice. This wasn't her normal Cal. This was an angry man who seemed to have suddenly lost all respect for her.

  “No, not like this?”

  “What do you expect from me, when you come out here to tease me, and hurt me some more.”

  Macey rallied, “You left without even a goodbye. I felt like the ground dropped from under me. I kept calling you, wanting to tell you how I'd finally realized you were the one I loved, the one I needed, the one I belonged with. I've been home a week. Not a word from you. Not even a why did you come home query.”

  “I knew why you came home. Your father called me.”

  “Oh,” she sighed, ego deflated. “Dad said to me that I've changed, matured some. Guess I'm not the only one who has. I said No to you, too many times, until I convinced you I wasn't the girl for you.”

  “Yeah,” Cal whispered. “That about covers it.”

  Macey bit down on her lower lip to control the sob that threatened to erupt. She was too late. He'd lost that lovin' feeling, as a lyric in one of her favorite songs went. She swallowed hard, held back the tears that begged to fall, and pulled back her shoulders. All the same, her voice cracked as she tried to apologize. “I'm sorry to have caused you more hurt. Unfortunately, I'll have to ask you to take me home, please. After which I promise never to bother you again. Thank you for all you've done for me. And I apologize for all the times I said No, when I should have said Yes."

  Throughout her apology she kept her gaze lowered, any courage she had tapped into, to help her confront him, totally demolished. Feeling embarrassed and miserable, knowing she'd matured and found her niche in life too late, Macey turned away. “I'll wait in the truck. Take all the time you need.”

  “So what do I do if you decide it's No again?”

  Macey wasn't sure she had heard right. She spun back and met his gaze. His eyes mirrored exasperation, puzzlement, even fear, but not anger, or contempt. Behind it all, she glimpsed his love for her, hiding, afraid of rejection, yet strong as ever. Encouraged, Macey drew close to him. “I can never say No to you again,” she said.

  “Oh, for the love of—, Macey!” Cal clasped her in his arms. He placed gentle kisses on the top of her scented hair, her forehead, her eyebrows, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. He hugged her to himself as if this were a moment that might never recur. Macey leaned her face into the crook of his neck and reveled in its warmth, coating it with tears of joy. He hadn't stopped loving her. He never would.

  EPILOGUE

  Sleepy-eyed, Macey parted the drapes and watched through the partially opened window, the sun rise and slowly turn the dark blue sky into lavender and amethyst, and finally light blue interspersed with white puffy clouds. Early spring breezes wafted past her into the bedroom, ruffling her nightgown of gossamer white. She checked the fourth finger of her left hand. The engagement ring and wedding band were still there. It hadn't been a dream. She was Mrs. Calvin Driscoll. She turned to glance at the queen-sized bed and rumpled covers on her side.

  Cal slept on his side of the bed, his breath thick, with a slight gravelly sound. He'd kicked off the blanket. The sheet remaining, top hems tucked under his arms, covered his bare form. Warm tingling flashes coursed up her spine. The right man had been under her nose all along, and she had almost passed him by. She was a woman now. His woman, and he was her man, for better or worse, in sickness and health, in the beauty and strength of youth, and in the frailty of old age.

  A year ago, the image engendered by those words, would have depicted a handsome young man, refined, smart, well-to-do, a perfect specimen fawning over her, requiting her infatuation. She thanked God for sending her Cal to keep her safe, and be there when she at last realized the truth of what real and honest love entailed. It had nothing to do with pretty words, flattery, or images of the perfect man. Honest love was the total consensual giving of husband and wife to each other, body and soul, with the Lord's blessings. And in her case, it included the blessings of their loved ones as well.

  Sunrays entered the room and fell on the bed. Cal stirred, and as his waking form caught up with the present moment, he extended his arm to her side of the bed. He found it empty, and opened his eyes wide. A frantic thought surfaced in his mind. He sat up and scanned the room, with a worried semblance. He saw Macey standing by the window.

  “Macey, sweets, are you all right. I didn't hurt you last night, did I?”

  Macey hurried back to his side. “No, not at all. How coul
d you ever, when you were so gentle. You know, you may think me made out of sugar and spice, but I'm really quite hardy.”

  “So you're not sorry you married me?” Cal asked.

  “No, Macey affirmed, stroking his jaw, its light sandy colored bristle teasing her fingertips. “Not at all,” she said.

  A smile broke across his face. “Good morning, Mrs. Macey Driscoll, dear wife,” he said, taking her back into his arms. “Then I gather you wouldn't mind a repeat performance,” he inquired, the corner of his mouth quirking in just that way she adored.

  “Not at all,” she repeated.

  ♥

  Hope this story brought a smile to your lips and a warm feeling to your heart.

  Wishing you all the best,

  and peace of mind and spirit.

  — Paula Freda

  About The Author

  Paula Freda, homemaker, mother of two grown sons, grandmother of two wonderful grandchildren, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, "...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing...." Paula further states, "I love writing, despite that I still have much to learn, and am grateful to any editor who takes the time to help me improve my skill. Although I've no fancy that I will ever be famous, or even want to be, my hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit. If someday in the future, someone reads my work and feels the better for it, then I have fulfilled myself." Her e-books & paperbacks are available through Amazon.com, Smashwords.com, & several other online publishers.