The Rancher's First Love

by Brenda Minton

  “Will she mind if you go with me?”

  “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Oh, but we are.” He opened the top of the basket. “I’ve got fried chicken, potato salad and chocolate cream pie.”

  “That’s from Duke’s. Don’t tell me you have my own brother plotting against me.”

  “He’s not plotting, darlin’, he’s helping.” He winked and managed to be ever so charming. “I’ve been assured this lunch is the way to a woman’s heart.”

  “Rem,” she started, but Kayla returned.

  “I’m good if the two of you want to spend time alone. I can finish painting.” Kayla plopped down on the sofa and grabbed a magazine. “Or sit here and read.”

  “There you go—no need to worry that you’re leaving your company unattended.”

  No need to worry about her company, he said. But she had to worry about losing herself. She might have accepted with no qualms had she not been standing in this little house she’d worked so hard to make her own in the past couple of months. Her own place. Her own life.

  “Don’t overthink,” Remington warned, as if he knew where her thoughts were headed. But of course he didn’t.

  “Go,” Kayla ordered from the sofa without looking up from her magazine.

  Remington stood there, waiting for her answer. Waiting to see if she’d give in. Because it only took twenty-one days to develop a new habit. And maybe, just maybe, Remington was a little too close to making good on that. Because when a day or two went by and she didn’t see him, she missed him.

  “Okay,” she conceded. “A picnic. Because it’s already ninety degrees out there. And what’s better than a picnic on a sweltering June day?”

  She reached for a card that she’d left on the coffee table.

  “Have a little faith, Sam.” He took her by the arm and led her out to his truck.

  “Where are we going?”

  He opened the truck door for her. “Be patient and trust me.”

  Yes, patience. And trust. Two character traits she still needed to work on.

  * * *

  Remington got out of his truck and opened the gate just down from Duke’s house. He headed back to the truck, but Sam had moved behind the wheel and drove the truck through the opening, then waited for him to close the gate and get back behind the wheel. She stayed in the middle of the seat, her shoulder close to his.

  It felt like taking a step back in time, the two of them side by side in the cab of a truck. He took a well-worn trail through the field and headed to the hills and the creek. Country music played on the radio, songs about a girl and a boy falling in love. A small town. A pickup truck.

  Ten minutes of driving led them to their destination, a creek at the base of a tree-covered hill. He backed the truck into a clearing and stopped.

  “Here we are,” he announced as he opened the door.

  Sam slid out after him. “You definitely had this planned.”

  “Yep.”

  He put down the tailgate of the truck and hauled the basket out of the front floorboard. Sam walked to the edge of the creek and lifted her hair to pull it back in a ponytail. Her back was to him and he looked his fill, not at all upset when she caught him staring.

  Her cheeks turned rosy pink and she looked away. “You know you’re making this difficult, right?”

  “I’m not trying to,” he answered, searching for the right words. “I’m just doing my best to convince you to give us a chance.”

  “I’m giving us a chance.”

  “Then why are you still building walls between us?” He hadn’t meant to go there, but he couldn’t help it. He had a romantic picnic lunch, a perfect location on a perfect summer day. Why not tread into dangerous waters?

  “I’m not building walls. I’m being cautious.” She sat down on the edge of the tailgate and reached for a piece of chicken. “I...I’m afraid, Rem. Because we started like this once before, you and me.”

  “Yeah, we made mistakes. And we ended up going in different directions. But now we’re here again. I can’t help but think we’re supposed to be here. Together.”

  “Faith,” she sighed.

  “Yes, Sam, faith. I’m not ashamed to be a man of faith. I never expected this to be my path. I had a great government job and a nice place in Austin. But here I am, back in Martin’s Crossing, running my granddad’s ranch and pastoring a church. I wouldn’t give it up for anything. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”

  “I didn’t ask you to. I’m amazed by you. And when I compare myself, I come up short.”

  He leaned across the basket and touched his lips to hers. It was a sweet, simple kiss and he had a difficult time leaving it that way. With a sigh, he pulled away. “We could talk this to death, or we could just enjoy each other’s company.”

  She nodded, picking up her plate and filling it with food, letting go a lot easier than he would have guessed. He held a plate full of food and scooted next to her. They sat on the tailgate, feet dangling, plates balanced on their laps. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of leaves. A light breeze cooled the air.

  He could get used to days like this. And to Sam in his life.

  “We’re having a potluck at church tonight,” he said.

  “I told you, I don’t bake casseroles.” She didn’t look at him, but he saw her mouth tilt upward.

  “Well, then, we’ll have to get you a cookbook,” he teased. “But this doesn’t require that you bake a casserole. I thought you might like to go with me.”

  For a long time she didn’t answer. She focused on the chocolate pie on her plate for a while, then stared at the creek. Eventually she shook her head.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  One shoulder lifted and she took another bite of pie. “People will get ideas.”

  “They already have them, Sam. It isn’t as if either of us are strangers to this community. They know us. They know our secrets. Not that we have any.”

  “Right, they all know. You’re the pastor and I’m the woman who you sinned with.”

  He sat back and gave her a long look. “That came out of nowhere.”

  “No, it didn’t. Like it or not, that’s what we have between us. The elephant in the room is a child who turned nine last month.”

  What could he say to that? He could be angry. But he couldn’t change anything. He’d heard that a person’s present is their future. That long-ago summer had followed them both, changing them both in different ways.

  The woman sitting next to him had built up walls and closed people out. She was still shutting him out of her life. But he’d meant what he said; he wouldn’t walk away from his ministry.

  For him it was all or nothing. He wanted her to be a part of it all.

  “I’d like to not live in the past,” he ventured with some caution.

  “The past is always with us. It shapes us.”

  “Yes, it shapes us. It doesn’t have to hold us prisoner.”

  “I wish that was true,” she said softly. “I get a letter a few times each year, like a calling card from the past.”

  He reached for her hand because he didn’t want to lose her with these words. “Sam, she’s a happy little girl with a family that loves her. That’s what those letters tell me. You did a great thing. It wasn’t what you wanted. It wasn’t the way we would have planned. But it happened and somehow God used it for good.”

  “No, it wasn’t what I wanted.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “I’ve gone to counseling. I’ve told myself she’s better off. I’ve patted myself on the back and said what a good thing I’ve done. I’ve resented you for walking away without a scratch.”

  “Is that how you saw m
e? The guy who walked away without looking back?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I had scars, Sam,” he assured her. “Some were from losing you. One your brother Brody gave me when he tossed me up against the barn wall. I still have that one if you want to see. I think I hit a nail.”

  A short burst of watery laughter. “Stop.”

  “Because you’re starting to feel better and how terrible would that be?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She finally looked at him. She had a dot of chocolate on the corner of her mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, then leaned into his shoulder. “Me, too.”

  He drew closer to her, but before he could taste that sweet corner of her mouth, she licked away the pudding. He grinned and kissed her anyway, tasting the remnant of the chocolate on her lips, loving her on so many levels it was frightening.

  He loved her. And he worried they wouldn’t find common ground. He didn’t know if she would trust him in the hard times or keep pushing him away.

  One thing he did know, a relationship couldn’t work if both people weren’t willing to trust and lean on each other.

  But he was going to try his best to get there. With her by his side.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The picnic with Rem had left Samantha more uncertain than she’d ever been about anything. The uncertainty came from knowing that eventually she’d have to make a decision about her relationship with Remington. Because that’s what it had become. Somehow over the past few weeks, he had managed to create a relationship between them that she hadn’t expected.

  It shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. After all, he was the only one who had ever made her feel this way. With each touch, each word, each kiss, she fell further.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dated anyone since Remington. She had. But she’d always managed to hold herself back. She’d kept her heart intact because she’d been unwilling to allow anyone close enough to hurt her or to let her down.

  She was cleaning up after a last-ditch attempt to get some painting done in her kitchen when Kayla appeared in her bathroom door, cell phone in hand. Sam met her reflection in the mirror.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s our mom. It’s Sylvia. She’s had a heart attack.”

  The air felt heavy, hard to breathe and static. “Okay.”

  Kayla pulled the phone from her ear. “I have to go. But I don’t want to go alone.”

  “Brody will go with you.”

  Kayla shook her head. “I want you, Sam. I know it’s selfish. But I want you to go with me. I want my sister.”

  “I’m not sure if I can.” She faced her sister. “Kayla, I just don’t know. I mean, I guess I can go. I don’t want to see her but I can be there for you.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Just then, her cell phone rang. Sam hurried to the kitchen to answer. The cell phone vibrated across the counter. She reached for it, glancing at the caller ID as she did.

  “Rem,” she answered. “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course. I just wanted to give you one last chance to come to the potluck.”

  Suddenly a potluck sounded great. “I can’t.”

  “It doesn’t require a casserole. It doesn’t require anything, really.”

  “I know.”

  “But you can’t. Or won’t?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, wishing she could tell him how much she needed him. She opened her mouth to explain, to ask him to come with her to Dallas.

  “Sam, what’s going on?”

  She choked on emotion, holding it together as best she could. Tell him, her heart urged. Let him in.

  “I have to make a trip to Dallas with Kayla.”

  “Do you need me to go with you?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. But she answered, “No, I’ve got this.”

  “Sam, let me come with you. Make room in your life for me. For us.”

  “I’m trying, Rem. This is me trying.”

  “Still afraid I’ll let you down?”

  “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “Yes, but there’s that new habit we’re working on, right?”

  “We can’t change everything with a few days spent together.”

  “Fine. Call if you need me,” he said. But it sounded like a question.

  She did need him, but she didn’t tell him. Instead she hung up and told herself she could do this. She and Kayla could do this together.

  She plugged her phone in to the charger and watched as Kayla poured a diet cola over ice and sucked it down.

  “That’s not good for you,” Sam warned.

  “I know, but I need caffeine or I’ll go crazy. Do you want to drive?”

  “I’d prefer it.” If she didn’t drive, she’d be forced to think about Remington, about the way he’d sounded hurt. About how much she wanted to let down her guard and let him take up residence in her heart and her life, nothing held back.

  A few hours later she and Kayla were driving through Dallas. The city lights lent a glow to the dark nighttime sky. Traffic still buzzed along the main highways. Sam rolled down the windows and let fresh, humid air blow through the cab of the truck. In the passenger seat Kayla remained silent.

  “You okay?”

  Kayla startled and then nodded. “I’m good. We take the next exit.”

  “Got it.” Sam continued to drive, trying not to think about Sylvia, about memories that her brothers had given her about the day their mother left. She’d heard the stories so many times she could picture it. But she’d been little more than a baby at the time. She’d been a toddler clinging to Jake and his twin, Elizabeth. Brody had screamed and cried, trying to go after her as she drove away.

  Following the GPS directions, she pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Here we are.”

  “Yes,” Kayla agreed, her tone flat. “I’m not sure why I’ve continued this relationship. Maybe because I worried that I’d be like her and I wanted to believe someone would be there for me.”

  “You’re not like her.”

  Kayla got out of the truck. “How do you know?”

  “From what my brothers have said, she was always this way. She didn’t live thirtysome years normal and suddenly wake up unstable. She was this way even when Jake and Elizabeth were babies. Aunt Mavis said that our mother was always a little off, even as a child. She had problems, Kayla. I guess if she’d gotten help, taken medication, she might have been better. But she might not have.”

  Kayla preceded her through the sliding doors. “Sometimes it’s difficult not to question my own sanity.”

  “I understand. But you’re not her. I’m not her.”

  In the past, Sam had asked the same questions about herself, though. What if she was like her mother? What if she got married, had children and fell apart someday?

  No, she wasn’t Sylvia Martin. She wouldn’t become Sylvia. Neither would Kayla. They got off the elevator and walked down a tile-floored hallway with bright fluorescent lighting. At room 205 they stopped.

  “This is it,” Kayla announced. She stood in front of the door, her hand poised to push it open.

  Sam wrapped an arm around Kayla’s shoulders and led her into the room. For her sister she could be the strong one. It also gave her the chance to be the detached one. She was here for Kayla. End of story.

  But in a heart-stopping moment, her detachment ended. The second she looked at the woman in the hospital bed, her dark hair turning gray, her eyes hard and angry, everything changed. This pinched and drawn woman was her mother.

  This was the woman who had left her little girls behind. Not because she didn’t love them. Sam repeated words a therapist had once shared with h
er, that Sylvia might have left because she loved her children and hadn’t wanted to hurt them anymore. Sylvia had loved them to the best of her ability.

  That softened the reality and let Sylvia Martin off the hook. Samantha had never been in a place where she wanted to let this woman off the hook. Her own pain had been too raw, too deep. She’d needed to blame someone. That was the person who had left her alone.

  “Kayla.” Sylvia reached for Kayla’s hand. “Look at you, losing weight.”

  “Look at you, in the hospital. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m not good. They think I’m having a baby.”

  Dementia or psychosis? Sylvia had self-medicated with hard drugs, leaving her with brain damage. Sam’s brothers had kept her updated on their mother’s condition, whether she wanted the updates or not. Kayla shuddered and Samantha put a hand on her arm to offer her strength. “Mom, I brought Sam.”

  “Sam?” Sylvia shook her head, but the effort cost her and she laid back on the pillow. “I don’t know Sam.”

  Sam told herself it didn’t matter. So what if Sylvia didn’t remember her? She’d forgotten Sam long before her memory started to fade.

  Kayla took the seat next to their mother’s bed. “Samantha is your daughter. She was your baby before me.”

  Sylvia reached for Kayla’s hand. And there it was, the bond that Sylvia had with this one child. She’d left Kayla behind, too, but Kayla had sought her out and forced her to reciprocate in a relationship.

  “Sam,” Sylvia whispered and she looked past Kayla to Samantha. “You were a terror.”

  Sam laughed a little and it helped. It shook things loose inside her. She wiped at her eyes because she didn’t want the tears to fall. “Yes. I was a terror.”

  The little girl in Sam waited for her mother to say more, to apologize, to tell her she loved her and was sorry she had to leave. Sylvia never said those words. She didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes and slept with Kayla holding her hand.

  Sam slipped out of the room. She found a vending machine and bought snacks and bottled water for herself and Kayla. When she returned, Kayla was still holding Sylvia’s hand, still talking to her as if she heard. She told Sylvia about the grandchildren she had in Martin’s Crossing. She told her about Duke’s No Bar and Grill. She didn’t mention her own life, her family, and Sam found that troubling.