“I’ve done a terrible thing, Maddie.”
She took a sip from her glass of white wine. “So what else is new?”
Sam couldn’t even dredge up a smile. “This was more terrible than most things.” Looking over the last six years, Sam wondered if that statement was true. Maybe what he’d done to Cam wasn’t all that much worse than what he’d done to others. He remembered the young guy who’d flirted with Kirstin on the Chevrolet sales lot. Sam had caused him to lose his job. “I deliberately ruined Cam’s chances to sell ranches. I’m glad he’s gotten two listings, but it’s a miracle that he did.”
Maddie turned her goblet, studying the sparkles in her wine as the liquid swirled.
“Did you hear me?” Sam asked.
She settled her blue gaze on him. He saw sadness in those depths but no recrimination. “I heard you, Sam. I’m waiting for you to tell me what you’ve done to fix the situation. That’s the answer for you, you know, the only way you can redeem yourself. It’s the only way any of us can.”
Sam told her about driving all over town to undo the damage. “I felt ridiculous, and it was embarrassing, but I deserved it.”
Maddie smiled. “Yes, Sam, you did deserve it. Have I mentioned that I belong to a book club? We meet at the Rustlers’ Gulch Library, and there seem to be a goodly number of wannabe writers here. We only get together every two weeks, and I can’t find time to read the selected books, but I enjoy the camaraderie I find there with avid readers, and I’ve been asked to teach writing afterward. I limit my talks to an hour, and the next time we meet, they bring in their assignments.”
“What’s that got to do with Cam?”
Maddie took another sip of wine. “I see people, and they love to talk. I was told at the last meeting that you had said some awful things about my son to key people. I was also told that you used to be one of the nicest ranchers in the valley. When people needed help, Sam Conacher was always one of the first to offer it. They say you attended services every Sunday. You volunteered for parish fund-raisers, and you donated lots of money to different good causes. Then your wife died, and that nice, generous man became bitter, hateful, and vengeful.”
Sam closed his eyes. His stomach felt as if someone was threading a knitting needle through it. Voice gravelly with regret, he said, “I figured you’d get mad when I told you, and I’d be wearing that wine.”
“I am angry,” she replied. “But I’m angry with the man you were, not the man you’re trying to resurrect. I’m very glad you attempted to restore Cam’s image. I’ll pray that you succeeded.”
“What if I didn’t?”
Maddie sighed. “My son will win people back over. Your verbal assaults on his character will become distant memories. He’ll have a rough start, but he’ll build his business and become very successful on his own merit.” She paused. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll kill you in another book and relocate you to Nevada.”
Caught off guard, Sam chuckled. “Put me in one of the beautiful parts of the state.”
“No way. You’ll be surrounded by flat desert.”
He sighed. “A fitting punishment, I suppose. I’m sorry, Maddie.”
• • •
Sam continued to speak highly of Cam each time he had reason to drive into town. He told people that the young man was no run-of-the-mill Realtor and knew his stuff. He was good on a horse and could cut cattle like a pro. He stressed that Cam could knowledgeably guide potential buyers to find the property that would best suit their needs.
In late October, Cam came in late with a beaming grin on his face. “I just sold one of the ranches I listed!” he shouted. “My listing, my sale. Except for my company broker’s percentage, I’ll get both sides of the commission.”
Kirstin came bouncing from the kitchen, where she and Caleb had been carving pumpkins. She leaned over to hug Cam, still in a wheelchair, and then danced circles around him. “That is so awesome, Cam! How much will you make? I knew you could do it!”
Caleb joined them, his exuberance equal to Kirstin’s. “Way to go, Dad!”
Cam pulled out his phone to use the calculator. “Beats me how much I’ll make. A lot, though. I was too excited to get home and share my news to think about the numbers. The buyer offered three-point-five mil, and the owner accepted it.”
While the younger people eagerly tried to figure out Cam’s profit, Sam met Maddie’s gaze. She smiled and inclined her head slightly to give him a barely noticeable nod of approval. Sam felt as if a burden had been removed from his shoulders. His attempts in town to salvage Cam’s reputation had worked. He still needed to apologize, though. Damn it to hell, he thought. Trying to be a nice guy again totally sucks.
• • •
That Thursday Maddie went to Missoula for one of her physical therapy sessions. She came home in a festive mood and, in Sam’s opinion, glowing with good health. She’d stopped at a store and loaded up on trick-or-treat candy and Halloween decorations.
“Most of ours are in storage,” she explained to Sam, who gazed with mounting amazement at all the witches, goblins, and cobweb stuff she drew from the bags. “I love holidays!” she exclaimed when she saw his expression. “You did say to consider this my home while we’re here, and I normally decorate.”
“I’m a man of my word. Decorate to your heart’s content.”
Sam took refuge in his recliner. A deluge of grief had flooded through him. Annie had been like a kid during the holidays, and few surfaces inside or outside the house had escaped her enthusiasm. Maddie had caused dozens of beautiful memories to slam into his brain—only they didn’t feel beautiful because of the pain that accompanied them. He didn’t want to spoil Maddie’s fun, though, or the kids’, either. They were as excited as she was.
Tears glazed Sam’s eyes. Visions of Annie standing on the stairway banister to string Christmas lights around the stairwell flashed through his mind. She could have fallen so easily. Sam had been so afraid for her that he’d pulled her down and into his arms, telling her he’d skin her alive if he caught her up there again. Then he’d gone to get a ladder and put up decorations he didn’t think they needed.
Maddie must have noticed his sudden withdrawal, because she left the kids to sort through her purchases and sat on the hearth near him. “I’m sorry. I hit a raw spot, I think. I can forgo decorations this year. I misspoke a minute ago. This isn’t my house, not even temporarily. It’s Annie’s, and I was disrespectful of that.”
Sam stretched out his arm. She took his hand. He gave her fingers a squeeze. “You weren’t disrespectful. Annie would be right in there with all of you and cheering you on. She loved the holidays, too. One Easter she hid plastic eggs filled with surprises for Kirstin and left one on the stairs.”
Maddie stifled a laugh. “Oh, no, don’t tell me.”
Sam worked up a smile. “You guessed it. I found the egg. I fell halfway down the stairway.”
“I hope you weren’t hurt.”
“Banged up, mostly. And there stood my little girl over me. I couldn’t even scold Annie for being foolish enough to leave an egg where it could cause an accident. Kirstie still believed in the Easter Bunny. Shit, Annie did such good snow jobs on the kid that she believed in Santa Claus until she was at least fourteen.”
Again Maddie laughed. “I’m sure she’d heard at school that Santa doesn’t exist. But some kids want to cling to the magic of it all.”
Sam sighed. “Go have fun.” He gave her hand a second squeeze. “Make me believe in the magic again.”
Sam remained in his chair, emotionally and mentally floating between the past and the present. Until Kirstin moved into her own residence, she had decorated on a small scale for the holidays, but Sam hadn’t participated. He’d gotten Kirstin a gift at Christmas, forgetting to wrap it half the time, and called it good enough. It was yet another crime against his daughter that he could add t
o the list.
Sam forced himself to get up and move toward the kitchen. It hurt when he saw the glow of happiness slip from Kirstin’s expression when she saw him. She was clearly afraid he’d spoil the moment by ranting about the foolishness of Halloween. Sam hadn’t changed his opinion about that, but unless he wanted to rain on everyone else’s parade, he needed to pretend that he had.
“What all have we got here?” he asked.
Cam answered. “Heaps of candy and decorations. We’ve taken up the table with all of it, so Gabriella is serving us dinner buffet-style. We’re going to decorate before we eat. I say we loosely, because I obviously can’t help much. And then we thought we’d take our plates to the living room to watch a Halloween movie. If it’s all right with you, that is.”
Sam never allowed a television to be on during dinner. He glanced at Kirstin, who looked as if she were holding her breath before the explosion. “Can we vote on the movie? I don’t want to watch some damned idiotic cartoon.”
• • •
All day Friday Sam reflected on the previous evening and had to admit he’d had fun. They had ended up watching The Monster Squad, which Sam had judged to be stupid, but he’d laughed in spite of himself. And as he moved from room to room inside his home, he had to admit that the decorations were cheery and bright. He’d gotten a little pissed first thing that morning when his hair was entangled in fake cobwebs hanging above the kitchen sink. He determined that a short person had hung them, possibly Maddie. Even if she stood on a step stool, he doubted she’d be tall enough to get her hair caught in that shit.
As usual, Sam and Miguel loaded their horses into the stock trailer and headed for the grazing land.
Despite working at a disadvantage, they had a good day and made two trips to bring in forty head. After getting the bovines safely pastured, they tended to their horses and then went to their respective homes. Sam looked forward to seeing Maddie. She’d become like an addiction to him, and he needed his nightly fix. Only Maddie was nowhere to be seen.
“She’s feeling a little off tonight,” Cam said.
“Not again?” Sam was starting to get worried. Maddie would go for nearly two weeks feeling fine, and then she’d be sick, sometimes for as long as three days. “She sure gets sick a lot.”
Kirstin, sitting beside Cam on the sofa, pushed to her feet. “Gabriella left your dinner in the warmer and went home to make sure Miguel gets fed. I’ll get yours out on the table. You guys are really late tonight.”
“We brought in forty cows,” Sam told her. “Found three groups bunched up in thickets surrounded by rugged terrain. We had to herd each clutch down, one at a time. Otherwise they’d have bolted, and we’d have to start rounding them up all over again.” Sam shed his jacket and hat, depositing both on the entry hall coat-tree. Then he made a quick trip to the hallway bathroom to wash up. “I appreciate you putting out my dinner,” he said to Kirstin as he entered the kitchen.
As he thanked her, he realized that he seldom acknowledged her efforts anymore, and he resolved to fix that. I need to make a list. I’ve got so many failings I can’t keep track of them.
The kids were watching another movie tonight. Sam thought about going to his downstairs den for some peace and quiet, but he was tired and opted to go to bed instead. He’d no sooner settled in for the night than he heard a lowing sound. For a second he thought he and Miguel had missed a cow down at the pasture and left her running loose. But this noise was coming from somewhere inside the house.
He slept in his briefs and an undershirt, not appropriate attire in which to wander around the house when he had guests. He fished through his side of the walk-in closet to find a robe Annie had gotten him for Christmas years ago, a plaid flannel thing he’d always hated. But at least it would cover him up. Well, mostly, anyway. He was tall, and the hem hit him above the knees. Annie had intended to return it, but she never had. That had been so unlike her.
Then, out of nowhere, Sam’s memory sharpened. Annie hadn’t taken the robe back to exchange it because she’d been sick that Christmas. Sam froze and gripped the closet doorframe. How could he have forgotten that? It had been such a sad holiday season, with Annie receiving chemo infusions that had made her as sick as a dog. His heart had bled for her.
And it bled for her again now. Sam leaned against the interior wall of the closet and passed a hand over his eyes. Why were all these memories suddenly blindsiding him? He’d done his time with all this grief stuff. It had been more than six years. He should be over it now.
Only he guessed he wasn’t. Looking back, he recognized that he’d spent most of that time feeling numb or pissed off. He’d turned his back on everything that reminded him of his wife, especially the holidays. At least he’d thought of it as turning his back, but maybe the truth was that he’d run from everything that broke his heart. Sam’s life as a rancher had never been easy, and he’d learned the hard way that a man couldn’t overcome something until he faced it.
Had he ever really faced Annie’s death?
• • •
Maddie had awakened that morning feeling as if she’d been run over by all sixteen tires of a semitruck. The aching exhaustion had stayed with her all day and had been followed this evening by vomiting. Now she had the dry heaves because she’d been unable to hold anything down. Never in her memory had she gotten this sick from an infusion.
Trembling with weakness, she barely managed to get back in bed. Then she huddled under the covers, shaking with cold. Please, God, don’t let the kids hear me upchucking. Don’t let Caleb come to check on me. She had to get through this without them knowing how violently ill she was. She was too sick to think clearly and might reveal too much if they questioned her.
She’d locked the door to her room. Or had she? She’d meant to, but now she couldn’t remember for sure. Just then someone knocked. Maddie clutched the covers to her chest and stared at the ceiling. Just pretend you’re asleep, she thought. Whoever it is will go away.
“Maddie, it’s Sam. Are you okay in there? I heard what sounded like a cow lowing, and it came from your room.”
Sam. Maddie groaned under her breath. If she didn’t answer him, he would come in whether the door was locked or not.
“I’m fine,” she managed to call out in what she hoped was a steady voice. “I’ve come down with something. I don’t want anyone to catch it.”
“I won’t catch it. Let me bring you some juice or something. Maybe some crisp toast and a broth-based soup. Does that sound good?”
Maddie gagged at the mere thought and covered her mouth with the extra pillow until the spasm ended so Sam wouldn’t hear. Then she said, “I’ve got water, Sam. All I really want now is to sleep.”
She heard him sigh. “Okay, then. But if you need me during the night, I’m a light sleeper. Just holler for me.”
“I will.”
Only Maddie knew she wouldn’t. She yearned for a heating pad and a cold cloth on her forehead. She didn’t think she was feverish, so how would she explain the chills? She couldn’t let Cam and Caleb discover that she was battling this disease. They were only just now getting their feet on solid ground after Graham’s death. Caleb had brought no friends home and had started playing the violin instead of socializing. Maddie feared that he wasn’t settling in well at his new school. The building that would hold their future homes was progressing slower than molasses running up a hill. Everything was a mess. A complete mess. She wouldn’t add to their troubles by springing cancer on them at this late date. She only had to make it through Christmas, and then, if everything went well, she’d receive no more treatments. She could do this. She had to.
“I hope you feel better in the morning,” Sam said through the door panel.
“Me, too,” she pushed out.
Then she rolled out of bed onto her knees and crawled back to the toilet.
• • •
<
br /> Sam lay awake until after midnight. He couldn’t stop worrying about Maddie. She claimed that she’d had a complete physical last spring, but she’d never specifically said that she’d passed it with flying colors. What if she was sick? What if it was something serious? He was coming to have feelings for her. He’d already lost one woman. He didn’t think he could survive losing another one.
Sam realized how awful that sounded, even if only inside his head. This wasn’t about him, and it was wrong to be so self-centered. Maddie might be sick. He needed to be concerned for her, not for himself.
He rolled onto his side and tried to sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day.
• • •
On Sunday Maddie felt strong enough to face her family, Kirstin, and Sam, with her dread rating highest for Sam. He was a sharp man and missed very little. Maddie felt weak. Vomiting almost ceaselessly for two days had left broken capillaries on her eyelids and cheeks, which she tried to cover with makeup. She added blush to her cheekbones and then wiped as much of it away as she could, because it stood out against her pallor like Rudolph’s nose on a dark night.
As she tottered out to the kitchen, she was relieved to learn that Sam and Miguel had already left to round up more cattle. Gabriella was getting better with English. She smiled at Maddie and said, “Men gone.” Maddie hated that Sam and Miguel were up against such a big job alone, but she was inexpressibly glad that she wouldn’t be under scrutiny from those laser-sharp steel blue eyes until evening. She could drink some ginger tea or maybe a glass of juice, and try to regain her strength without being grilled as if she were a criminal.
She had just gotten settled on a chair at the long dining table when Cam rolled in. She’d forgotten about him being mostly stuck in the house and bored out of his mind. He parked beside her and wrinkled his nose. “God, Mom, I don’t know how you choke that stinking stuff down.”
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