by Holt,Debra
When the phone rang at nine that evening, she had already seated herself on the foot of her bed, trying to keep her eyes from going to the bedside clock too many times. Nevertheless, she answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Am I calling at a good time?”
“It’s fine,” she replied, sounding calm even as her pulses bolted into full speed at the sound of his deep voice. “How are you?”
“I’m great now that I hear your voice.”
“Did you have a bad day?”
“Just frustrating. Travis and I were trying to get the fencing crews moving into high gear on the addition of the pasture he bought from the Craigs. Then the grader went down when I was trying to clean up the firebreaks along the fence lines. The usual stuff, I guess, but I did have more important things on my mind.”
“Such as?”
“Such as you and me. And what I hope will happen on Saturday. I promised I wouldn’t push you on that subject for any hint of an answer, but I admit it’s very hard. So we’d better change the subject.”
His chuckle made her grin in spite of herself.
“Tonight is your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Why didn’t you at least call me or write me after you left? Were you too busy even for that?”
Silence met the question at first. Then he blew out a noisy breath and replied. “I wasn’t too busy. I was too ashamed. It was easier to tell myself that I would be seeing you soon when I made my triumphant return and all would be forgiven. As for writing or calling … I had no idea what I could possibly say to you that would make things right.”
“Were there other girls?” Macy laid it out there and then held her breath.
Only a heartbeat passed before he answered. “No, Macy. I had plenty of nights where there were more than a few groupies hanging around us in the bars or arenas, and I had more than a few offers. But I can swear on a stack of Bibles if I have to, I never slept with any of them or had any other romantic involvements. You were always there in my head. Your blue eyes were my conscience. No other girl could ever make you go away. Do you believe me when I say that?”
Do I? “Yes … I think I do.” And she did. It wasn’t just because she wanted to—it was more than that. For once, her head and heart agreed.
“How about you? Were you and Mike serious at any point?”
“No, I wasn’t serious about Mike. Definitely not the way he deserved. He really is a good guy, but—” she stopped.
“But?”
Truth was what they both sought, so she decided to give him that. “He wasn’t you. You sort of set a standard, I guess. And for a while after you left … well, I didn’t want to have anything to do with any member of the male species.”
“I’m sorry, Macy.”
They were both silent for a few moments, lost in separate thoughts.
“I hope you know when I say these next words, you won’t think I’m being condescending or anything. But I’m proud of you.”
That certainly caught her off guard. “Proud of me? Why would you say that?”
“Because of the way you did get your life back on track. How you’ve made quite a reputation for your work with horses and you stand up to anyone or anything on your own two feet. While I might miss the Macy girl I once knew, I really admire the woman she has become. And you did it on your own.”
There he went again with making her weepy inside. If she had changed, so had he. That sudden revelation hit her hard. “Thanks, Trace. That means a lot. And it’s getting late. I really need to get some sleep.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. I’ll try to call earlier tomorrow night. Good night, Macy.”
“Night, Trace.”
The next evening, Trace called as she was finishing the dinner dishes. Walking into the living room, she curled up in a corner of the couch and answered the phone.
“Hi, Trace.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Hope this is early enough for you. Did you have a good day?”
“Yes, I did. One of the horses I trained for Claire Evans put her up as leader in the standings in barrel racing.”
“That’s great! But was there ever any doubt your horses would be on that level?”
It was nice to have a cheering section led by Trace. She felt herself smiling easily and more than once during their conversation.
“And how was your day?”
“Busy. I’ve been tying up loose ends and leaving instructions for while I’m gone.”
Her heart caught on a beat. Was he going away? “Gone where?”
He laughed. “Well, I’m being confident in that I plan to leave tomorrow evening for a honeymoon. You haven’t forgotten about the date I hope we have for tomorrow? This is the night before our wedding day.”
She felt the smile leave her face. Tomorrow … wedding day. Maybe she had tried to forget it. Things had been changing so much over the last three days. Trace had clouded her thoughts even more with his calls.
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”
There was a quiet seriousness in his tone when he responded. “I won’t push it. I gave you my word. It does help me, though, to allow myself to think that tomorrow I’ll have a second chance with the woman I love … a chance to make an incredible life along with you. But that’s all I’ll say.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Then I guess I should let you go.”
She was hesitant. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Macy—” he began, but didn’t finish.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
The way he said it made tears cloud her vision. She was suddenly afraid, and she was about to lose control. “I know, Trace. I … well, have a good night.” She hung up like the coward she felt. So many emotions filled her that she was even more confused than ever. It was that moment she wished for someone to talk with.
An hour later, Macy finally broke down and picked up the phone to call Annie, only to find she’d gone back to Dallas for a couple of days on business. She didn’t want to talk about all that had happened with Trace over the phone, so she was on her own. Lying awake into the dark of the night and beyond, she searched for answers to why she was still so afraid of making the wrong decision.
Chapter 15
Saturday morning dawned, and Macy watched the sun come up from her bedroom window. Her wedding day. It was a lot different from the last one. She’d grown up, for one thing. She was her own person. She could take care of herself and didn’t need to be an appendage of any man. Pacing back and forth, she allowed her fingers to fiddle with the ring on her left hand. Meanwhile, the war continued between her brain and her heart. Three times, she picked up the phone to call Trace. Each time, she disconnected before it could ring through to him. It was entirely up to her—her decision alone. He was placing his trust in her to make the right decision. He was standing true to his word. Please talk to me, God. Tell me what to do. Give me a sign … anything. But no answer came.
When she examined every conversation between them—ten years ago and then over the last few weeks and then the phone calls over the last three nights—Macy began to see things more clearly. The trust issue was definitely still there, but if she wanted the truth in all areas, then she had to use the same magnifying glass on herself that she did on him. When she did that—when she was truthful with herself and with Trace—she had to acknowledge what lay beneath her inability to trust. It was fear. Fear of loving him again and then losing him. Again. She had barely survived the first time. If she gave her trust and her heart to him again and he left her … she didn’t think she would make it through.
On the other side of that argument, if she didn’t put herself out there and if she didn’t place her faith in Trace and his love for her, what would that say about her and any future relationships?
Future relationships? There would be no further chance for those. Her heart saw only one pe
rson, and that was Trace. The battle continued.
At a quarter of one, Macy walked down the stairs. She had done her hair and makeup and had even donned a cream-colored dress with tiny lavender flowers embroidered on it—just in case. She had waffled back and forth over the last couple of hours. It wasn’t exactly a wedding outfit, but then again, she wasn’t certain she’d be going anywhere. She was no closer to a decision than she had been days ago. Whatever sign she sought, whatever divine intervention, there had been no answer. As she reached the bottom step, she caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror.
Who are you? What do you want?
Her eyes moved to the framed photograph on the wall … a black-and-white photo of her grandparents on their wedding day. They had eloped because her grandmother’s parents thought she was too young to marry at age seventeen. Their marriage had lasted forty years, until her grandfather had suffered a stroke while out in the pasture working with the cattle. He had died before they could get him into town to the doctor. Macy looked at the smiling woman in the photo and wondered what had gone through her mind as the photo was snapped. She looked so happy and so certain of everything.
Gram’s words came as a soft whisper through her mind. Be still; always listen to your heart. Trust it. The heart will lead you home, Macy. Faith will always bring the greatest peace and allow you to feel the truest love.
Be still. Trust it. Macy closed her eyes and cleared her mind of the lists of pros and cons, of the old hurts and the excuses. For a long time, she stood still in the quiet of the old house. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock broke the silence. Long moments passed and with them, an easing—a feeling of weights lifting away from her heart one by one. Her mind cleared of the clutter that didn’t really matter. The feeling of being overwhelmed wasn’t there any longer. Slowly she opened her eyes, and the answer was clear—in her mind the same as it was in her heart. The clarity of it all shocked her.
There was only one answer, one road—and it led to Trace. Trace and home. They were one and the same. Few people got second chances for happiness. Love took faith. God had given her the strength to move forward and grow stronger, to become the person she was meant to be. He had also laid His peace on Trace’s heart when he was lost, showing him the way home again. Gram’s words reminded her that in God, all things were possible—she had only to believe … to have hope … to cherish love as the basis for faith in the future.
But she was about to throw away her last chance for the happiness and love she had always wanted. The chime of the clock brought a gasp as she saw the time. She was going to be late! Grabbing the truck keys from the hall table, she raced out of the house. The only thought in her head was to get to the church. She couldn’t be late. She finally knew what she wanted … where she belonged. Her feet couldn’t move fast enough. She had spent so much time running away from the past, and now she was running toward her future.
All things considered, Macy’s speedy flight toward town went well—until she topped the rise on the edge of town and found a train blocking the crossing. Trains often used the area for coupling and uncoupling boxcars; it was a nuisance the locals were used to. But not today, of all days! She had no time to spare. She was third in line, and soon other vehicles had pulled up behind her. A glance at her watch told her she had ten minutes before she was supposed to meet Trace. She grabbed for her purse and the phone inside of it and then real panic set in. No purse. Her mind raced backward. She had grabbed her keys from the bowl on the hall table, but her purse had been in the kitchen and her cell phone with it. What an idiot! She couldn’t believe what a fool thing she had done in her haste to get to town. No purse. No phone. No way to let Trace know.
Think, Macy, think! Find a solution. There was another road into town about a mile behind her. It would take her around the train situation, but it added five or six miles to the trip. She had to try it.
She had a heck of a time maneuvering the truck out of the line of cars. They were queued tightly at the crossing, and her vehicle wasn’t known for maneuverability. She jumped from the truck and ran to the drivers in front her. She was able to get them to ease forward a bit, but the vehicle behind her was locked in by the truck behind it. No matter. She’d do this or die trying. Finally, with inches to spare, she cleared the line and floored the truck toward the distant cutoff. The clock on the dashboard showed one minute until two.
Please. Please, God. This can’t happen. The prayer kept flying through her brain until she began to speak it aloud in the quiet of the truck’s cab, her fingers grasping the steering wheel in an anxious death grip.
Macy tried to calm the jangled nerves that made her want to ignore the speed limit signs. Maybe the clock in the truck was fast. No, it’s not. The voice in her head was not cooperating.
Reaching the turnoff, she made a sharp left and picked up some speed. A large detour sign crowded the edge of the road, the cautionary lights around it blinking on and off. Give me a break! She banged her fist on the steering wheel. Was fate conspiring against her? What would Trace be thinking? Would he try to call her cell phone? When she didn’t answer, would he think she was ignoring him again—that she was standing him up?
Why did this have to happen now? Why had she wasted so much time debating her answer this morning, when in the final analysis, it had been such an easy decision? Why hadn’t she stood still and listened earlier—not arguing, not second-guessing, simply trusting God to give her the answer?
The road turned to gravel, and she had no choice but to slow down. Macy was so frustrated at that point, she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she have one wedding day where everything went right? Why couldn’t she have a wedding day, period?
The detour ended after a couple of miles, and she resumed her speed. She entered the outskirts of Cartwright’s Crossing and took a couple of right turns. Finally, luck was on her side—the traffic lights cooperated. She turned the last corner, registering the time. Eighteen minutes after two. Her heart plummeted, but in the next moment, a wave of relief washed over her. Thank you, God! She screeched to a halt in the no-parking zone in front of the church. There was Trace, sitting on the top step, dressed in a black suit, his hat in his hands, and his eyes concealed behind sunglasses. He looked like he had been waiting awhile. She had some explaining to do. Would he listen?
“I’m late. I am so sorry!” She exited the truck quickly and moved to the bottom step in front of him. Her words poured out in a breathless rush. “There was a darn train in the way and then a detour and … I guess you thought I wasn’t coming.”
“The thought did cross my mind a time or two.” Trace looked at her, slowly removing the glasses and sliding them into a jacket pocket. He focused his gaze upon her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He stayed where he was at the top of the stairs.
She couldn’t tell if he was angry or disappointed or what. He just waited. It was time for the truth, and it was up to her to speak it. “I didn’t know I was coming until about an hour ago. I would have tried to call you, but I left the house so quickly I forgot my phone.”
“I see,” he said in an even tone. “I thought maybe this was your idea of payback for me leaving you on these same steps.”
“Well—that might have been poetic justice if I had decided to turn down your proposal. I almost did. But then we had those phone conversations and things began to change and then I decided to accept. When I realized the time, I ran out of the house without my purse—and my cell phone inside it. And then there was this ridiculously long train blocking the tracks, so I had to take another road, only there was a detour and—”
His raised palm brought her speech to a halt. A pile of nerves knotted in her stomach. What if he was so angry or upset with her that he decided to change his mind and not marry her? Was that why he didn’t want to hear what she had to say?
“Back up to the part where you said you decided to accept my proposal,” he instructed, easing from his seat and placing his Stetson back on his
head. He took a couple of steps down to stand in front of her.
“I said I decided to marry you. But I’ve arrived too late, and you’re the only one still here, so I’ve made a mess of things.” She searched the spaces in front of the church for any sign of the reverend’s car, then looked back at Trace nervously. “I, um—”
A tentative smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. She couldn’t define the gleam in the eyes that watched her from beneath the brim of his hat. He pushed his jacket back and rested his hands on either hip as he waited for her to finish. Well, no one said this would be easy. Move on.
“I was overthinking things—as usual. Then I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and I looked at the clock and saw Gram’s wedding photo beside it. That’s when I remembered something Gram always said, and it cleared everything up in my mind in an instant. It’s the only thing that made sense, and it was so simple after all.”
“And what words would those be?”
“To trust my heart, that it would always lead me home. It would always speak the truth. If I stood still and listened to it, my heart wouldn’t lead me wrong. She told me to place my faith in God and let Him handle the rest. So I did that. I cleared everything from my mind … all the clutter from the past … the pain and the anger. I let go of everything I had been holding to so tightly. And it was all suddenly so clear. My heart told me that home is where you are. The love I had for you is still here—it always has been. I couldn’t possibly have loved you all this time if I didn’t still have faith—if I didn’t still trust in us and in the love we had. I’ve seen how you’ve changed, even though I tried not to. I didn’t want to lose the Trace I knew, but you’re still you. Only now, you’re just the best part of you … if that makes sense. I needed to admit that we’d both made mistakes.