by Mandy Baggot
She couldn’t look directly at Jason but she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at her, his red hair flopping into his eyes, his plate piled high with chicken and fries.
“Robyn…” Jason began.
“Don’t talk to her,” Cole ordered, stepping forward.
“No, Cole, don’t…please. This is our night, don’t let him spoil it,” Robyn begged, turning to face him, a pleading expression on her face.
“We’re going to sit down over there,” Grant ordered his son.
“Dad, she has to know,” Jason began, nudging his father’s arm.
“She has to know what?” Cole inquired, glaring at Jason.
“Jason, I’m warning you. Just go sit down and eat,” Grant said gruffly.
“What do I need to know?” Robyn asked, swallowing.
“The District Attorney has decided to reopen the case; I’m going to clear my name,” Jason said.
“That’s enough. You’ve told her, now let’s just go and eat,” Grant ordered, taking his son by the arm.
“But why would they do that without new evidence?” Robyn asked, her tone thick with shock.
“They have new evidence. I found a witness who saw me in our backyard right around the time you were…” Jason started.
“That’s enough. We’re going to sit down. Now!” Grant said, shooing Jason across the restaurant.
Robyn took a deep breath and looked at Cole.
“You okay?” Cole asked her.
“If he has a witness then…” Robyn started.
How did you analyze information like that? If someone had seen Jason in his yard, then he couldn’t have been the one to attack her. But then again, they had interviewed everyone at the time, why suddenly had someone come forward? Could he or she be believed? Thoughts spun around in her head and she couldn’t take them in.
“Listen, let’s not think about anything until you hear officially. You must have had some sort of caseworker when it was all going on. If what he says is true, they’ll be contacting you,” Cole reassured, putting his arm around her.
“Yeah, her name was Trudy and she kept suggesting I cry. I don’t know whether it was because she thought it would help or whether she just liked seeing people cry.”
“Hey, come on, nothing’s changed; we’re on our first date. You’ve brought me to this great place and you’re making me hold off from the food! Man, look at it all!” Cole said, indicating the platters all lined up under the heat lamps.
“Why did he have to be here? Tonight was supposed to be special,” Robyn said with a frustrated sigh.
“Hey, look at me. It is going to be special. Starting with soup, right?” Cole told her.
“Don’t be fooled into having the soup. It’s nice but it’s stuffed full of dumplings to make you so full you can’t manage anything else. I start with burritos and work my way through until I get to apple pie,” Robyn explained.
“You’re going to have to show me the way; it sounds like I’m a complete eating novice,” Cole replied, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Now you hold the gun like this,” Robyn said later at the turkey shoot at Logan’s Country Bar.
“Like this?”
“Oh God, put it down! Cole! You can’t be waving it around like that! Have you never shot before?” Robyn asked, grabbing the weapon from him.
“Robyn, I know Chicago has developed a bit of a reputation, but we weren’t all tooled up on my street,” Cole answered.
“Some weeks, when I was small, this is what you had to do for a decent dinner. Here, like this,” she said, taking his gun and positioning him around it.
She held his hips as he looked down the barrel and lined up with the mid-distance target. Bringing her here had taken a lot of thought. He knew what she’d like. He accepted she wasn’t a girly girl. She could feel the muscles at the bottom of his back and she felt her stomach contract.
“Where are the turkeys?” Cole asked, still looking down the gun.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“We don’t really shoot turkeys, Cole. That’s what they did in bygone days, now we’re aiming at targets. Like there! And there!” Robyn pointed out.
She picked up her gun and released a pellet at each target.
Cole dropped his gun to the floor and hurried to cover his ears with his hands.
“Whoa! I’d forgotten how good that felt,” Robyn said with a laugh of excitement.
“Really?”
“Really. Come on, it’s your turn,” Robyn urged him.
“I think I’m going to be lucky if I manage to hit a tree. What’s the prize?” Cole asked her.
“Turkey!” Robyn announced.
“I don’t even really like turkey,” Cole admitted, lining up his gun.
“We’ll pluck it and strip it and chuck it in with some pasta…or we could always barbecue. Shoot God damn it!” Robyn urged.
Cole fired the gun and, after the sound of his shot had echoed away, there was a loud squawk. Something large and dark gray fell out of the tree in front of them.
“Jeez, Cole, you just shot a turkey at a turkey shoot!” Robyn exclaimed, staring at him with a mixture of horror and awe in her expression.
“Does that mean we win?”
He had to drive home, but he could really have done with a beer. He was nervous and the box in his pocket was weighing heavier as the night went on. Robyn had won fifty dollars and a frozen turkey for being the best shot of the night, and the turkey he had mistakenly killed was being packaged up for them to take home.
Now Robyn was chatting to two cowboys about the Panthers and suggesting they come to watch the next match. Despite his apprehension about what he wanted to do, this was the best night he’d ever had.
“So, you don’t shoot, you’re not so keen on turkey, you like a loose milk carton lid…please tell me you dance,” Robyn said to him, downing the contents of her beer bottle.
“Come on, Robyn, I’m a guy. Guys don’t dance,” Cole reminded her.
“Cole Ryan, you are sexist! You lied to me on that plane ride! How can I believe anything you say ever again?” Robyn asked, her hand on her chest.
The jukebox kicked into Brooks and Dunn and people began hurrying to the dance floor.
“Do you think Gerry from maintenance came here with Leonora?” Robyn asked him, taking hold of his hand.
“I know they did,” he replied, smiling at her.
“Well, we’re driving the car, we’d better not let her memory down. Come on,” Robyn said.
She pulled Cole down off the bar stool and led him into the middle of the dance floor.
“Robyn, I don’t dance. What are they all doing?” Cole exclaimed, looking at the people around them.
“Line dancing. Come on, try it. Just copy everyone else,” Robyn urged as she put her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans and mimicked the other dancers.
“You tell any of the team about this, I mean any of them, you’re on cooking duty for a month and that doesn’t include barbecue,” Cole said as he tried to step in time.
“You think they don’t dance? You wait until the roadhouse reopens, you need to practice,” Robyn shouted over the music to him.
“In Chicago we call this freestyle,” Cole replied, taking her hand and spinning her around.
“Wait, don’t get out yet,” Cole said as he turned off Leonora’s engine.
They’d arrived home, fifty dollars and two turkeys better off and high on the excitement of the night.
“You want me to sing another Reba McEntire number?”
“I really don’t.”
“You know, I know you weren’t keen on the dancing but at the end there, you really had something going on,” Robyn said, smiling at him.
“I bought you something,” Cole said, getting the box out of his jeans.
He held it out to her and she took it.
“I saw it. The j
eweler said there isn’t another one like it. I had to get it,” Cole told her nervously.
Robyn opened the box to reveal a white gold and diamond ring. The front of it was shaped into a leaping panther, encrusted in diamonds. It was the most unusual and beautiful ring she had ever seen.
“Cole,” Robyn said, tears pricking her eyes as she took the ring out of its box and held it in her hand.
“I know how much the team means to you. I know how much you love this town, and I also know how much courage it must have taken you to get on that plane and come back. But I’m so glad you did or we would never have met,” Cole told her.
“It’s so beautiful,” Robyn said, running her fingers over the panther’s jewels.
“I know you don’t want to tell anyone yet, but let me put it on, just for now,” Cole said, taking the ring and holding her hand.
He slid it onto the ring finger of Robyn’s left hand and held it in his.
“Is it too tight? The guy in the store said we could get it sized,” Cole said.
“It’s perfect Cole. Come on, get out,” Robyn ordered, squeezing his hand and then pulling the handle of the car door.
“I was going to put her in the garage,” Cole said, unmoving.
“Get out, Ryan, get up here with me,” Robyn called, approaching Leonora’s hood.
Cole watched as Robyn stepped up onto the hood and hauled herself up onto the roof of the vehicle.
“Hey! Are you crazy?” he yelled, hurrying out from behind the wheel.
She laid along the length of the roof, her arms folded behind her head, looking up at the sky. She took a deep breath and held it in, soaking up the still of the night.
“What are you doing?” Cole asked when he got out of the car.
“Are you coming or are you going to make me pull your ass up here?”
He heaved himself up onto the hood and followed her path up to the roof of the Mustang, sliding himself alongside her and maneuvering until he was lying on his back.
“What are we looking at?” he asked in barely more than a whisper.
“I had a pony once. She was named Mitzy. She had an aversion to anything that was good for her and barely moved above a trot. But when we rode out, I was Reba McEntire in my jeans and my Stetson, singing at the top of my voice and not caring who heard or how bad it was. I loved that horse, she gave me somewhere to escape to when Mom and Dad’s fighting got to be too much,” Robyn said.
Her eyes were still on the sky and the memory from long ago was jabbing at her. She felt Cole take a deep breath beside her and she let the words come out.
“She died. Got colic and it was too bad to do anything,” Robyn stated.
Cole found her hand and squeezed it in his as she continued.
“I cried for a week, all day and all night. Nothing anyone said could make it better. Until Old Man Harrison came round. He bought a new halter, a whole bag of Hershey’s Kisses, and he told me to get my lazy ass out of bed. He got me riding his new pony, said he needed someone to break her in, and then we ate the chocolate. By the time we’d eaten all the chocolate and named the pony, it was dark and he’d looked up at the sky and told me to pick out the brightest one. I can tell you, for an eight year old kid, that took a long time, but I finally settled on it. He said, That’s Mitzy and she’ll be there, every time you look up. He was a crazy old man,” Robyn said, swallowing a lump in her throat.
“So, where is she? Show me,” Cole said, looking skywards again.
“She’s right there, and that one, to the left, that’s the star I picked for Old Man Harrison the night Sarah told me he’d died,” Robyn admitted, pointing to a bright star.
Cole gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, teasing the engagement ring against her little finger.
“I thought we could choose one for your dad,” Robyn stated, looking to Cole.
She saw the tears form in his eyes and he looked away from her, up to the inky blanket above, filled with twinkling stars that all looked as bright as each other.
“My dad loved horses. Do you think we can put him next to Mitzy?” Cole asked.
“Sure. Look, she’s nuzzling his hand right now.”
Chapter Thirty-two
“Sarah, this is the fourth voicemail I’ve left for you. Where are you? What’s going on? Please call me,” Robyn shouted into her phone.
Today she was meeting Cole’s mother and she’d been panicking about it all morning. On top of that, Sarah was being completely unresponsive to her calls and Nancy and Milo were fighting. She knew it was because Nancy was anxious about Eddie’s operation, and Robyn had given her the task of making lunch for Mrs. Ryan to keep her mind off of it. Leaving them unattended at the roadhouse would go one of two ways. She’d either go back to find them bonding over the pool table or Milo would be locked up in the cellar. At the moment, it was the least of her concerns.
She carefully took the chicken stew out of Leonora and hurried up the path to the front door. Immediately she noticed someone sitting on the doorstep. It was Mickey. He was dressed in overalls and he looked disheveled, like he hadn’t slept or showered. He had a bottle of lager in his hand.
“Mickey. What are you doing here?” Robyn asked, stopping in front of him.
“Is Sarah here? I rang the bell, I knocked on the door, and I went round back, but there was no sign. I tried to call you, but it kept going to voicemail,” Mickey stuttered, standing up.
“She isn’t here. I’ve been trying to call her. What’s happened? You look terrible,” Robyn remarked.
“She left me,” Mickey stated, tears welling up in his eyes.
“What? But, I thought Cole told you what to do. You were supposed to propose to her,” Robyn exclaimed, putting her key in the door and pushing it open.
“I was going to, but when I got home, she was packing her stuff.”
“Well, why didn’t you stop her? You should have taken her clothes back out of the case, put them back in the closet, and got down on one knee,” Robyn said, entering the alarm code to stop the beeping.
“She wouldn’t even talk to me. She was crying, and I asked her what was wrong and she just said nothing. Not one word,” Mickey explained as tears spilled from his eyes.
“And she just left? Didn’t she even tell you where she was going? When did this happen?” Robyn wanted to know.
She took the container of soup out of the bag and placed it on the side.
“Last night.”
“Last night! And she isn’t at work? Have you called everyone we know?”
“I called her work. I called Diane from her work. I called Brad and Henrik this morning. I didn’t call anyone last night because I thought she’d be here with you, and I wanted to give her some space,” Mickey tried to explain.
“Okay, right, well, we’re just going to have to wait until she surfaces,” Robyn said, looking out of the window and noticing Cole’s car pull into the drive.
“But where is she? Do you think she’s left town?” Mickey asked.
“No, she won’t have done that,” Robyn said, distracted.
She watched as Cole got out of the car and went to open the passenger door.
“I just want a chance to say the right thing. I love her, Robyn, and yeah, maybe I am scared of getting married. But if I’d known how much she really wanted to do it then…” Mickey began, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his overalls.
“Look, Mickey, I’ll call Pam. I’ll call everyone else I can think of, and if I find her, I will let you know. You have to go now. Cole’s brought home an important client and I have to prepare soup,” Robyn said quickly, watching as a small, dark-haired lady got out of the car.
“You promise you’ll call me?” Mickey asked, clutching his beer bottle to his chest like it was a life preserver.
“Yes, I promise. Now give me that and get back to work. If you’re going to give Sarah this wedding, you’re going to need every penny you can get,” Robyn said, snatching the bottle from him and droppi
ng it into the recycling bin.
“You don’t think it’s too late? You think she’ll give me another chance?” Mickey asked as Robyn hastily shooed him to the door.
“Let’s hope so,” Robyn said, smiling at Cole as he approached with his mother.
“Hey, Cole. Afternoon, ma’am,” Mickey greeted in a lackluster voice as he walked past them.
“Mom, this is Mickey. Is everything okay, man?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, great. Sarah’s left me and now she’s missing. I’d better go…Brad said he’d check the local hotels,” Mickey said, waving a hand as he headed back up the drive.
Robyn smiled at Cole’s mother as they approached the door. She was petite and pretty with an almost Asian look to her features. She had olive-colored skin and was wearing a turquoise blue dress that skirted her ankles.
“Mom, this is Robyn. Robyn, this is Martha, my mom,” Cole introduced.
“It’s so nice to meet you. Cole talks about you all the time. How was your flight? Did they give you the Bombay mix or the pretzels? I prefer the pretzels, they don’t stick in your teeth or repeat on you so much,” Robyn babbled as she smiled at Martha.
“Unfortunately, we had the Bombay mix, but I didn’t actually eat any,” Martha informed her with a smile of amusement.
“Robyn eats more than me, Mom,” Cole informed her as he led the way into the house.
“He’s exaggerating. We went out for dinner last night and Cole didn’t manage to finish his dessert. He’s sore about that,” Robyn told her.
“I stopped before I felt sick, the way I’ve been raised. And it was the right thing to do.”
“Martha, would you like coffee or something cold? We’ve got apple juice,” Robyn offered.
“Have we?” Cole asked.
“Yes, we have…in the healthy section of the refrigerator.”
“Do we have a healthy section?”
“We do now.”
“A coffee would be good,” Martha accepted, her attention darting between them.
“Great! Well, I’ll make some coffee and Cole can show you around the house. Excuse the mess, I only managed to vacuum once this morning. Usually, when I’m not managing my roadhouse, I do it twice a day, every day,” Robyn informed happily.