by Beth Andrews
Out of nowhere, the banging started again, the firecracker pops echoing around him like gunshots. It was just the heater, complaining, but it was too late to tell himself that. His body was already reacting, before his mind could catch up.
Pop. Bang.
The tremor flared to life, and his arm began to shake. Then his legs softened. His knee joints grew soupy. The sounds reverberated hollowly, as if they’d been caught inside his skull, and bounced off every cranial wall.
His heart knocked frantically, demanding his ribs to open and let it free. He fell to his knees, his elbows over his ears, his hands locked behind his head. It was dark. He smelled the oil-gas mixture of dirty power tools....
Oh, God...
Then, suddenly, a rectangle of silver light tilted across the floor.
“Dad?”
He squeezed his elbows together, somehow silencing the tremors. He took a deep breath.
“Yes. I’ll be right up. What is it?”
His voice sounded almost normal. She would probably assume that the edge of thin tension was merely annoyance.
“I wanted to tell you I’m going out back. There is, like, a little orchard, over by the school. Just beyond the fence.”
“Okay.” He took another deep breath. Her voice, even crabby and unfriendly as it always was these days, pulled him to shore, as surely as if it were a bowline tied to a dock.
And the light helped, too. There had never been light, before....
One muscle at a time, the trembling subsided. His heart calmed, accepting that it must stay in his body.
“Okay,” he repeated. “Be careful, though. Stay away from the water I just drained. And don’t go so far that you can’t hear me if I call.”
“I have my cell,” she observed sourly, as though he were being deliberately dense. But when he didn’t respond to that, she surrendered. “Okay, I’ll stay nearby. Remember, though, if you get distracted later by work or something, I did tell you where I was going.”
“Yeah.” He stood, though he felt the need to touch the wall for balance. His head finally began to clear. “Thank you for that, Ellie. I’m really glad you did.”
CHAPTER THREE
BELL RIVER RANCH was only two miles out of downtown Silverdell proper—which luckily didn’t leave enough driving time for doubt or insecurity to set in. Penny rolled down the windows of the rental car and let the cool early-fall breeze blow through her hair. The air smelled sweet, like Russian sage, rose and cosmos, all of which had been planted along the fringes of the Bell River property years ago. It was, to Penny, the defining scent of Home.
And, as always, it triggered a dozen contradictory emotions inside her. Excitement. Fear. Loss. Hope.
Home.
When she spotted the big, two-story timber-and-brick main house rising up around the bend, she slowed the car to a crawl. She needed to let her emotions move through her, giving the intensity time to subside.
The place looked wonderful, new roof gleaming in the morning sun, grass as green as finger paint rolling out in all directions. The trees burned gold and orange and red, but were still full and leafy—the best of both summer and fall, as if the seasons had decided to share this one overlapping month of August.
But...oh, look at all those cars. So many people! Penny had received regular updates from her sisters, so she knew that business was good, but she hadn’t quite absorbed what that meant. There would be guests everywhere. No real privacy, for explaining. And Bree’s new guy—Grayson Harper—he’d be there, too, and Penny would meet him for the first time.
Worst of all, once Bree and Ro heard that Penny intended to stay in Silverdell, but not with them...that she’d bought her own house...
Explaining why without hurting anyone’s feelings could take hours.
Was she ready for all that? She glanced into the rearview mirror, into her own wide, expectant eyes, which looked abnormally bright and alive. Partly it was the reflected color from the vivid turquoise-navy-and-pink-flowered pattern of her dress. This dress had been her only new purchase since Ruth’s death.
The “Russian doll” dress was so unlike anything she’d worn—at least since she was a child. The people at the ice-cream store didn’t know her, so they didn’t know how out of character it was. But Bree and Ro hadn’t seen her look like this in years.
Was it too much? Too conspicuous? She remembered Ruth’s voice, pronouncing flatly that “flamboyant” clothes made her look cheap, or foolish.
Ruth had insisted on neutrals—white shirts, gray slacks, khaki skirts and brown or black shoes. For someone who loved color and pattern as much as Penny did—and had ever since she was a little girl gathering flowers to make garlands for her ponies—such a drab palette was torture.
She smiled at her reflection, and the flicker of doubt soon disappeared. She loved Ruth—but the old lady had been wrong. This brightly colored dress, with its long, belled sleeves and gathered empire waist, might not look like a nun’s habit, but it suited Penny. It put pink in her cheeks and blue in her eyes.
Or had that impulsive ice-cream kiss done those things?
It didn’t matter. She was happy, and she was comfortable in her own skin, her own clothes, for the first time in a long time. She didn’t even care that she had worn no makeup—she rarely did—or that her ponytail had been torn to shreds by the wind through the windows.
She was ready.
She pulled into Bell River and drove around back, to the little parking lot. But that was full, so she rounded the house on the other side, till she reached the front. She parked near the new fountain, and then, without thinking much about it, walked all the way to the back again, so that she could enter by the kitchen door.
Her aversion to the front foyer hadn’t ever subsided, and she wasn’t going to add that to today’s list of hurdles she needed to clear.
“Penny?”
She had climbed halfway up toward the back porch steps when she heard Rowena’s voice, equal parts shock and delight. “Pea, is it really you?”
Penny smiled as Ro came rushing through the door, her arms still full of linens she’d obviously been folding. Rowena had always been an uncorked bottle of raw emotion. The difference, now that she’d found true love here in Bell River, was that the emotion bubbling out of her was happiness, not anger.
“What on earth are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?” She draped an unfolded sheet across her shoulder like a toga, freeing her arms for hugging. The sheet was warm, straight from the dryer, and smelled sweet and clean.
“I’m sorry,” Penny said. “I wanted to surprise you, so—”
“I’m surprised, all right!” Rowena laughed. “Look at you! You look fantastic!” She smoothed the sleeve of Penny’s dress affectionately, with that big-sister pride, and Penny grinned as if she’d just gotten an A on something important. “But darn it. We’ve got every single room rented out through September. If I’d known you were coming...”
Rowena frowned, her green eyes fiercely focused on solving the problem immediately. “Let’s see—”
“It’s okay, Ro.” Penny took a breath. “You see, I’m not—”
“Naw, don’t worry.” Rowena grinned, tucked her hand under Penny’s elbow and led her toward the house. “We’ll think of something. We’ll kick Alec out of his room if we have to. He’s in the doghouse anyhow, for sneaking out last night, and—”
“I did not sneak out! I left a note!” As if out of nowhere, Alec suddenly bounded up the stairs behind them. “Hi, Penny! You can have my room if you want, but I did not sneak out!”
Penny turned, hardly recognizing the mud ball she saw rushing toward her. Rowena’s new stepson, ten-year-old Alec Garwood, was ordinarily a twinkling, ridiculously handsome four-foot-three hunk of pure mischief. Today, though...
Today Alec’s clothes and cowboy boots were black, his hands were silver, and his face and hair were gray. At first glance he looked like a statue, but Penny realized quickly that he was covered in mud from head to toe—his thick blond thatch sticking out like a witch’s broom, and his white teeth and blue eyes gleaming from his gray face like jewels embedded in a cave wall.
He hugged Penny as if everything were perfectly normal, though, and seemed shocked when Rowena cried out in a mixture of laughter and horror. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re going to ruin Pea’s pretty dress!”
“Why?” Alec reared back, insulted. Then he glanced down at his hands. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Trouble was chasing a duck. I had to stop him. He’s even dirtier than I am.”
“Great.” Rowena rolled her eyes—but there was no real anger in her voice. From the start, Rowena had doted on this rascally little boy. “That dog’s not coming in the house until he’s clean. And neither are you.” She poked the tip of her index finger onto the center of Alec’s head, and twirled it to signal that he should turn around. “Barn hose. Now.”
Alec smiled, showing those diamond teeth and cracking the drying mud around his lips. He never minded being scolded, which was a good thing, since he seemed chronically to be in trouble.
“See you later, Penny,” he said, waving a filthy hand, dislodging gobbets of mud, which then rained onto the porch. “If you use my room, be careful. Definitely don’t open the jar under the bed, okay?”
“Oh, my dear Lord.” Rowena laughed out loud. “Scat, you disgusting creature!”
They both watched the boy trot away, whistling merrily and calling for his dog. He passed Barton James, the general manager Ro had hired last year, and the two high-fived each other. Barton never so much as blinked at the mud that caked the boy.
“Penny!” Barton bounded up the stairs, apparently as delighted to see Penny as if they were best buddies, when actually she’d met him only a couple of times.
But everyone loved Barton, and Barton loved everyone. She accepted his hug without reservation—laughing when he had to slip his guitar around to his back to make room. How he managed to get so much accomplished, and yet always be strumming some tune on that old thing, no one could ever understand.
“Good thing you’re here,” he said merrily. “I’ve just about got the older two Wright gals married off, and I was wondering who I’d matchmake next.”
Penny laughed. “Not me,” she assured him. “I’ve sworn off men for an entire year.”
He frowned, as if she’d said she ate little green Martians for lunch. “Poppycock,” he said. “A year? At your age? Can’t be done.”
“Barton, not everyone is as romantic as you are.” Rowena shook her head. “Hey, see if you can find Bree, okay? Let her know Penny’s come home!”
“Done,” he said. He kissed Penny one more time, then held her at arm’s length, appraising her. “I’m thinking an older man. Not old like me. I wish. But a few years older than you, maybe. Seen the world. Would know how to treat a lady.”
“Barton.” Rowena gave him The Look.
“Okay, okay,” he said, grinning, and then he sauntered off, swinging his guitar back to the front.
Rowena turned to Penny with a smile. “Sorry about that. He really is such a darling old man. But he can be a bit much sometimes.”
“I love him,” Penny said honestly. Barton was obviously a treasure—the perfect general manager for the ranch. Not only was he a charmer who immediately won over every female guest, he was also a former dude ranch owner himself and knew everything. More than once, he’d kept the neophyte Wright women from making terrible mistakes.
As he told it, he’d tried retirement for a couple of years and hated it. He was born to work, and the harder he worked the happier he was. There wasn’t a chore too lowly, or a responsibility too heavy for him to take on with a smile. He sawed and painted, cooked and cleaned, ran financial programs and mocked up publicity flyers. He sang and danced, played the guitar and chess and horseshoes and generally made sure no man, woman or child left Bell River Dude Ranch feeling disappointed.
“Sorry about Alec, too,” Rowena said. “We’ve got a lot of crazy males around here, apparently. I’ll move the jar, whatever it is.” She shuddered dramatically.
“Ro, it’s okay. You don’t need to kick Alec out. I’m not staying at the ranch.”
Rowena stopped abruptly at the threshold and turned. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Aw, Penny. You don’t have to go back to San Francisco tonight, surely? Dallas would be so disappointed. You haven’t even met Gray yet. You can’t go back tonight!”
“No, but—”
“Penny!” Bree appeared in the great room suddenly, balancing a tray of coffee cups and flatware. Obviously Barton hadn’t found her, because her face lit up with delighted surprise, and she instantly began searching for a clear space on which to deposit the tray.
Once free, Bree enveloped Penny in a hug so tight she temporarily had to give up all thought of breathing.
“Why didn’t you call?” Bree frowned at Rowena. “You didn’t forget to tell me, did you, Ro? You’re so caught up in planning the winter schedule—”
“I didn’t forget. She just showed up out of nowhere. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on.” Ro turned back to Penny. “So, if you’re not going back tonight, of course you’ll stay here. We wouldn’t hear of your staying anywhere else.”
“Ro, I—”
“No foolishness about imposing. It’s your house. Rats—I shouldn’t ever have rented the sister suite. But we’ll think of something. Where are your things?”
Ro moved to the window to scan the yard. “I’ll get Barton back. Or somebody. Who’s not leading a class right now, Bree? We’ve got tons of strapping college kids. One of them will bring your suitcases in.”
But Bree was staring at Penny thoughtfully. Her cool, observant control had always spotted things Rowena’s passionate fire either overlooked or tried to will away.
“Hang on a minute, Ro.” Bree’s blue eyes had darkened slightly, and her cameo-pale forehead furrowed. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it, Pea?”
“Everything’s fine.” Eventually, Penny would have to tell them about the intruder. But one thing at a time.
“Good.” Rowena scraped her black hair away from her face impatiently. She was an old hand at rejecting any little reality that annoyed her. “Then of course you won’t go back to San Francisco tonight, so let’s find one of the kids to—”
“Ro, let Penny talk.” Bree put her hand on their older sister’s arm.
Penny smiled, grateful. Rowena was a steamroller when she got going, and Penny would find herself ensconced in one of the cottages by nightfall, with a pet parakeet and a Silverdell voter’s ID, if she didn’t slow things down.
Bree’s voice was gentle. “Tell us what’s going on, Penny. Did you really come all this way just for one day? Are you really going back tonight?”
Penny took a breath. “No. In fact, I’m not going back to San Francisco at all. I sold the town house.”
“You what?” Both her sisters spoke at once.
“I sold the town house. You know Ruth left it to me, for a nest egg. She expected me to sell, and luckily it moved very quickly. So I’ve come back to Silverdell.”
“Then...but that’s fantastic!” Rowena frowned, tugging the sheet from her shoulder and glancing around the porch, her gaze again calculating, sorting. “Okay, so we’ll have to free up something more permanent. They’re almost finished with the four new cottages, but they won’t be move-in ready until—”
“Rowena!” Penny squared her shoulders. “Bree. I know this is going to be a shock, and that’s why I didn’t call ahead. Or write. I wanted to tell you in person, face-to-face. The thing is...I’m not go
ing to be living at the ranch.”
“Don’t be silly,” Rowena repeated, almost absently. “It’s no imposition. It’s what we’ve all been hoping for. You know we’ve been begging you to come ever since Ruth died. Since before Ruth died. Of course you’ll live here.”
“No. I won’t.” Penny took Ro’s right hand and Bree’s left into her own. “I love you for wanting to take care of me. But I won’t be moving into the ranch.”
Rowena opened her mouth, obviously prepared to protest reflexively, but a glare from Bree made her shut it again.
“Damn it, Ro. Let her explain.”
But could she? Could she ever make them understand how, up until today, she’d always been a stranger to herself, a guest in her own life? Their love, Ruth’s love, the exile to San Francisco, the quiet, hermit life with her great-aunt...where no storms came...
No storms. And nothing else, either.
Everyone had tried to shield her from the ugliness of the Wright family history. Maybe they thought that, since she’d been only eleven at the time of the tragedy, she had a chance of growing up unscarred if they wrapped her in cotton and tucked her away.
But in the end, they’d only managed to create a ghost of a girl, who had no idea who she was or what she wanted out of life.
“I’ve bought a house. A duplex. I’m renting one side out for now, but eventually I hope to open a studio. Give lessons, maybe. Definitely paint and take pictures, and anything else that will help me earn a living.”
The news wounded them. She could see it in the speechless shock that wiped their eyes and smiles clear of emotion.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though she’d vowed to herself that she wouldn’t apologize. She had nothing to apologize for. She had a right to make her own decisions, to live wherever she pleased. And yet she hated to hurt them.
“Rowena, Bree...please try to understand. I love you both more than I can say. But it’s time I created a life of my own.”
* * *
THE DUPLEX MAX had rented was newly refurnished, which was one of the reasons he’d chosen it. He’d come out twice to look at various possible rentals. He’d seen plenty of houses much grander than this little cottage, but grand didn’t suit his agenda. Simple suited him. Simple and clean, with structural integrity and enough charm to please the soul.