Peace in the Valley

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Yeah?” He closed the gate and looked up at her as he remounted Pegasus. “I don’t see any at your place.”

  “Fancy house gardens take precious time with no financial return. And the boys would probably wage dinosaur wars between the plants. Right now I’m better off growing flowers I can sell.”

  “Understandable. Do roses even grow up here?” He swept the rugged rise a quick look. “We get some sharp cold snaps midwinter.”

  “The hardy varieties do. They don’t mind the cold, but they’re sensitive to wet roots.”

  “I would have supposed that wet roots are conducive to plant life.”

  She laughed softly as he got down to open the second gate. Betsy walked through, then Trey led Peg into the upper meadow and relatched the gate. “They love water in doses. But if they’re wet all the time, they rot.”

  “Too much of a good thing.”

  “Yes. They can be finicky, so it’s just as well I don’t have any. Keeping aggravation to a minimum has been a mainstay the past few years. Self-preservation of the single parent kind.”

  “Have you heard anything from Ashley’s mother?”

  “No.” She grimaced. “Ashley pretends it doesn’t bother her, but of course it does. And Maude must have changed her phone number. Ash tried the old one last evening, and it’s been disconnected.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “That’s Maude. When I was a newlywed and a young mother, I used to feel sorry for my husband. Having to deal with Maude couldn’t have been easy. And about the time I realized I was expecting Belle, I realized something else. That Chase was a carbon copy of his mother. No matter what happened, he’d come first. It was a rude awakening.”

  “The mistakes of youth follow us.”

  “I made plenty, but I learned a lot. My choices were similar to the ones my mother made, and I was determined that my children weren’t going to suffer from a similar fate. When I told Chase he had to cut out the drinking and partying, he said he’d sooner ditch us than his music and his friends. He let me know that his weekend highs were what got him through the drudgery of marriage and fatherhood.”

  “Lucy.” He said her name in a deep voice, rich in sorrow, layered in empathy.

  She wasn’t telling him her story to gain his consideration; it was more to paint him a picture of what had been and why she kept stringent rules now. “He died in a one-car crash a few months later. He was wasted and angry that a weekend gig in Wenatchee brought in no money. He took the curve on a mountain road doing at least eighty, and lost control.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sounded genuinely sorry. She grasped the reins lightly like he’d shown her, and shrugged. “He was unhappy with everything life offered. He loved power and had none. He loved money and had none. And his mother had little to do with him or any of us, but when he was gone, she carried on something awful and made Ashley’s life so hard.

  “I traded bitterness for bitterness, from my father to my husband, but I learned a valuable lesson. I’ll never settle for anything again. I’ve got my little place and my kids and my faith, and that’s honestly all I need. Although Sam’s help will make that a whole lot easier to grasp, with things looking so much nicer.”

  “It’s coming along.” He stayed fairly close to her side, not enough to worry her horse, but close enough to be truly present. “Has Ashley been straight this whole week?”

  She thought so. “As far as I know. She knows I won’t tolerate drugs or drinking. One more week of summer school, and then my hope is she turns a new corner once she’s in the high school after Labor Day. There are plenty of nice kids to be friends with. I’m hoping she’ll turn back to some of them.”

  “She and Cade don’t get along.”

  She knew that. What she didn’t know was the best way to handle it. “It’s dicey, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve got to protect Cade, even when I know he’s being annoying, because she’s older. She’s usurped his position as the oldest kid, and he’s resentful of the intrusion.”

  “Hobbs would say that’s a lot of gobbledy-gook for something that just is what it is, and that Cade needs to get over himself.”

  “That sounds like Hobbs,” she acknowledged. “And it makes sense. Which means I’m probably too soft and I’m going to mess them both up.”

  “Well, it’s only been a few weeks, right?” He moved slightly ahead and angled her an amused look. “I expect there’s time to get it right, yet. Turn that horse around here, Ms. Lucy, and check out the scene behind us.”

  She did and sighed.

  Verdant beauty waved across the broad, lush valley below them, dotted with farms and fencing. The town lay to the right, shrouded in tall trees, but she could see the spire from the old Catholic church, and now the bell tower of the new, log church. “I can see Grace of God from here.”

  “My father’s directive. He said he wanted that bell tower high enough to see all four seasons, to remind him to be a better person.”

  “Sam Stafford said that?” She looked at him, then regretted her action when their eyes met.

  Gorgeous eyes. Short, clipped dusty blond hair. A rugged face, square-jawed, but gentle too. Trey Stafford had a kindliness that drew her, but she couldn’t afford to be drawn.

  “He said it all right. I used to pray for him when I was young. Nick and Colt didn’t bother much with church; they went because they had to, but something about faith and hope got to me. The wanting to be a better person. A nicer version of me. And I saw Sam as this amazing benefactor; he’d rescued me out of squalor and brought me to all of this.” Trey waved a hand to the sprawling ranch above and below. “But he couldn’t find happiness no matter what he did, so I used to pray for that. For my dad to be happy. And now he is, despite his health issues.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “No matter how long he’s got, I’m pleased to see him happy at last.”

  Selfless.

  Was he really, or was it just plain easy to seem selfless when you’re raised with money and acquire your own at a young age? Lucy had never had that casual regard for funds, so how could she know? “And yet you’re not happy, Trey.”

  His jaw tightened and he kept his eyes on the valley below.

  “I often wonder what goes on inside of us, that we’re rarely satisfied,” she said. The horse moved left unexpectedly. Trey reached over to steady her reins, his hand on hers in a quick protective move. “When do we have enough?” she asked quietly. The peaceful scene below them showed a land of plenty. “Why do we always long for more? And are we unhappy with what we have or are we more dissatisfied with who we are?”

  “You said you made mistakes.”

  She sure had, but as long as God gave her breath, she wasn’t going to wallow in a foolish past. “Big ones. But I’m not the first person to make mistakes. And I won’t be the last. Still, right now I’m trying to be the best person I can be for the sake of my kids. That’s my goal.”

  Trey was quiet for a moment, then pointed. “See this ridge?”

  She nodded.

  “When I was little, Murt used to tell us this story, about how the Yakama Tribe would pause on this ridge, thanking God for the rich valley below, then come down the hill to gather for the fall festivals, a custom they did every year. I think about that sometimes, how vast and open it all must have looked before the settlers moved in.”

  “It’s hard to blend such different cultures. And then, of course, both were led by men,” Lucy added.

  “Meaning men cause problems?” His voice teased, but the men in her life fit this mold easily.

  She turned toward him. “You know how the Bible says that man is as inclined to sin as the sparks to fly upward? There’s something in us, in all of us, but I think you see it more clearly in men, that they need to assert their power. Their influence. Their ways. Not all, of course, but it’s as if when men get power, they need more power.”

  “The lack of satisfaction.”

  “And lack of humility. It’s
not a situation I ever care to be in again. I like making up my own mind, Trey. Leading my own life. It suits.”

  “Well, this is a mighty interesting discussion, and I’m taking your words and your warnings to heart.”

  She blushed because she had been warning him off, and he didn’t let it slide.

  “But here’s the whole of it. Women are just as confusing in what they say they want and what they really want.”

  She couldn’t deny the truth in his words because she was at odds with herself fifty percent of the time.

  “If you can find me a woman who knows her own mind and is comfortable in her own skin, I’d like to meet her, because it seems to be a rarity. If men are lusting for power and money and might, women seem to be chronically searching for a way to impress other women. And I don’t get it.”

  “That makes us sound a little crazy.”

  He didn’t say they were crazy, but he didn’t say they weren’t either. He simply settled a skeptical look her way.

  “We’re not crazy; we’ve just got a lot of pressure on us to be the best we can be, in all things and all ways.”

  “And who puts that pressure on you? Because I’m here to tell you that most men could care less about that.”

  “You’re not going to give me the ‘little woman at home in the kitchen’ speech, are you? Because these days I think that’s a myth and men want a full-time wage earner, who is also at home in the kitchen while nursing a baby and making soup.”

  He laughed, reached over, and tweaked her hair, but then his hand stayed there. Right there. Cradling her cheek, her ear, touching her hair. “Oh, Lucy, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” He smiled and then sighed. “But not today. Today we need to head back down the hill and hang out with noisy kids. And tomorrow, back to work for the day.”

  He was drawn to her. She sensed it. Felt it.

  But he hesitated too, just like her.

  “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength…”

  Isaiah’s words, potent, yet simple. To trust God’s timing, his ways, his paths.

  She had a hard time with that lately. A part of her longed to run full force toward the future, charting her own course, her own way. Was there really anything wrong with that? Shouldn’t women take charge of their own lives?

  They should, and yet…

  Trey created a longing in her, a yearning for fulfillment. Togetherness. Building a family, a home, a life.

  She was being ridiculous. Trey Walker Stafford could most likely have any woman he wanted. Why would a rich, successful country music star be attracted to her?

  It made no sense, but when he looked at her…When his rough palm touched the soft pad of her cheek…

  She sensed the same longing in him.

  They descended easily, with no need to talk, and if Trey smiled a little too long when he unlatched the gate, she chalked it up to a handsome guy flirting with the only available girl, and that happened to be her. As they came across the last shallow field, Trey paused. He stared ahead and then motioned his horse forward. “We’ve got unexpected company.”

  She peered ahead and spotted an older SUV and a fairly buxom, bleached-blond woman standing nearby. They moved forward. Trey didn’t quite slow down, but he didn’t encourage the horse to move faster either.

  The woman braced her hands on thick hips. When Trey dismounted, she crossed the stone drive, eyes narrowed, her mouth drawn. “Just like I said, isn’t it, Trey Walker?” She gave Lucy a dirty look, then raised a finger Trey’s way. “I told you how it was, and you scoffed at me. It’s different for you, Trey, and shame on you for letting folks think it wasn’t. You get to move on, even though your wife lies in a cold, dark grave. You get to have your songs and your guitar and your little flings from town to town.”

  Little flings?

  Trey reached up and gave Lucy a hand down before he turned. “What are you doing here, Sallie?”

  “You said you’d come see me.”

  “I did not. You asked me to come, I said no, and I refused to give you money. I kept it simple. Showing up here isn’t helping anything.”

  “Of course it ain’t, if you’re not the one who needs help. When you’re the one standing still, with your hand out, well, that’s different, isn’t it? If Cathy was still here, she’d help me. And you know it.”

  Trey started to respond, but Lucy beat him to it. “Cathy was your daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  The blonde stared at Lucy, trying to intimidate her, but Lucy didn’t scare easily anymore. That ship had sailed years ago.

  “The one you bilked hundreds of thousands of dollars from when she was a teenage superstar?”

  Trey looked surprised by her words, but maybe a little pleased too. There wasn’t time to tell because Sallie Somersby glared at Lucy, absolutely furious.

  “You can’t believe anything you read in those papers. Cathy loved me. I loved her. She was my everything.”

  “If by ‘everything’ you mean meal ticket, then I can understand your angst, but at least be honest about it. If nothing else, people should at least be honest about their greed and their selfishness.”

  “Why, you little—”

  Lucy backed up a step. “Trey, it was nice riding with you, and I know you’ve got a heart as big as they come, but don’t let her hoodwink you out of another penny. She could always try getting a job, like the rest of us do.”

  She strode away, leaving him to deal with his former mother-in-law.

  Regret smacked her before she got twenty steps between them. She should go back and apologize. She should make amends. But then she remembered the look on the woman’s face, and the long court battle that had entrenched Cathy Somersby in a media feeding frenzy for years. Cathy’s parents had stolen nearly ninety percent of her earnings. And then they’d tried to wrangle money out of Trey after her death.

  Lucy had seen it in the magazines, and with Trey a hometown hero, the local newspapers had covered the melee. The courts had found against the parents and ordered them to make restitution, but that never happened because they’d spent every penny on gambling and high living.

  Lucy’s father had put himself first, always. And then her husband had done the same thing. Seeing it in Cathy’s mother touched all those old anger buttons, but that didn’t give her permission to spout off at a complete stranger. Satisfaction mixed with regret.

  “Take a breath and tell me who to kill. I’m ready, willing, and able. And armed.” Angelina fell into step next to her, and her willingness to back Lucy up made her laugh.

  “Then we’d both be in jail, and who’d raise the kids?”

  “A valid point, but just so you know?” Angelina shoulder-bumped her. “I’ve got your back. I take it you met Sallie.”

  “Wretched person.”

  “Yup. But I think our Trey can handle her now. Coming home has toughened him up. Your cookies were amazing, by the way.”

  “Good change of subject. Innocent. Innocuous. Baking. Safe.”

  Angelina laughed and hugged her arm. “Let’s let Trey deal with Sallie and the horses. Come on in the kitchen with me; cool off mentally and physically. Elsa’s made tea, and Mami is showing us how to piece quilt tops for those needy babies. Peaceful, calm, and quiet, while the men watch the kids.”

  “It sounds just right, Angelina.”

  Angelina held open the screen door and gestured inside. “It is.”

  Music. A campfire. Tired kids, marshmallows, and a pretty girl. Trey could get used to this.

  Murt strummed his old acoustic guitar from the far side of the fire pit. Approval shone in the older man’s expression as he surveyed the sight, a measure of peace and joy for the Double S Ranch. He glanced toward Trey, then Trey’s SUV, and arched a brow.

  Trey knew that look. He wanted Trey to fetch his guitar and join in, like old times.

  Noah grabbed Angelina’s hand and pulled his mother up to dance with him. Cody did the same thing with Lucy, and the sig
ht of two little boys dancing with their mothers blindsided him.

  He glanced toward Colt and Nick.

  They saw it too. It was there in their faces, their expressions—the mix of emotions.

  They saw what they’d missed, what they’d all missed, growing up. A mother’s love. A mother’s guiding hand, advice, the hugs and kisses and scoldings.

  They’d grown up without any of it, a grievous loss. But seeing Lucy and Angelina move in step with their little boys, and Elsa snuggling a sleepy Dakota on her lap, awareness washed over Trey.

  This was a time of second chances. Of new beginnings. And if all went well with Sam, Trey wanted a chance to start over. A chance to be whatever God intended him to be, with the love of family surrounding him. Fame wore mighty thin in an empty house.

  He crossed the yard, longing to be part of this new normal. When he got back to the fire, he sat, propped a knee, and faced his mentor.

  Murt played timeless, familiar notes from his guitar, a beloved spiritual that had marked Trey’s life for years. He’d been tired and weary, like the great hymn’s opening. And he’d trusted, believing in the light of Christ, the Lamb of God. And yet, that spiritual calm still eluded him.

  He wanted the peace in the valley he sang about at every concert. The tranquil, the serene, the everyday normal he’d never had.

  He bent his head and plucked along with Murt, and didn’t look up when he launched into the deep-toned vocal.

  He sang from more than his heart. He sang from his soul, and as the verses went on, he could see the opportunity before him. Maybe he wasn’t free to grasp it yet, but he could envision it, a future, God’s plan, laid out for him here in the broad, lush valley of Central Washington.

  He closed the last plaintive notes and paused, then looked up.

  Lucy’s eyes met his.

  She knew. She understood.

  He didn’t know how or why, and didn’t much care, because what he saw in her eyes matched what he felt in his heart.

  “Nice way to end the night, Trey.” Colt stood and stretched, then offered a helping hand to Sam. “But morning’s coming early, and there’s a lot to be done. We’ve got those Nebraska buyers due in and a second cutting to put up. They’re calling for rain midweek, and the horse hay needs to be under cover.”