by Susan Wiggs
Fixing herself a bowl of raisin bran, Michelle realized she hadn’t thought about those moments in church for a very long time. Something about the angle of light and the quiet of the house brought back the memory.
And of course, it was easier to think about the past than the future.
She owed Sam an answer, but they hadn’t had any time alone together. Yesterday he’d worked out of town, and last night he was on call. He had office hours today, and she had to go to Missoula with her father for another checkup. She supposed they could discuss it on the phone, but this was the sort of thing to talk about face-to-face.
Her confidence faltered. It was fun playing two-crazy-kids-in-love, but when real life intruded, it intruded with a vengeance. Already, outside events were conspiring to keep them apart.
Her father came into the kitchen just as the alarms on both of his wristwatches beeped. Medicine time.
“Hey, Daddy.” She got up from the stool at the counter and poured him a glass of water.
“How’s my girl?” He grinned, and the flush of health on his face was so welcome it made her want to weep.
But she felt compelled to ask, “You feeling okay?”
“Fine.”
“Really? I’m not making idle chitchat here.”
“Okay, the side effects of the medicine can get annoying.” He held out his hand, and for a second she noticed a tiny, brief tremor. “Cyclosporin does that. Prednisone and immunosuppressants are their own kind of fun.” He grinned again. “Enough whining. All I have to do is consider the alternative, and it shuts me right up.”
She handed him the water and waited while he took out a massive plastic pill box with dividers for each day. He swallowed his meds, the radical cocktail of stabilizers and antirejection pills that were so critical after the transplant. So far so good. The transplant team had declared that their speed of recovery was one for the record books.
Gavin set a stack of mail on the breakfast bar and slowly picked up a thick envelope. Michelle saw his hesitation and the slight shaking of his hand as he broke the seal and took out a packet of official-looking papers. He studied them for a minute, then shut his eyes and kissed the certificate with beatific reverence. “My pilot’s license has been renewed,” he said. “I’m back in the game, honey.”
“Daddy, no kidding?”
“No kidding.” His legendary blue eyes shone. He poured himself a bowl of raisin bran and then methodically proceeded to pick out all the raisins. Michelle watched for a second, hiding a grin. She and her father were alike in ways that startled her. An occasional gesture, a look, a quirk of taste. She didn’t eat the raisins in raisin bran, either.
Her father seemed unaware of his thoughts. He ate some cereal, then drummed his hand on the stack of papers. “This is the second-best thing that’s happened since I got sick.”
“What’s the first best?” She held her breath.
“Finding you and Cody again, honey. Didn’t you know that?”
She couldn’t speak for a moment. This, she thought as her heart soared. This was the essence of life. A moment of joy and triumph so sweet that her entire being filled up with happiness. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to feel this much, this deeply? “Ah, Daddy,” she said, and something in her inflection made him look up. “I did know.”
Simple little words. An ordinary conversation. But she had waited a lifetime to share a moment like this with her father. They finished their breakfast; then he helped himself to coffee, shutting his eyes and smiling as if he had just seen God. “I’ve missed drinking coffee.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their morning coffee and watching the play of sunlight over the polished-granite countertops and gleaming copper cookware hanging from the range hood.
“You going to work on your painting today?” her father asked.
“Yep. I have no idea what I’m doing over there, but I’m loving it.”
“That painting you’ve been doing. It makes me damned proud of you.”
His words filled her with warmth. Just for a second, she wanted to ask him where that belief in her came from, why he had never expressed it until she gave him a kidney. But the second passed, and she knew there was no answer, and no point trying to get one.
“Thanks.” She indicated his clipboard, covered with pink phone message slips. “You’ve been busy.”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“What is all that?”
He paged through the notes. “Here’s one from Carolyn.” He winked, though buried in his cynicism was an almost-hidden hurt. “She’s ready to kiss and make up now that I don’t have a dialysis bag hanging out of me.”
“So are you ready?”
“I told her to piss off.” He crumpled the note. “Pun intended. Here’s one from a contractor in Polson. I’m going to reopen the Lynwood on Memorial Day.”
“Really?” She felt a rush of excitement. The old theater was filled with memories for her, memories of that long-ago summer, but even more important, memories of a snowy night not so very long ago. “I’m glad. This town’s more than ready.”
He pushed a fax across the counter to her. “This is what we really need to talk about.”
It took her a minute to assimilate what he was showing her. “Daddy?”
“It was on the fax machine when I got up this morning. It’s from the same contractor who’s going to be renovating the Lynwood.”
Michelle swallowed, but she couldn’t banish the dryness from her mouth. “Daddy,” she whispered, “what the hell’s going on?”
He beamed at her. “Keep reading.”
It was a bid for restoring the vacant retail space in the shop next door to the old theater. At Gavin’s request, the space would be converted into an art gallery. Picturing the vintage storefront, the old plank floors, the hammered tin ceilings, Michelle felt a giddy light-headedness. A buoyant sense of wonder.
“A gallery,” she said.
“Might bring some culture to Crystal City.” He touched her hand. “You’ve never had a showing, Michelle, and God knows, you deserve one. That is, if you think this is something you want.”
It was something she hadn’t even dared to want—until now. Maybe that was what the whole ordeal of Gavin’s illness had been about. It was a kick in the pants. A way to jolt her out of the comfortable monotony her life had become. She got up slowly, walked around the counter, and put her arms around him. “Dad—”
The phone rang, and he grabbed it. “This might be the contractor.” But then he handed her the receiver. “It’s Sam.”
“Sam!”
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Um, no.”
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was low and sexy.
A shiver ran through her. She could feel her whole body start to smile. “Same here.” She stared at the fax on the counter. She thought about what he had said the last time they were together, and all the things they had to talk about. What would it mean if she decided to marry Sam? So many questions. They had so much to discuss. It was too much, too big to explain to him right here, right now. “Have dinner with me tonight, Sam,” she managed to say. “I have something to tell you.”
A pause. Then she could hear the grin in his voice as he said, “Honey, wild horses couldn’t stop me from seeing you tonight.”
Chapter 48
It’s okay to grab the apple,” Molly said. Cody looked down at her from the dizzying height of the horse’s back. This was a terrible idea. It was the worst idea he’d ever had, inviting Molly over to ride horses at Sam’s after school.
“What apple?” he asked, mortified when his voice broke on the last syllable.
She didn’t seem to notice. “The saddle horn,” she explained. “If you feel a little unsteady, you can always grab hold of the saddle horn, pull a little leather.”
“Oh.” He clutched it, two-handed, white-knuckled. “I thought that was against the rules.”
“Are you competing?”
He liked the laughter in her eyes. It almost made him forget he sat atop fifteen hundred pounds of bone and muscle and hoof, a sorrel gelding called Ace. “No,” he said.
“Just try to relax, okay? If you’re tense, he can feel it.” It was pretty great, the way she instructed him. She had lots of patience and didn’t make him feel inferior just because he’d hardly ever ridden a horse. She started him out really slow, and before long he actually began liking the rocking motion of the horse, going round and round the fenced arena, listening to the creak of the saddle and the heartbeat of hooves. Thanks to Molly, he was feeling pretty good, all things considered.
This afternoon during study hall, he’d gone right up to her, looked her in the eye, and apologized for being a jerk. Instead of making him squirm like a bug on a pin, she had forgiven him with more generosity than he deserved. He would always remember her words: “I like you, Cody, no matter what.” No one had ever said such a thing to him. When he’d said he’d like to try his luck riding a horse, her smile had lit up the day.
After about an hour, Ace had worked up a sweat, so Cody got off and put him up, carefully hanging the saddle and pad and all the gear. They went into the barn office, where he washed his hands at the sink and got some soft drinks from the fridge. They sat together on an old couch with lumps in the seat, and it felt perfectly natural to put his arm around her. She made it clear that she liked it, setting her head easily on his shoulder. For a while, they just listened to the whistle of the wind through the barn, the flutter of swallows high in the eaves, and the occasional low-throated sound of a horse stomping and muttering. They had the whole place to themselves. Sam was at work, and Edward was doing errands in the city.
He turned on the radio and couldn’t find anything but country western. But he didn’t mind.
Molly didn’t say a word, just took his can and set it on the floor next to him. When she turned her face up, he kissed her, softly at first, then longer and harder. She tasted like Dr Pepper, chilly and sweet, and everything about her was perfect. She pressed close, clearly liking the kiss as much as he did, and when he eased back on the sofa so he was half-lying down, she came with him. He put his tongue in her mouth. His hand strayed. He really, really wanted to touch her.
She lifted her mouth from his just a little. “It’s okay,” she whispered, and undid the top two buttons of her denim shirt. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Cody. I don’t mind.”
She spoke as if she’d read his thoughts, and her honest desire touched off a forest fire inside him. Yet despite her words and the excitement shining in her eyes, he realized that she probably hadn’t done much fooling around at all. But she wanted it, he could tell, and she took his breath away. Her kisses were open and searching and inviting, her hands like a pair of inquisitive kittens crawling over him. Quickly enough, things got away from them—shirts undone, and then the top button of his jeans, and she held him and made a nervous, excited sound in her throat. It struck him then that she was not going to tell him to stop. What happened next was totally up to him. He pulled back and looked down into her face. “Girl, you’re driving me crazy.”
Her eyes shone. “Really? I wasn’t sure you wanted me.”
“Hell, yes, I wanted you.”
“I’m glad, Cody. I’m real glad about that.” She lifted herself toward him, and he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her again, opening his mouth over those soda-sweet lips.
She was soft and willing, her touch honest and warm. For the first time since he’d started dating girls, he’d found one who made him feel something tender and new, something that had more to do with feelings than with sex. Amazing.
And so, at the crucial moment, Cody astonished himself. “You’re a nice girl, Molly,” he said. “But I think we’d better stop.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she said quietly, pressing her open hand to his chest.
“I don’t either,” he admitted. “I like you, and maybe one day it’ll be right for us. Just not now. We should wait. Okay?” Man. It hurt. He couldn’t believe he managed to get the words out.
“I’m not a baby. I know what I want.”
“Then waiting a while won’t change that.” He ground the words out through gritted teeth. Faintly he heard a car or truck, but it sounded very far away, and he had more immediate concerns. He had Molly right where every guy dreamed of getting a girl—ready and willing—and he was blowing his chance. How stupid was that? Still, it was the right thing to do, and by some miracle, Cody still knew what the right thing was.
* * *
As he drove home from work, Sam caught himself pushing hard on the accelerator. Unlike most days, he was eager to get home, to get cleaned up, and go see Michelle. Tonight it would begin. The love that had started more than seventeen years before kept growing stronger every day. It was a scary thing, to love someone like that. But scarier still to think of life without her.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to shrug the day off his aching shoulders and back. He had set a bone this morning—a sheep rancher’s tibia. He’d seen four flu patients, an infant in respiratory distress, treated a dog bite, and had gone over a special diet with Earl Meecham, who had an ulcer. The last appointment was with a mentally handicapped ranch hand. Sam had to show him how to use a rubber and he wasn’t sure the lesson would stick. The kid was slow, but his body was that of a man. Bad combination. Sam still had some of the rubbers in his back pocket.
The day just wouldn’t go away until he filled his mind with Michelle. That was the magic of her. Before she’d come back to him, his bad days and hard thoughts had no place to go. He tried to picture her in this house, in his bed, in his life. And the worrisome thing was, the picture wouldn’t form. She was so damned sophisticated. Could she really be happy here, a ranch wife, of all things?
It was almost as ludicrous as picturing himself living in some suburban sprawl outside of Seattle. Then there was Cody, who needed things Sam didn’t know how to give.
Details, he told himself, loosening his tie. That’s all they were. Details. They’d work things out. He saw a shadow in the sky over the highway and looked up. He thought it might be Gavin Slade’s little P-51 Mustang, banking through the breaks and draws of the valley over the country air park. Sam grinned in spite of his complicated feelings about Michelle’s father. So Gavin was flying again. He was truly on the mend now.
When Sam pulled up at Lonepine, he noticed the Jeep parked outside the barn, and country music wailing from within. Curious, he went over to the barn and saw a horse from the Lightning place tethered to a loop. Good, he thought. He’d rather see Cody making friends with Ruby’s daughter than those punks who had spooked the horse. Sam decided to go in and say hello, let them know he was home.
When he walked into the office, Cody and Molly Lightning were as stunned and embarrassed as he was. They both jumped up from the sofa, brushing hastily at their rumpled clothes. Molly’s hair was mussed, her face red as a beet. She clutched the front of her unbuttoned shirt.
“I, um, I was just leaving,” she said in a strained voice. She was gone before Sam could think of a single thing to say.
He swung around to glare at Cody. Still no words. His earlier thoughts mocked him. He was totally unprepared for this situation.
Cody tried to brush past him. “I’d better get over to Blue Rock,” he muttered.
“The hell you will,” Sam burst out, planting himself in front of him.
“Hey, man—”
“Don’t you hey-man me,” Sam said, flexing his hand. “What the hell were you thinking, groping her like that?”
“We’re both sixteen,” Cody pointed out. “And you might not believe this, but I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. “I don’t believe you.”
“I wasn’t.” Cody jutted his chin out. “But that’s between me and Molly, not me and you.”
“Under my roof
, it’s my business.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask to come here. I’ll go back to Seattle anytime, just say the word. But if I’m stuck here, the least I can do is try to make friends.”
“Looks like you were trying to make more than that. You’ve grown up thinking you’re entitled to every goddamned thing in the world.” Sam’s anger wasn’t rational, the way a wildfire wasn’t rational. It flared and flamed with a life of its own. “Smart-ass like you ought to know better than to have unprotected sex.”
“We were just fooling around,” Cody snapped. “Not having sex.”
“Only because I happened to show up before things got out of hand.”
“You don’t know that. You always want to think the worst of me.”
Something inside him snapped, and he blew up with anger. “Did you even think for one second what you’re risking? Bringing another unwanted baby into the world—”
Sam stopped himself. Too late, he realized what he’d just said. Too late, he recognized the source of his anger. And the deep red flush on Cody’s face meant he recognized it, too. Neither of them said a word, but a silent storm howled between them.
And Sam knew in that moment that he loved his son. He knew, because it hurt so bad to hurt him.
The phone rang, shrilling into the tense quiet of the office. Holding Cody with a raised hand, Sam grabbed the receiver from the wall. “Sam McPhee.” He frowned as an automated message instructed him to press 1 to accept the collect charges from the incoming call. With a shrug, he pushed the button.
“Hiya, hon. It’s your mama.”
He didn’t move, but at the unmistakable slur in her voice, he could feel everything inside him curling up, burning down to nothing. “Mama. Where are you? What’ve you been drinking?”
Cody’s pale face sharpened, but Sam couldn’t think about the boy now. “Mama? Talk to me.”
“Lessee. Made it to Kalispell. They got a honky-tonk here, the Roadkill Grill. Think they’ll lemme be in the band? I used to sing real good. ’Member when we cut that album in Reno? You were in your playpen still…”