by Julia London
Finn walked into the one he’d shared with Brodie until Luke had gone off to college. He dropped his ruck on the bed and looked around. It was the same as the day he’d left it ten years ago. His rodeo trophies were lined up on a shelf above his bed. There was a pair of cleats on the dresser. Brodie’s, he figured, as Brodie had been the one to play baseball. A poster of Pamela Anderson dressed in a string bikini—complete with the obligatory mustache and glasses drawn on by his best friend Mike—was still tacked to the wall.
Mike was the reason Finn had joined the army. Not the only reason, but the one that got him thinking about enlisting. Mike had come from a working-class family who didn’t put much store in college. Mike did, though, and the most realistic way for him to get there was through the G.I. Bill. He’d joined up after high school, did his time, and was just about to get out and go to college when 9/11 happened. Mike re-upped. And he died in Iraq.
Several months after he died, Finn had seen his pickup on a dirt lot next to Highway 281 with a sign that said, FOR SALE, GOOD CONDITION. That was all that was left of Mike. He’d been reduced to a pickup on the side of the road, and Finn…Finn couldn’t let that happen. So he’d signed up for Mike. In memory of. Because Mike had the balls to die for his country.
But it was more than that, really. It was for all of the soldiers who were dying over there. Guys like Finn, guys who supported the war, who were doing the best and only thing they could to avenge 9/11. Finn was young and strong and good with a gun. He felt like he had a responsibility to himself and to his country.
He’d been married to Macy almost three years when he told her. She laughed at first, but when she saw he was serious, she was furious. She didn’t believe in this war or any other. “It’s a dead-end war! There will never be peace there!”
“It’s not any more dead-end than social work,” he’d argued. “And you’d still be doing that if we didn’t live so far out.”
Macy had gasped. “But those are children you’re talking about!”
“Exactly,” he’d said. “You do what you can to protect innocent kids. Here or there, it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, what about our kids?” she’d demanded. “We’ll never have them if you get yourself killed!”
“But, baby, if I don’t get myself killed, just think of how much better we’ll be for it. Think of what better parents we’d be.”
In the end, she’d given in. But she hadn’t liked it.
Finn had set up everything so that it would be easy for Macy. José was there, and Finn had assumed everything would be okay…
He looked away from Pamela and Mike’s scribbling.
Yes, his room was just as he’d left it with one notable exception: There was a computer atop a small desk, shoved up against the wall beneath the window. On the right of the monitor was a mouse pad and mouse; on the left, a stack of correspondence and a jar to hold pens and pencils.
His mother walked in with a glass of sweet tea and noticed him looking at it. “We made this into the computer room,” she said apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“Is this going to be okay?” she asked, gesturing to a stack of fresh towels at the foot of the single twin bed.
“It’s great, Mom.” Finn ran a hand through his hair. He was feeling a little closed in.
“Tea?” she asked, holding the glass up.
“No. But thanks.”
She put the glass down. “Finn?”
He was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She’d cried so much since he’d come home; how many tears did she have left? “Mom, stop,” he said softly, and pulled her into a hug. “Come on, now. Everything is good.”
“I’m sorry,” she said tearfully. “But you can’t imagine how grateful I am to have you home. I look at you and I get down on my knees and thank God for giving my child back to me. It’s a miracle. I just wish everyone understood what a miracle it is.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing, really,” she said, shaking her head. She patted his chest and stepped away to the dresser, where she anxiously rearranged a half dozen pictures of him. “I just want you to know that your father and your brothers and I understand how blessed we are to have you back.”
By process of elimination, Finn deduced that his mother meant Macy wasn’t as thankful for his survival as they were. “What, Mom…you don’t think Macy is feeling quite as blessed?” he asked with a laugh.
His mom rearranged two more pictures. “I don’t know if she is or she isn’t, she hasn’t said. But if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t have remarried so quickly.”
This was the last conversation Finn wanted to have with anyone, much less his mother. He wondered if Luke had found the whiskey yet. “I wouldn’t expect Macy to give up her life just because mine was lost,” he said.
His mother attempted to shrug indifferently, but her pinched expression at the mention of Macy’s name said it all.
“I’m tired, Mom. I’m going to have a drink with Brodie and Luke.” He moved toward the door, but his mother had tears in her eyes again.
“Ma,” he said, embracing her once more. “Come on, now. I’m home. It’s all behind us,” he said, even as a trickle of doubt ran down his spine.
9
About ten miles north of the old Lockhart place, Wyatt stood on the deck attached to the back of his house, staring at the lake that looked black as ink now that the sun was going down.
Milo was sprawled in the open doorway, his head between his paws, his eyes following Wyatt’s every move. Just beyond Milo was a pristine house scented with fresh flowers—Wyatt had filled the vases and even a couple of buckets with the armload he’d bought at Austin Flowers. In the kitchen, in a warming oven, was a meal of sea bass and asparagus. Wyatt had picked it up from Twin Sisters Catering after calling one of the sisters and pleading for a special meal. When he said the name Finn Lockhart, they had jumped at the chance to cook something for “The Hero.” Wyatt had tried to explain that it wasn’t for Finn, but he wasn’t certain they’d understood him. He was beginning to think that if he uttered Finn Lockhart’s name, he could get the keys to any bank vault in town.
Wyatt checked his watch again. Two minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. “Damn,” he muttered, and glanced at Milo. “How long does it take to drive from the airport?”
Wyatt wasn’t exactly the type to feel anxious about a woman. He’d always had a lot of feminine company; he dated his way through college, dated more when he graduated and got into the development business. For a long time, he’d believed he wasn’t the marrying type—he liked his work, liked having time to play golf on weekends. He was the guy who could get in a round or two, then clean up, go to Austin, and hit the clubs.
But then he’d met Macy at a country club event. He knew of Macy—everyone knew of everyone in a town like Cedar Springs—but he’d never been formally introduced to her. That night, her dad, Bob Harper, was in town from Dallas and was trying to sell Wyatt some land he needed to unload. Bob had introduced Wyatt to his daughter, and Wyatt had thought Macy looked sad and vulnerable. But he also thought she was really pretty in a down-home way. There was something about her, something he wanted to hold and protect.
That night, he’d coaxed her number out of her and called her. He’d long suspected that they went out the first time because Bob Harper pressured her to do so for the sake of the deal.
If that was true, it worked. Macy had charmed the socks right off of Wyatt. She talked about being a social worker, a line of work she’d recently returned to after her husband was killed in action. She was so exuberant about it, so funny with her anecdotes about some of the children she’d mentored.
After a few weeks, Macy felt comfortable enough to ask Wyatt along to a Harper family picnic. At that picnic, Wyatt watched Macy with her cousin Chloe’s twin boys. Macy was jubilant with those children. She chased them around a tree, jumping out from behind it to sca
re them into uncontrollable laughter. She held their hands and walked them down to the lake so they could feed the ducks. She took turns swinging one up in the air, and then the other. All afternoon, her expression was one of pure joy.
Wyatt knew that day he wanted her and he wanted children with her. That desire had only gotten stronger with time.
At last he spotted car lights on the road below, wending their way up. He walked into the house and to the windows that overlooked the drive, saw Macy’s mother’s car, and felt a surge of elation and relief—and a twinge of foreboding.
He walked out onto the drive to meet them. Macy looked exhausted when she climbed out of the backseat of Jillian’s BMW and walked straight into his arms. At the same time, Jillian got out and pulled Macy’s suitcase from her trunk. Wyatt let Macy go to help his mother-in-law. “Jillian, Emma, do you want to come in?” he asked, bending over to wave at Emma in the car.
“No, thank you, Wyatt. It’s late and I’ve got to go to work in the morning,” Jillian said. She patted his cheek. “Anyway, you need some time with Macy.”
“Bye, Mom. Thanks for everything,” Macy said wearily.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, honey.”
Wyatt waited until Jillian and Emma had backed out of the drive before following Macy inside. She was still in the foyer, fending off an exuberant Milo, who was thrilled to see her. He butted her with his head and rubbed against her leg until she leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. Then she stepped into Wyatt’s open arms again.
“Macy,” he said, and kissed her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and resting his chin on the top of her head. “My God, I have never been happier to see anyone in my life.” He reared back and looked at her; exhaustion shadowed her eyes. “You’re worn out. Let me pour you a glass of wine.”
“Wyatt—”
“I’ve got supper waiting. Have you eaten?”
“No, but I—”
“You are going to love this, then,” he said, as he pushed her bag out of the way and removed her purse from her shoulder. “I actually convinced Twin Sisters Catering to make a meal especially for us. It took some doing, but it’s in the oven. Sea bass and asparagus and a polenta that made my mouth water. Oh, and they even threw in a couple of slices of their flourless chocolate cake.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’m…I’m not really hungry,” Macy said.
Wyatt put her purse down. She was looking at him strangely, almost as if she was trying to work out where she’d seen him before. Or maybe that was Wyatt’s fear talking, fear that had held him by the damn throat the last couple of days.
He reached for her again, slipping his arm around her waist. “Come and have a drink and unwind a little, sweetheart.” He ushered her into the sunken living room. He’d paid a premium for this lot, high on the cliff, just so he could build a house like this with a stunning view. He’d just started building it when he met Macy. Before too long, he knew the house was for her. “How was the flight?” he asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “Long.” She slipped out of his embrace and walked to the door that led onto the enormous deck, Milo on her heels.
At the bar, Wyatt quickly poured her a glass of wine, grabbed a beer for himself, and followed her outside.
A breeze had cooled the evening; it wasn’t quite as sultry as it had been earlier. Wyatt handed the wine to Macy, who was staring out over the moonlit lake.
Wyatt put his arm around her middle and pulled her back against his chest. He could feel some of the tension leave her body; she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can you imagine,” she said wearily, “what it must have been like for him, chained to a wall for three years?”
Wyatt closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about Finn. He didn’t want her to talk about Finn. He kissed her temple and asked softly, “Don’t you want to take a break from all that imagining?”
“I wish I could.” She took a sip of wine and stepped out of his embrace. “Wyatt, I…I…”
She looked as if she was in physical pain. Wyatt reached for her hand, but Macy shifted slightly, just out of his reach. “Jesus, Macy, what is it? Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, then abruptly shook her head. “No. No, I’m not all right. I am so confused.”
A tic of panic shot through him. “There’s nothing to be confused about. I know how hard this has been for you, but you’re home now, and I—”
“I think I should go stay with Laru for a few days.”
He was too stunned to respond at first.
Macy pressed her lips together as if she were steeling herself for his reaction and put the wine glass down. “Please listen to—”
“What?” he demanded. “You’re going to stay with Laru? What does that mean?”
“I just think that given the circumstances, I need to go someplace where I can be alone and…” She glanced down at Milo, who was lying at her feet, panting. “And think.”
“Why can’t you think here? This is your home,” Wyatt said, his pulse ratcheting up with his alarm. “And it’s a big damn house. There are plenty of places to think here. What is it you need to think about that requires you to be at Laru’s?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” Wyatt said emphatically. “No, it sure as hell isn’t obvious, Macy. Why in God’s name would you go stay with Laru?”
“Because I don’t know what to do!” she cried, throwing her arms wide and startling Milo to his feet. The dog raced to the railing and barked. “I can’t think. I don’t know which way to turn. If I turn left,” she said, jabbing her left hand in the air, “there is the man who was the love of my life, the man that I married seven years ago. But they said he died, and I believed them, and now, if I turn right,” she continued, jabbing her right hand in the air, “there is the man that I fell in love with, the man who saved me. So there are two men who I love more than I can say, and I am desperately confused.” She dropped her hands. “I don’t know what to do!”
“There’s only one thing you can do, Macy,” Wyatt said sternly. “I am not going to let you go because the army got this all so goddam wrong.”
“You can’t blame the army!”
“The hell I can’t!” he shouted. “You are married to me, and I love you. You can do your thinking here.”
“Actually, I don’t think I am married to you.”
“It’s not so clear-cut,” he said, working to stay calm. “I know your mother thinks she’s got this all figured out, but my lawyer thinks the law is open to interpretation,” he lied. “As it stands, you are married to me until declared otherwise by a court.”
Macy started to turn away from him, but Wyatt put down his beer and caught her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I know you loved him, Macy, I’ve always known that. But I know that you love me, too. We’ve shared some extraordinary moments, haven’t we? You have to face what is and deal with it.”
Macy’s blue eyes suddenly flashed. “I have to deal with it? What exactly do you think I’ve been doing? I am dealing with it the best way I know how, Wyatt. Only I can work through it, but I have to be alone to do it, away from both of you. I am going to leave so you don’t have to.”
She was serious. She was going to walk out the door. Wyatt’s pulse jumped another notch. “You can’t do this. You can’t walk out on our marriage.”
“I’m not walking—Wyatt.” She abruptly caught his face between her hands and her eyes roamed over it as if she were memorizing it. “You are right—I love you so much. But I loved—love—Finn, too, and I have to think how this is all going to work. I have to figure out how to live with two of you in my heart. Can’t you see that?”
“Do you want to be with me?” he asked gruffly, appalled by how much he needed her to say yes.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She went up on her toes and kissed him sweetly before sliding down again and dropping her hands from his face. “Just give me some time, will you? That’
s all I am asking. I am going to get some things together—”
“You’re going tonight?”
“I think I should.”
“Jesus, Macy,” he said, and dragged his fingers over his neatly cut hair. “Look,” he said, “I’ll sleep on the boat.” He could see that she was about to argue. “Just tonight,” he added quickly. “Tomorrow…” He didn’t say anything else. Tomorrow, in the light of day, he’d convince her to stay.
Her smile was far too grateful. She laced her fingers through his and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
He wasn’t understanding. He didn’t understand at all.
“Will you excuse me? I’m wiped out and want to take a bath.” She started inside, Milo on her heels. She paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot—the closing date for the sale of Two Wishes Ranch? We need to cancel that, obviously.”
“I don’t know about that.” He snorted. “The property issue is a whole other mess.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t just turn back the clock,” he scoffed.
Macy blinked. “Maybe not, but we can give Finn his land back. We have to give it back. Will you please cancel the closing?”
“Then what do I do?” he asked irritably. “That land is part of the resort deal.”
“Wyatt…you’ll have to find the money someplace else.”
“It’s not just the money, Macy. It’s the land. You know that part of Two Wishes is also part of the resort footprint.”
She frowned. “You own land on the other side of the footprint. Can’t you use that for the resort?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “It’s not that easy. There are easements and ingress-egress considerations.”
“But it’s the right thing to do,” she said firmly.
Wyatt clamped his jaw shut. Macy apparently took his silence as agreement, because she walked into the house.
10