A Rancher To Remember (Montana Twins Book 3)

by Patricia Johns

  “A bit, but not different enough. Like I said, there have already been a couple of tense interactions, and having Eddie talk to me like that...” Olivia licked her lips. “I feel pieces of myself falling away again. And I’m back to looking over my shoulder. I like myself better in Billings. I’m a whole person there.”

  Sawyer nodded slowly.

  “But you were always a step away from that stuff, and I liked that about you,” she added. “It’s why we became friends to begin with.”

  “Huh.” He smiled. “That and my stellar personality.”

  “And your taste in old cowboy movies.”

  “Right.”

  Olivia felt a smile tug at her lips. “You and Mia were the best of Beaut, Sawyer. You really were.”

  “Not good enough to keep you around, though,” he said.

  She sobered. Back then, she’d had to get out of Beaut if she was going to be able to breathe again. And when her two best friends had fallen in love, she’d known that she had to leave. They didn’t need a third wheel, and she didn’t have anything left to stay for.

  “There are some wounds that don’t heal,” she said quietly. “Even returning, it’s like stepping back in time for me. I hate this. I wish I could just ignore idiots like Eddie and move on, but it’s not just the guys like him. There’s nothing for me here.”

  “Is everyone that bad?” he asked.

  “No, not everyone. Even back in high school there were some nice people who didn’t join in on the bullying. But silence doesn’t do much in the face of that kind of nastiness.”

  “Yeah, I can see that...”

  “And since I’ve come back, I saw some of my mom’s friends in church and we had a nice chat. There is a woman I went to school with, Lily, who I’d never known terribly well back then who I’ve been chatting with on Facebook. We started chatting when we both gave our excuses for the five-year reunion. So there are some decent people—like you, Sawyer. But the cruel ones get under my skin. Maybe more than they should, but—”

  “Even if you had someone standing up for you?” he asked. “Because I will.”

  “To how many people, though?” Olivia asked. “It’s subtle, Sawyer. It’s sidelong looks, knowing smiles, insinuating comments. Are you going to tackle all of those? Because I can’t. And I shouldn’t have to. I have a life in the city where I’m respected without a fight. In the city, if someone is a jerk, I can cut them out of my life without much effort. It’s better for me.”

  Sawyer nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get it.”

  It was sweet that he wanted to help, but he wasn’t a one-man army. Even a guy as well intentioned as Sawyer couldn’t tackle this one.

  Bella pushed herself to her feet and wandered toward the slide. She looked up at it for a moment, then started up the rungs. Lizzie rose, too, her hands covered in sand, and she watched her sister. Bella got to the top.

  “Sit on your bottom,” Olivia called out to her. “Bella, sit down.”

  Bella lowered herself down to her diapered rump, and then slid slowly down the slide. She stopped halfway down, stuck.

  Sawyer chuckled and stood up, headed over. He gave her a nudge, helping her slide down the rest of the way, and Olivia smiled as she watched the sweet scene. She pulled her phone out and took a picture. Then she zoomed in on the girls and took another one. She’d send these to Sawyer—the start of his new memories.

  She lowered her phone. Beaut was good for Sawyer—she could see that. It had been good for his little family, good for his future. But it was no longer home for Olivia. It couldn’t be. Home was supposed to be safe and secure, where she could let herself exhale.

  Lizzie went up the ladder, and Sawyer put a hand out, helping her sit down so she could slide next. He glanced toward Olivia, catching her eye.

  “This is about new memories now,” he said. “For you, too.”

  “It wouldn’t be a fresh start for me,” she said. “I remember.”

  This town’s memory wasn’t easily shaken. And a woman could only take so much.

  Chapter Eight

  That afternoon, Bella fell asleep on the floor next to a stuffed animal, and Sawyer transferred her to her crib. Lizzie was ready to sleep, too, and it only took her a couple of minutes of squirming around to find the right position and her eyes drooped shut.

  He looked down at his sleeping daughters in their matching cribs. It had been a long day. But he was starting to notice some differences between the girls—Bella had a quicker temper, and Lizzie was more mischievous. Bella tended to pull the elastics out of her hair, and Lizzie didn’t mind hers. Lizzie was obsessed with shoes, and Bella was constantly putting things into her mouth. He and Olivia had fished more than one leaf or pine cone out of her cheek.

  He had started a game with himself, watching the girls play or interact, and then guessing which was which. He’d check their hands for the initials that had started to fade now from washing, and he was right more often than not. It felt good. He was figuring stuff out.

  Sawyer closed the bedroom door behind him and came out into the living room. He pushed a laundry basket aside so he could sink into the couch. Olivia sat in the rocking chair opposite him, and she shot him a weary smile.

  “Thanks for today,” she said. “I’m supposed to be helping you remember, not unloading my own issues onto you.”

  “Hey, that’s not true,” he said with a shake of his head. “We’re friends, and I’ve got your back, okay?”

  “You can’t take on a whole town,” she reminded him with a low laugh.

  Couldn’t he? As long as Olivia was here, he would protect her. Even after she left, he’d defend her. No one was going to talk badly about her within his hearing.

  “Watch me,” he muttered.

  Sawyer had seen a more vulnerable side to Olivia today, and for the first time, he’d been the one guiding her, supporting her. And he’d liked that. He hadn’t liked that she’d been treated that way by that Eddie creep, but he was glad he was there to see it—there to say something, at least. Even if it wasn’t enough, she deserved someone defending her.

  A car pulled into the drive, and Sawyer and Olivia both turned to look out the living room window. It was a little white hatchback, and when it parked, an older man with gray, receding hair got out. He wore a suit and cowboy boots, but his head was bare.

  “Who’s that?” Sawyer asked.

  “That’s your pastor,” she replied. “He’s the one who married you and Mia. And he officiated her funeral.”

  “Oh.” Sawyer leaned forward to get a better look. “I wonder what he wants.”

  The pastor seemed to be headed for the front door, so Sawyer walked over to open it before he knocked or rang the bell... Did they have a doorbell? He wasn’t sure. He pulled the door open and the older man met him with a smile.

  “Sawyer. Good to see you. I heard about your accident and wanted to come by and see how you were.”

  Sawyer nodded, and stepped back. “Hello.”

  “Do you remember me at all?”

  Sawyer shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  “I’m Pastor Herschel.” He put out a hand and shook Sawyer’s warmly. “Is this a convenient time?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Pastor Herschel came inside, wiped his boots on the mat, and shot a smile in Olivia’s direction.

  “Good to see you again, Olivia. I thought I saw you in the congregation on Sunday, but I didn’t catch you on your way out.”

  Olivia stood up and shook the pastor’s hand. They seemed to know each other rather well, and Sawyer watched them in idle curiosity.

  “Where are the girls?” the pastor asked, looking around.

  “They’re having a nap,” Olivia said.

  “Oh, so I’ll keep it down then.” The pastor smiled. “Sawyer, how are you doing? This can’t be a
n easy time for you.”

  “I’m okay,” Sawyer said. “I quite honestly don’t really remember much. I remember Mia’s funeral a little bit...”

  “I was the one who performed the funeral,” the pastor said with a solemn nod. “And your wedding.”

  “Yeah, Olivia just told me that.” Sawyer pulled the laundry basket off the couch and put it to the side. “Have a seat.”

  The older man sat down, and his gaze moved between him and Olivia. “I wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help.”

  “It’ll just take a bit of time,” Olivia said. “He’s getting a few memories back, but it’s slow.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.” Pastor Herschel nodded a couple of times. “Can I be honest, son?”

  “Yeah, that would be preferable,” Sawyer replied.

  “You weren’t a churchgoer, but your uncle is. I don’t want to mislead you here.”

  “I was told that much,” Sawyer said. “What was my problem, then? Because my wife was a churchgoer, right? And my uncle still is... Olivia here seems to be.”

  “You’ve been very angry,” the old man said. “With God. With church. You didn’t want anything to do with us.”

  “So I wasn’t just busy,” Sawyer concluded. “A workaholic.”

  “Well, you made yourself busy.” The pastor smiled. “You came to church on Christmas and Easter. You’d promised your wife you’d do that much. And you stared out a window the whole time.” The pastor paused. “You did send the girls to church with Lloyd and your cousin, Ellen.”

  “I didn’t know that...”

  “I came here today because your uncle thought I might be able to help. He asked me to come. When your memory comes back, I don’t want you to think that I took advantage of your condition. I’m telling you straight—you don’t like me much.”

  “On a personal level?” Sawyer frowned.

  “Oh, no, it’s not personal. I’m a minister. I stand for things that irritate you. And I don’t mind telling you that I’ve been praying for you by name for years.”

  “What happened?” Sawyer asked with a frown. “Olivia mentioned that I was pretty anti-church. But why?”

  “It was your dad’s death,” Olivia said quietly, and Sawyer turned toward her. “He passed away when you were only a teenager, and you missed him desperately. You hated the platitudes—you know, when people say that the person has gone to a better place, so we shouldn’t be sad, but should be happy for them. That sort of thing. That’s where it started. I guess there were a few older folks in the church who tried to take over and give you some guidance after your dad died, and it didn’t go well.”

  “Oh...” Sawyer said, trying to dig back into his mind. But it was no use. He couldn’t remember any of this, and when he looked at the weather-worn pastor sitting awkwardly on the couch, he couldn’t even pull up any negative feelings. “Well, I guess that’s good to know...”

  “I’ve come here today in good faith. I want to be here for you—for whatever you might need,” the pastor said slowly. “I understand that when you get your memory back, you’ll likely get back a lot of your old feelings toward the church. But right now, while you’re trying to remember it all, if there is anything I can do to help you, I want to do it.”

  Sawyer looked around himself. What did he need? He had his family, and Olivia. He had his girls... There was no pressure for him to get back to work to pay bills since he was living with his uncle. What he needed was his memory, and the pastor couldn’t do much about that.

  But when he looked over at Olivia sitting on that rocking chair, the sadness in her eyes that nothing seemed to touch... She needed more than just some cowboy telling off the idiots who insulted her—she needed healing of her own.

  “There is something,” Sawyer said, clearing his throat. “Not for me—but for Olivia.”

  Olivia’s gaze sharpened and she eyed him cautiously.

  “Of course,” the pastor said. “What can I do?”

  “This is all confidential, I presume?” Sawyer said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “She and her brother have been at odds for years, I understand,” Sawyer said slowly. “And it’s breaking her heart. She misses him a whole lot. If there were something you could do for her—that would mean a great deal to me.”

  The pastor turned to Olivia, and color bloomed in her cheeks.

  “It’s private,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “He has some strong feelings, and—”

  “It’s delicate,” the pastor said.

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Everyone is a little delicate, Olivia,” the pastor said quietly.

  Tears misted her eyes. “He doesn’t like me much anymore, Pastor. Too much water has passed under the bridge, I guess.”

  “But he’s still your brother,” the pastor pressed.

  “Yes.” Her chin trembled ever so slightly.

  “And you want to fix things.”

  She nodded. “I do. He’s not a Christian, though, and he’s not likely to respect you as a pastor. Just a warning.”

  Pastor Herschel nodded twice. “Will you leave it with me? I’ll pray on it, and see where the Spirit leads.”

  “Sure.” Olivia looked over at Sawyer, and past the tears in her eyes, he saw gratitude. Well, Sawyer wasn’t the only one who needed some help these days.

  “Let’s pray together...” the pastor said, and he folded his hands.

  As the pastor prayed—for reconciliation, for fresh starts, for forgiveness and blessings—Sawyer felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

  Lord, I want to be a better man than I was before, he prayed in his heart. I want to be kinder, more present for my daughters. I want to be the man I should have been. Please, Lord, change me.

  It was time to put all that bitterness that he couldn’t even remember into the past and to move forward. Not for himself, so much, as for his little girls.

  And then, as he listened to the low voice of the praying pastor, he remembered...

  * * *

  “Thank you so much,” Olivia said, standing at the door to see Pastor Herschel off again. Sawyer had slipped away after the prayer, and she wasn’t sure where he’d gone.

  “I’m glad I got to see you, too,” the pastor said, stepping outside.

  “I don’t know what to say about my brother, though,” she said hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to make this visit about my own problems. You were supposed to be here for Sawyer.”

  “He seems more concerned about you right now,” the older man said.

  “Yes...” Sawyer had been trying to help, and she appreciated it, even if his sweet gesture made him more difficult to hold at arm’s length. Being here with Sawyer was already opening up old memories, old feelings...old failures. She felt her eyes mist in spite of her attempt to hold back her emotions. “The thing is, Pastor, this situation with my brother is embarrassing for me. I should be able to sort this out on my own, but somehow it’s gotten too big for me to get a handle on.”

  “All families have their tensions,” he said with a kind smile. “As a minister, I see it all. Believe me, this is not so rare as you may think. Deaths in the family have this tendency to be watershed events. Sawyer’s father’s death, your mother’s death... Everything afterward is different. Relationships change, dynamics change. These things do happen. You’re not the only ones.”

  “Mom would have hated this,” Olivia admitted, a lump in her throat. “She wanted me to take care of Brian. Instead, we have a mess.”

  “We’ll both pray, and then we’ll see how the Lord moves us,” the pastor said, reaching out to touch her arm. “And keep taking care of Sawyer. I understand that he doesn’t remember any of us, but you being here—it helps more than a pastor popping by. I can tell you that.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a we
ak shrug. “I hope so.”

  “Tell Sawyer thank you for letting me visit,” the pastor said. “I hope I didn’t offend him.”

  “I’ll let him know. It was nice of you to come by.”

  The pastor waved and headed down the steps and toward his car. Olivia shut the front door and sucked in a deep breath.

  She crossed the living room and looked around. Where had Sawyer gone off to? Down the hallway, the toddlers’ bedroom door was open, and she walked softly in that direction.

  “Sawyer?”

  She peeked inside, and she saw him sitting on an ottoman, elbows resting on his knees, his back to her. The room was dim, the curtains shut, and the sound of the toddlers’ soft breathing came from the two cribs across the room. She stepped inside, and when she came closer, she saw that he was holding a tiny pair of socks, sized for newborns, in his hands.

  “Sawyer?” she repeated quietly.

  He looked up, and there were tears sparkling in his eyes. “I remember it...”

  He ran his calloused fingers over the soft cotton.

  “You do?” she breathed.

  “I remember her belly—Mia’s. It was huge.” His voice was low and rough. “I could put my hand on it, and I’d feel them move around in there...” A tear slipped past his lashes, and he dashed it off his face with the heel of his other hand. “And I remember taking them home... They were so tiny. I was so alone. I missed Mia so much. I can’t even describe it. Lloyd sat up with me that whole night, and we took turns giving the girls their bottles of formula. Just two guys and two tiny baby girls...”

  “Oh, Sawyer...” she breathed.

  “I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember that,” he said huskily. “I remember trying to put diapers on them, and they were so little that the diapers just about fell off of them. And I was afraid to put them into the cribs, because the house was cold—it was wintertime—and I was afraid they’d freeze. So me and Lloyd, we sat up together, each with a baby on our chests, and we kept them warm.”

  Tears misted Olivia’s eyes in response. He was getting it back...and she could see how much he loved his daughters.