The Ranch

by Danielle Steel

  “I wish I'd known then what I know now,” she said gently to Mary Stuart, as Tanya watched them. “I had no right to say the things I did to you. I can't believe how young and stupid I was. I've often thought about it. I almost wrote you a letter once, when my first patient committed suicide. It was like God's vengeance for my having been so cruel and so outrageous to you. It was as if he were trying to teach me everything I hadn't learned with Ellie, that it was no one's fault, that we couldn't have stopped her if we tried, oh, we might have for a while. But not in the end, not if that was really what she wanted. I was so damn ignorant when I was young, I kept thinking that one of us should have seen it, that you should have because you were closest to her. I couldn't understand why you didn't know that she'd been taking pills and drinking. She must have been doing it for months, I think, and I guess she'd gotten away with it. But she really didn't want to. Ellie got exactly what she wanted.” But as Mary Stuart listened to Zoe's words, she started crying. It was like listening to her talk about Todd, but Zoe didn't know that. And Tanya put a gentle arm around her. “I should have written you the letter, Stu,” Zoe said with tears in her own eyes. “I never forgave myself for what I said to you, I guess you didn't either. I don't blame you,” she said sadly. It had blown them all apart. Zoe had been vicious with her, she had raged at her for days, and even at the funeral, she had refused to sit beside her. She had blamed Mary Stuart completely for not being able to stop her, and Mary Stuart had been overwhelmed by the accusations, and she had believed her. It had taken years to overcome her sense of having failed to save her friend's life. It was almost as though she had killed her. And then it had all come back to her with Todd. It was as though the horror had never ended. Only this time it was worse, and now it was Bill blaming her, and not Zoe. “I'm so sorry,” Zoe said as she walked across the room and sat beside her. “I've wanted to say that to you all night. Even if we both leave tomorrow morning, especially if we do, I can't live with myself unless I tell you how wrong I was, and how stupid. You were right to hate me for all these years and I'm really sorry.” She was crying when she said it. It was important to her now to confess her sins and make peace with the people she had injured. And in Zoe's life, there weren't many.

  “Thank you for saying that,” Mary Stuart choked on a sob as she hugged her, “but I always thought you were right. How could I not know what she was doing? How could I have been so blind?” They were the same questions she had asked herself about her son's death. Todd's death had, in some ways, been very similar to Ellie's. It was like a recurring nightmare. Only there was no waking. It seemed to go on forever.

  “She was very sneaky, and she wanted to die,” Zoe said simply. Her practice had taught her a great deal in the past two decades. “You couldn't have stopped her.”

  “I wish I believed that,” Mary Stuart said sadly, confused suddenly if they were talking about her son, or their roommate,

  “I know,” Zoe persisted, as firm in this position as she had once been in the other. “She didn't want you to know what she was doing. If she had, you could have stopped her, but you couldn't.”

  “I wish I had,” Mary Stuart said, staring at her hands folded in her lap, as the other two watched her. And Tanya was worried. “I wish I had known, about both of them.” She raised her eyes to her friends’, and they could both see the agony she held here.

  “Both of whom?” Zoe was confused now, and Mary Stuart didn't answer, but the others just waited. “Mary Stuart?” She looked at her, and then she understood as Mary Stuart looked at her, and she wished she could have died for her, for both of them. She could only begin to imagine the agony she'd been through. Even more so after the distant memory of Ellie. It must have been like reliving it all again, but it had been so much worse for her. It made Zoe sob to realize what had happened. “Oh my God,” she said, as she clutched her old friend and they both cried. “Oh, God… Stu… I'm so sorry…”

  “It was so awful,” Mary Stuart cried, “it was so terrible… and Bill said all the same things you did, and more.” She went on sobbing as though her heart would break. But Mary Stuart knew it couldn't, it had broken long before that. “And Bill still blames me,” she explained. “He hates me. He's in London now, without me, because he can't bear the sight of me, and I don't blame him. He thinks I killed our son, or let him die, at the very least… just as you thought about Ellie.”

  “I was a fool,” Zoe said, still holding Mary Stuart in her arms, but it was small comfort in the face of what had happened. “I was twenty-two years old and an inexperienced moron. Bill should know better.”

  “He's convinced I could have stopped him.”

  “Then someone needs to tell him the truth about suicides. Stu, if he really wanted to, wild horses couldn't have stopped him. If he really wanted to, he would never have given you any warning.”

  “He didn't,” she said sadly, blowing her nose in the tissue Tanya handed her, as Zoe sat back and put an arm around Mary Stuart's shoulders.

  “You can't blame yourself. You have to try and accept what happened. As awful as it is, you can't change it, you can't stop it. You couldn't have stopped it then. All you can do now is go on, or you'll destroy yourself and everything around you.”

  “Actually, we've done a fairly good job of that.” She blew her nose again and smiled at both her friends through the tears she was still crying. “There's nothing left of our marriage. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Well, not if he blames you. Somebody needs to talk to him.”

  “Probably my lawyer,” Mary Stuart said, laughing grimly, and the other two smiled at her. She sounded a little more herself, and Tanya held one hand, and Zoe the other. “I've kind of decided to give it up. I'm going to tell him when he comes back from London.”

  “What's he doing there?” Zoe was curious. She didn't think they lived there.

  “He has a big case there for the next two or three months, but he wouldn't let me come with him.”

  Zoe raised an eyebrow, and looked like her old cynical self as the other two watched her. She had mellowed a lot over the last twenty years, but there was still quite a lot of spice there. “Is he involved with someone else?”

  “Actually, I don't think so. We haven't made love in a year, not since the night before Todd died. He's never touched me since. It's like the ultimate silent punishment. I think I so revolt him he can't touch me. But anyway, I really don't think there is someone else. That might be easier to understand than what's happened.”

  “Not really,” Zoe looked clinical more than sympathetic.

  “Some people just freeze up after traumas like that. It's pretty typical. I've heard it before. It's not exactly therapeutic, however, for a marriage.”

  “Not really.” Mary Stuart smiled briefly. “Anyway, I think I've finally figured out what I need for myself. He's never going to forgive me anyway, and I might as well get it over with. Living with him is like living with my guilt every day, and I just can't do it.”

  “You shouldn't,” Zoe said quietly. “He either has to deal with it honestly, or you need to get out. I think you're doing the right thing,” she said matter-of-factly. “What about your daughter?”

  Mary Stuart sighed as she answered. “I think she'll probably blame me for the divorce. I don't think she understands how rotten her father has been to me. She just thinks he's busy. I did too, at first. But he made pretty clear what he was feeling. I can't stay there anymore, just for Alyssa, or even for him. I'm not even a wife to him now. We don't speak, we don't go anywhere, he doesn't want to be with me. And just seeing the way he looks at me is like being beaten.”

  “Then get out,” Zoe said firmly. They hadn't seen each other for twenty years, and it was suddenly as though they had turned the clock back, to the beginning.

  “You'll be better off without him if he's making you miserable,” Tanya said gently. “I survived it. You will too. We all do.”

  “We've been married for twenty-two years. It's incredible
to watch it all go out the window.”

  “It sounds like it already did a while ago,” Zoe said honestly, and Tanya nodded, and Mary Stuart couldn't disagree with them. Even now that he was gone, he hardly ever called her. And when they spoke, he was in a hurry to get off the phone because it was so awkward. Lately, she had taken to sending him faxes, as she had that night when they arrived, just confirming her location. And even then, he didn't answer.

  “You're still young,” Tanya said encouragingly, “you could meet someone else, and have a whole new life with them, with someone who wants to be with you.” Mary Stuart nodded, wishing she believed them. She couldn't imagine anyone ever wanting to be with her again, after the way Bill viewed her.

  “It sounds like it's time to move on,” Zoe confirmed, and Mary Stuart didn't disagree with them. She just hated the fact that it had come to this after all these years. She dreaded telling him, and then packing up her things, and telling Alyssa they were getting divorced. It was all so difficult, and she shuddered at the prospect of dating. She almost couldn't bear it. But it was the same boat Tanya was in, except she was Tanya Thomas, and Mary Stuart said that. “Are you kidding? I haven't had a date since Tony left. Everyone is scared to death of me. No one's going to ask me out, except some damn hairdresser who wants to say they were out with me. Like Everest. No one wants to live there, but the whole world wants to say they climbed it.” All three of them laughed at that, and Mary Stuart wasn't sure if she felt better or worse. Just talking about her plans made it all seem so final. And in a way it seemed a betrayal of Bill, who didn't even know what she was thinking. But it was real, and it was what she was feeling, and what she thought she'd do at the end of the summer. At least she had time to think about it now while he was in England.

  They sat and talked for a long time. Nothing was resolved, but their friendship was restored, and none of them said anything more about leaving in the morning. Zoe's apology had meant a great deal to Mary Stuart. And Zoe was deeply moved to realize her words had hurt her friend for all these years, worse still since her son had been a suicide, not unlike Ellie. Life was so cruel sometimes. It always boggled her, but it was also so kind at others. And in the morning, when the phone rang at six o'clock, it was Zoe who answered. She was used to coming awake instantly for the phone at night, and the other two were still sleeping.

  “Hello?”

  “Zoe?” It was Sam, and she instantly thought of Jade and felt a wave of panic… appendicitis… crib death… an earthquake…

  “Is Jade all right?” They were the first words out of her mouth. It was as though Jade had been born to her, she loved her as much as any natural mother and had all the same instincts.

  “She's fine. I'm sorry if I scared you. But I wanted to call you. I thought you'd want to know.” He hated calling her with bad news, but he was sure she'd never forgive him if he didn't. “Quinn Morrison died an hour ago. He went peacefully, and his family was with him. I'm sorry you weren't here with him, but I did everything I could. His heart just gave out finally.” In a way, it had been a mercy, and she knew it. But she was sad anyway, and she cried when he told her. She cried for most of them, the old, the young, and especially the children. At least Quinn Morrison had been seventy-four years old, he'd had a full life, and AIDS had only ruined the last year of it, not an entire lifetime, and it hadn't cut it much shorter than most people his age with other diseases. But she was sad anyway, she felt a sense of loss, and of having been defeated. It was a familiar feeling to her, she lost so many patients to the dread killer. “Are you all right?” Sam sounded worried.

  “I'm fine. I just feel badly not to have been there.”

  “I knew you would. That's why I called. He said he was glad you went to Wyoming.” She smiled at that. It sounded just like him. He'd spent the whole year telling her she should get married and have children.

  “Is everyone else all right?”

  “Peter Williams had a rough night. I spent an hour at his house before I went to Quinn's. He's got pneumonia again. I'm going to admit him in the morning,” He was thirty-one years old, and getting close to the end too. But in his case, it was far more disturbing because he was so young.

  “Sounds like you had a busy night.”

  “The usual,” he said, smiling. He loved it. This was what he had gone to school for. “What about you? Having fun? Meet any cowboys yet?”

  “Just one. The one who picked me up at the airport. He's about twelve years old and twelve feet tall, a kid from Mississippi. It's incredible here, by the way, I really love it.”

  “How's your friend?”

  “Fine. And she had a surprise for me. Our other roommate from Berkeley. It's a long story, but she and I haven't spoken in twenty years. She was ready to take the next plane back to New York when she saw me. But I think we made peace last night. I was a real shit to her twenty years ago, I've never forgiven myself for it. And it was really nice to put that behind us.”

  “Sounds like you've been busy too,” he said kindly.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Well, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I called so early.” It was only five-thirty in the morning for him by then, and he was about to go to bed. But he had wanted her to know about Quinn Morrison as soon as it happened. He knew that was what she would have wanted.

  “Thanks for calling, Sam. I really appreciate it. I know you did your best for him. Don't feel that you didn't. I wouldn't have been able to do anything different.” It was nice of her to say that to him, and he was grateful. She was a good woman.

  “Thank you for that, Zoe. Take care. I'll talk to you soon,” but as he hung up, he felt sad thinking of her. There was so much there, so much he wanted and admired, and he couldn't get near her. And he sensed her loneliness too. There was an overwhelmingly vulnerable quality about her, and yet she was hiding somewhere, and he was beginning to suspect he would never find her.

  At that exact moment, as he went to bed, Zoe was standing in the living room of their cabin in Moose, Wyoming, watching the sun come up over the Grand Tetons. And there were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks at the sheer beauty of it. She thought of Quinn Morrison, and the life he had led. She was sorry he had died, she was sorry for so many of them. There was so much grief in life… Ellie… and Todd… and all the sorrows she'd seen, and yet at the same time there was this overwhelming beauty. And she was suddenly glad she had come. Whatever happened, she had seen the sun come up once in her life over the Grand Tetons. It was impossible not to know there was a God when you saw that. She tiptoed quietly back to her own room, and lay in bed, thinking of Sam, and looking out over the mountains.

  Chapter 12

  On their first morning at the ranch, Zoe went back to sleep for a while after Sam called, but she woke again just as Mary Stuart wandered out of her room. Zoe heard someone stirring, and got out of bed, and the two women met in the kitchen, where Mary Stuart was making coffee. They were both in their nightgowns, and Mary Stuart looked up and smiled at her. Zoe looked more rested than she had before, and surprisingly young that morning.

  “Can I make you some coffee? There's tea too, if you want it.” But she didn't, and Zoe helped herself to a mug of steaming coffee. “Is Tanya up yet?” Zoe asked, and then they both grinned. “I guess some things don't change.”

  Mary Stuart looked at her old friend seriously for a moment. They had been estranged for so many years. “No, they don't. I'm glad. I'm glad I came.” She looked right into Zoe's eyes.

  “So am I, Stu. I wish I hadn't been stupid way back then. I wish we'd talked over the years. I'm just glad we saw each other now. I would have hated to have this stay between us.” It had gone on for long enough. Ellie had been laid to rest for more than twenty years, and their old battles could be too. Looking back, it seemed so foolish and such a pathetic waste of time. “I owe Tanya one for asking you here and not telling me.”

  “She's a cagey little thing, isn't she?” Mary Stuart laughed. “All the way here on
the bus she never said a word. I should have suspected something though. She said ‘we’ a couple of times before I agreed to come, and I think her assistant said something about ‘they’ and three rooms. I thought she meant the kids. It never dawned on me she'd invited anyone. And it worked out so well for me when Alyssa canceled our trip. I had nothing to do.”

  “It's a godsend for me too.” She thought of the light on the mountains that morning when Sam had called to tell her Quinn Morrison had died. She told Mary Stuart about it, as they sat at the narrow counter in the kitchen alcove, and sipped their coffee.

  “It must be depressing work,” Mary Stuart said quietly. “I admire you for it, but you just can't win.” She thought of how awful it had been when Todd had died, she couldn't imagine dealing with that every day. But then again, he had been her son, not her patient.

  “You can win for a while. And oddly enough, it's not depressing most of the time. You learn to take the little victories, you get more and more determined to win the fight. And sometimes you lose.” She lost a lot of the time, it was inevitable. But some of it had to do with the circumstances, and how ready the patient and the family were to let go. Sometimes it was just time, like with Quinn. It was the children she hated to lose most, and the young people, the ones who had so much left to live and to learn and to give. Like herself. But she hadn't absorbed that yet.

  “You're lucky you found the right path for yourself so long ago,” Mary Stuart said, envying her, and enjoying her company. It was easy to remember why they had been such good friends. The rift seemed so unimportant now. In the sunlight of honesty, it had finally vanished. “I do a lot of charity work in New York, a lot of committees and volunteer work, but I've been thinking of getting a job. I just don't know what I'd do. All I've ever really done is be a wife, and mother to our kids.”