Circle of Family

by Mia Ross

  “You look upset,” Ridge sympathized.

  Completely forgetting her manners, she shot back, “And you don’t. Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes things don’t work out. My wife wanted a different life, and I let her go find it. We’re both happier now,” he added, as if that made everything okay.

  Appalled by his casual attitude, Marianne glared at him. “The vows are ‘until death do us part,’ not ‘until things don’t work out.’”

  Ridge studied her for a few seconds, compassion etching his features. “I’m guessing your ex is the one who left. Could you have stopped him?”

  “Yes,” she retorted immediately, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She’d come home to find Peter’s wedding ring on the counter wrapped around a note that read I want a divorce—Peter.

  Ridge slowly shook his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  His perceptiveness was more than a little unnerving. She’d never met a man so adept at reading people, and she didn’t know what to think.

  Eager to end their pointless conversation, she said, “I don’t mean to seem rude, but the kids are waiting for me.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a dunk myself. Mind if I come along?”

  “Not at all.”

  Cocking his head, he grinned at her. “You’re just being polite, aren’t you?”

  Caught in the half lie, she smiled. Ridge’s open, forthright manner made her want to strangle him one minute and laugh the next. “I was, but now I mean it. You’re welcome to come with me,” she added as she headed out the side door.

  When they saw her on the side steps, Kyle and Emily raced down the dock and dove into the pond. His feathery tail going a mile a minute, Tucker anxiously waited on the bank, watching the kids. Once he was satisfied they were ready, the black Lab barreled down the dock like a furry jet and launched himself into the water.

  The cool grass felt heavenly on her tired feet, and Marianne walked down the dock and settled on the end to dangle them in the water. Ridge stretched out beside her, but gave her plenty of space. After their far-too-personal chat, she appreciated the gesture.

  “Watch me, Mommy!” Emily called out, dog-paddling toward the opposite bank for all she was worth.

  “Great job,” Marianne said. “All that practice is really paying off.”

  “I want Kyle to toss me, but he won’t.”

  “Next year, Emmy,” he promised. “You hafta be seven for that.”

  And able to swim back to the surface, Marianne added silently. Still, she was grateful to Kyle for handling his little sister so deftly. Emily adored him, and she wanted to do what he did. Sometimes they had to hold her back because she refused to accept that she couldn’t keep up with him. Marianne always got an argument or, at the very least, a first-class pout. Kyle managed to slide bad news past his little sister with a diplomatic flair that would come in handy at the United Nations.

  After a while, Tucker climbed from the pond and shook out his fur. Ridge greeted him, and the dog flopped onto his back in a less-than-subtle pose. Laughing, Ridge rubbed the lab’s wet belly.

  Since he hadn’t spoken to her, Marianne decided it was up to her to start a more pleasant discussion. She decided to go with something less emotional than weddings and divorces. “So, tell me about your date.”

  He laughed at her joke. “Betsy’s a 1941 Stearman. Grandpa towed it home with most of the parts missing or in boxes. We spent the better part of five years putting her back together.”

  “You and your granddad built that airplane?”

  * * *

  They both turned at the sound of Kyle’s voice. Elbows braced on the dock, his hazel eyes were round with admiration. He’d been following Ridge around like a puppy all day, and Ridge was surprised to find he liked the attention. It’s not that he didn’t like kids, he just never gave them much thought. This bright, curious boy had definitely impressed him.

  “That’s so cool,” Kyle said with a wide-open grin.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Unlike the dark images of his wreck of a father, Ridge had great memories of time spent with his grandparents. He and his mother’s father were more alike than not, and they had a blast working together. Everything he needed to know about being a real man, Ridge had learned from Grandpa.

  “It sounds like flying is your family business,” Marianne said.

  Since he didn’t have many warm, fuzzy stories to tell, talk of family always put him on shaky ground. As usual, Ridge focused on the positives. “After World War One, my great-great-grandfather flew all around the Midwest as a barnstormer. They put on some great shows back then, aerial tricks and wing-walking, all kinds of stunts.”

  “It’s in your blood, then,” she commented. “Like this farm’s in ours.”

  “I guess so.” Emily had paddled over to join them, and Ridge smiled from one kid to the other. “I’ll bet this is a great place to grow up.”

  “The best,” Kyle agreed as the kids climbed the ladder and sat on the towels spread on the dock beside their mother. “Where do you live?”

  Ridge thought for a second, trying to simplify his complicated history. “I’m from Colorado, as I said earlier, but I’ve lived all over. California, Montana, Texas. I spent most of last year in Alaska.”

  “Alaska?” Kyle echoed. “What did you do there?”

  “I was a bush pilot. Took people out on wilderness tours, delivered supplies to the way-out villages, stuff like that.”

  “Why do you move so much?” Emily asked.

  No one had ever asked him that quite so directly. Maybe, like Marianne, adults figured it was too personal a question. “I like to explore different places, I guess.”

  “I like it here,” Kyle said simply. “Someday this place will be ours. Right, Mom?”

  “Definitely,” she assured him with a proud smile.

  Kyle nudged his sister’s shoulder. “We’re gonna take real good care of it, aren’t we, Emmy?”

  Emily’s vivid blue eyes glowed with brother worship, and she nodded somberly. She probably had no idea what she was agreeing to, but it was about the cutest thing Ridge had ever seen.

  “How old are you again?” Ridge teased Kyle.

  “Ten and a quarter.”

  Impressed by the very precise way he gave his age, Ridge recognized the serious demeanor from his own childhood. He knew firsthand that when dads were out of the picture, little boys grew up fast. Sadly, his own experience had taught him there were worse things than an absent father.

  Pushing those memories aside, he smiled at Emily. “How ’bout you, sweetness?”

  “Oooh, I like that name,” she cooed. “I never had a special name before.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  Score one for the new guy, Ridge thought with a grin. Welcoming as the Sawyers had been, he still felt like an outsider looking in on the close circle of their family. Because he moved around so much, he was used to that. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it was bothering him all of a sudden.

  Pulling her Cinderella towel around her shoulders, Emily said, “I’m six. I was born a long way away from here.”

  “Really? Where?”

  Emily glanced up at her mother, who nodded. “Chicago. Daddy didn’t want us, so me and Mommy and Kyle came back here to be with Granddad.” She frowned. “He’s with Gramma in heaven now.”

  Marianne smoothed her hair with a comforting hand, and Kyle put an arm around Emily’s shoulders for a quick squeeze. The way she’d skimmed over her father’s rejection of them just about stopped Ridge’s heart. While he’d already guessed that Marianne’s ex had left them, it hadn’t occurred to him just how much that would have affected her children.

  What kind of man pushed away a beautiful woma
n and fantastic kids like these? Emily’s revelation made the Westons’ family situation painfully clear to Ridge, but he reminded himself that it was none of his business.

  “Your uncle Matt told me all about your granddad,” he said gently. “He sounds like a great guy. I wish I could’ve met him.”

  What would his life have been like if he’d had a generous, loving father like Ethan Sawyer? Grandpa did his best to fill the void, but all his life Ridge had known he was missing out on something. Since there was no remedy for his very flawed past, he did what he always did when thoughts like that popped up. He pushed them aside and focused on the here and now.

  “We miss him all the time,” Emily continued sadly. “We loved him a lot.”

  “I love my grandpa, too. He taught me everything I know.”

  “Like what?” Kyle asked.

  “Like how to pick off a runner at first base or throw a good, tight spiral with a football. How to fix an engine. How to fly,” he added with a fond smile. “All the important stuff.”

  He almost expected Kyle to ask about his father. He braced himself for it, but the question never came. Young as he was, Kyle struck him as an old soul who understood more than any ten-year-old should. Ridge wondered if somehow the kid sensed that they shared father trouble and had decided to give him a break.

  “I hate to do this, but we need to get you two into some dry clothes.” Marianne stood and held her arms out for them. For Ridge, she had a gracious smile. “Are you hungry yet?”

  Remembering the manners Mom had pounded into him all his life, Ridge got to his feet. While he appreciated Marianne’s hospitality, he sensed that after the long day she’d had, she wouldn’t mind some time alone. “Actually, I need to do a few things with Betsy. Thanks, though.”

  “The offer stands. My kitchen’s always open.”

  As the three of them walked toward the house, their voices trailed back to him, punctuated by the kids’ laughter. Despite her gracious behavior, anyone could see that Marianne was exhausted. All day, she’d been a real trouper, managing one thing after another with a lovely smile he suspected had taken her years to perfect.

  Did women practice that kind of look? Ridge wondered as he strolled toward Betsy’s makeshift runway. Came in handy when they decided it was time to cut you loose but didn’t want to mortally wound you. He had no trouble imagining the very proper Marianne Weston dismissing a guy that way.

  A rose with thorns, he mused as he pulled his tool kit from Betsy’s storage compartment. Grabbing what he needed, he began degreasing the rebuilt engine he’d installed last month. Full of original parts and expertly machined reproductions, it had cost him a small fortune. But, with care, it would last for years. Like anyone else, Betsy was at her best when she got the attention she needed.

  Speaking of which, Tucker trotted over and sat in front of Ridge, shamelessly begging for some love. Ridge hunkered down and fluffed his damp ears. “You’re quite the character. Dogs don’t usually take to me so quickly.”

  The Lab cocked his head with a curious look, and Ridge laughed. “You don’t know you’re a dog, do you?”

  In response, Tucker yipped and spun a quick circle before taking off for the woods. As Ridge watched him go, he took a minute to admire the Sawyer homestead. Over two thousand acres, Matt had informed him proudly when he’d asked about it. The land had been in the family since the mid-1800s, and every square inch was obviously worked with care, even the fallow field he’d used as a landing strip.

  A well-worn dirt path wound past John’s cottage and up to the main house. There it joined up with a wide driveway that split two rows of fence and trees on its way out to the road. Ridge could tell from the structure of the walls that the original farmhouse had been expanded over the decades as the Sawyers needed more space. Each outer door led to a generous porch, but the front one was the showstopper.

  Draped in ivy, trellises ran top to bottom to support every color of climbing rose he could imagine. Thanks to his grandmother, he knew enough about gardens to recognize that those flowers weren’t trucked in as wedding decorations. They grew there year-round, tended as meticulously as the inside of the immaculate house.

  That was Marianne’s doing, he knew without being told. She struck him as organized and disciplined, caring for everyone and everything around her. Instinctively, he knew she was someone who took charge and made sure things got done. Like him in some ways—vastly different in others.

  Based on the few words they’d exchanged since he arrived, she didn’t seem the least bit interested in him. That was actually a relief, Ridge thought with a sigh. Life had taught him that he was the kind of person who withered when he stayed in one place too long. He’d tried it more than once and failed every time, managing to hurt himself and the people he cared about most.

  As soon as he finished the dusting contracts Matt had thrown his way, he and Betsy would be back in the air where they belonged.

  Chapter Two

  Sunday morning, Marianne woke up bright and early. The house was silent, and outside her window she could hear the birds enjoying the misty sunshine. The kids were still sleeping after the busy wedding day, and she opted to leave them be until breakfast was ready.

  Today would be much calmer than yesterday, and she decided to take advantage of the quiet. The chair she’d rocked Emily in as a baby still sat next to the window, and a breeze came through to flutter the sheer curtains around it. It was an inviting sight, so she sat down and picked up her devotional book from the side table. The next lesson started with a line from Corinthians.

  Let all that you do be done in love.

  Quotes followed from various people—some pastors, other regular folks with inspiring stories to tell. Marianne read through them but nothing resonated with her. While she appreciated the general idea of doing even small things with a loving heart, for some reason she couldn’t focus on the words long enough for them to make a solid impression.

  Despite her best efforts, her mind kept wandering back to Ridge’s unusual arrival. In her memory she saw him climbing down from his plane, turning to face her for the first time. Despite her best efforts to be merely polite, she had to be honest with herself.

  The man fascinated her.

  Cocky and self-assured, he seemed to assume that people would like him just as he was. She’d had that kind of confidence once. Back before her marriage had disintegrated and stripped away everything she’d thought was so solid.

  Seeing Ridge’s eyes sparkle while he told them about his ancestors’ exciting adventures explained why he enjoyed flying so recklessly. Maybe it was in his blood, maybe he was imitating men he admired, but their courageous example had helped make him who he was. More than that, she knew he was proud of those men. Despite his gypsy-like lifestyle, Ridge’s family history meant something to him.

  Now that she owned the home Daniel Sawyer had built so many generations ago, Marianne’s connection to her own family’s past was stronger than ever. She could certainly appreciate that in someone else.

  The clock on her night table told her it was time to get moving. On her way to the bathroom, she glanced into each of the kids’ rooms to find them sound asleep. After her shower, she put on her new blue dress and quickly pulled her hair into a twist. She added Grandma Sawyer’s beautiful pearl choker and earrings but left her feet bare. They were still sore from yesterday, and she decided there was plenty of time to wedge them into a pair of heels later on.

  When she was ready, Marianne tiptoed downstairs to sneak in a little more peace and quiet before things went haywire. The programmed coffeemaker was already brewing, so she went to the fridge to pull out the egg-and-sausage casserole she’d made for this morning. Setting the oven, she slid the pan in and walked out to get the newspaper.

  The headlines never seemed to change all that much, she mused as she pour
ed coffee into a mug proclaiming her Best Mom Ever. She was in the middle of reading a book review when Ridge stumbled through the back door. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

  “Coffee,” he croaked. “Please.”

  Trying to be polite, she did her best not to smile, but he looked so pathetic she couldn’t help herself. To make up for it, she got up to fill a mug for him. “Rough night?”

  Dropping into a chair, he answered with a huge yawn. “John snores like a freight train. Around three, I gave up and went to get my headphones out of Betsy so I could get some sleep.” He swallowed two sips in rapid succession. “Excellent coffee.”

  “Thank you.”

  Men liked it strong, so she always added an extra scoop. What she didn’t tell him was she blended French vanilla in with the regular. If he found out, she knew he’d never drink another cup.

  When Ridge seemed a little more coherent, she asked, “So, what do you think of Caty?”

  “She’s great.”

  The gold in his hazel eyes twinkled mischievously, telling her that was all she was getting. He wasn’t going to come right out and admit that Matt had told him nothing about the woman who was now his wife.

  “You never met her before yesterday?” Marianne tried again.

  “Nope, but Matt loves her. That’s good enough for me.”

  In her experience, men didn’t normally take emotions at face value that way. They needed proof, numbers—things like that. “You have a lot of faith in him.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Curiosity lit his eyes, and he leaned toward her. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” His direct gaze made her want to squirm, and she fiddled with the handle on her mug to avoid it.

  “Matt and John get along, don’t they?”

  “Very well. Why?” She met his gaze.

  “So why didn’t he ask his little brother to be his best man?”

  “John didn’t want to do it,” she explained. “He said it would cramp his style at the reception.”