“Who?”
“You know, that travel blogger I follow on Momentso. She was here. I wonder if she still is.”
Keira slinked across the room and out the door before the girl could glimpse her face.
* * *
* * *
On her bed, beneath the pile of stuffed animals, Anabelle finally dozed off. It only took fifteen lullabies or so. Robbie brushed a curl off her warm cheek.
Lord, protect her from cold, fear, and harm. Give me wisdom to be a good father. Let me be enough for her.
He slid off her mattress. Careful to avoid the loudest-creaking floorboards, Robbie ducked out of the room and descended the stairs. On his way past the coffee table in the family room, he grabbed the bowl of popcorn and empty chocolate milk cups from his movie night with Anabelle. He washed them out by hand and placed them upside down on the drying rack.
More than ever, his cabin felt cold and empty.
In the movie, Princess Patty Cake didn’t have a mother. She seemed to turn out fine. Then again, King Hubert was the smartest man in the land. Every decision he made was wise. Maybe in the sequel, the king would go on a date with a woman—maybe a waitress like Hallie? Maybe he would walk her to the door afterward. Perhaps he would even kiss her. But would he marry her?
Why shouldn’t he take a chance on Hallie? She seemed cool. No drama. No history. She was not Keira. And unlike Kat Wanderfull, she was real.
That’s it. Time to move on, once and for all. He searched for Hallie’s number in his contacts.
“Hello?” she said, in that cheerful way of hers.
“Hey, Hallie? It’s Robbie Matthews. My sister gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.”
She laughed. “It’s more than okay. How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“I finally saw a bear in the park. Some friends and I went kayaking on Yellowstone Lake, and he was hanging out on the shore like a beach bum. So adorable.”
Robbie pulled the phone away from his ear. He wasn’t used to loud talkers. “Cool. Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?” After an enthusiastic yes—did Hallie do anything without enthusiasm?—they made plans to go out after he finished the teachers’ lounge remodel. For him, it would be a celebration. Proof that he could be in Keira’s presence and come out with an in-tact heart.
Then, with a tap of the red circle on his phone, Robbie ended the call and sealed his fate. He was officially dating again. Robbie could certainly imagine hugging and kissing Hallie. She was easy on the eyes, and her breath always smelled like cherries for some reason. He’d been a good kisser once. At least that’s what he’d been told. And he liked kissing . . . a lot. But that had fallen off the list of priorities after Anabelle came along. So why wasn’t he more excited?
To his right, Anabelle’s Fisher-Price globe sat on the bookshelf. He spun the earth on its axis. Where in the world is Kat Wanderfull tonight?
On his phone, he pressed the bright-yellow icon with the cursive M. A star twinkled new activity by her name. A picture showed a large tent beneath the dark-blue sky of twilight’s end. The canvas doors pulled back to reveal a queen-size wrought iron bed under a matching chandelier. Below, a caption read:
Into the great wide open #glamping #JacksonHole
Robbie found her location on the globe quickly. He knew the location well. So close Robbie could practically walk there. He tapped the comment bar and typed out a reply.
MRCUSTOM: Big fan of Tom’s?
A few minutes later he lay in his bed, humming the Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers song. It had been the first song of every road trip he and Keira had taken in college. He could still see her feet sticking out the window, propped up on the side mirror. Could still feel her leaning back against his chest and her hair whipping around his face as he drove.
His phone pinged, and a glow surrounded the bedside table. He tilted the screen toward him. The mailbox icon flashed, indicating a new message. He clicked it.
KAT WANDERFULL: The biggest. I know every song, every line.
A green circle shone on her avatar. She was online right now. Waiting for his response? He let the swell of breath fill his lungs and push out every thought of Keira.
MRCUSTOM: In all our conversations, how have we never talked about this before? Let me guess. Your favorite song is “Here Comes My Girl.”
KAT WANDERFULL: How’d you know?
MRCUSTOM: Lucky guess. Did you see my message earlier?
She sent him a pic. That was a first. She’d never sent one just to him. Plus, this one was more casual. Less staged. Not the kind she’d share as Kat Wanderfull. The photo was taken as she sat on the bed, apparently, facing the footboard. She held a copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe on her lap. Past that, small, socked feet crossed casually atop the blank. Man, she even had cute feet.
KAT WANDERFULL: I did. And I wholeheartedly disagree. Aslan would NOT have been a more powerful Christ figure if he were a skunk. No one likes skunks. They avoid them. They don’t want to get sprayed.
MRCUSTOM: But not many liked Jesus, either. They avoided him, too. And those who knew him were changed because of it. Like they had a new scent to them that others didn’t like. Just sayin’.
KAT WANDERFULL: But there was also something attractive about Jesus. Maybe not in appearance, but in spirit. Lions are more attractive than skunks.
MRCUSTOM: We’re back to this again? You certainly have a type, don’t you? The alpha male. Let me guess. If you have a boyfriend, I bet he looks like John Cena.
Robbie cringed. Nice one, Robbie. I’m sure that won’t creep her out at all. There was no response.
Three dots appeared to indicate she was typing. That was good.
They disappeared. That was bad.
MRCUSTOM: Sory. I crossed a line.
He cursed.
MRCUSTOM: *Sorry
Nothing. So not only was he a creep, but he also couldn’t spell a simple word like sorry without waiting for autocorrect to catch his mistakes.
Robbie tossed his phone onto the vacant spot on his bed. He pictured Kat using her slender fingers to block him from contacting her. She’d flip her curls over her shoulder, then rub her hands over her makeup-free face with the perfect naturally pink lips and sparkling eyes. Not that he’d ever seen her face. Her pics—at least the ones that showed her—were always distant and partial or masked somehow. As if she was hiding something. What he could see from pictures was she was slim, with long blond hair that either curled down her back, twisted into an updo-thing, or was braided. She had a bohemian style of dress most of the time. Flowing blouses and long skirts that gave her pictures a dreamy quality.
She reminded him of Keira . . .
Except Keira was a high school teacher. She didn’t have the money to travel. And most of the time when Kat checked in at Niagara Falls, the Everglades, or Mesa Verde, Keira was stuck in her classroom. Lastly, unless she’d finally grown into the nickname he’d given her, Keira was way too timid to travel by herself the way Kat did.
Still, sometimes he pictured Keira’s face on Kat Wanderfull. The face he’d first fallen in love with at seventeen years old, free of the makeup she caked on now. He sunk his head in his pillow and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.
Ping.
Robbie sighed in relief and found his phone in the sheets.
KAT WANDERFULL: It’s okay. My boyfriend is a great man. Just not necessarily like Aslan. Speaking of, I owe him a call. I should go.
There it was. She had a boyfriend. A great man, huh? Robbie hoped so. If Kat Wanderfull had to be with someone, he thanked God it was with someone full of integrity and goodness. Like John Garfield.
Another chime interrupted his thoughts.
KAT WANDERFULL: Oh, btw, I’m r
eading Of Mice and Men next. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on that one.
He considered a response. How about a comic book instead? Or the instruction manual for a new power tool? He could handle that. Not these old books, though. He could hardly read them in school when he had help. His thumbs tapped a response.
A fool. That’s what he was, agreeing to read yet another book this woman—this stranger—presented to him. And for what? To send her back to her boyfriend after a message or two?
Robbie set his phone on his nightstand. He was tired. Almost too tired to pray, but he did anyway.
Lord, thank you for keeping my Anabelle safe today. Thanks for your grace and forgiveness when I do stupid stuff. And God, one day, if it’s your will and all, could you make me into one of those great men?
CHAPTER FIVE
For Keira, each school day toward the end of May dragged slower than a spoon through cafeteria mashed potatoes. The week and a half since she’d returned from Jackson Hole had felt like a lifetime, but this sun-drenched late afternoon was proof. Summer was near.
While an old George Strait tune played over its speakers, Keira’s SUV rounded a bend. She drew in a lengthy breath. In college, Robbie used to joke that the Madison River had a unique scent to it. A mixture of pine, huckleberry, and all-American male. Even now, her lips kicked up into a smile. His plan worked. Whenever she was on this side of town and smelled the river, she thought of him and the many kisses they’d shared along the bank.
Easing her foot on the brake, she slowed her 4Runner. The worn sign for River’s Edge Resort straddled white, orange, and purple wildflowers. She turned onto the familiar gravel road. Fourteen rustic cabins of varying sizes stood off to the left. Straight ahead, a red wooden building with a tin roof doubled as a café and fly shop. To the right, the entire Matthews family lived in cabins.
During her college summers, she’d occupied one of the two small cabins flanking the edge of the property. A newer, more sophisticated cabin split the distance between the family cabins. Robbie couldn’t have built that beauty, could he? She had avoided the teachers’ lounge lately, so she was unsure of the quality of his work. Was that the cabin he shared with his daughter?
At a loss, she idled the car. In no scenario would she risk knocking on the wrong cabin door. Instead, she put her SUV in park next to the café and cut the engine. After grabbing the book she’d borrowed from Ryann off the dash, she stepped down out of the vehicle. The river, which ran along the south edge of the resort, roared its welcome. Mountains cradled the majestic Madison beneath skies of brilliant blue. This place was the best Montana had to offer.
A quick scan of the property came up fruitless. No one was outside. No campers, either. Rumors around town warned of trouble for the resort. She hoped not. The Matthewses were good people. The kind that treated strangers like friends and friends like family. Her shoes padded softly on the pebbles. As she passed the ice chest, the first notes of a John Mellencamp song wafted past her ears.
Keira peered through the window. What she saw paralyzed her. The café was filled with several members of the Matthews family and then some. Ryann stood by her father’s side, her arm playfully draped around his shoulder. The two had always been close. Shirley, Robbie’s mom, carried a large casserole dish to the table. Her movement, just as Keira remembered, was accompanied by a smile.
Pink and purple crepe-paper streamers draped across the ceiling, ending in bouquets of matching balloons. Keira’s lungs twisted. May 27. This day four years ago had been one of the hardest days of her life. How had she forgotten?
A squeal from inside the café brought her back to the present. Robbie, holding his daughter in his arms, spun into her view. For a moment, she worried she’d be seen, but Robbie only had eyes for his daughter. Slowing the motion, he moved into a two-step. His lips seemed to sing along to the song. Poor girl. Robbie couldn’t find the right note if it came with a map and was marked with a big red X. But Anabelle looked at her daddy as if he was the greatest singer in all the world.
Suddenly, Robbie stilled, then turned as if somehow alerted to her presence. When his eyes landed on Keira, the glimmer of softness she’d seen in the teachers’ lounge was gone. She felt like an elk caught in a wolf’s sight. In his arms, the little girl wriggled and kicked her legs until he lowered her to the ground. She scampered off to her grandpa.
When he heaved open the door, the bells fixed to the top clanged loud enough to echo in Keira’s bones. When he shoved the door closed behind him, the front windows shook. His head remained down until after the bells finally quieted.
An old urge to run reared inside her. Angry men shout. Angry men throw things. Angry men cause pain. She took a step back.
Her movement yanked his chin up. She realized now that she’d been wrong about that look in his eye. Robbie wasn’t angry but worried. He wasn’t the wolf. She was.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
Keira held out the book. “I wanted to return this to Ryann. I borrowed it last month, and I’m trying to clear things out of my apartment. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I forgot it’s your daughter’s birthday.”
The café’s door burst open. Anabelle, clinging to the doorknob, nearly tumbled onto the porch. Her giggly squeal was kind of magical. Chuck Matthews followed his granddaughter outside, heading straight for Keira.
“The prodigal daughter returns.” As his broad arms wrapped her in a bear hug, the smell of his cigars, faintly sweet, played tricks on her. Suddenly, she was eighteen again and given a shelter over her head. “How are you, darlin’? We sure have missed you around here.”
Hello. I’m doing fine. Even simple words lodged in Keira’s throat. The more complex words pooled in her stomach. I’ve missed you. This feels like home. I’m sorry for leaving. Of course, the only response she could muster was to embrace her surrogate father back. With the way the Madison River Canyon seemed to spin, she needed to.
Chuck released her. Too soon. But even before she opened her eyes, someone else took his place. She knew immediately from the softness against her breast, the warmth that soaked through her dress and into her skin, and the scent of rose perfume that it was Shirley who held her now. A delicate hand smoothed Keira’s hair at the back of her head.
“Sweetheart, welcome home.”
The sentiment gentled Keira’s soul. The embrace might have lasted only a few seconds or several minutes. Keira didn’t know. It was as if the structure of time broke into a thousand pieces at the Matthewses’ resort and got washed down river. This was no exception.
“It’s good to see you. My, my, you’re as pretty as ever,” Shirley said. Wrinkles, more than Keira remembered, surrounded the woman’s tear-filled eyes. The past few years hadn’t exactly been easy on this family. Internally, Keira cringed, knowing she had only added to their pain.
Something wrapped around her leg and giggled. Keira looked down. The mop of red curls tilted back, and a wide, pudgy-faced smile greeted her.
“Hi,” Keira choked out.
Chuck de-suctioned Anabelle from Keira’s leg and held her in his arms. “Have you met Princess Anabelle of River’s Edge?”
The name pierced her heart. Anabelle. “Yes. Once.” A serendipitous—scratch that . . . an unfortunate run-in at last year’s trout festival had brought Robbie and Keira closer than they’d been in years. “She won’t remember, though.”
“That hug said otherwise. Annie, do you remember Keira?” Chuck asked.
Anabelle nodded sheepishly, pulling closer to his neck. Her hair would be classified as more strawberry than Robbie’s auburn. But those pale-green eyes were exactly like his. She looked nothing like the Vivian Keira remembered from college. All Robbie.
She glanced back to where he’d stood. Where had he gone? Guilt twinged her heart. If he was worried about Keira hurting his family, how hard must it have been to watch his mother, his father
, and even his child welcome her with open arms? This was his refuge. She’d have been better off mailing the book back to Ryann. “I came to bring Ryann her book. I should go now.”
Shirley took a quick inventory of Keira. “You’re skinny as a whip, sweetheart. Come inside. We’ve cooked up a great meal. And we’re having a party. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”
Heat rose in Keira’s cheeks. She grabbed Shirley’s hand and looked deep into her eyes. Theirs was a bond not quickly forgotten. Considering the way a tear spilled down Shirley’s cheek, Keira guessed she felt the same way. “But Robbie.”
Even Shirley’s smallest smiles held enough compassion to fill the whole state of Montana twice over. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s a big boy.”
She should leave. Flee far from this place. But she didn’t want to. So, in what could only be explained by pure, utter selfishness, Keira allowed Shirley to usher her inside.
The café was timeless with its aged oak and pine. The smell of one hundred years’ worth of good meals steamed into the walls, which wrapped around Keira like a soft quilt. Not much had changed in the past five years. The same old cashier’s desk, hostess stand, and cases upon cases of fly-fishing gear in the fly shop to her right remained.
Ryann met her with a hug. “It’s good to see you here.” The sleeveless shirt Ryann wore highlighted the scars that laced both of her forearms. Rumors had circulated for years about the origin of them. It was public knowledge that she’d gotten them on her twenty-first birthday, the night of her husband’s gruesome death. Most lacked the courage to ask about them and were content to believe the rumors. Keira knew the truth. Her husband, Tyler, had locked himself in their bedroom with a handgun, and Ryann had hacked down the door with her bare hands. As her scars attested, flesh was no match for shards of wood. Likewise, her efforts to save him couldn’t combat the severe depression that had stolen his will to live.
This Wandering Heart Page 4