by Sabrina York
Gram tipped back her head and sniffed. “I’m not a child. I don’t know why you kids insist on wrapping me in cotton wool.”
“But, Gram...”
“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, missy.”
“But, Gram...”
She glowered. It was truly intimidating. “It’s my car. I’m driving. And that’s it.”
It was, therefore, a nerve-wracking ride, though Gram did very well, aside from refusing to stop for the sign on Fifth and Main because, clearly, the town council had put it there just to annoy her.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long drive. It wasn’t long before they passed under the fire-branded sign that read Stirling Ranch. When they crested a hill, and Roni saw the house in the distance, a swell of emotion formed a lump in her throat. She wished she was driving so she could stop the car and just soak in the sight.
After everything she’d been through, this truly felt like a homecoming.
It was a silly feeling, really. But that big old rambling house meant something important to her, touched something deep inside her. Something that made her heart swell with gratitude and joy. It wasn’t her house, and it never would be. But to her, it would always be...home.
As a military kid, her family had moved constantly—from Germany to Taiwan to Oklahoma and on. And on. Nothing in her young life had ever been stable...except summers. Summers at this house. With this family. Every season, they’d welcomed her, the awkward little girl with no place to call her own. They’d let her pretend she had siblings, that she had a place. She loved them for it, and always would.
Sam was out front to meet them as they pulled into the large gravel lot between the big house and the cabins to the east of the barn. She gave Veronica a huge hug, only a split second after she was out of the car. And then, before she realized what was happening, she was surrounded.
And, oh, what a wonderful welcome. DJ was there, tall and sober-looking, as he always had been. And Luke, who was as strong and commanding as he’d always been, even though his face was now scarred.
Mark was there, too, of course. He opened Gram’s door and helped her out, then put her hand on his arm and escorted her into the house as though she was a royal princess and not a persnickety eighty-year-old with a cane.
“Roni, come meet Danny,” Sam said, taking her by the hand, and, of course, she followed. She was dying of curiosity, after all. Danny did not disappoint.
This new brother stood on the porch with Lizzie, whom Veronica had met just recently at the bookstore. He caught her attention, and her breath. Dang, he was handsome. Unlike Mark, whose hair was a sandy, sun-kissed brown, Danny had black hair and brown eyes, but their features were stunningly similar. He had the trademark Stirling dimples. That same dent on his chin.
Between Danny and Lizzie stood a miniature, female version of all of them with a mop of dark curls. Roni’s heart twanged at the sight of her. She was so beautiful.
“This is Emma,” Sam said proudly. “Our very brave niece.”
Emma nodded. “I’m very brave,” she said in a blasé tone. Then, she added in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m six.”
“Are you?” Veronica asked with a smile. Emma was adorable. Beyond adorable. “Are you in kindergarten?” she asked, because, though she was smaller than most of Veronica’s past students, she was the right age.
“I’ve been homeschooled,” Emma said with a wrinkled nose. “Because I was really sick. But now that I’m better, I’ll get to go to a real school.”
She’d been sick? Hmm. Emma did look a bit fragile, but since this was hardly the time or place for questions, Veronica decided to gloss over that tidbit and keep the conversation positive. “Real school sounds like fun. I used to be a teacher, so let me know if you have any questions.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Really?” And she took Roni’s hand.
Oh, lord. The gesture was so sweet and trusting, it made Roni want to burst into tears. She held them back, of course, but couldn’t help sniffling a little. How she missed teaching. How she missed children.
The whole afternoon was like that, warm and welcoming. One delightful interaction after another. Even Gram and Dorthea, the Stirling matriarch, seemed to hit it off. Sam joked that at least getting old was good for something, because the two hadn’t exactly been buddy-buddy in their younger years—Dorthea had been Milly’s boss after all. But these opposites attracted now that their hair color matched. They drank tea and ate cakes at the table on the long front porch and chatted incessantly about old times, while the kids lounged in a loose circle on the swings and rockers, and sipped lemonade and nibbled crudités while they watched Emma make and chase bubbles on the lawn.
Danny and Lizzie sat side by side. His arm was draped lazily over her shoulder and his fingers toyed with her hair as they watched their daughter play. It was clear these two were deeply in love. Roni couldn’t help being happy for them. When Lizzie mentioned she was expecting again, that happiness grew. Even if it took a little effort to banish the sprig of jealousy that rose within her.
Roni had loved being pregnant—even though she hadn’t been for long. She could still remember the joy, the miracle of having a small human sleeping beneath her heart. How could she feel anything but happiness for Lizzie and Danny? A baby was coming. How miraculous was that?
“Hey.” Mark nudged her with an elbow. “Are you all right?”
“Me?” She forced a smile. “I’m great.”
“Mmm. You looked sad.”
She appreciated that he was speaking softly, so no one else could hear. Then again, with all the crisscrossing conversations, who would? Danny and DJ were trying to outyell each other about some football player, Sam and Lizzie were discussing what foods to eat for healthy gut flora, and Luke—who was mostly silent—grimaced each time they mentioned a vegetable.
“I’m not sad,” she said. It was a complete and utter falsehood, but God would probably forgive her. To prove how delighted she was, she showed him her teeth.
He laughed. “Right. Hey. You want to go for a walk to the barn? There’s something I want to show you. It might cheer you up.”
“I said I’m not sad,” she insisted, and he gave her a look. The kind of look only a friend who truly and deeply cared would give. It said “you don’t need to lie to me.” She stared into his eyes, somehow lifted by the fact that she could reveal herself to him, scars and all, and he would still like her. Not that she had the courage to reveal herself to him. Or anyone. It would be unfair to dump her story, her issues, on others. She stood and slipped her arm through his extended elbow and said, as they walked down the stairs to the yard, “Are you going to give me a hint as to what it is?”
He snorted a laugh. “It’s no mystery. I want to show you our new arrival.”
“New arrival?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He leaned in and whispered, “It’s a calf.”
“Oooh.” Pleasure trilled through her as they headed off.
She ducked beneath his arm as he swung open the barn door. That familiar musty scent of hay and animals washed over her, triggering a flood of childhood memories—clambering all over the tractor, hiding up in the hayloft, watching the barn cat have her kittens... There, in the pen on the far side of the yawning expanse, stood a perfectly adorable baby cow.
Mark waved her forward. “As promised.”
The baby—she named him Boomer, because Mark said they didn’t name their cows and that didn’t seem right—was just precious...and just what she’d needed. Something small and innocent and soft to pet. Mark leaned against the fence and watched her face a little too intently. Then he said, for no reason whatsoever, “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
It was so unexpected, this query, and it kicked up far too many unpleasant memories; it took her a moment to sift through them, lock them away again and respond. Still, all she could manage wa
s “What?” Then she asked, “What do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “Why don’t you start with when you left here that last summer?”
A laugh bubbled up. She had no idea why. “That’s a lot of ground you want to cover.”
“I always wondered where you were, what you were doing... Why you never came back. Milly wouldn’t talk about it.”
She turned to him with an apologetic expression. “I would have loved to come back here, but my parents got a divorce that year. Everything changed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her barked laugh was bitter. “Me, too. My dad went to Okinawa for several years, where he met his new wife, by the way—”
“I guess he recovered quickly.” She appreciated that Mark’s tone was dry.
“Then Mom moved to LA. Because her family was there.”
“So you lived in LA? What was that like?”
“I loved LA. I didn’t realize it for a while, because I was so unhappy about my parent’s divorce. And I’d been raised on military bases. Civilian life can be a huge culture shock. But I really did love living there with Grandma and Grandpa.” She sighed. “They’ve all passed now.”
“Your mom, too?”
She glanced away. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “I keep saying that.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. Dad and Betty live in Germany now. He has a new family.”
“Do you ever visit?”
“Not anymore.” And, when Mark glanced at her, she said softly, “He has a new family.”
“I’m sorry.”
She set her palm on Boomer’s velvety muzzle and he snorted on her. She laughed and dried her hand on her jeans. “Anyway, after high school, I went to college at the University of Washington—”
“Go Dawgs.”
“I got a full-ride scholarship.”
“Good for you!”
“And got my degree in education.”
“Wow.”
She glanced at him and leaned on the fence, as he was, staring at her.
He smiled. “Your face just lit up like a beacon.”
“Well, I loved it.”
He plucked a sprig of straw from Boomer’s coat and stripped it apart. “So why’d you stop doing something that obviously made you so happy?”
“Because I met Anthony, of course.” She tried to say it in a blasé tone, but something dark slipped in. She rubbed her shoulder, as though it still ached. “He...swept me off my feet.”
“And—”
“I’d rather not talk about him.” Her tone grew brittle, and he backed off. Instantly.
“Okay.”
Silence swelled between them. Mark waited for her to steer the conversation. How did he make her feel so special? How did he make her believe in him? How did he make her want to tell him things?
No one could carry this burden for her, but Mark gave her the feeling that he was willing to help share the load. That in itself was frightening, especially given her traitorous feelings for him. Still, she sighed and said, so softly he had to lean closer to hear, “He was a doctor. Divorced. Passionate. Very territorial. I should have known better. All the red flags were there.”
Gently, Mark pulled her into a hug. If she was stiff at first, he didn’t say anything. She slowly relaxed in his arms as he gently dried her tears. How did he know how much she needed that? How much she craved it? “You don’t have to say anything more,” he said into her hair.
When she pulled back, just enough to see his face, still within his embrace, he was blurry. She tried to smile, but knew the effort was timorous at best. “I was so in love with him, I let him have everything. And then...”
“And then?” he prompted, but only because she needed it.
She pulled away and put a few steps between them. “And then he took everything. It happened slowly, if you’re wondering. Like the frog in a pot of water. I didn’t even realize until it was too—” She let out a shuddering breath.
Mark shook his head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She set her hand on his shoulder. “It feels good to talk about it. Even though it’s unfair to unload on you.”
“Hey,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to his side. “I told you, you can talk to me about anything. That is what friends are for, isn’t it?”
Was it? She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t had real friends for so long—Anthony had chased them all away in his attempts to get her all to himself. But who cared what other people did and didn’t do? Mark was selfless and kind, willing to listen to her fears and help her work through her issues. The prospect was... Alluring. Empowering.
They stood there, in warmth and friendship, enjoying each other’s presence and a simple human touch as they reveled in Boomer’s antics. They both laughed when he lifted his tail, pooped in the straw and then did a little dance in the barnyard as though celebrating his accomplishment.
He was truly endearing, but the real warmth in her heart stemmed from the fact that she’d just made a pretty stunning accomplishment of her own.
She’d never talked about Anthony to anyone other than Gretchen and other survivors. Facing her past was scary, and talking about it was even harder.
But with Mark?
Somehow, Mark made her feel safe.
Chapter Four
It was a challenge for Mark to keep his mouth shut on the topic of Roni’s husband. Mostly because the things he wanted to say weren’t things that would help the situation any. Besides, what she needed right now was a friend she could confide in, not someone to fight her battles. He wasn’t sure why she’d chosen him—he wasn’t the kind of man women usually friend-zoned—but he intended to step up to the task.
This just...felt right.
Maybe it was because their friendship had been so firmly cemented in those summers spent together when they were kids, but he knew that he wanted—needed—to support and protect her. It was an irrefutable urge. And a frustrating one.
Even though she hadn’t given him any specifics about her marriage, he’d been around. He knew to what she was alluding. He knew, from working with abused animals for so long, that what you saw was usually only the tip of a very ugly iceberg.
Animal or human, abuse was abuse. People filled with hate were deeply wounded and, in turn, wounded deeply.
The frustration came along with the urge to heal, to fix something that was sometimes unfixable.
At this moment, he was consumed with a raging desire to put the hurt on Anthony for whatever he’d done to turn the happy girl he remembered into a woman who was afraid to trust her heart and body to anyone ever again. But it wasn’t his place to avenge her.
It killed him to imagine what she must have been through. How she’d had to fight to retain those precious pieces of herself. Something whipped through him, some soul-deep feeling... Was it admiration? Or respect? Probably both.
He wished he could open his mouth and say something that could make it all better. Instead, he took her by the shoulders and met her gaze as he said, “I am...proud of you, Roni.”
Her expression dissolved into confusion. “What are you talking about?”
How to put it into words? “After everything you’ve been through... You’re still you. You didn’t let it go.”
She shook her head. The motes in the air danced around her head. “What...?”
“Your spark,” he said, because he couldn’t think of any other word for it. “You didn’t let him take your spark.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he hadn’t realized until this moment just how deeply he’d been affected by everything she’d told him. Not the anger—although he was definitely furious—but sorrow, for her, for what she’d been through. And happiness...because she’d survived. And she’d kept her spark.
“Ah, Roni,” he said, because there was nothing else to say, and if there was, he sure couldn’t think of it.
She hugged him then, long and hard as such hugs were meant to be.
“Hey, you two,” Sam called. Mark whipped around to see his sister, along with Luke, framed in the doorway.
“We came to get you because dinner’s ready,” Luke added.
Sam set her hands on her hips. “Can you two stop hugging so we can eat already?”
Roni stepped back and smiled at Mark, her eyes shining with appreciation. Her gaze dropped to his chest, and then she patted at a damp spot on his shirt. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I guess I got a little emotional.”
He curled his arm around her and held her in a side hug as they made their way back into the sunlight. “You don’t ever have to be sorry,” he said, softly enough that the others couldn’t hear. “Not with me.”
* * *
Roni’s heart ached, but in a good way. She could never have imagined it when Gretchen had initially counseled her about learning from the past and healing. Back then, healing had seemed like an impossibility. And now, here she was, with a full heart.
It felt...lovely.
She was so thankful to Mark for not seeing her as a victim, but it meant even more that he saw her as a fighter.
That he saw her.
That meant the world.
She’d been certain that when people found out about her time with Anthony, they wouldn’t understand. They might even blame her for letting it happen more than once. Or they’d shy away, because of their own discomfort. But Mark hadn’t.
Oh, sure, he didn’t know the worst parts—and she had no intention of sharing—but somehow, it didn’t matter. He accepted her unconditionally.
Right now, that meant more to her than words could say.
Emma ran to them when she saw them emerge from the barn and then blocked their way, standing there, arms akimbo. A ferocious expression wrinkled her button nose. “Where have you been?” she wailed. “I turned around and you were gone.”
“We went to see the new calf,” Mark said, reaching down and hefting her into his arms.
