A Rancher to Remember--A Clean Romance

by Karen Rock

  Joy hurried from the room and Cassidy fought not to follow her. In a rare, private exchange with Daryl this week, he’d confided that Joy’s mammogram showed possible tumors, a significant concern as her mother had died of breast cancer, and her mother before that. They were not, he’d emphasized, to tell the children.

  Cassidy returned to her pile and picked up a T-shirt with the words I’m with Dummy and an arrow pointing to the right. A lump formed in her throat. She’d had the matching shirt, the arrow pointing left, stowed in the luggage burned in the accident. Why had Leanne kept it all these years?

  And given Cassidy’s limited packing space, why had she?

  No matter how many times she’d crammed the single suitcase she carried through life, she’d always made space for it, along with the poetry book Daryl had given her.

  Yet she hadn’t made room in her heart to understand her sister...the first steps to forgiveness. Could she reconcile with a sibling no longer here? If she wanted closure, it might be the only path forward...

  “I put Beuford outside, though I think he was more interested in the squirrels than doing his business.” Joy breezed back in the room, the chocolaty-sweet smell of baked goods following in her wake. Her lashes were still wet, as was her hairline, her face rosy from having splashed water on it, Cassidy guessed.

  “If there’s anything I can do...” Cassidy twisted the top of a laden bag and wrapped a tie around it.

  Joy paused in her task of matching pajama tops and bottoms. “You’re doing so much already. I’m sure you’re itching to go back to you job.”

  Even with the return of her camera, Cassidy hadn’t given work a thought this past week, with Daryl and the kids. “I’m not much use documenting conflicts until my vision’s back and this is healed.” She waved her splinted pinkie. “I’m glad to be here, helping out. I just wish there was more I could do.”

  “There is one thing...but I’m not sure if you’d be interested. It’s a big undertaking.” Joy shook out a red-and-green flannel nightgown with a small white ruffle at the neckline.

  Cassidy visualized it around her sister’s throat, imagined her cuddling Noah and Emma on her lap while wearing it. All these pieces of Leanne disappearing into boxes and bags, bit by bit, was another form of death. A heaviness settled in Cassidy’s chest. “What is it?”

  “Leanne was planning to open a country store to sell the heirloom apples grown on Loveland Hills, as well as local produce, canning products and baked goods. For the past year, she’d worked to convert one of the old barns for the store and it was supposed to open next month—only my energy isn’t up to see her vision through.” Joy dabbed at her nose. “It meant so much to her. She wanted to have something for herself, she said, something to be proud of.”

  “She wasn’t proud of being a mother?” It’d been all Leanne talked about growing up. Cassidy had never considered her sister wanted anything else...a shortsighted view for an investigative journalist.

  Then again, maybe the people you saw the least clearly were the ones you’d been around the most.

  Joy nodded as she returned to sorting nightclothes. “Of course. But it didn’t seem like enough anymore.” She sighed. “Now I’ll have to call off the grand opening, and I don’t know what I’ll do with the animals arriving for the petting zoo.”

  “A petting zoo?” Cassidy marveled at the scope of Leanne’s ambitious plan.

  “Not to mention the local vendors who’d been preparing the canned goods and other crafts,” Joy added. “But with my—uh—procedure coming up, I won’t be able to pull it off by myself. Oh—and I’ll need to contact the church. Leanne was insistent we have a coat, hat and boots drive. She said it was the most important part of the operation, though I don’t know why.”

  “I do,” Cassidy said quietly, deeply moved. Growing up, they’d shivered through many a winter in ill-fitting or inappropriate-for-the-weather outer gear. Leanne always had to take Cassidy’s hand-me-downs, and sometimes wear shoes and clothes that didn’t fit. Her sister would have wanted to give others the kind of access to clothing she didn’t have.

  It meant a lot to Cassidy, too...

  “Don’t call the church,” Cassidy blurted before she thought better of it. “I’ll open Leanne’s store. I can’t promise anything beyond that, though.”

  “It’s only meant to be open from fall until Christmas and I can step in once I’ve got my health sorted out.” Joy rose and caught Cassidy in a hug. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes.” Cassidy dropped her chin to Joy’s soft shoulder and eyed Mount Sopris through the window. She’d always seen it as a block between her and the horizons she’d longed to explore. Now it’d be her anchor, keeping her home to see her sister’s legacy through. Maybe this was her way of making amends with her sister.

  Joy’s words about reconciliation returned to her. Maybe, by making Leanne’s dream come true, Cassidy would understand her estranged sister better, one step toward forgiveness if she decided to follow its path after all.

  * * *

  “I’M MAKING THIS one a witch!” Noah dipped his brush in one of the paint jars lined up along the kitchen island and lifted it, dripping, to his green mini pumpkin. Dozens of painted pumpkins filled the kitchen table to decorate Leanne’s country store. Daryl still couldn’t wrap his head around Cassidy’s offer to open it, especially given all the hard work he and his brothers had been putting into remodeling—work that’d come to a complete halt after Leanne’s accident.

  “Keep the paint on the newspapers.” Daryl dropped a few more pages on the kitchen floor for good measure and looked up in time to spy his son turn in a quick circle, spraying the wall with black.

  Awesome.

  Just awesome.

  In a corner, Beuford chewed on the spilled pumpkin guts he’d snatched as they’d fallen, carried to a corner, then spit back up to enjoy at his leisure.

  Daryl sniffed the burnt grease of their aborted doughnut making and eyed the Jackson Pollock version of his trashed kitchen. Martha Stewart he was not, but at least the kids were occupied, doing something healthy as opposed to watching death videos or turning everyday objects into lethal weapons.

  “I am being careful.” Noah brandished his wet brush for emphasis.

  Cassidy chuckled softly, swiping a splotch of paint from his cheek. “You’re doing a great job.”

  “I can’t get this right!” Emma tossed down her brush and frowned at her pumpkin.

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Daryl smoothed a hand over his daughter’s fine blond hair.

  “It’s for Ma’s store.” Emma added a silent “Duh” of an eye roll. “No one’s going to buy my stupid pumpkins and then the store won’t make enough money and it will have to close and Ma will be—”

  “Hey...” Daryl cupped her shoulders, halting Emma’s tirade. “You’ll make your ma happy either way.”

  Emma jerked away and hopped off the stool. “Ma was never happy!”

  “Yes, she was!” Noah cried. “She laughed when she fell down that time at the store.”

  “Because she was drunk,” Emma blurted. She whirled, raced down the hall and slammed her bedroom door shut.

  Daryl’s heart wrung itself inside out. He started down the hall, but Cassidy put her hand on his arm and nodded at a silently crying Noah. “Let me.”

  He shot her a grateful look and gathered Noah in his arms. Noah buried his face in Daryl’s sweater, hiding his tears.

  “It’s okay to cry.”

  “Boys don’t cry,” Noah sniffled. “Only babies and losers.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Jax Miller.”

  Daryl searched his memory but didn’t recall hearing Noah mention Jax before. “Is that a friend from school?”

  “No. He hates me. Everybody hates me.”

  Daryl’s arms tightened aroun
d his son. “Who could hate you?”

  “They call me dog boy because Beuford’s hair’s always on my clothes.” Noah’s voice dropped so low Daryl had to strain to hear. “And they make me fetch things at recess.”

  Acid burned Noah’s gut. “And what do you do?”

  Noah only dug farther into Daryl’s sweater.

  “Noah?” Daryl prompted, his voice thick as he fought to contain his rising anger at kids picking on his son...his six-year-old, motherless son.

  “Sometimes I do it,” Noah squeaked. “I want them to like me.”

  “And do they like you after you do what they say?”

  Noah shook his head and raised his blotchy, tearstained face. “They just laugh.”

  Daryl strove to keep his expression neutral and made a mental note to talk to Noah’s teacher. “Want to know what else dogs can do?”

  Noah stopped sniffling and glanced at Beuford. “Fart?”

  “Besides that, though he is a champ.”

  “Sleep?”

  “That, too. But they also herd cattle, help people with physical challenges and even sniff out bombs. They’re hardworking, smart and helpful.”

  A noxious cloud rose from Beuford’s corner as if on cue and Noah pinched his nose.

  “Okay,” Daryl added wryly. “That wasn’t so helpful, but look how Beuford always takes care of the floors for us.”

  “Dogs are dirty and get fleas.” Noah squeezed his eyes shut. “Is that why Ma never wanted to spend time with me?”

  And just like that, Daryl’s heart cracked open like an egg, oozing into his chest. Daryl placed a finger beneath Noah’s chin and tipped it up, waiting until his son’s lids lifted. “Your Ma always loved you. She was just unhappy with certain things.”

  “What kinds of thing?”

  Me.

  “Grown-up things.”

  Noah scooched backward out of Daryl’s arms and onto his stool. Down the hall, all was silent, and Daryl wondered how Cassidy’s talk with Emma was going. If she hadn’t stepped in, he would have missed what was really going on with Noah. Gratitude filled him. It’d been a long time since he’d had a child-rearing partner, and it felt good. He could get used to this...if he wasn’t careful.

  “Grown-up things like money?” Noah swished his paintbrush across the green pumpkin. “Uncle Cole and Grandpa are always worried about paying bills. What’s bills?”

  “Money we owe for things. Some big. Some small. It’s not easy being a grown-up but it’s even harder being a kid. I’ll speak to your teacher about Jax tomorrow.”

  Noah’s eyes rounded. “No! It’ll get worse. Please, Pa. Don’t. I can take care of it.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll growl. Dogs do that.” Beuford stopped munching and woofed in response to Noah’s attempt. “Maybe I’ll snap, too.”

  “Just don’t bite,” Daryl cautioned. “But it’s good to stand up to bullies.”

  “So you won’t tell my teacher?” Noah painted a blobby black tooth in his pumpkin’s wide mouth.

  “I promise Jax will never know.” Daryl still planned on talking to Noah’s teacher. No more playing fetch. His son had gone through enough without kids piling on.

  “Am I a dog?” Noah’s voice quavered.

  “Of course not. You don’t even have a tail,” Daryl joked, trying to make his little guy smile.

  “I mean low, like a dog. Like not good enough.”

  Daryl slung an arm around Noah and pulled him tight into his side, alternately angry at Leanne for the uncertainty she’d given their kids about their worth and wishing she were here to reassure their son how much he was wanted. Loved. “You’re more than good enough.”

  “Just not to Ma.”

  “Especially to Ma. She spent time away from home because she didn’t want to make you and Emma sad.”

  “We would have cheered her up!”

  “Yes. You would have.”

  Or should have...

  When had Leanne stopped caring about everything she’d told him she’d ever wanted? And why? Cassidy hadn’t regained any of her memory. Would he ever have answers? Closure?

  Footsteps announced a returning Emma and Cassidy. His daughter’s pale face appeared calm as she plunked down on a stool and grabbed a brush.

  He shot Cassidy a questioning look to which she responded with a shrug and a nod, as if to say her talk with Emma went pretty well. When she inclined her head at Noah, he repeated the gesture and their shared concern flashed between them. It nudged some of the weight he carried from his shoulders.

  “Kids, Aunt Cassidy and I are going to get more acorns. Behave,” he cautioned, then headed for the door and grabbed their coats. After helping Cassidy on with hers, he shoved his arms through his fleece and they tromped outside into the gray autumn afternoon. The sky was as flat and heavy as granite, the birches’ bright yellow leaves a sharp contrast. Overhead, geese honked noisily as they winged southward.

  “I think there might be more over here.” Cassidy strode to a copse of oaks. Her head was bent and turned away from him.

  “Cass,” he called. When she turned, the grief in her green eyes made his throat swell. “I didn’t ask you out here for acorns.”

  She shoved her hands in the pockets of the white down coat Sierra had loaned her, along with the rest of her secondhand wardrobe. The color highlighted the honey strands in her brown hair and the rosy hue in her bow-shaped mouth. “What, then?”

  “We haven’t talked.”

  “There’s nothing to—”

  “About the kids,” he broke in, knowing she’d never consent to talk about their past...and maybe it was irrelevant now, but somehow he sensed it was tangled up in the mystery of what’d happened on Avalanche Road.

  Cassidy scooped up a couple of acorns and turned them over in her palm. “Emma feels like she let Leanne down. Wasn’t good enough. That’s why she’s trying to make every pumpkin so perfect.”

  “What about her eating?”

  “You mean her not eating?” Cassidy countered.

  He nodded. “She’s losing weight. I’m worried about her.”

  “She could be trying to find a way to control some of her life since she’s gone through a lot of upheaval.” A breeze lifted a strand of Cassidy’s hair and fluttered it across her face. She shoved it back and continued. “Why was Noah crying?”

  “He’s being bullied in school.”

  Cassidy’s cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing with the same outrage he felt. “Who? When? We need to talk to his teacher.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean you. You need to call the school. He had a failing grade on his class work today.”

  Despite her correction, the we lingered in the air and he suddenly wished for a real partner. He felt like the boy holding his thumb in the hole to prevent the dam from bursting. Every time he’d stopped one problem, another appeared. Would their lives ever regain the stability they needed? When Cassidy left, it’d be another loss for the children. She’d be gone, and he’d be forced to pick up the pieces, alone, once more.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” She ambled away to stand at the split rail fence surrounding his cabin. A few lingering vine geraniums bloomed red along the posts.

  “Helping me with the children.”

  “They’re my family, too.”

  “I didn’t expect you to feel...”

  “Responsible for them?” She leveled accusing eyes on him. “I do.”

  “Is that why you’re opening Leanne’s store?”

  She wrenched her gaze from him and tracked a low-flying hawk as it swooped off the mountain and glided over the tree line. “She had a dream and I want to make it come true.”

  “You hate Leanne...and me.”

  “I loved Leanne. That never changed.”

  And me?


  He swallowed back the wholly inappropriate question and asked, instead, “Would you visit her grave with us tomorrow?”

  Her head snapped around and her eyes bored into his. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. She’d want you there.” He cleared his throat. “The kids need you there.”

  I need you there.

  “But why did she want me here?” Cassidy’s hands clenched. “I keep trying to remember... It’s so frustrating.”

  Unable to help himself, he wrapped his palms around her fists until they relaxed. “Don’t tax yourself. You’re still healing. How are the headaches?”

  “Less frequent.”

  He laced his fingers in hers, careful not to jostle her broken pinkie. “And your ribs?”

  “Down to more of an ache now.” She retreated a step and he released her.

  “You’ll be glad to get back to your own life.”

  She was quiet so long he turned to study her beautiful profile. Her long slender throat rose to a delicate jaw and shell-like ears behind which she’d tucked her thick hair. “I don’t want to leave until I know why I came here.”

  All the air in his body whooshed out of him in surprise. And relief. He didn’t want her to go...and was uncomfortable with how much he wanted her to stay. “Leanne’s computer and phone were destroyed in the car accident. We won’t get any help there.”

  “Until I remember, we’re just living in the dark.”

  He watched her as she strode back to the cabin, silently agreeing. The longer Cassidy stayed, the murkier his emotions became. If he didn’t keep his distance, it’d be even harder to let her walk away than the first time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEANNE MARIE LOVELAND, Beloved Wife and Mother.

  Cassidy tucked her chilled hands into her sweater sleeves and read her sister’s grave inscription for the third time, bracing for the words to sink in fully. Leanne was gone, yet it’d seemed almost abstract until now. Cassidy had avoided her sister for years, but it wasn’t a choice any longer.

  It was forever.

  No takebacks... Leanne’s voice echoed in Cassidy’s mind and memories returned of them trading toys, candy, clothes, makeup, certain whatever the other possessed had to be better.