Did they already know Travis had left? That he wasn’t coming back after the rodeo? But how could they know that? She fixed her eyes on the back of Miss Lucy’s head.
They’d know soon enough, but the comprehension would come slowly, and by the time they realized it, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe it wouldn’t spin the rumor mill for months on end like the last time he’d left her. Maybe there wouldn’t be awkward pats on the shoulder and pity-filled glances this time.
Please, Lord.
She reached the booth and was forced to slide into Abigail’s side by Miss Lucy’s enormous purse.
Miss Lucy gave her a smile, her kind eyes enlarged through her coke-bottle glasses. “Shay, dear, so glad you could make it.”
“Not like I had much choice.” She opened her menu and tossed Abigail a put-upon look.
Abigail shrugged, all innocence.
Shay turned her mug over. Mercy, did she ever need coffee. She peeked at her neighbors over the menu. Ida Mae stared over her coffee mug rim. The woman looked away when her eyes met Shay’s. Mayor Wadell’s wife gave her a sad smile. And Mrs. Teasley’s eyes tipped down at the corners before she looked away, sipping her coffee.
Shay fastened her eyes on the menu, on an image of a juicy hamburger, and slunk down in her seat. “Why’s everyone staring?”
Mabel Franklin, the owner, appeared at her side, wielding a welcome pot of coffee. She filled Shay’s mug, leaving room for cream.
“Darlin’ . . .” Mabel leaned closer, whispering. “Didn’t you see the paper?”
Dread wormed through her body as Shay looked at Abigail, then at Miss Lucy. They seemed equally oblivious.
“What—what’s going on?” Shay asked.
“I have a paper right here.” Miss Lucy pulled the Moose Creek Chronicle from her purse.
Mabel patted her on the shoulder. “You just keep your chin up, honey.” She winked at Shay and then walked away, her pink uniform skirt swaying against her thin form.
Her words, intended to soothe, sent a bolt of panic through her instead.
“Oh, dear.” Miss Lucy frowned.
“What is it?” Abigail flipped the paper around.
Shay read the headline above the fold on the cover: “Founders Day Wedding One Big Mistake.”
No. Please . . .
Of their own volition, her eyes continued to the column.
This year’s Founders Day wedding reenactment was anything but the tedious ritual of years gone by. Local rancher Shay Brandenberger and Moose Creek native Travis McCoy stirred up conversation when they announced in June that the ceremony had been legitimate. It seemed the once-engaged couple had at last decided to tie the knot. But recent discoveries refute this idea.
Turns out, the wedding was all a big mistake.
The couple’s original wedding license—somehow saved for fourteen years and brought to the scene of what was supposed to be a wedding reenactment—was mistakenly filed by Pastor George Blevins.
“It got mixed up with a couple other licenses I had to file,” Pastor Blevins said. “I sent it by mistake. The whole thing was an accident—it was all my fault.”
But that didn’t stop the couple from taking advantage of Providence. Brandenberger and McCoy, who’ve lived as husband and wife since the wedding, apparently decided that sometimes destiny just needs a little help.
“Oh no.” Shay’s face felt like a furnace. She was finished reading, but she couldn’t look up.
“It’s all right, Shay.” Abigail put her hand over Shay’s. “There’s nothing bad in there, not really. So what if people know it was an accident?”
“If it were no big deal, people wouldn’t be staring at me like I’m a charity case.”
“They care about you,” Abigail said. “Besides, they’ll forget all about this as soon as the next rumor comes rolling along.”
“That might be true if Travis was still here. But he’s gone. I’ll be the next rumor.” The words blurred in front of her.
“They know he’s at finals,” Miss Lucy whispered.
Shay blinked hard. She had to get it together. “But it ends today. And he’s not coming back. It won’t take long for everyone to figure out . . .” That he didn’t love her. That she’d been left again. That Shay Brandenberger was still the same old fool she’d always been.
“That he’s not coming back?” Abigail asked.
“And that he didn’t marry me by choice.” She looked into Miss Lucy’s sympathetic eyes. “That he left me not once, but twice. I’m such a fool.”
“You made him leave,” Abigail said.
“Nobody knows that. They all feel sorry for me.”
“They’re just concerned for you,” Abigail said. “You’ve done nothing wrong—have nothing to be ashamed of.”
This was just like before. She might as well be in her wedding gown, arriving home alone on the seven-thirty bus from Cody.
“You don’t understand,” Shay whispered.
“Well, I do,” Miss Lucy said. “You’re thinking it’s just like it was before, but it’s not. And anyway, dear, Abigail is right. You’ve only got to worry about pleasing One—and He’s known all along about the wedding.”
She hardly heard Miss Lucy’s words. Everyone was staring, she could feel it. Shay pulled her purse into her stomach.
“I have to go.” She flickered a look at Miss Lucy. “Pray for me.”
“Always, dear.”
“You haven’t even eaten,” Abigail said.
The thought of food made her stomach turn. She fished in her purse for enough change to cover the coffee she hadn’t drunk.
“I’ll come with you,” Abigail said.
“No, stay. I’ll be fine.” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. But inside, her heart felt hollow.
The eyes followed her all the way through the diner, and when she reached the door, it flew open before she could reach for the knob.
Pastor Blevins stopped short, looking windblown in his wool coat. His eyes widened upon seeing her, then softened. The door fell shut behind him, and the bells tinkled over their heads.
He smoothed a tuft of hair over his bald spot, then set his hand on her arm. “Shay, I’m so glad I ran into you. Sit down with me. I’ll buy you a coffee.”
So close to escape, she couldn’t bring herself to stay. As it was, she felt every eye in the diner on her back.
“I—I can’t, Pastor. I’m sorry, I have to go.” She reached for the door.
He stopped her. “Please, Shay.” His eyes turned down at the corners. “You’ve read the paper, then.” His pastor voice seemed to boom through the diner. “I owe you an apology. I never meant to embarrass you.”
“I know, I—it’s okay.” She moved past him and twisted the knob.
“I’m so sorry, dear.”
“It’s fine, really.” She tossed a simulated smile in his general direction and walked out of the diner. She could feel the eyes on her as she crossed the street and slipped into her truck, and all the way home she wondered how she could survive this again.
When she reached the house, she pulled her truck to the barn. She needed to put out minerals for the cattle. That would keep her busy for a while. Too busy to think about her nosy neighbors.
She put on her gloves and collected the first salt block. She was setting it on the tailgate when Abigail’s car pulled alongside.
Her friend shut off the ignition and left her vehicle. “Need some help?” Her breath fogged on release.
Shay took in her flimsy red peacoat and soft-soled shoes. “You’re not really dressed for it. I told you to finish your lunch.”
“You seemed upset. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
Shay shoved the block deep into the bed. “Yeah, well. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You miss him.”
“I’ll get over it.”
“Why don’t you just ask him to come back?”
Shay crossed her arms. “And why woul
d I do that?”
“Because you love him.”
Shay clamped down on her teeth. It was hard to argue when Abigail was right. Her friend knew it too. It was there in the tipped chin, the direct look.
“Love doesn’t fix everything.” Shay started for the barn, for her next block of salt. If Travis loved her at all, it sure wasn’t the same way she loved him.
“It’s a start . . .” Abigail had followed her.
Abigail didn’t know about Ella. Didn’t know how it felt to be rejected in favor of a rodeo. “I don’t want to talk about this. Got enough to worry about with that stupid article.” She picked up a block and started for the truck.
Abigail darted out of her way, following. “Why does it bother you so much what everyone thinks?”
“You don’t understand.”
“So tell me.”
Shay sighed hard. How could Abigail understand? She’d never experienced poverty. She’d come from Midwestern suburbia.
“You don’t know what it was like, growing up poor. It was humiliating. I ate on the government program and wore jeans that were always inches too short. Kids are cruel, and the only thing worse than that was the pity from the adults.”
“Must’ve been hard.”
“All I ever wanted was to make a decent living, to give my daughter more than I had so she never had to feel that way. And look at us.” Shay shoved the block into the bed, her breaths coming hard. “Still scraping by.”
“But Olivia’s fine. All her needs are met. She’s a lovely, happy girl.”
It was true, despite their lack of material things.
“It just seems like no matter what I do, I’m continually being humiliated. First Travis dumps me in Cody on our wedding day, then that farce of an accidental wedding, and now a newspaper article declaring to the world that Travis never intended to marry me at all. Now he’s gone, and everyone will know he left me—again! Do you have any idea how that feels? What did I do to deserve this?”
Abigail reached out. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Shay leaned against the tailgate. “I’ve done nothing wrong, have I? Why do I continually feel embarrassed? I want to hide in my house and never come out. It feels just like it did when I was a kid, and I hate it.” Shay hit her palm on the tailgate, and the metal sound rang out. “I wish I didn’t care what anyone else thought.”
Abigail perched on the truck beside her and folded her arms against the cold. “When my sister and I were in high school, we were obsessed with being popular. My dad quoted this verse so much, it still sticks in my head. ‘For am I now trying to win the favor of people, or God? Or am I striving to please people?’ ” She snorted. “We used to get so sick of hearing that. But he was right. Life would be a lot simpler if we only aimed to please God, wouldn’t it?”
The verse struck the center of Shay’s heart like an arrow to a bull’s-eye. Is that my problem, God? That I care too much about what other people think and not enough about what You think?
Before the thought was complete, she knew it was. Hadn’t she even married Garrett to prove to her neighbors that she was worthy of a man’s love?
“You’re right. What is wrong with me?”
“We all care to a degree, honey. It’s kind of like those pictures I took at your birthday, remember? I focused on the wrong objects, and the photos came out all wrong. The main subject was blurry while some random object was in focus.”
“You’re right, Abigail. I’ve been focusing on the wrong subject. How could I miss something so obvious?”
“Hey, we all have our issues. Shoot, I chose my career out of guilt. I had to do a major turnaround because of that. Here I am back in school again.”
Abigail had told her about witnessing her childhood friend being abused and keeping it a secret. Her guilt had driven her into journalism to expose truths via her magazine column.
“I’ve been so focused on what everyone else thinks, I rarely even consider what God thinks of what I’m doing or who I am.”
Abigail gave her a sideways hug. “He thinks you’re pretty great.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Or maybe God thought it was about time she got her life in focus. Maybe He’d even allowed all those things to happen to teach her what now seemed so obvious. Life’s lessons did rise from the deepest hurts.
Abigail hopped down. “He also thinks I’m turning into a Popsicle out here.” Her nose was already red.
“You really should get a decent coat.”
Abigail posed. “But this one’s so pretty.”
“Never mind the frostbite.”
“Coming from Chicago, you’d think I’d know better.”
“Go home,” Shay said. “I’m sure Wade’ll have you warm in no time.”
“I just might do that.” Abigail rounded her car. “Call me if you need to talk.”
Shay watched her friend pull from the drive, then began loading the blocks again.
Help me figure this out, God. I don’t want to care so much what everyone thinks. I want to care what You think. Show me how to do it, Lord, because I don’t think I can do it on my own.
33
The country music was almost as loud as the rowdy cowboys and cowgirls in the Las Vegas restaurant. They’d chosen a Texas-style steakhouse to celebrate the end of the National Rodeo Finals.
Travis pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Why did he bother? Shay wasn’t going to call . . . hadn’t called once since he’d left. It was time to face facts.
She didn’t want him back, didn’t love him. Not like he loved her. If she did, she wouldn’t have put him out so easily. Maybe her heart wasn’t turned inside out like his.
“Hey, cowboy.” Ella sidled into the seat beside him and flipped her silky blond hair over her shoulder. “Congratulations on your finish.”
“Thanks. You too.” Across the room Seth laughed, taking the hand of the new filly he’d meet several days earlier. He was glad for his buddy. Somehow they’d finished first, though Travis wasn’t sure how he’d focused long enough to secure the record time.
“When ya headed back to Montana?” Ella asked, bumping his shoulder.
“Not sure.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow, bright and early.” Ella took a swig from her bottle, then turned a coy smile on him. Last chance, her eyes said.
“Safe travels.”
She laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on his nerves. Across the room, two bull riders gawked at her from their spot by the blaring jukebox.
“All right, McCoy, be that way,” she said. “We could’ve had something. But you go back to wifey and have a nice little life together.” She stood. “There’s plenty of other cowboys in the corral, you know.” She smiled toward the two bull riders, then sauntered off in their direction.
Travis wanted to leave, but he’d already ordered. He didn’t feel like celebrating. He felt like going back to his room and losing himself in sleep. It was the only time he felt at peace. The only time this hole in his gut stopped aching.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and his heart held its breath as he pulled it out and checked the screen.
Dylan. He stuffed the disappointment and slipped away from the table, seeking the quieter cove at the front of the building.
“Hey, buddy,” Dylan said when he answered. “Hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.”
“News’ll be all over town tomorrow.”
He wondered if Shay had heard. If Dylan had seen her lately. If she’d asked about him.
“Saw your ride on TV. You two had a great time. I was almost jealous.”
“You’ve got your own trophy buckles. I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“Yeah, well . . . I miss it sometimes,” Dylan said.
It was ironic. Travis was where Dylan wanted to be, and Dylan was where Travis wanted to be. But being in Moose Creek wouldn’t help matters. He’d been there six months, and for what?
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“When ya coming home? We might throw a party or something.”
“Any ol’ excuse to get together,” Travis said.
“Well, it is winter. So tomorrow? Next day?”
Travis sighed hard, walked to the window, his boots crunching the peanut shells strewn on the planked floor.
“I’m not coming back, Dylan.” It was the first time he’d said it aloud, the first time he’d even admitted it to himself. He’d have to call his parents in the morning. They’d need to put the ranch on the market soon.
“Why not?”
“Come on, you know why. She doesn’t want me there.”
“She’s your wife.”
“My accidental wife. She never chose this, clearly doesn’t want to be married to me.”
“And you’re giving up, just like that?”
“No, it’s not just like that, pal. I’ve loved Shay for years. I came home—shoot, I even married the woman—lived with her for five months. I showed her I loved her in every way I know how, and she kicked me to the curb. She doesn’t want me in her life—nothing I can do about that.”
So he’d go back to dreaming, go back to his regrets, his memories. He closed his eyes against them.
“What are your plans?”
Travis sank onto the waiting bench. “Don’t know. Going back to Texas. Maybe I’ll buy a ranch or something. I’m done with the rodeo.”
“Too bad. Good money in it for someone with your skills.”
“Yeah, well.” Travis leaned his head against the wood siding. “The rodeo cost me more than it ever paid.”
34
Shay looked at her refrigerator calendar. One week until Christmas. One full week since the rodeo ended.
And no word from Travis. She told herself she was glad he’d stopped calling. He’d probably gone back to Texas after his big win in Vegas, which she’d purposely not watched. It was hard enough just remembering him. She didn’t need to see him showing his stuff on horseback in living color.
Yes, he was probably in Texas with Ella, getting ready to celebrate the holidays together. Maybe that piece of jewelry was her Christmas gift. Maybe he’d catch her under the mistletoe and lay a big one on her. She closed her eyes against the thought.
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