Always Dakota

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Always Dakota Page 17

by Debbie Macomber


  Respectfully submitted,

  Hassie Knight

  Bundled in her coat, gloves, scarf and boots, Hassie stood on the sidewalk outside the pharmacy that had been in the Knight family for more years than she wanted to think about. Her daughter had been after her to retire, move to Hawaii and spend the rest of her days soaking up the tropical sun. As if Hassie could do such a thing! In all her life, she’d never been one to sit back, relax, take it easy. She’d be bored to death. Valerie loved Hawaii and often mailed postcards of the turquoise-colored water, white beaches and sloping palm trees, hoping to lure her to the islands. Hassie wouldn’t be opposed to another visit, but all that sunshine would be more than her system could handle. No, Buffalo Valley was her home, and recent events here were downright exciting.

  The Doctors’ Clinic was open for business now. Joshua McKenna could be proud of that. The council president had negotiated long and hard to convince the clinic to set up a branch office in town. Hassie knew that Sarah’s troubled pregnancy had been his incentive; both he and Dennis were worried about her and the baby. The town needed a doctor, and even one on a part-time basis was better than none. At the rate Buffalo Valley was growing, it made sense to plan for a clinic that would eventually have office hours five days a week.

  The Doctors’ Clinic wasn’t the only new sign on the block. Harvey Hendrickson had sold his farm, and instead of moving his family out of the area, he’d opened a hardware store. The town needed that almost as badly as it did the clinic. The entire Hendrickson family had moved into Buffalo Valley, and with six children, they had plenty of homegrown employees.

  “What’s so interesting out here?” Leta asked, coming outside to stand on the sidewalk with Hassie. She wore several layers of clothes and only her nose was visible beneath the thick woolen scarf tied around her head and draped across her neck.

  “I was just taking a gander at Main Street,” Hassie explained. It was a joy to look up and down the street and see new businesses popping up every few weeks.

  “I heard talk that Rachel’s thinking about building a drive-in hamburger place.”

  Hassie grinned. She’d heard the same rumor herself. Rachel had a good head for business; the success of The Pizza Parlor proved as much. “My guess is she’ll set it up across the street from the proposed park.”

  “Ready to go in?” Leta led the way back into the warm store. “This town could use a fast-food restaurant. The teenagers would love it. Families, too. And tourists in the summer.”

  “What do you think of Rachel as the new council president?” Hassie asked. The annual election was coming up, and Hassie had been giving some thought to potential candidates. Who was the best person to take this town into the future? The person who kept rising to the top of her list was Rachel Quantrill. Hassie walked to the back of the store, where she removed her coat and reached for her white pharmaceutical jacket.

  “Wouldn’t Joshua take exception to that?” Leta asked, after shedding her own coat.

  Hassie shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s commented a number of times that he’s ready to retire from the council. Can’t say I blame him. He’s been president nearly five years now.”

  “I think she’d do a good job,” Leta said.

  Hassie agreed; Rachel loved Buffalo Valley with the same passion and loyalty as Hassie. Like so many other towns across the Dakotas, Buffalo Valley had seen its share of troubles. But overall, living here had been a blessing. Even during the very worst times, a sense of community, of neighborly cooperation, had never entirely disappeared. And now…now things were looking up.

  “How’s Sarah doing?” Hassie asked, knowing Leta had recently been to visit.

  “Better, I think. Her mood was good.”

  “Calla’s stopping by more often, is she?”

  Leta nodded. “Thankfully, yes. She tries to avoid Dennis, though. Sarah said she always has a convenient excuse for coming over. Usually it’s something to do with the video store. Either she’s dropping off a movie or picking one up. Although, as I understand it, she usually doesn’t stay long.”

  “Still, they’re communicating.”

  Leta flashed her an easy smile. “So it seems. You know who I haven’t seen much of lately? Margaret Clemens.”

  “It’s Eilers now,” Hassie reminded her.

  “Right.” Her tone conveyed her lack of enthusiasm for Margaret’s choice of husband.

  To be fair, Hassie had entertained her own doubts about Margaret’s marriage to the rogue rancher. The girl deserved better. Bernard had certainly been unimpressed by him. Hassie recalled a time, nearly a year ago now, when he’d sat at her soda fountain and asked Hassie her opinion of Matt Eilers. Hassie hadn’t been sure what to say. She knew who Matt was, knew his reputation, but not much more.

  Most people tended to think of him as an outsider, the same way they’d looked at Lindsay Snyder and Maddy Washburn when they’d first arrived. It hadn’t taken Lindsay long to win the respect and affection of the townspeople. Maddy, either. Matt was a different story. He’d been part of the community far longer but was less well known, and certainly not as well liked.

  Anyone with a lick of sense knew he hadn’t married Margaret for love. Apparently Margaret knew it, too. And this was the kicker—it didn’t seem to matter to her. She’d been blinded by hormones, Hassie suspected. Poor thing. However, Hassie had to admit she’d seen a softening in Margaret since her marriage.

  “Lots of changes…” Leta was saying.

  Distracted from her thoughts, Hassie paused, wondering what she’d missed.

  “Changes in Margaret and for that matter Matt, too,” Leta went on.

  “Change isn’t always bad, you know.”

  Leta’s smile said she agreed. “In their case, I think it’s for the better. Those two actually seem happy. I would never have believed it, but I’m delighted.”

  Hassie was pleased for them, too, and hoped that whatever they’d found would last.

  If ever there was a time Matt Eilers needed a drink, it was now. He stepped into the Doctors’ Clinic for the scheduled blood test that would dictate his future and claimed a seat in the waiting room. The collar of his shirt felt like a noose around his neck and his hands sweated with the agony of the unknown. He hadn’t come by choice, that was for damn sure. He’d been ordered here by the court.

  A number of people sat in the waiting room, most of whom he didn’t recognize. Thank God. The last thing he wanted was for Margaret to get wind of this. He’d taken a chair as far removed from the others as possible. He felt so worried that he was sick to his stomach. He removed his hat and, for something to do, rotated the brim while he waited for his name to be called.

  Under normal circumstances, Matt wasn’t a praying man, but today he was. He’d willingly fall to his knees before the Almighty if this blood test proved he wasn’t the father of Sheryl’s baby.

  Needless to say, he hadn’t mentioned the paternity suit to Margaret. Hell and damnation, he couldn’t tell his wife of only a few months that he might have gotten another woman pregnant. Seeing how Margaret had reacted to Sheryl’s phone calls, Matt didn’t want to even think what she’d say or do if he told her about the pregnancy. He gripped his hat tightly and prayed like never before.

  Okay, so he’d slept with Sheryl, but he wasn’t fool enough to believe he was the only one. And, yes, there’d been a time or two when they’d been careless about birth control. That made him feel both weak and stupid. Sheryl had a reputation—and not just for being an easy lay. He knew about her opportunistic and frivolous lawsuits, her willingness to lie and manipulate others. More fool he for ever getting involved with her.

  “Matt Eilers.”

  At the sound of his name, Matt nearly stumbled out of his chair in his eagerness to get this over with.

  “Hello, Mr. Eilers.” The nurse greeted him cordially, leading him to a small cubicle at the end of the hallway. She motioned for him to take a chair. “I understand you’re here for a court
-ordered blood test.”

  “Yes.” Matt nodded for good measure. “Isn’t this a bit unusual? I thought the normal procedure was to wait until after the baby’s born to determine paternity?”

  “Generally, yes,” the nurse informed him. “It can be decided early, but for the baby’s sake, that’s not recommended. It causes a risk to the pregnancy.” Frowning, she glanced down and read over the court document. “Apparently, in this case, the mother insisted paternity be determined right away and went against the advice of her physician.”

  It was already clear that Sheryl was bent on getting revenge—and money—as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was equally clear that the well-being of her baby was not her priority here. Matt swallowed hard and tensed.

  “If you’ll roll up your sleeve?”

  He did as instructed.

  The procedure took only a minute. The nurse then taped a piece of gauze to the inside of his elbow, and Matt rolled down his sleeve, refastening it at the wrist.

  “How long will it take before I get the results?” he asked. He had no doubt that Sheryl would be on his doorstep the minute the report came in. She was willing to put the baby at risk to prove that he was the father, just so she could drain every possible penny from him. He’d already received the bill for her test, which had been done at the Grand Forks hospital. Thank God he’d intercepted the mail that day!

  “It shouldn’t be more than a week.”

  So all he had to do was live with this threat hanging over his life—and his marriage. A few more days of repressed anger and pretended normalcy. Margaret couldn’t know.

  When he was finished, Matt walked over to 3 OF A KIND, needing a stiff drink. To his surprise, the building was locked up tighter than a bank.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Steve Baylor, who happened to be walking by.

  “You didn’t hear?” Steve asked.

  Obviously he hadn’t, or he wouldn’t be asking. “Hear what?”

  “Buffalo Bob and Merrily are in California. They’re looking to adopt that kid.”

  “They closed down completely?” Matt needed something to calm his nerves. That and some quiet to think about this situation.

  “I understand they won’t be back for several days.”

  He muttered a curse under his breath. “Anyplace else a man can get a drink?” He wasn’t aware of one, but Steve had lived in Buffalo Valley his entire life and would know better than he did.

  Steve lifted the brim of his hat, frowning heavily. It shouldn’t be this difficult, Matt thought irritably.

  “Hassie’s,” Steve said, after a moment.

  “She serves beer?”

  “Root beer,” Steve answered and laughed. “But she makes a mean chocolate soda. If you’re desperate you might check it out.”

  Matt didn’t have much choice. Really, the drink wasn’t that important. What he needed most was a few minutes to compose himself before he returned to the ranch and Margaret.

  Matt had lived in the vicinity of Buffalo Valley five years, and not once had he been inside Hassie’s place. No reason to before now. His ranch was equidistant from Buffalo Valley and Devils Lake. Most of the time he steered toward the larger of the two towns. Not so with the Clemenses. They seemed to have some link with Buffalo Valley.

  “Hello there, Matt,” Hassie said in a friendly voice when he walked through the pharmacy’s glass door, past a couple on their way out. “What can I do for you?”

  He ambled over to the soda fountain and sat down. “I heard you make an exceptional soda. I’ve been meaning to try it,” he said, hoping not to give himself away. He didn’t need Hassie reporting to Margaret that he’d come in looking drawn and worried.

  “That I do,” she agreed, striding around the counter. “Business has been good the last few days with Bob gone.”

  “Do you have anything stronger than root beer?” Might as well ask.

  “Afraid not.” She reached for a tall glass. “So, you interested in one of my famous sodas?”

  “Sure,” he agreed. Why not?

  “You’re not such a bad guy,” she said casually, bending forward to scoop up the ice cream.

  Matt could have asked her what she meant, but he wasn’t in a talkative mood. Not today. Once he had his soda, he’d make sure Hassie knew he was looking for privacy.

  “A lot of us had our doubts when you married Margaret.”

  Matt could well imagine. “She’s one helluva woman,” he said, wanting Hassie to know he appreciated his wife. Okay, so Margaret had her faults. He laid claim to a fair share of his own.

  “Where is she?” Hassie asked.

  Matt lowered his eyes, wishing he could come up with some plausible reason for being in town while Margaret was busy at the ranch, fighting the cold and wind as she and a couple of the hands rode across the north and east pastures, checking for early calves.

  He stared up at Hassie and realized she was waiting for him to answer. “She’s home…I had to come into town for a doctor’s appointment.” That much was true. He’d told Margaret the same thing.

  “Like I was saying,” Hassie continued as she assembled the soda. “I’m really pleased about the way things have turned out between you two.”

  “I’m pleased myself,” Matt said, just to be conversational.

  “I’ve always been fond of Margaret. Her daddy used to bring her into town, back when she was a little girl.”

  Matt listened, wondering what his wife had been like as a child.

  “She used to try to imitate Bernard’s walk. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She dressed just like him.”

  Still did for that matter, Matt mused, grinning to himself. He’d never known a woman more comfortable in coveralls, but it was what she wore underneath that enthralled him.

  “I’m not sure how well you knew Bernard Clemens.”

  Matt wished now that he’d had the opportunity to know Margaret’s father. He felt sure he would have enjoyed a friendship with the man.

  “His wife, Maggie, was nearly twenty years his junior and as pretty as a picture. I remember when he brought her into town the first time. He was the envy of every man in the county. Maggie was a gentle creature, very elegant and refined. It damn near killed him when she died.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he ever recovered from her death.”

  Matt’s heart ached for the father-in-law he’d only briefly met. “He had Margaret.”

  “That he did. And to give him credit, he did the best he could with her, but I’ve often wondered what her life would have been like had her mother lived.”

  One thing was certain: she wouldn’t be married to Matt.

  “It’s worked out for her, though.”

  Caught up in his own thoughts, Matt had lost track of the conversation. “Beg your pardon?”

  “For Margaret,” Hassie said as she set the bubbling soda in front of him.

  “What’s worked out for her?” he asked.

  “Well…you fell in love with her, didn’t you?”

  Her words hit him like a fist in the face and he blinked back his surprise. Circumstances being what they were, he didn’t feel he’d done Margaret any favors. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he murmured.

  Hassie gently patted his hand. “You love her.”

  Matt nearly swallowed the straw. Love Margaret? He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the old woman knew that he didn’t.

  “You seem a little shocked,” she said, apparently finding his reaction amusing. “But you couldn’t hide your feelings if you tried. She’s got you, Matt Eilers, hook, line and sinker.”

  Until Hassie said it aloud, Matt hadn’t thought about it, but she was right. “I do love her,” he said, and found it only slightly amazing that the first person he told was a busybody old-lady pharmacist.

  The person who deserved to hear this was Margaret. The woman he loved. His wife.

  “We can’t put it off much longer,” Rachel said, finishing her breakfast
coffee.

  Heath nodded, wandering into the living room. He knew his wife was right, but he didn’t think he was emotionally capable of sorting through his grandmother’s things. She’d been gone two months, and he was only now becoming accustomed to her loss.

  For three years, he’d talked with her on a daily basis. Until the very end, she’d been involved in the business. Countless times Heath had gone to his grandmother for advice and guidance. She’d shown him that he possessed every bit as much financial sense as Max, although she’d rarely mentioned his brother’s name. There’d been a valid reason for that.

  Neither Lily nor Heath would ever forget Max—that would have been impossible—but his older brother’s death remained a painful subject for them.

  Max had been the one with the brains. The brother who’d been groomed from his school days to take over the bank. Then, in an instant, Max was gone.

  Heath had hurried home to North Dakota.

  Lily hadn’t been easy on him during those early years. The first thing she’d done was appoint him loan manager at Buffalo Valley. In the beginning he’d been insulted. Outraged. He was the only surviving heir, and his grandmother had sent him to work at a minor branch in a town that was all but dead. Every farmer in the area needed money. It was a terrible position to find himself in, and after a few months he’d hardened his heart. Being appointed to this less-than-desirable job had been a punishment, he guessed, for having left, for not allowing her to control his life the way she had Max’s. They’d started off on hard ground, the two of them, but Heath soon recognized that Lily was teaching him some of the most important lessons he’d ever learn about the banking business.

  “I can help if you want,” Rachel said, coming into the living room and sitting across from him. “But you really need to do this soon.”

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t put it off any longer,” Heath replied without enthusiasm. The retirement center had already packed up everything in Lily’s small apartment and Heath had stored it all in the large basement of his parents’ home. He’d eventually be selling the place but wasn’t ready to let it go quite yet.

 

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