by Amanda Renee
A sob caught in her throat. She never wanted to hurt Ivy. She’d never wanted to disrupt their lives. She had fought, repeatedly. But she had failed, and now there was nothing left.
“I’ll be out by the morning.”
“I’m sorry, Belle.” Harlan’s cold, unaffected stare met hers. “I need you to leave tonight.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“You need to go. The animals can stay until tomorrow, but I can’t have you under my roof in case family services shows up. I need every trace of you gone.”
His words hit her harder than any fists ever could.
“No.” Belle slowly shook her head from side to side. “I am not coming back here tomorrow. I’ll take everything—animals included—tonight. Please pack up the belongings you moved into the house without my permission and leave them on the porch. I need to make a few phone calls. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t contest the divorce.”
Belle headed toward the stables to call Lydia in private. She’d known moving in with him was a bad idea. The whole situation was bad from the beginning. She should have followed her gut instinct.
She despised herself as much as she despised Harlan. She could have been stronger and remained steadfast. He was right. She’d destroyed all of them and if anything happened to Ivy it was because of her.
She removed her phone from her pocket and dialed Lydia. It was so late and she was bound to wake the kids. She had nowhere else to turn. Under the circumstances, she didn’t think Beckett and Becky would welcome her with open arms.
“Belle?” Lydia’s sleepy voice answered. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Lydia, I need your help. I’m in trouble.”
“Aw hell, Belle.”
Chapter Fifteen
Almost two and a half weeks had passed since Harlan had thrown Belle off the ranch and she had moved in with Lydia and her family. His attorney had sent over a joint divorce petition for her to sign along with the title transfer for fifty acres of land. She tore the land transfer in half and tossed it in the trash. Hell would freeze over before she accepted anything from Harlan ever again.
Multiple yellow sign-here flags sticking out from between the petition’s pages beckoned mockingly to her. She flipped to the first one and saw Harlan’s signature. It shouldn’t have surprised her, yet it did in a most hurtful way. How could she have allowed him to break her heart twice?
She wiped at her eyes and jammed the document back in the envelope. She’d have it notarized on her way into town before dropping it back off at the attorney’s. The sooner their divorce was official, the better.
First, she needed to finish making her rounds on Lydia’s ranch. When her friend refused the rent she offered, Belle said she would work the ranch in exchange for room and board. Lydia agreed and every morning Belle spent three hours feeding and cleaning up after two barns and one stable full of animals. The woman had taken in more rescues than she had room.
Belle had left Imogene behind for Ivy. Harlan had told her they wanted to adopt the duck. It was the least she could do after uprooting all their lives. Molly hadn’t made good on any of her threats. She had returned to Billings until she could find a new position in or around Saddle Ridge and had agreed not to seek custody if Harlan agreed to keep Belle away from Ivy.
Lillie and Samson continued to thrive and were old enough to stay in Lydia’s barn along with the other baby animals. And Olive was finally paired with another frostbitten, earless goat. The two had become inseparable. Belle vowed to find each of the animals in their care forever homes, but she knew most of them would end up permanent residents in the rescue center. While it was a satisfactory solution, the animals didn’t receive as much one-on-one love and affection as they would in a smaller environment.
Belle longed for the day when work meant stepping out her back door—when her rescues would have the freedom to roam under her watchful eye. That dream had been so close she could have touched it. Having to start over again sucked, but Lydia recently had the opportunity to buy some acreage adjacent to her own ranch. She was just waiting to see if the owner accepted the offer. While it wasn’t Belle’s ideal vision for the rescue, it would work with some modifications to her business plan. Lydia’s support and devotion to the cause gave her hope for the future.
In four days, she would move into her new apartment. Beckett had called to check in on her a few times since that fateful night, but their relationship hadn’t been the same. He still maintained contact with Harlan and had tried repeatedly to get them to talk to one another. Even if she wanted to talk to Harlan, Molly had threatened an all-out custody war if he spoke to Belle. She couldn’t ask him to take that risk. Their short relationship wasn’t worth it.
After Belle had finished her chores she headed into town. The nursing home was her first stop, followed by the feed and grain. Belle had approved her grandmother’s move into the quieter Alzheimer’s wing. She was still regressing but it seemed to have slowed down somewhat.
The memory train always seemed to stop on major events in Belle’s life, not some random moment in time. She wished she had known during each of those moments just how much they would come to mean to her grandmother. It still amazed Belle the level of detail Trudy could recall about one particular event, yet an entire decade had vanished from her mind. Yesterday they had been transported back to Belle’s sixteenth birthday. At least that was a time before she had started dating Harlan seriously. Trudy no longer asked for him, but the nurses had told her he stopped in every day at noon and ate lunch with her.
“Good morning,” Belle said as she walked past the main desk and headed toward the Alzheimer’s wing.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Slade.”
Belle froze. “It’s Barnes,” she said before turning around.
Samantha Frederick smiled meekly. “I’m so sorry about you and—” Belle’s brows rose at the almost mention of Harlan’s name. “Anyway, I just wanted to warn you. Trudy hasn’t had a good morning. She flipped her tray, threw her juice box and doesn’t want anyone in her room. We cleaned the food off the floor, but we are waiting until she settles down a little more before we change her gown. We’d rather not use any restraints. They cause injuries.”
Belle sighed. “She gets extremely agitated when she has a urinary tract infection. Can you test to make sure she doesn’t have another one?”
“Yes, we can.” Samantha removed her phone and tapped a note into it with a stylus. “We will probably have to sedate her later this morning, and that’s when we’ll test her.”
Belle hated the idea of her grandmother wearing adult diapers and someone changing her like an infant. She understood it was necessary, but it was demeaning just the same. She never wanted to reach the point where she couldn’t take care of herself.
“She hasn’t eaten today and at her body weight, it’s important that she does. She has one of those complete meal drinks in there, but let me give you a few other flavors to try in hopes she’ll drink one or two of them.”
Belle followed Samantha to the drink station. “What are her favorite flavors?”
“Definitely chocolate. She was born in Switzerland, so she is a certified chocoholic. No chance you have wine flavor in there?”
“Wine?” Samantha’s face contorted. “I’m afraid not.”
“Okay, that was a joke,” Belle said. “When I was growing up, my grandmother always had an open chocolate bar and a glass of red wine sitting on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Throughout the day, she would break off a piece of chocolate and take a sip of wine. At the end of the day, the chocolate was gone and the glass was empty. She didn’t go a day without either one.” The memory made Belle smile. “Every time I open a refrigerator, I expect to see that.”
Samantha squeezed her hand. “These are the memories you should always hold on to. Share these stor
ies often to keep them fresh in your mind.”
The sting of tears threatened to destroy her composure. “I will. I’ll take a chocolate and a strawberry.”
Belle stood outside the entrance of Trudy’s room and listened carefully before she turned the corner. She’d already been beaned by a full bottle of meal replacer during an earlier visit. She scanned the hallway floor and the wall across from her door. No food or dents. It was a good sign. Belle peered around the corner.
“Grammy?” she called. “It’s me, Belle.” Her grandmother sat upright in her recliner with the table tray locked in place across her lap. It was like a high chair for adults. It allowed her to sit up and watch television, eat or craft on the table, while preventing her from falling or trying to stand up. And it had wheels so the staff could move her around the facility and grounds without worrying about getting her in and out of a wheelchair.
Belle didn’t see the bottle of meal replacer Samantha said was in the room. She grabbed a straw from the box in one of the upper cabinets and unwrapped it.
“How would you like a chocolate drink today?” Belle shook the bottle. Her grandmother looked angry. Belle twisted off the cap and dropped the straw into the drink. “Here you go, Grammy.”
Trudy slapped her hand away as Belle offered her the drink. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m Belle. I’m your granddaughter.”
“You’re not my granddaughter. My Belle is a little bitty thing. You’re too old.” Trudy grabbed Belle’s wrist. “Who are you and why are you in my room?”
Belle decided to try another approach. “Mom, it’s me, Cindy. I came back to see you.”
“No, you’re not. Cindy’s gone.”
“Where did Cindy go?” Belle asked. It had been twenty-one years and she still wondered how her mother dropped off the face of the earth. Beckett believed she had her name changed. That way no one could follow her.
“Get out of here.” Trudy knocked the open bottle of meal replacer on the floor. “Get out. Security. Security!” Trudy wailed.
“It’s okay, Trudy. I’m leaving.” Belle held up her hands and backed toward the door. “See, I’m leaving.”
Samantha Frederick ran down the hallway. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” Belle nodded. “I’m just emotionally bruised. I guess this is when you recall the good times.”
“Exactly.”
“She knocked her drink all over the floor. Please warn whoever goes in there next that it will be slippery. I’m going to head out.”
Belle didn’t wait for Samantha to respond. She found the nearest exit and flew through the door. She didn’t want to cry. So she ran, fast and hard. Until her lungs felt like they would explode. She started walking to cool down and then stopped when she realized she was almost in front of the sheriff’s office. She could see Harlan’s cruiser from where she stood. And he could probably see her from his desk. Right now, she just wanted to go home. If only she had one to go to. Living with Harlan and Ivy felt like home. It was warm and inviting. She belonged there. She believed it in the depths of her heart. Yet she could never return. She was banned from the people she loved the most. They had all rejected her and she’d never felt more alone.
Belle swiped the tears from her face and walked back to her truck. She’d done enough feeling sorry for herself today. She needed to stay busy and keep from thinking about what she’d lost. She wished a vet call would come in. Something, anything to distract her. Community service. She had a couple hundred hours she still needed to fulfill from her various sentences. That would keep her busy. Just as long as it kept her busy and away from Harlan.
* * *
HARLAN WATCHED BELLE from the second floor of the courthouse. Something was seriously wrong for her to sprint. It was a defense mechanism he had taught her in high school when she felt the world was closing in on her. She paced the street below and for a moment, he thought she would head into the sheriff’s office. She disappeared somewhere below him, which he assumed meant she was in the building.
He wanted to go to her and soothe away her pain. He could see her truck in the nursing home parking lot. Trudy must be having a bad morning.
Harlan regretted the words he said to her the night he kicked her out. Another thing he never should have done. He’d taken something broken and pulverized it into the ground. He had let Molly control the situation, just as he always had. In the end, she’d done nothing she said she would do. He should have called her bluff. Molly couldn’t handle conversing with her daughter for an hour, let alone be a full-time parent to Ivy. They still hadn’t formed a connection and whenever Molly left, Ivy relaxed. His kid was very intuitive and Molly was loud. He wouldn’t doubt Ivy had overheard some of her mother’s threats. And it was all over things that had happened in the past. Belle had kept her word to him. And he had broken his vow when he told her to leave.
It was done. It was over. Maybe one day he could apologize. Harlan needed to get back to work before he drove himself crazy. He opened the stairwell door and descended the stairs. He had barely heard the faint sound of a door opening either above or below him. It wasn’t until the scent of her perfume hit that he knew they were alone together in the stairwell.
“Belle?” He called her name.
No footsteps, no breathing, no sound at all. Yet he knew she was there. He peered over the center rail, hoping to catch a glimpse of her hand or a flutter of clothing. He looked up and down and nothing.
“I still love you.”
He hoped that would generate a response. She probably considered it an insult after the way he said it the last time. He heard the door below him open and then close. He supposed it was fitting. He had opened the door to her heart, only to slam it closed again.
* * *
HARLAN COULDN’T SLEEP. He had spent the last two hours arguing with Molly over the phone. He felt the inexplicable need to set up some form of a visitation schedule they could agree upon and adhere to. Molly wanted to come and go as she pleased. Harlan refused to uproot his daughter whenever Molly came to town on a whim. She seemed to like the idea of being a parent and talked a great game, but when it came down to actually doing the work, she didn’t want any part of it.
She had also clued him in on just how much of an ass he had been when they were married. They’d both known going in that it wasn’t for love, but he hadn’t realized how cruel and cold he had been by leaving her completely alone every day. He had been pining over Belle and up to his ears in regret. He’d fixated on his own issues and ignored Molly. He never tried to be her friend, let alone her partner in raising a child. Looking back, he couldn’t blame her for leaving him. Leaving their daughter was a different story.
Harlan had just drifted off when his phone started ringing. He answered it, half in a daze.
“Harlan Slade, this call is regarding Gertrude Barnes. Are you her grandson-in-law?”
He swung his legs out of bed and grabbed his jeans off the chair.
“Yes, I am.”
“Mr. Slade, we are trying to get in touch with your wife.”
“She’s not here. Can I help you?” He cradled the phone against his shoulder as he zipped his fly.
“Gertrude had an episode and fell. The ambulance is en route to the hospital. Can you locate your wife and let her know the situation?”
“Yes, either my wife or I will be there. Thank you for calling me.”
Harlan hung up, quickly dialed Dylan and asked him to come stay with Ivy. He tried both Belle’s and Lydia’s numbers but they went straight to voice mail. And he didn’t have Calvin’s. He called Beckett next, but he hadn’t heard from her either.
Harlan prayed Belle wasn’t off somewhere getting in trouble. He’d stopped in to see Trudy at lunchtime and they had filled him in on what had happened earlier with Belle. He knew she was hu
rting and when Belle hurt, she had a strong desire to save the world. Her pain lessened when she took away someone else’s pain. And she would go to whatever lengths possible to fulfill that desire.
He met Dylan in the ranch drive. “No time to explain. If you hear from Belle, tell her to get to the hospital right away.”
Harlan’s gut instinct took him back to the cattle ranch. Especially after the run-in she’d had with one of their employees on his ranch a few weeks ago. There was no sign of her truck. He continued to drive out toward Lydia and Calvin’s, scanning every dive bar parking lot along the way. Barhopping wasn’t normally her thing, but given her current mood, he’d rather err on the side of caution.
Belle’s truck wasn’t parked in front of Lydia’s house. Various work trucks were lined up along the fence and he couldn’t be sure if Lydia was home or not. It was a little past one in the morning. He had no choice but to ring the Presleys’ front doorbell.
Calvin answered the door angrier than a grizzly awoken during hibernation.
“This better be good, Harlan.”
“Is Belle here?”
“Oh, geez. You two are like lovesick teenagers. You need to stay married and work your problems out.” Calvin scratched his rump and leaned outside. “Do you see her truck out there?”
“No.”
“Well then, there you have it.”
He started to close the door until Harlan jammed his boot in it. “It’s about Trudy. I need to find Belle.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Is she okay?”
“No, no she’s not. Is Lydia home?”
