by Jill Gregory
“I . . . you . . . want me to move to Forks Peak?” To leave Dad? Panic rushed through her. “But . . . you . . . you were the one who left me,” she blurted.
Her mother flushed, then tossed her hair back. “Things were different then. I couldn’t stay, I just couldn’t, baby girl. But last year, something happened.”
Ivy stared at her, not saying anything.
“I had this accident, honey. A real bad one. First time in my life—I was performing in this rodeo in Fort Worth—owned by this man named Harlan Cooper. And a horse threw me, and my leg got broke, and my back was messed up real bad. I couldn’t walk for a long time, months and months. I went through physical therapy and rehab . . . it was awful, baby, but Harlan paid for everything and I learned to walk again. And you know what? I got kinda used to staying in one place and it . . . it wasn’t so bad. Harlan took real good care of me, until he dumped me for that scheming little buzzard Billie Jean Maple.”
Ivy was silent. Her stomach felt awful, like someone was pinching it all over. She shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly thinking how empty the bakery felt with only her and her mom there. It didn’t seem right to be here without Sophie.
“Billie Jean didn’t know a thing about riding or performing,” Lynelle went on, “but she knew how to do Harlan’s books. I think he just got tired of paying someone to do them, you know? Anyway, he married Billie Jean, and she couldn’t stand having me around, so I hightailed it out of there soon as I could. But the thing is, I got to thinking. I miss you and I want to be a mama to you again. So since I got better, I’ve been waitressing, bartending, you name it—just to get enough money to come here and start over. I didn’t figure this was the kind of thing we could plan on the phone. You know? So here I am.”
She smiled, an eager, uncertain smile. “So how about it, baby girl? Tell me you’ll come live with me at Aunt Brenda’s. Just for a while, until I can save enough for our own place. Don’t you want to give us another chance?”
Ivy felt a ripple of panic. Leave her dad? And Sage Ranch . . . Starbucks . . . her horses? Like Mom had left Misty Mae? She didn’t want to leave them, or her room, her friends, Sophie. . . .
“I . . . can’t. I have school,” she said quickly.
“Well, that’s no problem. You could transfer, couldn’t you? People do it all the time. For a semester, maybe two. Think, honey, we could spend so much time together. We could even share a room at Aunt Brenda’s. And then, if you want to transfer back to your school in Lonesome Way after Christmas or maybe in the spring, you could. But think of all the fun we’d have living together. We’ll be best friends. I want that, Ivy, I want that so much. We have so much time to make up for.”
But that’s not my fault, Ivy thought, her stomach dropping at the pleading hopefulness in her mom’s eyes. She couldn’t seem to stop the flow of questions circling through her head.
How long do you want to be best friends, Mom? Until you’re ready to take off again? Until you’re tired of Forks Peak? Of me? She felt guilty for thinking that way, but she knew the scared voice inside her head had a point.
“You said I’d understand.” Ivy swallowed. “But I . . . I don’t.”
“What don’t you understand, baby?”
Ivy’s hands were clenched. She’d thought she’d be happy once she actually saw her mom again. Instead she felt like she was going to cry. But no. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t let herself. No matter how many times her mom called her baby, she wasn’t a baby anymore.
“You left me on a bench, Mom.” She hated that her voice trembled, but she couldn’t help it and plugged resolutely on. “You left me all alone. I don’t understand.”
Lynelle stepped back. Her mouth opened and then closed. Like a fish, Ivy thought. Then she snapped her lips together for a moment.
“Well, that’s just crazy, honey. You weren’t all alone. Not exactly.” She shook her head, and her long blond hair swirled. “You were in the middle of town, for Pete’s sake. There’s lots of people in Lonesome Way, and everyone takes care of everyone else. That’s how these small towns work. I knew you’d be fine. I mean, people here don’t even lock their doors, do they? Look how whoever owns this bakery left it unlocked while everyone’s at the high school. It’s the way small towns work. I knew that. So I knew someone would find you soon and your dad would come for you and—”
“I was scared, Mom!” The words flew from her, sounding high-pitched, foreign, as strange as the squawk of a startled wild bird. They might have come from some creature Ivy didn’t even know. “I was so scared! Don’t you even care?”
“Baby . . . honey . . . there’s no reason to cry now. It was a long time ago. You’re fine. I knew you’d be fine.” Tears filled her mother’s lake blue eyes. “I knew your father would take care of you and I had to—”
Lynelle broke off as behind them the bell tinkled over the door. Ivy whirled. And there was her father, tall, strong, handsome, running across the bakery toward her, looking a hundred times more tense and worried than he had even this morning when he found out Shiloh was sick.
Anguish clutched at her heart. She’d done this to him. Scared him, hurt him. Would he ever be able to forgive her? she thought, a sob rising in her throat.
Then she knew the answer as relief flooded his face. He drew a deep breath right inside the kitchen doorway and managed to smile at her as Sophie rushed in right behind him. She was pale, but she smiled too, an encouraging smile that said, It’s okay, you’re not in trouble, we’re just happy we found you.
Ivy tried to choke back her tears. They seemed stuck on her eyelashes. She couldn’t even speak. There were too many feelings welling up inside her, and they were all tangled up, rushing to get out.
When the sobs finally burst from her, they were hard and painful and wracked her throat.
“D-Dad!” It was the only word she could force out.
The next thing she knew, she had flung herself into his arms and he was kneeling beside her, gathering her tight against him. As she buried her face in his shoulder, she felt his strong arms tighten around her, and finally, finally, with her eyes closed hard against his shirt, she let the tears fall.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The first snowfall of the season blew in with a flurry of clouds a week later.
It was a fluffy, luxuriant snow, distinguished by flakes as thick as feathers. They dusted the foothills and coated the back roads and carried with them a fierce wind rushing straight down from the mountains to usher in the first icy taste of the long Montana winter.
Sophie and Ivy and Rafe ate grilled cheese sandwiches on sourdough rye and drank hot chocolate at the kitchen table at Sage Ranch on that Sunday afternoon. They were waiting for Shannon and Kate Gordon to pick up Ivy. The girls were going to the library to do homework together—according to Ivy, she had a landslide of homework.
“Calm down, you two,” Sophie admonished in amusement as a horn tooted in the driveway and Tidbit and Starbucks went nuts, barking in frantic tandem. Of course, both dogs ignored her, continuing their racket even after Ivy raced outside in her parka and scarf and bundled into Kate Gordon’s Explorer. They barked like maniacs until the SUV disappeared from view. Then as calmly as if nothing had happened, they trotted over to the warmest corner of the kitchen, curled up together, and went to sleep.
“Now they’ve got the right idea.” Rafe came up behind Sophie, wrapped his arms around her waist, and dropped a kiss to the back of her neck. “Proving dogs are a lot smarter than most people think.”
Grinning, he led her into the living room, tugged her down onto the sofa with him, and pulled her close. She laughed and wiggled closer. They stretched out like spoons in front of the fire while snowflakes kissed the windowpanes.
Listening to the snap of the logs, watching the flames dance hypnotically before them, Sophie thought: Now. Tell him now.
She hadn’t found the right time to tell him about the baby since the day of the fund-raiser—at least that’s wh
at she’d tried to convince herself. Deep down she’d been delaying sharing the news as long as possible. For one thing, he’d been plenty busy sorting everything out between Lynelle and Ivy. For another, she knew in her heart that once she told him, everything between them would change. For better or for worse—this carefree, sexy, no-strings thing between them would evaporate forever.
And Rafe would feel either trapped, guilty, obligated, or . . . dare she even hope for it? Happy.
She needed him to feel happy, even one hundredth as happy as she was. And she knew she’d be devastated if he reacted with dismay or a sense of obligation, especially if he tried to hide it. She’d know. And there was no reason to think that dismay and obligation wasn’t exactly what he would feel. She knew he enjoyed her company and they had great sex. She knew Rafe was an honorable man.
But he’d never told her he loved her. Never spoken of a commitment. Never made her any promises.
She didn’t want a husband who didn’t need her with his whole heart. She’d already had one of those, and she wasn’t going down that road again.
So she’d been reminding herself over and over, she didn’t need a husband to raise this child. She’d love it enough for two parents easily, effortlessly, even though she was certain Rafe would want to be involved.
But involved didn’t mean married. It didn’t mean love.
So she’d been clinging to these last sweet, uncomplicated days, to the joy she felt when she was with him. She didn’t want this to end. But it had to. Today.
It wasn’t fair to either her or Rafe not to tell him, so she braced herself and twisted around in his arms so she was facing him.
Her throat went dry as she kissed him one last time, savoring the taste and scent and warmth of him.
But before she could gather breath to speak, his cell phone rang.
“Damn, I hate this thing.” He sighed against her lips.
Not as much as I do, Sophie thought. Her heart was pounding. Now she just wanted to get it over with. Face the music, whatever happened.
“Dad.” Ivy’s voice was breathless and clearly audible to both of them. “I forgot, what day is Mom coming over?”
“Two weeks from today, Ives, why?”
Rafe tensed. Ever since Lynelle had reappeared in their lives, he’d been worried about the repercussions on Ivy. She’d seemed okay with everything up until this moment. Now he braced himself, wondering if she’d changed her mind and wanted to see Lynelle sooner than he’d arranged—or not at all. “It’s okay if you’ve had second thoughts about wanting to see your mother,” he said. “Because if you don’t, I’ll—”
“No, it’s not that. I want to see her, I guess. But Winnie Chandler’s birthday party is in three weeks. It’s at the bowling alley in Bozeman. She’s here at the library and she just invited me and Shannon. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t the same day I’m supposed to see Mom. That’s all. So I can go, right?”
“Winnie’s parents will be there?”
“Of course.”
“Are boys invited to this party?”
“Well . . . yeah.” Ivy spoke quickly. “It’s just bowling, Dad, no big deal. You have to let me go.”
No, I sure as hell don’t, was his first thought. Hearing the urgency in his daughter’s voice though, he swore silently. Sophie’s gaze was trained on him, and she looked sympathetic but amused as she pulled back and they both sat up.
He could guess what she was thinking: that he couldn’t stop Ivy from growing up, liking boys, going to parties—supervised parties, he reminded himself. That it was all natural and normal. He knew all that. Recognized the logic of it. But he’d seen things from the other side, and it scared the hell out of him to see his daughter entering this new phase of life. He knew those boys without having met them, knew their instincts, their hormones, what they wanted, because he’d been one of them way back when. Maybe the worst of the bunch. And it wasn’t daisies and rainbows and horseback rides into an innocent sunset that they were looking for.
Ivy was vulnerable. Young. She ought to still be playing with Peegee and Hawaiian Barbie, not going to bowling parties with boys. He needed to protect her as long as he possibly could.
Like until she was forty.
“Dad?” Her voice sounded plaintive. Almost desperate. “I can go, can’t I?”
Rafe let out his breath. “After I talk to Winnie Chandler’s parents and check this all out, and if they’re going to be there the whole time, you can go.”
“You’re the best, Dad! Bye, gotta study.”
He heard the sound of girlish giggles as his daughter hung up on him before he could take anything back.
“Boys.” His mouth grim, he tossed aside his phone. “Suddenly I have to worry about boys.”
“You knew this day was coming sooner or later,” Sophie pointed out.
“And later’s always better. Between this and that deal I worked out with Lynelle to visit Ivy here once a month, I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
Ordinarily she might have smiled at the scowl in his eyes, but inwardly she was thinking that depending on how he took the news she was going to impart, his day might be getting a whole lot worse. Still, she clung to the hope it would instead get better.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said quietly. “The boys, I mean. Ivy’s eleven, almost twelve. It’s just the start.” She touched his hand. “The good thing in all this is that you handled the Lynelle situation brilliantly. You have it all under control.”
“Right.” Pulling Sophie onto his lap, Rafe wrapped his arms around her. “Until she up and leaves again and doesn’t bother to say good-bye to Ives.”
He’d made it clear to Lynelle that the only way she was going to see Ivy until her eighteenth birthday was under his terms. That meant one afternoon a month for the time being, and only at Sage Ranch, and only when he was present. They’d see how things went after that. Take it or leave it.
Ivy herself had been relieved almost to the point of tears at this laying down of the law. And after a bit of yelling and then weeping, Lynelle had capitulated. There wasn’t much else she could do, especially after what she’d pulled with all those secret phone calls and a covert meeting at the bakery.
Rafe had gone to court after she first disappeared, and along with his divorce, he’d been granted sole custody of Ivy. Lynelle didn’t have a prayer of getting legal visitation rights now after having abandoned her daughter and virtually disappearing from her life for the past four years. She’d have to take what she could get and rebuild any possible relationship with Ivy gradually.
If that was really what she wanted and if she was capable of it at all.
“We’ll see how long she sticks around this time.” Rafe shook his head. “But if she hurts Ivy again . . .”
“Ivy seems to have her mother’s number,” Sophie said. “Her guard is up, sad as that is to say. It’s amazing that she’s even willing to give Lynelle a chance.” She smiled at him. “You should be proud. Your daughter has a heart as big as all of Montana. And whatever happens, she knows you’re there for her. That’ll see her through whatever comes.”
“I hate what she’s been going through all this time. All those lies and secrets. It tears me apart to think she’d been carrying this around for so long.”
Sophie met his eyes. “I only wish I’d realized sooner. When Ivy told me she was keeping a secret, I had no idea—”
“Hey.” He kissed her quickly and traced a finger gently down her cheek. “Don’t apologize. We’ve been through this already. You couldn’t possibly have imagined what Lynelle was up to. What she was putting Ivy through.”
She’d told him the day of the fund-raiser, after they’d discovered Ivy and her mother meeting in the bakery, of how Ivy had confided she was keeping a secret, but Sophie had thought it was some fleeting tween drama.
“No way in hell you could have known, Sophie,” Rafe had told her at the time.
Now, as the fire crackled and the wind
whistled through the pines outside the ranch house, he cupped her face in his hands. “You can’t beat yourself up over this. I won’t let you.”
His kiss almost made her forget what she still needed to say.
“Maybe things will work out better than you think with Lynelle,” she murmured. “Sometimes people really can change.”
“Yeah?” Rafe grinned. “Anyone in particular you’re referring to?”
“We both know who I’m referring to.” Sophie’s mouth curved as she pushed back a lock of his dark hair. And thought about Doug Hartigan.
Her mother had told her only a few days ago that she and Hartigan had secretly gotten married in Billings during one of their long weekend trips to a crafts fair. They’d been waiting for the right time to break the news to Sophie, and finally, after the events of the fund-raiser and the debacle with Ivy and Lynelle, they’d decided to come clean.
They wanted to start living together as husband and wife, and had told her they were planning to move into Doug’s old house in Timber Springs.
But Sophie knew how much her mother loved the Good Luck ranch. Like Sophie, she’d grown up there, and so had Gran. Her mom shouldn’t have to leave the home she loved just because she didn’t want to force Sophie to live under the same roof with her former teacher.
“I don’t hate him anymore,” she’d told her mother, and was surprised to find that the words were true. “He’s good for you, Mom. I see that now. And . . . I’m beginning to see the person you see when you look at him, instead of the one I remember.”
Doug Hartigan made her mother happy in a way she’d never been with Hoot. There was no doubt of that. If Ivy Tanner could give Lynelle a second chance, as wary as she might be, Sophie knew she owed Hartigan one too.
