Early in the year she’d faced the biggest crisis of her career with thirteen-year-old Julie Pounder—and everything had gone wrong. Julie was dead, and while Maddy knew she wasn’t to blame, she felt responsible. She hadn’t been able to deal with the aftermath of the girl’s death; she still couldn’t. Every time she thought about it, she wept, and didn’t want to spoil this afternoon with tears.
“I can’t talk about it yet,” Maddy said, not wanting to elaborate further. “I will in a month or two.”
“All right,” Lindsay murmured and affectionately squeezed Maddy’s hand. “We’ll change the subject.”
Maddy was grateful. “Tell me what you know about Jeb McKenna.”
“Jeb,” Lindsay repeated slowly. “You like him?”
“I don’t know him.” She could see that Lindsay was already reading something into her curiosity. It was her own fault for asking, but the strong, silent types had always intrigued her.
“You’ve met him and I haven’t,” Lindsay reminded her.
“True.”
“Calla’s mentioned her uncle quite a few times and I know about him, but I’m afraid I can’t be any help.” She met Maddy’s eyes. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
Maddy hesitated, not sure how to answer. Yes, she was attracted; in fact, Jeb fascinated her. She suspected that behind his gruff exterior lay a kind, gentle man, one she’d like to know.
“I guess I am interested,” she admitted after a lengthy pause.
“Oh, Maddy…” Lindsay sighed. “I’m afraid Jeb McKenna will only break your heart.”
Sunday evenings were traditionally the slowest of the week for Buffalo Bob. Most folks tended to stay home. He’d thought about closing the restaurant on Sundays, but hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if it wasn’t for cooking and serving up a beer or two. Besides, he had to keep busy or he’d start thinking about Merrily again.
She’d left, gone five weeks already. He’d never understood what made her come and go the way she did. Things would be just fine for a while and then suddenly, without explanation, she’d disappear.
Usually she didn’t even bother to write him a note. Other times she’d leave something on the pillow. Something he knew she treasured. He guessed it was her way of telling him she’d be back.
Nothing seemed right without Merrily. A thousand times over the past three years he’d told himself he was better off without her. But he couldn’t make himself believe it because deep down he knew it wasn’t true.
He rode a Harley and wore his hair in a ponytail, and most folks assumed he’d belonged to a badass motorcycle gang. The truth was, he’d never been involved in gang activities. Oh, he dressed the part, purposely gave people that impression, even dropped hints about the lifestyle—but it wasn’t true. None of it. He’d been a loner most of his life. He liked to suggest he’d been places and done things he could never talk about, but he hadn’t, although he did have a few connections. He’d been on the fringes of a few shady deals, but nothing serious and nothing he was willing to brag about, especially now that he was a business owner and a member of the town council.
Yeah, he was a success these days—a genuine, bona fide establishment success. His father would never believe it.
Bob knew he’d made his share of stupid mistakes, but he was a man who wanted the same things every other man did. And that included his own woman. He’d known right away that Merrily was the one for him. He was crazy about her.
He probably shouldn’t be. For all he knew, she could have ten other men just like him in places all around the country. He had no idea where she went or who she was with. Only once in all this time had she mailed him a postcard. It’d come from someplace in California in the middle of winter, when the wind-chill factor lowered temperatures in Buffalo Valley to Arctic levels. He’d been shivering his ass off and she’d been getting a tan on a California beach.
Locking the door, Buffalo Bob shut down the restaurant and bar for the night. No need to sit in an empty room, cranky and depressed, when he could do the same thing in front of his television.
He’d just started up the stairs when he heard the phone. He paused, his foot on the bottom step, half-tempted to let it ring. But he didn’t get many calls, and curiosity got the better of him.
“Yeah?” he barked into the phone.
“Hey, is that any way to greet your one and only Buffalo Gal?”
“Merrily? Where the hell are you?”
“Same place as always.”
“What the hell are you doing there when you should be here?” He knew she didn’t like it when he made demands, but he couldn’t stop himself. “When’re you coming back?”
“Miss me, do you?”
She didn’t know the half of it. “You could say that,” he said, playing it low-key.
Her laugh was quiet and sexy. Just hearing it sent shivers racing down his spine. It hurt his pride to let her know what a sorry excuse for a man he was without her. But, dammit, she meant more to him than even his pride.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she whispered, as if it was a concession for her to admit that much.
“You coming back or not?”
“I’ve been considering it.” She laughed again and he could imagine the look on her face—her teasing smile, her eyes wide open, eyebrows raised.
“When will you get here? I’ll put out the welcome mat.” Despite everything, he couldn’t keep the eagerness from his voice.
“I can’t say,” she murmured.
“You need help?”
“What kind of help?”
“I could send you money.” Buffalo Bob realized the minute he said the words that he’d made a mistake. Like him, Merrily had an abundance of pride, and he’d already stepped on it once, earlier in their relationship, by offering her a loan. In fact, she’d come to him that day, wanting to help him without stepping on his pride. Her generosity had touched his heart and it was then that he’d recognized something profound. He loved her.
Buffalo Bob wasn’t a man who loved easily. Over the years he’d had plenty of women, and sex had always been available. He hadn’t been looking for emotional engagements. Women passed in and out of his life; he barely noticed. Merrily was different, had always been different.
“I don’t need your money,” she said curtly.
“Okay, okay. But if you ever do—”
“I gotta go.”
“Merrily,” he shouted, stopping her, “don’t hang up!”
“What?” she snapped.
“You didn’t say where you were.”
“So what?” She sounded bored.
“What’s the weather like?” It was a silly question and without purpose, other than keeping her on the line.
“I don’t know. Gotta go outside and look.”
“It was over eighty here last Tuesday.”
“In Buffalo Valley?” Her voice was skeptical. “I thought you’d have had your first snowfall by now.”
“We could get snow this month, but more likely it’ll come in November.” He grimaced; he was beginning to sound like a television weatherman.
“Gotta go,” Merrily insisted.
“Call me again, all right?” He tried not to plead.
“I…I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?” he demanded. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind and he didn’t like any of them. “You’re with someone else, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snarled back.
“Yeah, well it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Every time you’re not with me, you’re with him.”
“Believe what you want.” The second’s delay in her response told him he’d guessed right. Merrily was with someone else. His gut contracted in a hard, painful knot.
“You can’t have us both,” he said angrily.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated. She seemed to be forcing the words
from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t call again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” With that, she slammed the phone in his ear.
Buffalo Bob banged the receiver down with such fury it was amazing the telephone remained in one piece.
That settled that. It was over.
After tonight, Merrily would never come back. He stalked away from the phone, and then turned abruptly. He could punch in two numbers that would automatically redial the number of the last person who’d called.
Buffalo Bob couldn’t let the relationship end. Not like this, not in anger. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have asked about there being another man. If there was—although he prayed it wasn’t true—he wanted the chance to fight for Merrily. Wanted the opportunity to prove himself.
He punched in the numbers and waited. Barely a second passed before he heard the phone ring. A deep sigh of relief eased the tension between his shoulder blades.
Three rings, and no answer.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, “pick up the phone. Let’s talk this out, you and me.”
Five rings, no answer.
“Merrily, dammit, don’t end it like this,” he said to himself.
Seven rings, no answer.
Eight.
Nine.
He issued an expletive that would’ve made his mother wash out his mouth with soap if she’d been alive to hear it.
“Hello.”
Buffalo Bob was so stunned he didn’t know what to say. “Is Merrily Benson available?” he asked, polite as a preacher.
“Who?”
“Merrily Benson.”
“Listen, buddy, this is a pay phone outside a restroom.”
“Where?” Buffalo Bob demanded.
“A bowling alley.”
“I meant what city,” he said, losing patience.
“Santa Cruz.”
“Where?” he said again, louder this time.
“California.” Then the man hung up.
Four
Dennis Urlacher had given a lot of thought to making peace with Sarah’s daughter. He just didn’t know how to do it. He’d made numerous attempts to be her friend, to gain her confidence. Each effort had backfired. Their relationship was worse now than it had ever been. Calla was belligerent, disdainful and downright rude to him. Because he loved Sarah, Dennis had taken everything the little brat dished out. No more.
Sarah never had told him why she’d come to his house a week earlier, but Dennis had pretty much figured it out. She’d had a fight with Calla. He’d held her, made love to her and let her sleep in his arms while he watched her, treasuring every minute they could be together.
Close to midnight, she’d awakened, flustered and upset that he’d let her sleep. He stood by silently while she’d hurriedly dressed, then he got dressed, too, and drove her home. They’d kissed, and she’d sneaked inside, almost as if they were both teenagers, fearing a parental confrontation.
Dennis hadn’t seen or talked to Sarah since. That was her usual pattern. They’d make love and afterward she’d avoid him. He didn’t like it, but didn’t know how to break the destructive habit they’d fallen into.
From his gas station, Dennis watched the school bus roll into town, which signaled that classes were out for the day. Buffalo Valley and Bellmont had come up with a plan that enabled each town to keep its schools open. The Bellmont school taught the elementary and junior-high students, and Buffalo Valley was responsible for the high-schoolers from both communities. It meant busing a lot of kids in a lot of different directions, but the plan had worked, and both schools were doing well.
Dennis gave Calla half an hour to make it home. Then he left Bruce Buechler, his employee, in charge of the station, and he walked quickly to Josh McKenna’s house. He rang the doorbell.
Calla didn’t keep him waiting long, and he could tell from her expression that he was the last person she’d expected to see. “My mom isn’t here,” she announced curtly. She would have closed the door if he hadn’t stopped her.
“I know.”
“My grandpa’s at the store.”
“I know that, too. I came to talk to you.”
She stared at him, frowning. “But I don’t want to talk to you.”
“The least you can do is hear me out.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a bored look. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” He gestured toward the porch swing.
“I prefer to stand.”
He sighed. “All right,” he muttered. Although he realized that it gave her the advantage, he took a seat and let her stand. “As you already know, I care deeply for your mother.”
Calla snickered, and Dennis gritted his teeth.
“Your attitude toward the two of us is tearing your mother apart.”
“You think I don’t know that you’re lovers?” Calla said scornfully.
Dennis stiffened. “What happens between your mother and me is none of your business.”
“You two make me sick.”
“Perhaps when you’re an adult—”
“An adult?” she repeated, sounding vastly amused. “You think my feelings toward you are going to change?”
“I’m hoping you’ll be a bit more tolerant.”
Her chin came up a defiant notch. “Don’t count on it.”
This conversation was not going the way Dennis had hoped. “As I started to say, your attitude is hurting your mother. She loves me.”
Calla pinched her lips together and stared into the street as if mesmerized.
“What’s it going to take for you to understand that I only want the best for you both?”
Her gaze flickered toward him as if his words had caught her off guard. “Then stay the hell out of our lives.”
“I’m not willing to do that. Perhaps if you told me what you find so objectionable about me…”
“For starters, you’re five years younger than my mother.”
“That doesn’t bother us, so why should it bother you?”
“Because it does.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah.” She faced him then, hands lowered to her sides, fists clenched. “I have a father.”
He wasn’t sure what she was saying. “Yes,” he urged, wanting her to elaborate.
“You think you can take his place in my life.”
Dennis’s head reared back in surprise. “Calla, no! I don’t think that at all.” So that was it. She feared he was going to interrupt the limited relationship she had with Willie Stern. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said, keeping his voice calm and as sincere as he could make it.
“If it wasn’t for you, my mom and dad might get back together.”
Dennis sighed with frustration. “I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“How would you know?” she demanded. “My dad told me—” She closed her mouth as if she regretted having said that much.
“Are you saying your father holds out some hope of a reconciliation?” Dennis asked, unable to believe it. Sarah hardly ever mentioned Willie, and when she did, it was with disgust for the things he’d done.
“He still loves her,” Calla blurted out. “He told me so himself.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” Calla cried. She turned toward the house and jerked open the screen door. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d have a real family.” Then she glared at him with such fierce animosity Dennis felt as if he’d been slapped. “I hate you. You’ve ruined my entire life.” She whirled into the house, slamming the door hard enough to shake the front windows.
Dennis waited for the anger to wash over him. Calla’s, plus his own. So much for clearing the air. She hated his guts. Furthermore, she lived in a fantasy world in which he was the villain.
Not knowing what else he could say or do, Dennis walked over to Sarah’s shop. Luckily she wasn’t in the middle of a class, but he could tell from the way her eyes shifted away fr
om his that she wasn’t pleased to see him.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said, standing just inside the doorway.
She nodded; however, she didn’t return his greeting.
“I have a question for you.”
“All right,” she said, but she stayed on the other side of the room. He understood her need to maintain a distance. It was necessary just then for both of them.
“Is there any chance of you reconciling with Willie?”
Her head shot up and she laughed shortly. “No!” The vehemence of her response told him everything he needed to know.
“That’s not what Calla thinks.”
She continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing. “You talked to Calla? When?”
“Just now.”
“What gave you the right to talk to my daughter about my marriage?”
“I didn’t. I came to talk to her about you and me.”
That apparently wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, either. She closed her eyes, mouth tensed, as if trying to hold back her anger.
“You don’t think I should be talking to Calla? Is that it?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“I know, and she hates me. I wanted to find out what I’ve done that’s so awful she doesn’t want anything to do with me. Or worse, why she doesn’t want me to be with you.”
“My daughter is my concern.”
“I’m not telling you how to raise her,” he said. “All I wanted to do was set things straight.”
“And she told you there’s a chance her father and I will reconcile?”
He nodded.
“Stay away from my daughter, Dennis.”
“Fine, if that’s the way you want it.” He didn’t know what terrible crime he’d committed. “Do you want me to stay away from you, too?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer.
“Do you?” he asked a second time. “You say the word and I’m out of here, Sarah. I’m tired of ramming my head against a brick wall. It hurts too damn much.” He wasn’t a man who raised his voice often nor did he easily lose his temper, but he’d reached his limit with both Sarah and Calla.
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