The Rancher's Wife

by April Arrington

  Dominic tugged her close and whispered in her ear. Cissy’s cheeks reddened. She batted at Dominic’s chest, disentangling herself from his hold and started for the main house.

  “Time to go in and get a bath, boys. It’s getting late and you both need your rest.”

  The twins groaned.

  “Aw, come on, Aunt Cissy.” Kayden scowled. “Just a little longer. We ain’t got no school all week.”

  “That’s, we don’t have any school this week. And from the sound of those double negatives, I think they should’ve canceled vacation and kept you in class.”

  “But—”

  “I said, no.” Cissy stabbed a finger at the ground and smiled. “Now, do your good-night rounds and get your tails over here.”

  “Best do what she says, Kayden,” Dominic whispered, expression grave. “Santa’s watching.”

  Kayden pouted but delivered his good-night kisses to everyone. Jayden followed suit but after kissing Amy’s cheek, he wrapped his arms around her hand and pulled.

  “Will you come in, too, Aunt Amy? I want you to tuck me in.”

  “Yeah,” Kayden chimed, grabbing Amy’s other free hand. “And will you read that same story you read to us last night? No one else does the voices good as you.”

  She smiled. “I’d love to.”

  “You gotta do your good-night kisses before you go in,” Kayden said solemnly. “It’s Aunt Cissy’s rule.”

  Amy laughed. “Well, we don’t want to break any rules, do we?”

  She pressed a swift kiss to Dominic and Pop’s cheeks then peppered a few more all over the boys. They gurgled with giggles and she laughed harder in response. Logan’s chest warmed at the sight. The heat from the fire had painted her cheeks a cherry red, making those gorgeous green eyes shine like emeralds.

  He’d heard her laugh on several occasions throughout the evening and each delightful bout of it melted away another lost year between them. It was easy to recall the teenage years she’d spent at his side by the Christmas bonfire, plucking marshmallows from his roasting stick and sneaking sips of his mulled wine.

  She caught him staring and blushed even more. “Are you coming in?”

  “Soon,” he said. “I’m gonna help clean up.”

  “Come on, Aunt Amy.” Kayden shoved at her hip. “Give Uncle Logan his good-night kiss so we can go in.”

  Logan grinned and arched a brow. Amy hesitated, glancing down at the boys. Their wide blue eyes moved from her to him and back again.

  Amy sighed and stepped closer. She brushed her lips against his cheek, lodging a sweet ache in his belly. Logan curled his hand around her hip, tugging her close and nuzzling her neck.

  A small hand shoved between them. Jayden scowled up at him and wrapped his arms tight around Amy’s leg.

  “You already got your good-night kiss, Uncle Logan.”

  He laughed. “Guess you’re right, buddy.”

  Amy stepped back and tapped the brim of the Stetson with a fingertip. “Good night, gentlemen.”

  Amy left with the boys, following the other ladies and laughing on the walk back to the main house. Cissy looked over her shoulder and blew a kiss to Dominic.

  “I hate to call it quits early, but...” Dominic rubbed his chest and grinned, dimples denting.

  Pop held up a hand and smiled. “Say no more, son. We’ll wrap things up out here.”

  Dominic jogged off, catching up with Cissy and hugging her close as they made their way up the path. Amy trailed behind the couple with the boys, pausing every few steps to point at the sky and answer the boys’ questions.

  “Amy sure has a way with those boys,” Pop murmured. “She looks good with ’em.”

  Logan stiffened. He turned away to watch the hands laugh and pass around another round of beers. Amy did look great with those boys at her sides. But he couldn’t shake the last image he’d had of her holding a child.

  Their child. Sara. And the sight had been gut-wrenching.

  Pop shifted, his elbow brushing against Logan’s. He remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat.

  “It’s nice having Raintree full again,” Pop said. “It’ll be even nicer when Cissy and Dom’s girls get here. I hate that Amy might not be here when the babies arrive.” He hesitated, rocking back on his heels. “How much longer is she staying?”

  “A couple weeks.” Logan rasped a palm over the stubble lining his jaw and turned away.

  “Don’t mean to pry but have you talked with her any more about things?” Pop’s gaze heated his skin. “I thought Amy might’ve changed her mind about leaving after she settled in.”

  “No.” Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m still working on getting her to stay put.”

  “You two seem a lot closer now than when she first came home.” Pop nodded as if in reassurance. “That girl still loves you. Always has. No amount of time or distance will change that.”

  “You sure about that?” Logan faced him. “You thought the same thing about Mom and we all know how that turned out.”

  Pop held up a hand. “That was different.”

  “How so?”

  Hues of red and orange from the bonfire flickered over Pop’s face. He kneaded the back of his neck as his eyes roved over the acres stretching out around them.

  “Gloria never wanted to come here. Raintree was always my dream, not hers. She tolerated it because she loved me but she wanted something different.” His mouth twisted. “And she found someone else that would give it to her.”

  Logan sighed. “We were better off without her, anyway.”

  “You think so?” Pop glanced at him. “I wanted your mother from the first moment I saw her, but we both knew we weren’t a good match. She was happy in the city and I was a rancher just passing through.” A short bark of laughter escaped him. “That short skirt and high heels of hers did me in, though. I fought it but it didn’t take long for the rest of her to win me over, too. We knew the odds were stacked against us but we loved each other enough to give it a shot.” His smile dissolved. “She ended up being miserable here and wanted to go back to her old life. I tried my best to talk her into staying. It didn’t work out because neither of us was willing to give up one path for the other.”

  Logan scoffed. “Except her path had another man on it.”

  “Not at first. But she did meet him and she ended up choosing a life with him instead of here with us. Wasn’t much I could do about it and still keep my dignity. There are things in life you can’t control, Logan. At least, your mother was honest. Told me how she felt before she acted on it.”

  “And that excuses it?”

  “No.” Pop’s tone turned sharp. “It was one thing to walk out on me. But my boys—” He swallowed hard and looked away. “I wasn’t proud of myself back then. No matter how much I hated your mother for leaving y’all, I still loved that woman in equal measure. Probably always will. And that’s how it is. You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with. It just happens. If it works out, you end up living with ’em. If it doesn’t,” he said, and shrugged slowly, “you find a way to live without ’em. It took me a long time to learn that.”

  Logan dropped his head, focusing on the shadows cast by the bonfire.

  “Guess that’s why I’ve never blamed Amy for going after you like she did,” Pop said. “I knew what it felt like to want someone that much. That girl’s always had a strong spirit and loved you the second she laid eyes on you. As hard as it may be to understand, she was just fighting to keep you.”

  Pop’s hand curled around his forearm. Logan tensed, lifting his eyes to face him.

  “I wish you’d open up for once. Tell me what you’re thinking. Feeling. You’re closed so tight—” He kicked the ground with a boot. “But that’s my fault. I put too much on you when your m
ama took off. Left you to tend to your brother. I had so much trouble holding myself together I didn’t realize how much you boys needed me.”

  “We turned out fine, Pop.”

  “Fine’s not good enough. Not for me or my boys. You’ve always been careful and independent. Even as a kid. But sometimes living safe keeps you from the best things in life.” Pop watched Amy disappear into the darkness, then peered back at him. “Amy used to enjoy life. Showed you how to at one time. She could be the best thing that ever happened to you.” His grip tightened on Logan’s arm. “But if you want a real shot at saving your marriage, you’ve got to open up.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “No, you’re not.” He shook his head. “You’re pushing Amy away like you do the rest of us because you’re afraid of things going bad.” He hesitated. “You’ve gotten worse since y’all lost the baby.”

  The baby. Logan’s muscles tensed. A mistake. “Her name was Sara.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pop murmured, touching his arm. “You haven’t been the same since you lost Sara. And it’s time for you to...”

  “What?”

  Pop sighed. “Move on. You’ve spent so much time worrying about Amy, it’s time you worked on yourself. Time for you to let go of what happened. Time to forget—”

  “Forget Sara?” Logan’s throat closed, tightening to the point of pain.

  Pop winced. “No. I didn’t mean that.”

  “That’s exactly what you meant.” Logan’s gut roiled. “And that should be easy, right? Because I’m a man? Because I didn’t know her? That’s the same thing everyone else said after we lost her.”

  “Logan—”

  “I knew my daughter.” His voice turned hoarse, tearing from his throat in rough rasps. “Sara knew me, too. I put my hand on Amy’s belly every day and Sara kicked every time I spoke to her.” His breath shuddered from him. “That’s how I knew something wasn’t right. I put my hand over her that morning and talked to her and she didn’t move.” He shook his head. “Amy didn’t think anything was wrong. Not until later. But I knew that morning.”

  Logan stared ahead, the flames of the bonfire licking higher and the smoke growing thicker.

  “We’d lost her that night while we were sleeping.” His lungs seized, choking him. “Sara died right there in that bed beside me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.”

  “No one expected you to, son. Nature has a way—”

  “Of taking care of things. I know.” Logan grimaced, eyes blurring. “That’s why I can’t understand it. When we saw her, she was beautiful. So perfect. She just didn’t cry.” He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets. “I kept holding her, thinking they’d got it wrong. That she’d wake up. She would’ve been due in two more weeks. I can’t understand how she could be that perfect and not cry. How she could almost make it...”

  Pop kneaded the back of Logan’s neck, his words low against his ear. “It’s okay to mourn for Sara. To miss her. But it wasn’t your fault or Amy’s. You have to accept this was something you couldn’t control and choose to move on. For your sake and hers.”

  “Every choice I’ve ever made has been for Amy’s sake.” Logan pulled away. “It’s called loyalty. Something a lot stronger than this illusion of love everyone keeps holding on to. It’s something Mom knew nothing about. Even Amy didn’t have a clue what it was, lying to me the way she did. And I have no intention of trading it off for this reckless fantasy all of you keep trying to sell. The only thing that’s ever been certain in my life has been my word. Everything else—everyone else—has been a damned disappointment.” He motioned to the hands across the field and called out, “Let’s get this fire out. It’s time to call it a night.”

  They nodded, tossing their beers in the trash and rounding up buckets of water.

  “Logan, you can’t build a future when your hands are holding on to the past.”

  “The only thing I’m holding on to is my wife. I made a vow and I’m standing by it because it’s the right thing to do.” His lip curled. “The only dignified thing to do. Surely you can understand that.” He shook his head. “Amy and I may have been dumb kids back then but we’re not now. I’m not going into this blind, and Amy knows exactly where I stand.” His mouth ran dry and he forced his words past the lump in his throat. “I knew my daughter. Sara was not a mistake. And neither was my marriage.”

  Logan spun on his heel and joined the hands, grabbing a bucket of water and heaving it over the pit. The hiss and sizzle of dying fire sounded and smoke billowed out with fury. He grabbed another and repeated the motion, muscles screaming with every throw.

  Things would be different this time. He wouldn’t fail Amy. And thank God they’d never have the chance to fail a child again.

  * * *

  “MMMM.” AMY CLOSED her eyes in bliss and wrapped her hands tighter around the warm mug. “Mama, you make the best hot chocolate in existence.”

  Betty smiled. “It’s all about balance, baby girl. You have to make sure the bitter matches the sweet. Besides, you can’t break in Christmas properly without a decent hot cocoa.”

  Amy took another sip and rolled it over her tongue, savoring the peaceful stillness of the empty kitchen. She and Traci had helped Cissy get the boys bathed and tucked in bed. Traci and Cissy had called it a night but Amy had lingered, reading three bedtime stories before the boys’ eyelids finally fluttered shut.

  Amy smiled. She could’ve stayed in the boys’ room for hours, reading in gentle tones and listening to their soft breaths. It hadn’t taken long for their rambunctious sweetness to slip into her heart. She’d grown so close to them it’d be painful to leave.

  Betty set her cup down and reached across the table to squeeze Amy’s forearm. “It’s good to see you smile again.”

  Amy drummed her fingers against her cup. “I smile enough. Matter of fact, we have plenty of laughs when you and Traci visit me in Augusta.”

  Betty shook her head. “They’re not like the ones you had out by the bonfire tonight. You looked like your old self again wearing Logan’s hat and grinning. I don’t know what he did to coax it out of you but he did it right.”

  Amy’s face flamed. She sat back, dodging Betty’s narrowed gaze. “We went for a ride, is all. I just haven’t ridden in so long it was nice to race again. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

  Betty released her arm and retrieved her cup. Amy dug into the plastic bag of marshmallows on the table, plucked one out and plopped it into her cocoa. It bobbed around in the dark liquid, melting in white streaks around the edges.

  She pressed the cup to her lips and the sickly-sweet foam of the melted marshmallow clung to her gums, rolling her stomach. She dropped the mug to the table with a clang and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Betty leaned forward, brow creasing.

  Amy nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I haven’t been feeling well, lately.”

  Her hand shook. Betty’s gaze clung to it. Amy shoved it between her knees below the table.

  “Baby, you know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how old you are?”

  “I know.”

  “Well, I’m here if you ever want to talk.” Betty shifted forward, mouth opening and closing a time or two. “About your new job or the move.” She shrugged, fiddling with the handle on her cup. “Or Logan.”

  Amy’s lips twitched. “Smooth delivery, Mama. Real smooth.”

  Betty flushed and waved a hand in front of her face. “I forget you have so much of your father in you.” She smiled. “He never had much use for tact, either.”

  Amy laughed, the churning in her gut easing. Betty was right. Her dad had always been blunt. They reminisced about his many missteps and before long, Betty joined her, doubling over and holding her belly as she chuckled. At the same time, Bett
y’s eyes darkened with sadness over the loss of her husband.

  The nausea returned and Amy’s laughter broke away, fading with each jerk of her shoulders. Amy fought for air, her lungs burning. She pressed a weak fist to her chest, fighting to regain composure at Betty’s shocked expression.

  “I’m scared, Mama.”

  Betty moved quickly to the seat beside Amy and hugged her close. “Of what?”

  Possibly being pregnant. Losing another child. Losing Logan. Her throat closed and violent chills racked her body.

  “Try to relax, Amy.”

  Betty’s voice trembled. Her hand moved in warm circles over Amy’s back, slowing as the spasms subsided and resting between her shoulder blades.

  “Now, what is it you’re afraid of?”

  “Everything,” Amy whispered. “Leaving. Staying.” She clamped her trembling lips together. “Myself. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  Betty smoothed her fingers through Amy’s hair, tucking a long wave behind her shoulder. Amy leaned into her, craving the soothing touch as much as she had when she was a child.

  “Maybe that’s because you’re trying to be someone you’re not,” Betty murmured, gesturing toward Amy’s necklace. “When did you take that ring off your finger and string it around your neck?”

  Amy bit her lip. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything.” Betty squeezed her hand. “I know losing Sara was difficult. I knew you needed to heal and I thought leaving here for a change of pace was the best thing for you at the time.” She shook her head. “But you carried it with you.”

  Amy licked her lips, the taste of salt lingering on her tongue.

  Betty grabbed a cloth napkin from the table and dabbed at Amy’s cheeks. “I think you’ve been so determined to get some distance from the bad that you forgot about the good.”

  “What good?” A scornful laugh burst past Amy’s lips. “Not one single thing I did was good. I lied. I hurt Logan. Not to mention Sara—” Her voice broke. She stilled Betty’s hand, taking the napkin and wiping her eyes. “But I’ve been trying to be someone good. Someone better. What’s wrong with that?”