Tears filled Casey’s eyes, she was laughing so hard. Sarah looked suspicious. Jimmy obviously didn’t know what do to, but his lips were pursed as if he was trying not to smile.
Choking on laughter, she finally said, “At least, you filled out…and then some.”
That was all it took for Sarah’s severe demeanor to give in to humor. She chuckled, then sputtered. “No. Don’t make me laugh. I’ll pee my pants. I can’t even sneeze anymore with this tank sitting on my bladder.”
“Come on,” Jimmy said, taking his wife’s elbow. “I cleaned the shop bathroom this morning.”
Casey watched them walk away, undecided about whether to head back to the house or wait. But Sarah’s accusation—You leave—seemed to linger in the air.
She looked around until she found a bin filled with empty bottles, then returned to the bale of alfalfa where she and Jimmy had been talking. She took a deep calming breath and tried to prepare herself as she would have if she were headed into court. Nathan lived for the thrill of publicly outsmarting his opponent. Casey could live the rest of her life without such a challenge, but she’d never tell him that. After all, he’d married a lawyer.
Jimmy and Sarah returned a few minutes later. Casey was the first to speak. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”
“Me, either,” Sarah said softly.
Jimmy appeared to take her admission as criticism because he made a sound of disgust and walked away.
Both women watched him until he reached the gated yard of “Casey’s” house. “That is one unhappy man.”
“I suppose you’re here to fix that, too,” Sarah said, waspishly.
Casey scooted back on the bale, drew her legs cross-ways in front of her. “You used to be the sweet one. What happened?”
Sarah crossed her arms atop her protruding belly and gave Casey a look that said we will never be friends. Casey had seen that look before. They’d gotten in fights as kids—huge, name-calling, hair-pulling fights—but they’d always made up. The idea that they could get over this chasm of bad feelings made Casey a little light-headed.
Casey held up her hand before Sarah could speak. “Wait. Before you yell at me for whatever it is you think I did in the past, I want you to acknowledge that your marital problems have nothing to do with me. And a peck on the cheek between old friends does not constitute cheating. Okay?”
Sarah glared at her. “Jimmy would never cheat on me.”
“I didn’t say he would.”
“Especially not with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sarah put a hand to her temple and rubbed. “It means he thinks of Red as a father, which would make you his sister.”
“Oh,” Casey said, smiling again. “Is it me or is this conversation a bit surreal? We haven’t talked in more than a dozen years and we’re still talking about boys.”
Sarah’s lips did a start-stop smile but she quit pacing and sat down where her husband had been earlier. “When I went back to the ranch and Red told me you were here, I started imagining the worst.”
“Me and Jimmy in some incestuous embrace?”
Sarah blushed.
“I overreacted. Your dad blames it on hormones. He told me your mother once kicked him out when she was pregnant with you.”
“Really? He never told me that.”
“I see him every day. He hired me to help him organize his office. He bought a computer years ago but threatened to put a bullet in it so many times the poor thing finally just gave up and died. And about the same time my doctor said he didn’t want me standing on my feet at the feed store for eight hours a day, so Red put me to work.”
“That was nice of him.”
Sarah looked at her sharply. “You’re jealous.”
“What? Me? No way.”
Her eyes went wide as if suddenly figuring out a puzzle. “You are. You think I somehow managed to horn in on your life, even though you completely cut ties to everything and everyone back here.”
Casey jumped to her feet. “I told you, I didn’t leave by choice. Red railroaded me out of here.”
“But you could have come back after high school. Or college. Or any time for longer than a holiday or two.”
Casey took a few steps on the straw-littered concrete floor. Words, explanations, excuses raced through her mind as she tried to form a rebuttal, but nothing held together because every choice she ever made was tied to emotions she’d never really dealt with—shame, grief, feelings of unworthiness.
She looked at Sarah. “I didn’t think anyone wanted me back.”
Sarah stood up with surprising speed and approached her. She put one hand tentatively on Casey’s shoulder. “Oh, Case, how could you think that? Your dad loves you. He talks about you all the time. When he heard you were moving back to the state, he called an architect to start drawing up house plans so you and Nathan could have your own place.”
“What?”
Sarah’s lips formed a little round O. “Oops. My bad. He probably plans to wait until all this turkey stuff gets settled before he tells you about that. Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Casey shook her head, which felt mushy and completely overwhelmed. “Between that beer and my residual jet lag, I suddenly don’t feel well. I’d like to go back to the house and lie down. Do you have a car or could I borrow Jimmy’s truck?”
“I’ll drive you. We still need to talk about the committee.”
Casey groaned. “Red was serious about that? What makes him think you and I can work together?”
“I asked him that. Believe me, I wasn’t wild about the idea, either. But you know Red. Once he gets his mind made up, it turns to hardpan.” Casey pictured the rocklike substrata of soil that could turn a simple job like putting in a garden into a major effort that required a backhoe.
“So, do you think we can work together?” Casey asked once they were seated in Sarah’s compact minivan.
Sarah started the car. As she backed up, she sent one lingering glance toward the house where her husband currently lived. Casey read a lot of longing in that look, but she didn’t say anything.
“Well,” Sarah replied, once she turned onto the main road that led into town and eventually to the highway, “that depends on you.”
“Me?”
“Are you going to have to be boss? Miss College Educated Lawyer lady? I won’t be your flunky for Red or anybody.”
Casey chuckled softly. She liked this woman. Sarah had always had a strong will beneath her sweet demeanor, which was partly why she and Casey had been so close. “How ’bout if I be your flunky? Truly. I still have a ton of boxes to unpack and a husband who is settling into a new office in a city four hours away from here. Doesn’t it seem logical that you would be the point person for this operation?”
“Yes, it does. That’s exactly what I told your father, but he’s worried that I’ll do too much and jeopardize my pregnancy.”
Of course. Casey understood, and for the first time since she arrived in the valley, she was glad to be here. She could help. She was needed. And maybe, just maybe, she and Sarah could be friends again.
“How far along are you?” she asked.
“Seven months. My doctor says I’m healthy as a horse and the baby is doing great.”
“Do you know what you’re having?”
She shook her head. “We could have seen at the last ultrasound, but since Jimmy wasn’t there, I didn’t think it was right that I knew and he didn’t.”
Neither spoke until Sarah put on the blinker to turn into Red’s driveway, then she said, “I kicked Jimmy out because I was tired of coming in last on Jimmy’s list of priorities. Work, hanging out with Red, helping a friend build a demolition derby car to run at the fair this summer. Every night he’d come home and drop into bed, exhausted, smelling of smoke and beer and parts cleaner.” Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “When I told him the smell was making me sick, he started sleeping on the couch. That’s when I los
t it.”
Casey wished she knew what to say, but since her marriage wasn’t on the most solid ground, either, she kept her mouth shut.
Sarah pulled the van to a stop beside Casey’s car. She didn’t look at Casey. “I can’t believe I just spilled my guts to you, but I guess if we’re going to work together we need to start somewhere, right?”
Casey unfastened her seat belt and turned to face her old friend. “I’m sorry things aren’t perfect between you and Jimmy. Aunt Meg used to say that marriage is always a work in progress.”
Sarah glanced her way and smiled. “Are you and Nathan happy?”
Are we? “Most of the time, but moving isn’t easy.”
Sarah inhaled deeply. Casey’s gaze was drawn to the mound that practically touched the steering wheel. Sarah’s pregnant and I’m not. Those old, familiar feelings of inadequacy started to surface, but Casey pushed them back down. “So, I guess I’ll tell Red that I’ll be part of this… What did they decide to name the committee? N.O.T.T.?”
Sarah made a face. “Neighbors Opposed To Turkeys. Could have been worse, I guess.”
Casey opened the door and got out, after checking for dogs. “You have my cell number, right?”
“I’ll get it from Red. Are you staying long?”
She hadn’t decided. First, she needed to talk to Nathan. “We’ll see. ’Bye.”
As she watched the van turn around and recross the bridge, Casey let out a long, heartfelt sigh. What was her father thinking? Surely there was a better choice to head this committee than a pregnant woman and an out-of-work lawyer who lived four hours away.
She turned toward the house but stopped abruptly and swore. “Damn.” Her father’s truck was gone. “Red,” she muttered as she trudged to the door. “You can run, but you can’t hide forever.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE WEEKEND COULDN’T arrive fast enough to suit Nathan. Although he talked to Casey daily, he had yet to hear her say when she was coming home. Apparently some new problem that required her presence at the ranch cropped up every day. He found little satisfaction in the fact that she felt totally overwhelmed by her father’s expectations.
“‘Wave your magic wand, Casey T. Make it all go away’,” she’d said last night, mimicking Red’s voice. “Dammit, Nathan, did you forget to pack my magic wand?”
He’d smiled, but that single little quip had a secondary effect. It served to remind him how much he loved her sense of humor. For four days she’d faithfully reported in, telling him about her day. Apparently she’d reached some kind of détente with Sarah Mills, the woman Casey at one time had likened to Benedict Arnold. She finally managed to get all the dogs’ names straight, but they still didn’t listen to anyone but Jimmy, about whom, Nathan had noticed, Casey said very little.
She went into great detail, however, about an ancient pig that seemed to produce babies through immaculate conception. “We’re thinking of naming a religion after her. The holy order of Mother the Pig.”
And when she mentioned her father’s backhanded compliments—“Pretty fancy car for a ranch, but I guess that husband of yours has got folks he’s out to impress and this one ought a do that.”—Nathan could hear the hurt in her voice, even though she tried to mask it.
Nathan’s rental car was no Lexus, but he’d splurged on a Cadillac. Red couldn’t find fault with that, could he?
Nathan had been to the ranch twice since he and Casey had married, and had no doubt that he could remember how to find it. After all, the Willow Creek ranch was on a prominent secondary road, which was one of the main draws to the turkey growers—high accessibility.
Gwyneth hadn’t been too happy with the stacks of files he’d handed her, but Nathan refused to let her pretty pout get to him. She’d asked for the chance to shine and how better than as second chair to the company’s largest client?
He’d called Eric Mathers and Gwyneth into his office to discuss the potential problems that could occur if the turkey growers were forced to fight the county planners in court. No one expected the county to turn down the landowner’s application for a conditional use permit that was in keeping with existing zoning, but in this age of environmental controversy, it paid to be prepared. He also spelled out his involvement. “My father-in-law isn’t the type to back off from a fight, and he’s trying to drag Casey into this.”
Gwyneth, showing off for Eric, quoted a line from a 1979 decision, Yarn v. Superior Court. “Few precepts are more firmly entrenched than that the fiduciary relationship between attorney and client is of the very highest character.”
“Which is why from this point on I don’t want to see any copy about this case cross my desk, nor will you discuss it in my presence. Eric, if you want some sort of written disclosure for your clients, I’d be happy to provide it. I don’t want them to think we’re hiding anything.”
“They’re business people, Nathan. They might not like that your wife’s father wants to prevent them from setting up shop, but at least Mr. Buchanan isn’t our client, too. Now that would get tricky.”
Nathan was steadily coming to appreciate Eric’s intelligent humor and pleasant disposition. What he found curious was that Eric seemed totally impervious to Gwyneth’s sex appeal. How that was possible, Nathan wasn’t sure. “Maybe there’s a vaccine,” he muttered, easing his foot off the accelerator.
Was it cowardly to duck out on his sexy young colleague and leave her alone in an unfamiliar city after just a few days of acclimation? Probably, but he’d rather be a coward than a cheat. He owed Casey—and himself—every chance to fix whatever was wrong with their marriage.
Nathan spotted a familiar road sign and turned off Highway 99. Five miles farther and he turned on Buchanan Road. Casey’s maiden name. Her full name—much to her chagrin—was Casey Tibbs Buchanan. “Who in their right mind names a daughter after a long-dead rodeo star?” she once complained.
Nathan couldn’t give her an answer. He probably hadn’t spent more than forty-eight total hours in his father-in-law’s company, but Nathan knew Red Buchanan stood out as a unique figure. Big, brash, irreverent. Almost a caricature, but of what, Nathan couldn’t say. Red wasn’t a true redneck, but he was no Renaissance man, either. And though he touted Christian values, he wasn’t a Bible-thumping conservative. He lived life the way he wanted and didn’t apologize to anyone.
Not even to his daughter. Not even when he was wrong and she deserved a simple, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for that day to come,” Casey once told him. “Remember that sappy line from the movie Love Story? ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry’? My father takes that literally.”
Minutes later, Nathan drove beneath the arched gate of Willow Creek Ranch. A dozen or so cars and trucks were scattered about, including his less-than-pristine silver Lexus. At least he assumed it was his, since it still had dealer plates, but through all the mud he couldn’t be sure.
He turned off the engine and got out, pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and stretched. “Hello,” he called. “Casey?”
There was no answer, but a sound, like a cackle or a snort came from the barn so he headed that way.
CASEY TOOK as shallow a breath as possible and bent over to peer through the opening that had been cut in the side of the barn. Roughly the size and shape of a large doggie door, the portal provided access to the outside for the animals in the barn.
In this case, Mother and brood. Red in his esteemed wisdom had decided the porcine family needed to visit the great outdoors. Casey had never had much luck moving pigs, which although smart, possessed quirky personalities that often defied logic. Mother was notoriously lazy. She wouldn’t move without persistent prodding, so Jimmy had elected to ride herd, so to speak, while Casey opened the exterior latch and wooed the sow with fresh feed.
“Come ’n get it, piglets,” she called, trying to see into the building.
She shook the metal pail so the pellets would slosh from sid
e to side.
Nothing happened.
“What’s going on in there? Where’s the pork?”
She straightened up and looked around. What if this was her father’s idea of a prank and he was secretly filming her with a video camera hoping to catch her falling on her butt in a pen six inches deep with mud? She’d had to borrow rubber boots that were almost too tight to fit over her tennis shoes.
“We’re trying, Case,” Jimmy called, his voice echoing in a peculiar way inside the barn. “Mother wants to nap.”
A series of high-pitched squeals alerted her to the fact that the children were up and moving. She stepped to one side lest a wave of four-legged beasts overran her.
It was a beautiful morning. She’d probably have enjoyed the experience, if it wasn’t the smell. That and the fact her husband hadn’t answered the phone when she’d called this morning. She wanted to think he was out jogging, but last night he’d been particularly evasive about his plans for today.
“I have something to tell you but I’d prefer to do it in person,” he’d said. “It’s business, not personal.”
She wondered if that was true. She’d find out soon. Red had asked her—begged her actually—to stay through the weekend, but Casey couldn’t stand another night away from Nathan. Despite the uncertainty of things between them lately, she missed him. She was going home this afternoon. Or early in the morning at the latest.
Leaving wasn’t as easy as it should have been. Red had found excuse after excuse for her to stay—right down to helping him move the pig. “You used to love helping with the animals, Case. Mother One…or was it Mother Two…used to follow you around like a puppy, remember?”
Vaguely. In truth, Casey did love the farm and the animals, but she’d blocked her memories of that time so completely, the whole experience could have happened to a character she’d seen in a movie.
She shook the pan again, then stepped closer, figuring the sound wasn’t reaching the ears that needed to hear it. “Yoo-hoo, piglets…”
A sudden wave of small pink objects made her step back too fast. Her boots stayed in place, but momentum took Casey backward. Her right foot came loose, and she went down hard with her left foot still stuck. The grain in the bucket went airborne and pelted her like hail in a brief but fragrant shower.
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