Reuniting With the Rancher

by Rachel Lee

“Oh, God, Martha,” she whispered to the empty house. “What did you get me into?”

  * * *

  When she was sure she no longer sounded as though she’d been crying, she called Cliff. Some corner of her mind noticed that the dial tone made a series of quick buzzes before steadying to the usual one, and she wondered vaguely if she was going to have to get someone out to look at it.

  Cliff didn’t answer his phone, so she left a message, thanking him for the flowers and asking him to drop by when he had time.

  She just simply didn’t know how to add up the flowers with his absence. He’d been there every day, and now that they had made love, he had disappeared?

  She didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. She spent time talking on the phone again with Sharon and Laurie over the next few evenings, and she had one conversation with the lawyer, Carstairs, who told her he thought he could have the legal issues wound up by the end of the summer.

  “You being a licensed social worker with a master’s degree in Illinois is going to help you here. We can get you licensed, but to approve the ranch idea we’re going to need some plans from you. Facilities, activities, the training of the people you’ll have helping you. That’s going to take longer, obviously, but I know some people around here. I’ll check with them. They might know who can help staff your place.”

  He paused. “Liability might turn out to be the biggest issue. Taking care of other people’s children, you know.”

  She didn’t exactly know, but she got the picture. She’d dealt with various programs back home, and she remembered the kinds of inspections they had needed to pass and continue passing. But liability had been handled by the state and city.

  “You know,” Carstairs said, “you’d find it a lot easier if you opened a foster home. You might want to talk to Hugh and Anna Gallagher about that. The problem I see here is that you’re just one person. It might take you several years to get through all of this. You’ll certainly want to think about quitting your job and settling here. You’re going to need to be on top of everything.”

  Well, she had several years. She was still young. As for quitting her job... Damn, she needed to settle one way or another, she supposed. Martha had made certain that she’d never have to work again, if that’s what she had wanted and if she was reasonably careful, but this ranch idea...

  She had another idea. “What if I bring kids out here with a parent or guardian?”

  “Well, that would certainly be a whole lot easier. I could have you set up as a guest ranch in no time at all. Might be a better starting point while you build up.”

  It might indeed. After she disconnected, she sat staring at the roses in their vase. She’d tucked the card into her purse so Lisa wouldn’t see it. The woman had all but disappeared from the landscape, but she still wasn’t certain trouble couldn’t appear in a flash.

  Staring at the roses made her think of Cliff, of course. Was this his way of getting even? Had the note meant that she’d caused him ten years of hell?

  It was possible, even if she found it hard to believe of him. Worse, as she sat there looking at the roses, as she wandered outside trying to envision what she wanted to build here, she was wondering more and more why she’d been so damn determined to leave this place behind.

  Even now she knew she never would have been happy just being a rancher’s wife. Needy kids had been tugging at her all her life. But had she been foolish in giving up what she had with Cliff? Why had she been so certain she couldn’t be just as helpful here? There were needy children everywhere, with basically the same challenges. Kids out here might not be living with violent streets, but they could still be hungry, mistreated, abused, struggling to deal with poverty and broken homes. No place had a corner on that.

  But for some damn reason, she had been convinced that staying here would be like staying in a cage. Ten years later, she wasn’t at all sure about that. Maybe because her work had showed her that there were all kinds of cages.

  She walked around the house, thinking that she had only a few more days here, Sharon’s words still ringing in her head: “If you want him, go for it.”

  Apparently he didn’t want her. The roses, which at first had touched her so much, were starting to feel like a goodbye. After all, he’d been spending every free moment with her, and now he couldn’t even call? A roll in the bed of his pickup truck had evidently been enough to convince him that some things really did die. Unfortunately, she had discovered exactly the opposite. After years of ignoring her memories of that long-ago summer, now she couldn’t seem to tamp them down.

  It had always been fast and furious between them. A look, a touch and the explosion had become imminent. She remembered all the times they’d run giggling to find some privacy. Not too difficult out here. They’d made love under the stars, under the sun, under the trees and almost never indoors except that one memorable time in the hayloft. If the water hadn’t been so cold in the streams, they’d probably have made love there, too.

  Images of him, long forgotten, began to resurface. She sat on the porch swing and closed her eyes, giving them free rein. The way he had looked as he’d risen up out of icy water on a hot day, water sheeting off his gleaming, muscular body, his staff already hard for her. The way he had looked galloping toward her across the pasture after his day’s work was done. Once, his hat had gone flying and she’d laughed so hard that she fell in the deep grasses, only to find him hovering over her a minute later, tugging at her clothes, trying to make a bed from their shirts, until the sun kissed every inch of their bodies.

  How easy it had all been, from laughter to passion, as if they had been set free of all constraints to play in any manner they chose.

  The other night had reminded her of how his hands had felt on her—slightly roughened from work, but always gentle no matter how strong. He knew exactly how to tease her with his mouth and fingers until her breasts swelled and ached for him, until she opened her legs as wide as she could just to feel those featherlight touches of his fingers. Then his mouth on her most private place, sampling and tasting until she lost her mind.

  And it always happened so fast. For them foreplay had become afterplay, when, lying in the glow of satiation, they had taken time to touch, look and learn. He had loved the mole on her rump, and never failed to kiss it, claiming it looked almost like a heart. She had retorted that only eyes blinded by passion could see it that way.

  She had traced the jagged scar on his back from when he’d been thrown from a horse as a child and slid down a wooden fence post that had a nail sticking out of it. He had insisted that the tetanus shot had hurt worse than the nail.

  She knew his body as well as she knew her own, maybe better. But there had to be more than that, didn’t there?

  Being like playful puppies for a summer was great, but it wasn’t enough for permanence, right? So maybe she hadn’t been wrong in her decision to pursue her long-held goals. If she had stayed here, she might have wrecked everything with resentment.

  So why was she sitting here and wondering? It had become the road not taken, and there was no way to turn back and try it now. How many times did she need to remind herself? And why did she keep asking the same questions?

  He had confused her. Last time she hadn’t been confused at all, but now it was different. Older hadn’t apparently made her wiser. Or maybe being older had opened her up to a broader range of possibilities.

  Not that it mattered. The days were slipping away and he was avoiding her as if she had the plague. Maybe for good reason.

  Swinging slowly back and forth, she watched the afternoon shadows lengthen. All she knew for certain was that she had to make up her mind about one thing: the direction she wanted to take her career now. Go back to Chicago, resume her duties and use this place as a vacation house? Rent it out? Or go for the guest ranch and possibly youth ranch?

&nbs
p; Until she made up her mind and took action one way or another, nothing at all in her life was going to be settled.

  Then everything got settled in one fell swoop. Lisa came back before dinnertime, waved and started to pass her.

  “You’ve been gone a lot,” Holly remarked with a smile. “Did you find a job or something?”

  “I’ve been over at Cliff’s.” Lisa smiled back.

  Holly froze as Lisa breezed by. For an instant the pain in her heart was so crushing she couldn’t even move. Then anger rose in a tsunami.

  * * *

  Livid would have been a mild description of what Holly felt. She chopped vegetables for dinner as if she were killing them. The knife hit the cutting board with repeated, resounding thwacks.

  Cliff hadn’t wanted his ex around, but now she was spending all day, every day at his ranch? Feeling used and soiled, Holly tried to change her flight to an earlier day, but couldn’t manage it. She was stuck here for another four days. So she took it out on the vegetables with the chef’s knife.

  Red roses, one for each year? She slammed the knife into a pepper. That was certainly an original way to kiss someone off: with roses. He should have sent dead ones.

  Thwack!

  Well, she had to give him marks for getting even. All that talk about forgiveness? Ha! If he had been plotting this all along he couldn’t have done better. Then after all that stuff about Lisa, he had her over there every single day?

  Thwack!

  She supposed she deserved it. What she had said to him a decade ago could still make her cringe inside. But whether she’d deserved it or not, he shouldn’t have had sex with her.

  Because he had just turned something beautiful into something so sleazy she wanted to vomit. She felt more violated than she had after the attack in Chicago.

  And that she did not deserve.

  “I’m going out,” Lisa called. “I’ll be late coming back.”

  If she came back, Holly thought without answering. She whacked at an onion.

  Well, if she knew one thing for certain now, it was that she was going to leave her job and move here. She was going to sit right under his nose, not give him the satisfaction of driving her off and do her thing with those children, come hell or high water.

  He could live with his duplicity now, every single day.

  She scraped the veggies into the heating oil to sauté them. She couldn’t even remember what she had thought she was making, and she didn’t care. As soon as the vegetables were cooked a little, she’d cool them down and shove them in the refrigerator.

  She wondered if she would ever have an appetite again.

  But she had to keep moving. She couldn’t slow down, couldn’t sit around. Anger was driving her, and she had to let it out somehow.

  After she cleaned up her abortive attempt at dinner, she pulled on her shorts, a T-shirt and her jogging shoes. She hadn’t taken a good run in a while, but now she needed one.

  She decided to run down the driveway toward the county road. It provided the safest surface and seeing how often her cell phone couldn’t get a signal out here, it would be just her luck to step into a prairie-dog hole or something and need an ambulance when no one knew where she was. At least if she stayed on the drive and got into trouble, Lisa would find her eventually.

  God, until just a short time ago, she would have thought it impossible for Cliff to be such a creep. She wasn’t naive or anything. She’d met some real creeps in the course of her job, but still, she wouldn’t have believed Cliff capable of this.

  Well, what if he wasn’t? a stubborn portion of her mind asked.

  But how else could she interpret this? If he’d come over, if he’d even called, it might have removed some of the sting.

  Well, maybe not, she admitted with brutal honesty. But at least she wouldn’t feel quite so much like discarded trash.

  She reached the county road, and by then began to feel a little better. She could handle this, all of this. She wasn’t that invested in Cliff. She was more invested in her ideas to bring children out here to experience a whole different look at life. To receive the freedom to grow and explore new opportunities. She had enough money now. She could probably build a couple of small guest cabins and bring families out here for a few weeks at a time. She should probably start with older children, the ones at highest risk. She figured once she explained it back home to her bosses as a scholarship program, they’d probably do their best to make it possible, especially for moms who might lose their benefits if they took a few weeks off from looking for work.

  Yeah, she’d find a way. A scholarship program all nicely tied up with a legal bow that would make it possible. She’d just need to get some established charity involved, and she knew more than one that might.

  So it would work. She might have the basics ready to go next summer.

  And to hell with Cliff anyway.

  She heard tires crunching on gravel behind her and eased over to the side. Probably Lisa coming home early, she thought. Must not have found what she wanted.

  But the thrum of the engine quickly told her it wasn’t Lisa at all. Reluctantly, she glanced over and saw Cliff looking out the window of his truck.

  “Get lost,” she said sharply.

  “What did I do?”

  “You know.”

  “That’s exactly the problem. I don’t know. I sent you flowers. I got your message. I’ve called three times and you haven’t called back. If I hadn’t been so busy...”

  “Busy with Lisa?” she demanded.

  “Lisa? What—” He broke off. When he spoke again, his jaw was clenched. “Get in.”

  “Get lost.” She kept running.

  “Damn it, Holly.”

  “Just go away. I’m done with you.”

  “Really.” He jammed on the accelerator then. Flying gravel missed her as he pulled away. When he reached the house, though, he didn’t turn around and come back. No, he parked, and she saw him climb the porch steps and take a seat.

  Damn it all to hell, she thought viciously, and picked up her pace. He’d messed with her ten years ago, even though he hadn’t meant to, but he was messing with her again. This time he had to know what he was doing.

  Apparently he’d even taken up lying. Called her three times? She hadn’t heard the phone ring. When he didn’t get an answer, he should have tried again later. Had he? Evidently not. Three attempts to reach her, even assuming that was true, was hardly enough for six whole days.

  She reached the front yard, such as it was, and stood at the foot of the porch, stretching. “I told you to leave.”

  “Not until we straighten out a few things. Why didn’t you call me back?”

  “Because you didn’t call.”

  “I sure as hell did. I left messages.”

  She paused in the process of stretching her hamstring. “Messages?” she said finally. The anger that had been boiling over suddenly turned down to a simmer.

  “Messages,” he repeated. “You have heard of voice mail? We even have it out here in the boonies.”

  She put her leg down and stretched the other hamstring. “How am I supposed to know I have voice mail?”

  “Surely you’ve heard the beep on the phone.” His tone was nearly acid.

  She had heard a beep, she realized. “How would I know what it is? I use a cell phone all the time at home.”

  “Oh, hell,” he said.

  She bent over to touch her toes a few times, then straightened, shaking her arms out. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Apparently you’ve decided you want Lisa back.”

  “Like hell.”

  “She’s spending all her time over there.”

  “I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but...”

  “Oh, just give it up, Cliff.
I know what’s been going on. You got even with me and—”

  “Even with you for what?” he demanded. “What the hell kind of person do you think I am?”

  At last he stood up and marched to his truck. “Have a great life, Holly. I’m tired of getting blown up in your minefield.”

  Her minefield? Agape, she watched him gun his engine and tear out of there.

  The dust cloud hung in the air for a while before the freshening evening breeze started to carry it away.

  She felt like that dust cloud and didn’t even know why.

  Chapter Ten

  Holly couldn’t sleep. When Lisa came home in the wee hours, she was still sitting on her bed, with a few folded shirts beside her and an open suitcase. She didn’t have to stay here. She could get a room in Denver until it was time to catch her flight to Chicago. She could lock up the house and go, and to hell with Lisa. Let her stay with Cliff.

  As she listened to Lisa come up the stairs, though, her chest tightened until she almost couldn’t breathe. How many nights that long-ago summer had she come in terribly late from time spent with Cliff? The creaks of the stairs were still familiar and they mocked her.

  But Lisa wasn’t even trying to be quiet, unlike when Holly had made the same journey. In fact, from the unsteadiness of the steps, she suspected Lisa was drunk.

  Drunk and driving. My God!

  But not even that could shake her out of the painful despair that filled her, nor erase Cliff’s final words.

  Your minefield. What minefield? He was the one who’d made love to her and then immediately started seeing Lisa again.

  God, that hurt. Her sense of rejection had no bottom to it. She had to leave as soon as possible, get away to clear her head and...

  And what? In her heart of hearts she knew she wanted to do the youth ranch. It was as if Cliff’s passing remark had unlocked a dream she hadn’t realized she had. Her soul craved this whole idea, much more than it craved going back to the streets and constantly trying to hold back a flood with a broom.

  Because that’s how it felt. She often had no way to know how much she had helped, or if her efforts had an enduring effect. People vanishing from her caseload was the only indicator she got. It might mean things had improved. Sometimes it did. Once in a while she saw a child again and heard good news. Equally, it might mean that some child was gone.