by Jane Porter
She suddenly wished she wasn’t in a different house than Sam because she wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him, wanted to feel him against her, his arms around her waist, his heart beating beneath her ear.
She reached for her phone and sent him a text. “Is love enough?”
“If you can focus on the big picture and not let the little things get in the way,” he answered a moment later.
She read his words and thought about it, thought about him, thought about the life she’d wanted with him. “I agree.”
He responded with, “Why aren’t we together then?”
Her heart gave a painful lurch. Why weren’t they? She hesitated before typing, “Do you think about us?”
“All the time.”
Another painful beat of her heart. “Could we make it work?” she asked.
“Do we want the same thing?”
“I think so,” she answered, before adding, “I hope so.”
“Me, too.”
She smiled at her phone, and then kissed the screen. “Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, babe. I’m here if you need anything.”
*
Ivy called George Tuesday morning and told him that she wouldn’t be able to work anymore, that she was needed elsewhere, and she was sorry. George grumbled a bit but then accepted her news, letting her know she could pick up her paycheck in a week. Hanging up, Ivy felt a wave of relief. She’d miss the girls at the bar but she wouldn’t miss the smell, or the hours, or the endless pick-up lines from all the different guys.
There was still too much snow to get down the mountain, although Sam and his brothers had the big tractor out, and had begun plowing the driveway, and once that was cleared, they were going to start on their private road, scraping away snow three yards at a time.
While the guys worked to clear the road, Ivy and Sophie made Summer’s birthday cake, and then later they prepared two huge roasts and twice-baked potatoes for Summer’s birthday dinner.
Once the roasts went into the oven, Ivy went to the stable to check on Scotch. He seemed restless and she understood, feeling restless, too. Ivy saddled him and walked him into the arena, delighted to see that three barrels had appeared, positioned on the soft dirt, each twenty-four feet apart.
“Feel like practicing?” she asked Scotch, swinging up into the saddle.
The first time they ran the cloverleaf pattern Ivy felt a little stiff, and Scotch was running slow. But overall it was good. Fun.
She walked him to the start point and they did it again. Scotch flew. Ivy grinned as they rounded each barrel.
That time felt even better.
She felt strong. Free.
They practiced for a good half hour, and it was pure joy to be back riding hard. Scotch just got faster each round, too.
And then they were done, and she walked Scotch to cool him down, before taking him back to his stall to brush him down.
Sam found her in the stable. “Do you want to go see your place?” he asked. “Over in Custer? I don’t know when you were last there—”
“Not since I cleared the house out and got it rented.”
“Two years ago.”
She nodded. “It would be. It was just before Christmas when I sold everything.”
“Would it make you too sad to visit, or would it give you any closure?”
“What about my tenants? Won’t they mind?”
“You’re just checking the place out. You’re not moving in.”
She thought about it and nodded. “When could we go?”
“Thursday. Tomorrow Joe and Grandad want us to finish plowing the road clear.”
“But Thursday is Christmas Eve.”
“We could leave in the morning and be back before Santa comes, I promise.”
She slugged him and laughed. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Seriously, we don’t make a big fuss on Christmas Eve, not like you and your mom did. Christmas morning is special in our family and we’ll be back in plenty of time to celebrate Christmas with my family.”
Christmas Eve had been special for Ivy and her mom. In the morning, they delivered meals to those in need and then they’d have a small but special dinner, just the two of them, before they’d each open one special gift.
“I’d enjoy spending Christmas Eve with just you,” she said. “It’d make it special for me.”
“We’ll do that then.”
“Your mom really won’t mind?”
“No.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Grandad won’t either. Or Joe and Sophie. Or Billy—”
“Got it. Thank you.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a real kiss, a kiss that made her feel alive from head to toe. It was the kind of kiss that made her feel beautiful and loved. Known. And when the kiss ended, she looked up into Sam’s eyes, and smiled. He smiled back. It was perfect. No words were needed.
Chapter Ten
They left early Thursday morning, so early that most of the family was still asleep, and the sky was still dark. Ivy had filled thermoses with coffee and brought slices of pumpkin bread wrapped in foil for the road. The sun came up as Sam drove, the golden light glorious, rising above the mountains, turning the snowy valley into a glittering landscape.
Sam reached over at one point and took her hand and for the next half hour they just drove, hand in hand.
Sam broke the silence by asking, “Have you heard at all from your dad?”
“You mean since Mom died?”
Sam shot her a concerned look. “It’s been that long?”
Ivy shrugged. “I don’t think he knows what to do with me.”
“But when Shelby died, surely he made an effort then?”
“He couldn’t make the funeral, but he did come by the next week.”
“How did that go?”
“It probably would have gone better if he’d come on his own. Instead he brought the whole family. You know, he has a Mercedes SUV. He’s all Jackson flash.”
“He’s a real estate agent, right?”
Ivy nodded. “I guess he’s really successful.”
“What’s his wife like?”
“Nothing like Mom, but nice enough. We couldn’t figure out what to say to each other and so I watched Andrea go through the house and pick at all the sympathy floral arrangements, pulling the dead flowers out, while the kids ran around, shooting Nerf bullets at everything.”
“How many kids do they have?”
“Five.” Ivy laughed. “And they’re wild. Serves him right.”
Sam shot her an assessing glance. “Does it bother you that he and Andrea have such a big family?”
“No. That’s their family. Mom was my family.”
“But your dad left you guys.”
Ivy chewed her inner lip. “Yeah.”
“You never talk about that. If you were eight, you were old enough to know what happened.”
“I knew he’d left because he and Mom fought a lot, but I didn’t realize when he left her, he also left me. That took me years to figure out.”
*
Ivy’s words clicked something into place, and Sam finally understood something he’d never understood before.
Maybe the reason she hadn’t spoken up all those years ago was that she was afraid she’d lose him. Maybe she hadn’t said what needed to be said because she was afraid he’d leave. And maybe she’d left, hoping, praying he’d come for her, proving that once and for all she was valuable. Not someone you’d throw away. Sam drew a breath, aware of a sharp pain in his chest.
He’d thought he understood her. He’d thought he understood everything, but he hadn’t seen the big picture. He’d gotten caught up on the little things. He’d focused on the problems not the love.
“How did your mom handle the divorce?” Sam asked.
Ivy combed her ponytail over her shoulder, expression pensive. “Fine. She was happier without him.”
“But you weren’t.”
&n
bsp; She sighed, shrugged. “He was Dad.”
That just about summed it all up, didn’t it? Dads were so important. They couldn’t be replaced. Sam glanced at her. “So after the divorce, your father moved to Jackson, made a ton of money in real estate, while you and your mom struggled in Custer?”
“Not exactly. Dad always had money. Mom just didn’t want any of it when they divorced. She told him she didn’t need anything from him, as long as she had me.”
“So he gave you up.”
Ivy said nothing.
Sam’s chest burned, emotions hot. “You know, Ivy, it’s okay for us to disagree. We can fight, and be fine. I might not like everything you say, but I’m not going to walk out the door. I’m not going to just walk away from you.”
“People don’t like fighting,” she said quietly.
“No, but conflict is part of life. Growing up, my brothers and I fought all the time. We still sometimes get into it. You know I love Grandad, but he and I have had some serious arguments, a couple really serious ones a few years back, but we worked through them. Mom and I had a pretty bad fight the other night, when she wanted you to move over to Joe and Sophie’s, but did it change how I feel about her? No. She’s still my mom, and I love and respect her.”
“Why was she so upset about us kissing? It was pretty tame, you know.”
Sam didn’t answer right away. “She was pregnant with Joe when she and Dad married. From what I gather, Dad wasn’t sure he wanted to get married. He was seeing someone else when Mom traveled from California to Montana, showing up on the doorstep six months pregnant.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way. Grandad was livid. He had some strong words for Dad, telling him that no Wyatt ever walked away from his child. So Dad manned up, and did the right thing. Fortunately, Dad and Mom worked things out and had a good marriage—” He flashed a grin at Ivy. “Or at least a lot of sex, because they ended up with four boys before he died far too young.”
*
They stopped for gas outside Billings and then forty-five minutes later they were taking the exit for Ivy’s childhood home.
Ivy had been okay until they reached the familiar turnoff and then suddenly she felt nervous, her skin prickling hot, then cold as Sam drove down the frontage road.
She sat on the edge of her seat and tried to take it all in. Even covered in snow it was exactly as she remembered. The barbwire fences. The neighbors with their big silos and white barn. And then Sam was turning down the private road to her mom’s, and Ivy clenched her hands waiting for the house and stable to come into view.
And then, there it was.
Her house. The place she’d grown up.
“It looks good,” she said, her gaze sweeping the property, taking it all in. “But there are no horses. I don’t see any livestock at all.”
“Maybe they don’t have any.”
“Then why live here?”
Sam pulled up in front of the house and parked. “Want to get out and walk around?”
“I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You won’t.”
“I should have warned them that I was coming.”
“You did.” Sam took the key from the engine. “Ivy, I’m your tenant.”
“You live here?”
“No. But I’ve been renting it from you all this time.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you to sell it until you’d had enough time to decide what you were going to do. This was your home after all.”
Ivy struggled to take it all in. “You’ve been paying Wes?”
“Not since September when you wrote and said to not pay anymore. I’ve been putting the rent aside for you.” He opened his door. “Let’s get out and walk around.”
Ivy walked to the stables with the arena and huge outdoor ring. Everything was immaculate but empty. She turned and looked at Sam, incredulous. “I could be living here now.”
“You could, yes. It’s an excellent training facility, and has virtually everything you’re looking for in Paradise Valley. The only difference is, you already own this.”
She looked back at the ring piled with fresh snow. Except here she’d be alone. She wanted to be independent, but she had no one here. She had nothing here but a house and stable and barn. “I’d be lonely here,” she said. “And I’m not lonely in Marietta. I’ve begun to make friends.” She glanced back at Sam. “But I do hate that I’ve wasted your money. You’ve been saving this for me and as it turns out, I don’t want it.”
“You didn’t waste anything. You learned something important. Now you can sell this place and get something where you’ll be happy.”
Her heart fell a little, no, make that a lot. She didn’t want to be apart from Sam. She’d be happiest with him. “Remember how you said I could go to Cody with you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Ivy, you don’t want to live there.”
“I might, if you’re there.” That didn’t quite come out the way she’d intended. “What I’m trying to say is that I want to be where you are. If that offer is on the table. If not, I’ll find a place in Paradise Valley to start my horse ranch and I’ll have a good life doing what I love to do.”
“Of course I want you with me, Ivy. That’s a given.”
She liked the sound of we, but didn’t want to ask too many questions, not yet. Better to just leave the possibility there between them, bright, shiny, hopeful.
“Want to go inside?” he asked, reaching into his pocket and extracting a single key.
“Yes.”
The inside of the house looked just like she remembered, but only better. The wood paneled walls were scrubbed clean, and the hardwood floor had a rich polish on it. The house had no furniture, but there were a few pictures on the wall, framed photos of her favorite horses, and even better, photos of Ivy’s mom.
Ivy stopped and breathed in, smelling the lovely scent of fresh pine. Her pulse quickened, and she looked at Sam and then headed down the hall, passing the dark kitchen. As she walked, Sam flipped a switch, and a Christmas tree in the corner lit up.
The tree was in the same corner she and her mom had always put it in, although this wasn’t a tabletop tree, but a tree close to seven feet tall and covered with hundreds of white lights. There were so many lights that it made her chest so tender it hurt to breathe.
“Did you do this?” she asked.
“Yesterday.”
“And I thought it just took forever to clear the road.”
“Billy and Tommy came with me. They helped me get the tree up.”
She moved to the tree and, reaching out, touched the first ornament that caught her eye. A bronze horse. She looked at another ornament, and it was a horse. Every ornament was either a red glass ball or a horse. She recognized one of the horses, but not all. “Where did you find all of these?”
“We went to every toy, antique and feed store between Livingston and Billings, and bought every horse we could find.”
“Your poor brothers.”
“They loved it. To them it was one big adventure.”
“Or you bribed them.”
He grinned. “Or I bribed them.” His smile faded and his gaze narrowed, and he stood there suddenly serious. “There is one gift under the tree for you, too.”
“But I don’t have anything for you.”
“This isn’t from me. It’s a gift from your mom. She asked me to wait and give it to you at Christmas. I tried last year, I mailed it to you at Wes’s, but it came back to me.”
“He rejected it?”
“Seems so.”
She looked at the tree, searching for the mysterious present. “And you kept it for me.”
“I did.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“I have an idea, but I’ve never opened it, so I could be wrong.”
Sam reached around the back of the tree and pulled out a box and handed it to her. The box had her name on
it, and Wes’s address, as well as a big inked RETURN TO SENDER across the front.
“It’s the right address,” she said. “I don’t know why it was rejected.”
“I’m just glad it did come back. I’m glad it didn’t end up in the garbage somewhere.” Sam pulled out a pocketknife and slit the tape on the box, before pulling out a bright red foil package with an envelope taped to the front.
Ivy took the present and looked down at the envelope. Her name was written on the envelope in her mother’s cursive, although the handwriting was spidery and thin. She pressed the envelope to her chest, pressing her mother’s handwriting to her heart. “I’m scared to open it.”
“Don’t be scared.”
“But she did this for me before she died?”
He nodded.
Ivy looked at him a long moment before opening the envelope and drawing out the Christmas card featuring a chestnut horse in the snow, with a wreath around its neck.
The horse looked just like Belle and Ivy felt a lump in her throat.
Ivy,
I hope you have forgiven me for keeping the severity of my illness from you. It didn’t seem right to have you grieve while I was still alive. Maybe it’s selfish, but I didn’t want to spend the little time I had left, discussing death. Instead I wanted to use every minute to focus on what gives me pleasure—you, your career, and your beautiful gift with horses.
My hope is that you will find your way back to love. If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that love shouldn’t make one weak. Love should make one strong.
Don’t be afraid to seize life and make the most of it. You deserve every joy. I will be forever cheering you on.
Your biggest fan,
Mom
Ivy closed the card and just held it, emotion washing through her in waves. “That was intense,” she whispered, looking up at Sam.
He said nothing and she opened the gift, peeling away the red foil paper to reveal a bubble wrapped phone and charger. She unwrapped the phone, not recognizing it. Her mom always had one of those cheap throwaway phones, hating to waste money on expensive technology, never mind big contracts. “What’s the phone for?” she asked Sam.
“Let’s plug it in,” he said, leaning across her to take the charger and plug it in the wall next to all the Christmas lights.
