Sage had brought dinner—butter chicken and rice—which was now reheating in the oven. She’d also packed chocolate, of course. A box of her salted caramel chocolates and several of her signature milk-chocolate cowboy hats. Since Sage preferred dark chocolate, Mattie knew these were for her.
Mattie was thankful she’d not only showered, but dried her hair and put on jeans and a nice sweater as well, because Sage looked fabulous.
She’d recently cut her thick, wavy red hair, and was wearing a new shade of lipstick that suited her ivory complexion perfectly.
Or... maybe it wasn’t the haircut and lipstick that made Sage look so beautiful. Happiness glowed like a halo around her. Mattie remembered her talking about a cowboy the last time they’d been together, at the Copper Mountain Rodeo in their hometown of Marietta.
Back then Sage had sounded annoyed that this dude from her past had the nerve to come to her town. What was his name again?
“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Sage kissed the puppy, then released her end of the tug toy. “You win. It’s time for me to make a salad to go with that curry.”
“It smells delish,” Mattie admitted, not sure whether to follow Sage to the kitchen and help chop veggies, or stay here and make sure Tuff didn’t have an accident. Fortunately most of the flooring in her house was wood, however so far Tuff was showing a preference for the handmade Pendleton rug that she and Wes had splurged on five years ago.
Wes. She couldn’t go five minutes without thinking of him. She wondered how he’d feel about the puppy. They’d had a dog when the twins were little, but when Sparky died at the age of twelve, they’d all been so heartbroken they’d decided to wait a few years before getting another.
Noticing a sudden restlessness in Tuff, Mattie picked her up and took her out to the yard. Sure enough, after wandering and sniffing for a few minutes, Tuff peed beside one of the maples.
“Good, Tuff. Good.” Mattie heaped her with praise and gave her one of the doggie treats from her pocket before taking her back inside. The rich, spicy aroma of Sage’s cooking had her immediately feeling hungrier than she’d been in weeks.
She blockaded the dining area with chairs, so Tuff couldn’t escape, then set out plates and cutlery while Sage served the curry, rice and salad. “It sure is nice to be waited on.”
“Good. You deserve it.” Sage took the spot—Wes’s spot—to Mattie’s left. “Now, tell me about the neighbor who dropped off Tuff.”
“Not much to tell. We’ve known Nat Diamond forever. He has a huge ranch, even bigger than the Circle C. Back when we had more horses we used to graze on some of his land.”
“Does he have a family?” Sage spooned a mound of fluffy brown rice onto her plate.
“Both his parents have passed away. A few years later, he did marry a woman from Seattle, but that didn’t last long. She couldn’t hack the ranching lifestyle.”
“Not everyone can.”
Mattie knew Sage included herself in this category. “So what happened with that cowboy friend of yours who came to Marietta for the rodeo? Callan told me he helped with the fall roundup this year. Did pretty well for a greenhorn, she said.”
Down in Paradise Valley winter came early and cattle were moved out of the hills at least three or four weeks sooner than here by the Flathead.
“Callan invited him, not me. But I ended up being glad she did. Dawson and I—well, we’ve mended fences, you might say.”
“Didn’t you tell me he’d been married? And that he has a daughter?”
“Savannah is a great kid. As for the wife—that’s over. Before we hooked up again, I made sure Dawson had the official divorce papers.”
The word hit the air like a bomb blast, reverberating long after both sisters had fallen silent.
Divorce. Divorce. Divorce.
A word that just one month ago, Mattie never would have thought would apply to her.
Her first few tastes of the butter chicken had been delicious. Now she set down her fork, convinced she couldn’t handle another mouthful.
Sage looked concerned and apologetic. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t be silly. No sense avoiding the subject, since I know that’s why you’re here.” She reached over to squeeze Sage’s hand. “Something I very much appreciate by the way.”
“Of course I came. I’ve been worried sick since your call. Have you heard anything from Wes?”
“Nothing. Not a word in sixteen days.” She watched the puppy... tired from all her frolicking, she’d finally fallen asleep on the fuzzy dog bed Nat had given them. “I don’t even know where he is.”
Sage’s eyes widened. Mattie could tell that she hadn’t expected the situation to be this dire.
“Rodeo weekend you told me he’d been badly shaken when a buddy was killed last spring.”
“Yes. Dex Cooper. He was about five years younger than Wes. And it must have been awful for Wes to see it happen to someone he knew personally. Normally he talked to me about stuff like that, but this time he didn’t say a word. It was eating at him, though, I could tell. I thought maybe he’d finally retire. I didn’t expect—"
She stopped, not needing to say the rest.
“Why would you expect him to leave you? You guys were so good together.”
“I thought so,” Mattie said softly.
“You were,” Sage insisted. “And you will be again. Don’t give up too easily. Sixteen days seems like a long time now, but when you compare it to twenty years of marriage, it’s just a hiccup.”
Mattie really wished her sister was right and this stormy period was something that could pass. But she hadn’t told Sage everything. So she filled her in about the key and the phone call from the mystery woman. “The signs point to Wes having an affair...”
She waited for Sage to disagree. But she didn’t.
“Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. But even if Wes has been unfaithful, that doesn’t have to spell the end.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Her sister studied her closer, her gaze intense. Then she took a deep breath. “I have a secret to tell you. I’ve kept it from you, Dani, and Callan for a long time. But I think it may help you see your current situation differently.”
“What is it?” She could tell the secret was a big one. And if anyone in their family was capable of keeping quiet about something important, it would be Sage.
“Let’s talk in the family room,” Sage said. “I’ve lost my appetite and I see you have too.”
Mattie cleared the plates, feeling guilty for ruining a meal that her sister had gone to so much effort to prepare. While she stored the food in the fridge so they could eat it later, Sage set a couple of birch logs in the fireplace, started the fire, then brewed a pot of tea.
Once the work was done, Mattie tucked herself into her favorite corner of the sofa, feeling cozy and safe. Sage curled up at the other end, resting her feet on the large oak coffee table.
“So what’s the big secret?”
Sage looked uneasy. “I hope what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about Mom.”
Suddenly apprehensive, Mattie asked, “Why would it?”
“I know how close you two were. You were always her favorite.”
“Not true,” Mattie said automatically, though she suspected it sort of was. Not that her mother had loved her more than her sisters. But she’d been the only one of Beverly Carrigan’s daughters to give birth to grandchildren and after the twins were born, during the weeks Mom came to stay with her on the ranch, they’d had so many opportunities to share stories and experiences, to bond as women, rather than as mother and daughter.
“You’re the oldest. Which automatically means you had more years with her than the rest of us.”
Their mother had died, tragically, when the twins were only two years old. The accident happened after midnight, on a cold night in March. She’d been in the barn with her husband, trying to help a cow manage a difficult delivery.
The cow had gone wild and rammed her poor mother into the concrete wall of the barn.
Death had been instant. No suffering, the doctor told them later, which was of some comfort, at least.
The damn cow and her calf had been fine. Her father had sold both, wanting them off the ranch. But of course, the sale had come too late. Nothing could change the outcome. Or the awful knowledge that their mother, who had always been terribly nervous around cattle, would only have been helping under duress.
“I was twenty-two when Mom died. So you were—”
“Twelve.”
“Gosh. So young.”
“Callan was only eight,” Sage pointed out. “I wonder why there were so many years between us? Five between you and Dani. Then four more between Dani and me, and another four between me and Callan. Did Mom have trouble getting pregnant?”
“She never said so.” Mattie was still mulling over how young Callan and Sage had been when their Mom died. Maybe that was why they didn’t seem to harbor the same anger toward Hawksley that she did.
Her bad feelings toward her father had even deeper roots than her Mom’s death, dating back to the arguments she’d overheard from behind their parents’ closed-and-locked bedroom door.
Hawksley had an awful temper.
And no one had borne the brunt more than his wife.
“Given what a beast dad was, I’m surprised she stayed in the marriage as long as she did. She would have had options.” Their mother had been born Beverly Bramble, after all, an ancestor of the original Brambles who founded Marietta. They’d built a fortune on the copper buried into the mountain of the same name. And diversified into banking once the ore was depleted.
The original Bramble Manor was still one of the grandest homes in Marietta. These days Great Aunt Mable lived in the stately Victorian, along with cousin Eliza, who had turned the place into a bed-and-breakfast and was reported to be writing a family history.
“There are always two sides in any marriage, Mat. That’s kind of what my secret is about.”
For a moment Mattie was reminded of her own marital woes. Did Wes have a list of grievances against her? If so, she wished he’d at least given her a chance to hear them. “Compared to Hawksley, Mom was a saint.”
“I know you’ve always thought that.” Sage took her feet off the table and shifted into a more upright position. She gazed at the crackling fire for a moment, absent-mindedly twisting a strand of her hair at the same time.
“Because it’s true,” Mattie said, feeling suddenly tense and uncertain.
“Is it? I saw something, Mat. About a year before Mom’s accident.”
The room fell quiet, the only sound the snapping and popping from the fire. Tuff picked that moment to wake up and come looking for them. Mattie pulled the little fluff ball into her lap, where she settled immediately back to sleep.
“I was home from school. Sick with a fever, at first, but then I felt better and decided to sneak into Mom’s room to play with her jewelry and makeup.”
They’d all done that when they were little girls. Their mother had owned a beautiful vanity table, a family heirloom, with dozens of intriguing drawers and hidey-holes.
“Only the door was locked. And not thinking that someone must be in there—because it was early afternoon and the room was always empty during the day—I took a pin and unlocked it.”
Mattie could read her sister’s face well enough to guess that she’d interrupted a sexual act. But—“who was Mom with?”
“It wasn’t Dad. It was—Mr. Sheenan. And, oh God, Mattie, it was so appalling to me at the time. They were having oral sex.”
Mattie supposed she shouldn’t be shocked. But she sure as hell was.
The Sheenans owned the ranch next to theirs. Their mother had died much earlier, leaving Bill Sheenan to raise five boys and a daughter on his own.
Ever since she’d start school, Mattie had been cautioned to stay away from those “Sheenan brats” by her father. She’d assumed it was a dispute over water rights that had bred the dislike between the two families.
Now she realized the problems were a lot more... personal.
“Frankly, given what a jerk dad was, I don’t blame Mom for having an affair.”
“Maybe not. But here’s the weirdest part. At the steak dinner after the rodeo last month, Bill Sheenan came up to me and apologized for what I’d seen. All these years later! I couldn’t believe he had the nerve.”
“He must have been feeling guilty for a very long time.”
“I guess. But dad saw him talking to me, and came up and popped him one on the jaw.”
Mattie had seen the fight. “So that’s what was behind it!” Their father had made them all leave the barbecue after that, without saying a word about what was going on.
“I talked to Dad later and found out he knew about the affair. Had known all along.”
“Really? Then why didn’t he ask for a divorce?”
“That’s what I wondered. And Dad told me that there were worse ways you could hurt someone you’d married than by cheating on them.”
“Wow.” Mattie would never have expected to hear something so... understanding... from her Dad. She had always pictured him as a man who saw things in black and white. Sons—good. Daughters—useless.
“Incredible, isn’t it?”
“And you’ve kept this secret for how long?”
“More than a decade.”
It was a heavy weight for a young girl to have carried. Mattie suspected it had taken a toll. She remembered Sage as a young girl—she’d been real chatty, with a sunny disposition and an easy-going nature.
But Sage had changed as she’d gotten older. Become quiet and thoughtful. And this was why. It had to be.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this on your own, Sage. I wish you’d confided in someone. Like maybe me?”
“At first I was too scared to say anything. I was afraid Mom would leave us. Then, after she died, I didn’t want to spoil anyone’s memory of her.”
“No wonder you make chocolates for a living. You are the sweetest, Sage. You really are.” Mattie stroked the puppy’s soft fur, and considered Sage’s reasons for exposing this big secret today. To her.
“You’re trying to say that even if Wes has been unfaithful I shouldn’t automatically give up on my marriage.”
“At least talk to him.”
“I want to. He’s the one who’s gone into hiding.”
“Then find him, Mattie. Don’t leave it too late.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Mattie tried to fall asleep that night, her conversation with her sister kept repeating in her brain. Should she be trying to reach Wes?
She lifted the cell phone, which she kept next to her pillow. No missed calls, emails or text messages. Nothing.
Why this wall of utter silence from Wes?
Was he waiting to hear from her?
That didn’t make sense. Wes had been the one to say he wanted to leave. And he’d done it. His silence proved he didn’t love her anymore.
Still, Mattie’s thumb hovered over Wes’s name on her contact list. It was past midnight. Where was he? Would he take her call if she had the nerve to hit that button?
Even if he did—she had no idea what to say. And there was always the possibility that that woman would answer. Mattie didn’t know if she could bear the certain knowledge that her husband was having an affair.
And yet her father had done it.
Sage’s revelation about their mother’s affair was still difficult for Mattie to believe. How long had the affair gone on? And why had Hawksley put up with it? The man Mattie knew as her father did not offer forgiveness or second chances very often.
Maybe he’d understood that it was his own lack of kindness and loving that had chased his wife into the arms of another man?
No one could say the same of her and Wes, though. From the beginning they’d been affectionate in private and in public. The twins would
sometimes complain when they kissed for too long in places like restaurants or street corners. But Mattie had loved Wes’s demonstrativeness.
That, too, had eased off recently, she realized, when she couldn’t recall the last time they’d shared a kiss in front of others.
Or made love.
Damn, how long had her marriage been crumbling without her even noticing?
* * *
Cooking apples and cinnamon. Fresh brewed coffee. French toast and maple syrup. Mattie rolled over in bed, trying to decide if these delicious smells could possibly have been conjured in a dream. Then she heard the sounds of dishes being unloaded from the dishwasher. Hell, Sage must have gotten up before her. How was that possible?
She reached for her phone and saw with dismay that it was after eight. Outside there was just a hint of daylight peeking through the curtains.
Suddenly she was reminded of how it had felt to be a little girl, on Saturday mornings, sleeping in and being woken by her Mom calling that breakfast was ready so get it while it’s hot. She so hadn’t appreciated how lucky she’d been in those days. If only she could have her Mom back for one day to tell her thank-you for those hundreds of breakfasts that had been made with love and devoured so carelessly.
Like so many things in life, the wisdom of appreciation came too late.
She grabbed her robe and headed to the kitchen, where she found Sage dusting powdered sugar over the French toast. Tuff was licking the floor by her feet where something yummy must have spilled.
“Oh my God. You’re amazing Sage. You made Mom’s breakfast.”
Her younger sister had such beautiful skin that she looked fresh and pretty, even first thing in the morning. Her loveliness only increased with her smile. “I haven’t had French toast for years. But I woke up craving it. Hope you don’t mind that I commandeered the kitchen.”
“You’re kidding, right? Like I would mind. I thought I was dreaming all those delicious aromas. I was afraid to open my eyes.” She gave Tuff a cuddle, then glanced out the window at the morning fog and sighed. “Poor Jake. He had to do the morning chores on his own again.”
“Not totally. I probably wasn’t as much help as you, but I did try.”
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