Convincing the Rancher

by Claire McEwen

  And Slaid. His calm, humorous way of being, and the way he just got things done. The way he organized sweet dates for her and the way his hands felt on her skin when...

  Glancing at Devin, who was tapping his pencil and biting his lip as he tried to think of a topic sentence for his essay, she decided not to think about sex with his dad right now.

  “I’ve got my topic,” Devin announced. Tess had told him he had to come up with something he thought should happen in the world, a point he wanted to prove to someone else.

  “Okay, good,” Tess said, jolting back to reality. “Now try to say it in one sentence.”

  He thought for a moment. “Okay... One sentence... Here goes. I think kids who are adopted shouldn’t have to wait until they’re eighteen to find their birthparents.”

  Tess wondered what would happen if she vomited on the table. Would she scar Devin for life?

  “I’ll be right back,” she told him. “Hold that thought.” She went into the kitchen, filled a glass with water, took a few gulps and tried to reason with herself. Devin was adopted; it made perfect sense that he’d feel this way. It wasn’t personal; it wasn’t about her.

  She went back to the table with her water, hopefully hiding her discomfort a little better. She sat next to him. “Great topic! Now think of three main reasons why you think this should happen. Good, strong reasons.”

  She stared out the big windows while Devin tapped his pencil for what felt like forever. It seemed as though he might be stuck.

  “How about you say them out loud first,” Tess suggested. “It helps you figure out if they sound forceful enough.” She didn’t want to hear them, but she’d promised Devin she’d help him. And from the incredulous look she’d seen on Slaid’s face, it seemed as though his son didn’t ask for help that often.

  “Number one. Don’t laugh...” Devin looked at her uncertainly.

  “I won’t.” Cry maybe, run out of the room screaming, but she could definitely promise no laughter.

  “Kids would feel happier and more confident knowing all their parents.” He looked at Tess as if he expected her to argue, but she just said, “Okay, go on.”

  “Number two. Kids can understand more complicated stuff than their parents think they can. Like they can understand that someone has problems and can’t be their parent, or that someone who adopts them is their real parent.”

  “And number three?” Tess asked softly.

  “If kids know their birth parents and can understand them, they’d be less likely to wonder why their parents gave them up, like if they did something wrong that made their parents not want to be their parents anymore.”

  Tess took deep breaths and sipped her water. This isn’t about you, she reminded herself. But it was hard not to imagine Adam having the same questions about her.

  She looked up, and Devin was watching her cautiously, waiting to hear what she thought of his essay idea. “I hope you know that you didn’t do anything wrong. With your mom or your birth mother,” she finally offered quietly.

  He flushed. “My dad tells me that all the time. And it’s as if I know it in my brain but I don’t totally know it. And then when my mom left, well, I guess I just felt like it had to be me, if it was happening a second time.”

  Tess was quiet for a minute. Feeling honored that he’d chosen to talk to her about something so personal, and feeling heartbroken, as well. Did her son secretly wonder if he’d been placed for adoption because he was flawed? He’d been such a perfect baby. It was Tess, sixteen, alone and terrified, who’d been flawed.

  “Those are strong reasons. Great work. Now write down each reason on your paper and put a few lines underneath it. On those blank lines, list facts to support your arguments. For example, in what ways, exactly, would knowing their birth parents make kids more confident?”

  “That’s easy,” said Devin. “If they don’t know them, it makes them sad, and then they worry about it instead of thinking about normal kid stuff.”

  “Write that down and try to think of a couple more,” Tess instructed, digging her nails into her clenched hands under the table. A panicky feeling was forming in her chest, fluttering there. Had Adam had a hard time thinking about “normal kid stuff” because of her?

  * * *

  TESS LOOKED AT DEVIN, his pencil scratching across the page, his tongue caught in the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. And it occurred to her that she’d made a terrible mistake coming here today. She was selfish. That was what it came down to. She’d enjoyed bonding Devin, feeling as if they had this special relationship. She’d liked playing in the snow and pretending to be a family. But that was all she was doing: pretending. She’d go back to her life in San Francisco. And Devin would still be here, wondering why she’d left. And then she’d just be one more woman he’d cared about who’d let him down.

  It was hard to breathe. Hard to move, but she had to get away.

  “Devin, I think you’ve got this. Will you be okay? I think I need to get home.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m okay. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

  “I need to get ready for the work tomorrow, and you have to finish this and get ready for school. But thanks for a great weekend. I loved it.”

  “See you later, Tess.”

  “Yeah.” A lump grew in the back of her throat and she tried to swallow it down as she went for her coat.

  Slaid caught up with her just as she got to her car. “Tess, hang on, what happened?”

  “Oh, there you are.” She tried to sound casual. “I couldn’t find you and I need to get home.”

  “I thought you were staying for dinner. Maybe even longer?”

  “Well, Devin’s all set and I know it’s a school night...”

  “Did something happen between you and Devin? Did he lose his temper?”

  Tears sprang up and welled over before she could stop them. “No! Devin is amazing... He’s wonderful.” She couldn’t stop the flood now that it had started. She buried her face in her hands as sobs racked her body. And she knew it wasn’t just Devin she was crying for.

  “Tess.” Slaid was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her, holding her while she sobbed. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help,” he pleaded.

  She couldn’t believe she was crying. Anger at herself for losing control helped to stop the sobs, but her words still came out shakily. “I had a baby, Slaid. I gave him up for adoption. I was sixteen. So he’s...he’s about Devin’s age.”

  “Oh, Tess...” Slaid cradled her tenderly. “I am so sorry.”

  “I know I did the right thing for him. But...I never kept in touch. His adoptive parents even asked me to. I said no. And now I wonder if...” Another sob interrupted her words.

  “If he’s having questions like Devin?”

  “I figured I was doing everyone a favor by just moving on.”

  He stepped back so there was distance between them. She was cold where his arms had been. “And there’s more, Slaid. I lied to everyone. You, Samantha, Jenna, everyone. I’m not from New England. I never bobbed for apples. I grew up in the projects of Detroit. My parents did drugs. They hit me, locked me up... Left me... I went into foster care when I was seven. No one adopted me, so I never got out of the system.”

  “Tess...”

  But now that she’d started, she had to finish. “I had a crazy temper. I got kicked out of high schools.” Slaid just stared at her, so she went on. “My name was Theresa Cooper.”

  “Wait, Tess isn’t your name?”

  “I changed my name legally to Tess Cole when I was eighteen. I wanted a new start, to get an education, to make something of myself.”

  “I don’t get it. You’ve been lying about all this stuff, all this time? To your friends? To me?”

  She sighed heavily. “Yes.”

  “Do I even know you?” His brows were drawn together in a scowl. He looked like a stranger.

  “More than anyone else ever has.” It sounded lame, but it was al
l she could offer.

  Slaid looked away, out over the ranch. He was slipping away from her. She could see it. “I’ve never lied to hurt anyone else, Slaid. Just to protect myself.”

  He didn’t answer, and she knew there was nothing more she could say. He knew it all now. Tess looked around at his ranch, too. Suddenly the warmth and beauty she’d seen in the snowy day was gone. It all just looked bleak.

  Finally Slaid spoke. “Tess, I admire you, do you understand? I truly do. I said I love you and I meant it. But the way that you’ve lied, and stayed away from your son... Well, I just have to think...”

  And there it was. The exact thing she’d always known would happen if she told anyone the truth. Rejection. “I’d better get going. We both have a busy week.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to think of Devin, too. It might be hard for him to learn about your son. We live with the aftermath of choices like yours every day.”

  “I get it.” She couldn’t hear any more. No matter how kindly he phrased it, it was judgment.

  “I’ll call you?”

  “Sure.” He wouldn’t. She could tell. She leaned in and gave him one last hug, took a shuddering breath to inhale the scent of him she’d come to need like oxygen and quickly got inside the Jeep. She put the key in the ignition with shaking hands, fighting hard not to cry again. She turned the car around and headed down the snow-covered driveway.

  She followed her own tracks from when she’d arrived, when she’d been feeling so happy and hopeful, only hours before. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Slaid standing where she’d left him, watching her go. Everything hurt: her heart, her head, her raw emotions. This was why she’d avoided love. Because she didn’t have the strength to endure losing the person she loved the most—again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  IT WAS STRANGE HOW, even when you were sad and disappointed and angry at the world, you still had to go buy groceries. Tess cruised the street in front of the Blue Water Mercantile, looking for parking. For some reason the lot was full and there were even cars parked down the street. She’d chosen this shop instead of her usual Main Street Market because the Blue Water was generally pretty empty. It was on the edge of town, out by the fairgrounds, and the perfect spot for not running into anyone—especially Slaid. But oddly, it was packed today.

  Tess finally maneuvered the Jeep into a parking spot on a side street and walked around the corner to the store. Inside she grabbed one of the last baskets and wandered the aisles, dodging fellow shoppers to grab milk, bread and a few other staples.

  She had to wait in a long line to pay. When it was her turn, she asked the man behind the counter, “So who are all these people?”

  “I think they’re all here for the protest tomorrow,” the cashier said. “It’s crazy how many people turned up. The city even converted the fairgrounds into campsites since we’ve got so many folks visiting town right now.”

  “Wait,” Tess said, dread pooling in her stomach. “What protest?”

  “Well, they’re having that big public hearing on the windmills tomorrow afternoon. And most folks around here don’t want them. So there’s a march and a rally. A bunch of environmental groups got involved and brought all these people out here. It should be quite an event. And good for my business, too.”

  “I’ll bet,” Tess said weakly. She paid her money and practically ran to her Jeep. Once inside, she grabbed her phone and dialed, grateful that Ed answered on the second ring. “It’s Tess,” she told him. “Tomorrow’s the public hearing and I have a big problem.”

  * * *

  SLAID HAD HIS feet up on his desk when she got to his office, and for a moment Tess felt a touch of déjà vu. Just a few weeks ago, she’d walked in and seen him sitting just like this. She remembered how handsome she’d thought he was, and how strangely familiar. It felt like years, not weeks, had passed since that day.

  He looked up as she stepped through the door. Taking his feet off his desk, he set down the file he was reading and stood up, looking ill at ease for the first time she could remember. “Tess.” His voice was low and quiet. “Hello.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About the march and the protest and the fact that this town is flooded with environmental activists and news cameras.”

  “I meant to, Tess. The other day. But then you told me all that stuff about your past and...I guess I forgot.”

  “And you didn’t remember to tell me afterward?”

  He ran a hand wearily over his jaw and Tess noticed the shadows under his eyes. The stubble on his normally clean-shaven chin. She wasn’t the only one having a hard time right now. “There’s been a lot going on. Here and at home.”

  “Is Devin okay?”

  “He’s fine.”

  The two-word answer said it all—she was no longer privy to the details of their everyday lives. Her chest felt heavy. She tilted her chin up higher and met his eyes.

  “I would have appreciated a heads-up. I spotted at least three different television news trucks parked near the hotel.”

  “Yeah, well, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I would have appreciated you telling me a few things, too. I know you think I’m old fashioned, but honesty isn’t just a small-town value.”

  “Now you’re mixing the personal with the professional. We said we wouldn’t.”

  “Seems to me as if you’ve a lot to learn about the personal, Tess.”

  That was it. She could take the blame for some things, but not this. “And I warned you about that from the very beginning. I told you I didn’t want to get involved, that I didn’t do relationships, but you pushed and pushed at me to date. To do what you wanted, to be who you wanted me to be. And I finally did. And you know what I learned? That I was right all along. When you let people really know you, they can really hurt you. So you can sit there at your mayor’s desk and judge me all you want, but I would recommend you take a look at yourself, too. Because from where I’m standing, your way isn’t so great after all!”

  She spun on her heel and marched out, willing herself not to cry, not to waste one more tear on Slaid Jacobs, the mayor of Self-Righteousville.

  “Tess, wait.”

  She stopped and whirled to face him. “Don’t try to talk me into coming back.”

  He looked even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. “I wasn’t going to.”

  She could feel her cheeks get hot. “Well, what is it, then?” she said sharply.

  “We’re at ninety-five percent solar.”

  She hadn’t thought she could feel any worse. She’d been wrong. “You’re kidding. How did you do that?”

  “We got funding.”

  “But you told me you were having trouble finding investors. That you couldn’t find a company to give you a discount.”

  “We were. But we eventually got a company to work with us, once we got our money together.”

  And then she knew what he was trying to say. “Let me guess. It’s privately funded?”

  He nodded.

  “Jack and Samantha?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry you found out about the protesters by chance. I wouldn’t want you to find out about the funding the same way.”

  “Thanks,” she said bitterly. She turned to go, despair pitting her stomach, making her legs feel heavy as she dragged her defeated self down the hall. Not only had Slaid forgotten to mention the huge public protest, but her best friend had neglected to tell her that she and her husband were personally funding the opposition’s plan.

  How ironic that the two people who’d pushed her to change, who had convinced her to open her heart to let love in, had stomped on it within days. Tess realized she didn’t care about windmills anymore. She didn’t care about winning. All she wanted to do was get out of Benson as fast as possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  TESS SAT IN her car outside her cottage, willing herself to turn the ignition and get st
arted. Her Jeep was packed and the cottage was closed up.

  She huddled in her teal parka, staring straight ahead down the street toward the football field where she’d had such an incredible date with Slaid. Where she’d felt welcomed so warmly by the people of Benson. Now she knew they’d given her such a warm welcome because they didn’t perceive her as a threat. By that time they’d had their secret meetings, they’d all signed up for solar panels and called in the environmental activists. By then, everyone had known she was here representing a project that was doomed. Everyone had known but her.

  Had they felt sorry for her? Laughed at her? Had Slaid?

  Her new understanding of what Slaid and his city council had planned shed a light on so many puzzling events here in Benson. Why people had been so well behaved and asked so few questions at her informational meetings, for one. She’d egotistically thought that it was due to her thorough presentation and persuasive public-speaking skills. Really, they’d just shown up out of idle curiosity. To check out the woman who was dating the mayor while he worked behind her back to make sure she failed spectacularly. They didn’t have any questions because they already knew the most important answer—there was no way a wind farm would be sited anywhere near Benson.

  Slaid should be thanking her. The wind farm had made him famous. He’d been on every California news channel last night. They’d dubbed him the sunshine mayor, the mayor of Solar City. Not that Benson was a city, but it sounded better than Solar Backwater. Solar Cow Town. Solar microscopic speck on the map that she would never visit again.

  So why wasn’t she leaving? She reached to turn on the ignition, but her hand dropped back in her lap. She was still too shaken up to drive.

  Ed should have airlifted her out of here before that town meeting last night. She’d asked him to, but with his customary lack of imagination he’d told her that the meeting couldn’t possibly go that badly.

  Ha.

  It really hadn’t been much of a meeting. Just chaos. A parade of activists had marched from the proposed wind farm site to the town hall, complete with enormous mangled-bird puppets reminding everyone of the danger that windmills posed to the animals. They had signs saying No Way LA, and You Got Our Water, Hands Off Our Wind. Even Slaid had gotten in the spirit. The literature-loving mayor was mounted on Puck and dressed as Don Quixote, the character from Cervantes’s novel who famously attacked windmills. Puck pranced around while Slaid waved a wooden spear, chasing after a large cardboard windmill built on the back of Betty and Jed’s truck. A teenager, not Devin, thankfully, followed him on a smaller horse—the perfect Sancho Panza.