Caribou Crossing

by Susan Fox

  But no, that was all in the past. She’d walked around under a cloud for too long, and now the sun was peeping through. Miriam felt like a frozen stream thawing after a long, cold winter.

  Maybe it was time to go back to her job at the vet’s office, to set up regular lunches with her girlfriends, to buy some new clothes. Perhaps she could even work on Wade to take her and Jessica to Hawaii over the Christmas holiday.

  Shania was singing that any man of hers would be a breathtakin’, earthquakin’ kind of guy. Yes, that was exactly how Miriam had always felt about Wade.

  Tonight, she wasn’t going to take a sleeping pill, and she was going to hug her husband in bed and see where things went from there.

  She put the meat loaf in the oven, then chopped up the potatoes the kids had peeled, and put them in a pot of cold water. When Jessica begged permission to go see Rascal, Miriam laughed. “Nice try. You know the rule. Homework first. Right, Evan?” She cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

  “We’ll do it, Mrs. Bly. Come on, Jess, the sooner we commence, the sooner we consummate.”

  Miriam choked back a laugh. Should she tell Evan to read all the meanings of that word in his dictionary? No, she wasn’t about to raise the subject of sex with an eight-year-old, no matter how advanced he was.

  “I swear, Ev,” Jessica said, “I don’t know what you’re saying half the time.”

  Thank heavens!

  Miriam went upstairs to take a leisurely shower, shave her legs, and apply the apple-scented body lotion Wade had always loved. She donned a denim skirt and a figure-hugging coral tee, brushed her hair until it fell in shiny waves, and applied glistening coral lip gloss. Oh yes, there’d be some consummating going on in this house, after Jessica went to sleep.

  When she returned to the kitchen, the enticing aroma of meat loaf filled the air and the kids were working diligently at their books. She went out to the garden to pick tomatoes and a cauliflower, and by the time she’d washed them, Jessica and Evan had finished their homework. “Okay,” she told them, “you can go out and play.”

  A few minutes later, Miriam was grating cheddar to melt on top of the cauliflower when she heard the outside door. She put down the cheese grater as the mudroom door opened and Wade stepped through. It was like she saw him clearly for the first time in ages. He was a hunk, her tall, strong cowboy in well-faded denim jeans, an even paler denim shirt worn open at the neck, and a dark brown Resistol cowboy hat set atop shaggy chestnut hair. He’d lost weight, though, and looked tired.

  Love, a warm, poignant feeling that contained tenderness, lust, and appreciation, filled her. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said softly, going to give him a big hug and a firm kiss.

  “Hey.” He gave her a perfunctory squeeze, then stepped past her. “Gonna grab a shower.”

  Miriam sighed. That wasn’t the reception she’d hoped for, but he’d no doubt had a long, hard day. He’d feel better after a shower, and even better when he saw dinner on the table. He’d always loved her meat loaf.

  She put the potatoes on to boil, cut up the cauliflower to steam, and sliced the tomatoes. When the potatoes were ready to mash, she called the kids in.

  Wade—who’d taken a really long time with that shower—came back and they all sat down together. Evan and Jessica raved about the food, and Miriam enjoyed every bite herself. Wade, though, shoveled it in mechanically as if he didn’t notice or care what he was eating. When she tried to make conversation, he seemed to be off in his own world and sometimes didn’t respond.

  It dawned on her that this must have been what it had been like for him, all these months he’d lived with her depression. Was he just tired and distracted, or was something wrong?

  When dinner was finished and the kitchen tidied, Wade said, “Why don’t you kids go play upstairs until it’s time to take Evan home?”

  When the two children left, he turned to Miriam and said heavily, “We need to talk.”

  Anxiety fluttered uncomfortably in her full tummy as they settled back at the kitchen table in their usual chairs across from each other. “What’s wrong, Wade?” She reached over to rest her hand on his bare forearm. How warm and strong he felt, and how long it had been since she’d appreciated that. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out, sweetheart.”

  “It’s my fault.” He pulled his arm away, rested his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. “I messed up,” he said from behind his hands.

  “Messed up how?” she asked cautiously. Wade never messed up. He was such a capable guy.

  He lowered his hands and gazed at her, his face bleak. “We’re caught up now but I missed two mortgage payments.”

  “What? You missed mortgage payments?” She shook her head disbelievingly. “How on earth did that happen? Did you forget to mail the checks?”

  A hard swallow rippled his Adam’s apple. “There was no money in the business account to write checks on.”

  Stunned, she gaped at him, then asked, “Where did it go?”

  He gave a ragged laugh. “It went on life. Ranch expenses, food, electricity, gas for the car and truck, my impacted wisdom tooth. I’ve been selling livestock, trying to cover expenses, but I’m way behind on the bills. Taking the cattle to auction will carry us through for a few more months, but the bottom line is, there just isn’t enough coming in.”

  What? She hadn’t had a clue about any of this. “But . . . why? I mean, the ranch is supposed to make money.” She’d never gotten far enough into the bookkeeping to understand the ranch’s finances. “It always made money for your parents, right?”

  “It did okay. Ranching’s a tough business and there were some lean years, but they always managed.”

  “Then what’s changed?” None of this made sense to her. Were they going to lose the ranch? No, that was impossible. She just wasn’t understanding.

  “What’s changed?” he repeated, his voice grating. “We’ve got that damned mortgage. And, well, it’s not Pa in charge anymore. It’s me.”

  The mortgage. Yes, she knew it meant they had to be careful with money. But what did he mean about him being in charge? Frowning in puzzlement, she said, “But you know the ranch. You’ve always worked here. Aren’t you doing the same things your father did?”

  “I think so.”

  She tried to work this through. “Didn’t you phone him and ask?”

  Wade flattened his hands on the table and used them to thrust himself to his feet. He paced across the kitchen. With his back to her, he said, “I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to ask for help like some little kid.”

  She stared at his oh-so-familiar back. Wade was independent. Proud. She’d always known that. But now she realized he was insecure, and too mule-headed to get past it and ask for help. A bubble of anger churned in her tummy. Because of his stupid pride, he’d put them at risk of losing their home. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” she demanded, voice shrill.

  He spun around. “Because you were so damned out of it, Miriam. You were so depressed, so unfocused. You could barely keep up with the house and Jessie, you didn’t go back to your job, you’d given up on the bookkeeping, you just—”

  “You’re saying it’s my fault?” She sprang to her feet, disbelieving and furious. “I lost my baby, Wade! I lost my uterus!” And maybe that was her fault, too, a guilt she’d live with for the rest of her life.

  “I lost my baby, too. And all the other babies we might have had.”

  “But you handled it. You went back to work like it didn’t even matter!” She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d resented that. How alone she’d felt in her grief.

  “It mattered. Jesus, Miriam, it shattered something inside me.”

  “It did? But you never said anything.” And that hurt; he’d shut her out.

  “You were sad enough without me dumping my sorrows on you. Besides, there was work to do. I guess my way of handling things was to keep busy.”

  Her anger faded as the truth sank
home. Wade had grieved, too, and hadn’t been able to come to her. Quietly, she admitted, “And my way was to fall apart. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Aw, honey.” He crossed the kitchen and caught her hands in his. His rich chocolate eyes were anguished.

  His grief, their financial troubles, he’d had to deal with everything by himself. If she hadn’t abandoned the bookkeeping, she’d have known their situation all along. If she’d gone back to her part-time job, they’d have had more income. Guilt put a sour taste in her mouth. “I should have helped more.”

  “We both did the best we could.”

  That was generous of him, but had she? Yes, she’d told herself she was too depressed and tired to deal with those things, but if she’d known the truth, maybe she’d have somehow found the energy to help. “I feel so bad that you couldn’t tell me because you thought I couldn’t handle it.”

  “Well”—he swallowed—“it was also that I felt, you know, inadequate. Like I was letting you down.”

  Those words sank in slowly, penetrating her guilt. She frowned. “So, because of your pride, you went ahead and missed two mortgage payments without telling me? We’re supposed to be partners, aren’t we?” She tugged her hands free and rubbed her head, which had begun to ache. Maybe she’d have been a better partner if he’d treated her like one.

  Another bubble—no, more of a knot—of anger was growing, but she fought it down. “Why tonight? Why are you telling me now, if you got the mortgage caught up?”

  “Because the bank manager told me I had to.”

  “You saw the bank manager?”

  “This afternoon. She said no one wants us to lose the ranch, but defaulting on the mortgage was a red flag and she wanted to discuss it.”

  Miriam shook her head. She, a banker’s daughter, had defaulted on her mortgage. If her dad found out, he’d be shocked and disappointed. Laying blame on Wade or herself was pointless now; there was only one thing that mattered. “We have to make sure it never happens again.”

  “Exactly. The manager said”—he scowled—“she said I’m in over my head, trying to run the ranch. She said, if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.”

  “Makes sense. So what do we do?”

  “She said I had to discuss it with you, and—”

  “She’s right about that,” she interrupted. How could he have let things go this far without telling her? “What else?”

  “We have to ask for help,” he added grudgingly.

  Help? “A loan? My parents might give us a loan.”

  “Uh-uh. More debt isn’t the answer.”

  “I guess you’re right. What kind of help then?”

  “Advice on ranching from Pa and other ranchers. Your dad could help us work out a budget. The bank manager said we need a solid business plan. She’s right. We have to figure out a way to keep paying the mortgage, or else they’ll foreclose.”

  “Foreclose,” she echoed. Such a nasty, technical word for losing your home.

  “We can’t lose Bly Ranch,” he said. “We have to find a way of keeping it.”

  “We can’t lose our home,” she agreed, though the work involved in keeping it sounded overwhelming and unbelievably stressful. A year ago, life had been so easy.

  Wait a minute . . . what did home mean? It was the place where husband, wife, and daughter lived, laughed together, and loved each other. They’d had that last year, before the move. Bly Ranch was . . . vast acreage, more than a hundred cattle, a bunch of horses.

  Responsibilities. Huge ones. And debt.

  She and Wade weren’t even thirty yet. Their friends were building careers, falling in love, having fun. They weren’t faltering under a crushing load of debt and the intimidating challenge of finding some way of turning things around. Even her parents, who both had careers, worked regular workweeks; they didn’t slave away every evening and weekend.

  She gazed up at her husband, noting the lines of tiredness and strain carved into his handsome face. Where was the lighthearted, romantic guy she used to dance with at the Lucky Strike? She thought back to their wedding night and all the dreams they’d shared, the bright future they’d envisioned. Things had gone so badly off course this past year, and some dreams—their four children—were lost forever. Maybe this was the time to abandon another dream—Bly Ranch—and envision a different future.

  “What if we don’t?” she asked tentatively.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t try to keep it. What if we let it go?” She speeded up as she went along, and it felt like another weight was lifting from her shoulders. “We could sell, see if we can get out with at least some of the money we put in. Start fresh.”

  Fresh. That word opened up so many possibilities, new dreams that could heal their wounds, weave their family tighter together, bring back the joy in their lives.

  Chapter 13

  Wade gaped down at his wife as she gazed up at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Had she lost her mind? “You can’t mean that.”

  “Maybe it’s too much for us. We can’t handle it. All this responsibility and worry . . . We’re not even thirty, Wade.”

  “But you love the ranch. Don’t you, Miriam?”

  “I don’t know.” Expression troubled, she said, “I did, but Wade, it’s too much for us.”

  “It’s our home.” The home they were building together. Yes, losing the baby had been a big setback, and so was the financial trouble, but they’d get back on track. She couldn’t lose faith in that. Faith in him.

  Miriam shook her head. “Home is wherever we make it. We could get a small house in town, just like we planned a year ago.”

  “But we talked about this when Mom and Dad decided to move. You agreed.” He scowled at her. “I’m not a quitter, and I didn’t think you were either.”

  “A quitter?” She came to her feet, took a couple of steps away, then turned back to face him. “It’s not quitting to realize you’ve made a mistake. When we decided to buy the ranch, we didn’t know how hard it would be.”

  “This isn’t a mistake.” The words ground out as pressure throbbed at his temples. “We just have to work harder. If you did the bookkeeping and went back to work at the vet’s, that’d be a big help, and—”

  “I know, I know. I should have done those things, but you didn’t tell me we were in trouble.”

  “I figured you’d get back to them as soon as you could.”

  “Look, I know you were trying to be considerate, but you can’t just keep secrets from me.”

  “Keep secrets? You were in no shape to hear the truth.” His voice had risen along with his temper.

  “So now it’s all my fault?” Her eyes flashed.

  “I’m not saying that! Damn it, Miriam. We both have to work harder.”

  “Wade, you already work from before dawn until late at night. Every day. Seven days a week. You have no life except for work!”

  He dragged his hands through his hair. “Work smarter then. Whatever it takes.” His parents had given them half of this ranch. He couldn’t lose it. Didn’t she understand how important Bly Ranch was to him and his family? Wasn’t she part of this family?

  “Whatever it takes? No!” Hands fisted on her hips, she glared at him. “Don’t be so stubborn! Sometimes it’s better to just admit you were wrong and move on.”

  “Wrong? I’m not wrong.”

  “Ooh! I don’t even know you. You’re not the man I married!”

  “Well, this marriage sure isn’t what I thought it would be.” When he married Miriam, he never could have imagined they’d be fighting like this.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I thought that we were partners. That you’d stand by me.”

  “I would if what you were doing was reasonable, but it’s not!”

  They glared at each other across several feet of kitchen floor. For months Wade had wished that his wife was present, that they could have a real
conversation. Well, she was dang well present now, and pissing him right off.

  “Mommy? Pa?” Jessie’s quavering voice made him spin on his heel to see her in the kitchen doorway, tears streaming down her face.

  “Jessica,” Miriam started, and then their daughter was running toward her, yelling, “We can’t lose the ranch! You can’t get divorced!”

  Divorced? The word was a slap in the face, a shock icier than the first plunge into Zephyr Lake each spring.

  “Divorced?” Miriam echoed the word disbelievingly as she gathered their sobbing daughter in her arms and they both sank to the kitchen floor. Over the top of Jessie’s head, Wade’s wife’s agonized gaze settled on his face. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

  He strode over and dropped down on his knees to wrap his arms around the two of them. Oh God, he loved them so much. He’d only wanted to look after them, yet he’d hurt them so deeply.

  Forcing words past a lump in his throat, he said hoarsely, “We’re not getting divorced, Jessie-girl. I love you and your mom more than”—he struggled to find words to convey the truth—“more than life itself.”

  More than Bly Ranch, he realized.

  And that was what Miriam had been trying to make him realize.

  Their daughter raised a wet, blotchy face to focus on him, like she was wondering whether to believe him.

  Miriam drew a quavery breath, but smiled through her tears. “And that’s exactly the way I love both of you. I’m sorry we were yelling, honey.”

  “We h-heard you from upstairs,” their daughter said, her words punctuated by a hiccupy sob. “Evan s-said parents fight all the time, and we should stay in my room. But you guys d-don’t fight. So I came down and then I h-heard you saying those things.”

  “Stupid things,” Miriam said firmly. “Sometimes when people are upset, they say stupid things they don’t really mean.”

  “We’re really sorry,” Wade said, giving them another hug, then slowly easing his death grip on his family and standing up.

  Then he noticed Evan hovering in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.