by Lisa Wingate
“Stop using her as an excuse!” Laura sounded like my mother giving a life lecture. “Lindsey, you know and I know that there’s something special between you and Zach. Collie saw it that first day she caught you two together in the barn. I heard it in your voice when you said his name on the phone. I can feel it in the part of me that knows you. I can feel you happy and alive for the first time in years.” Leaning close, she tried to unclench my arms and take my hand again. “Come on, Lindsey, don’t be so stubborn. Admit it. Collie and I were right—you and Zach are good together. He needed to get back into life; you needed to get back into life. It’s perfect. Stay here awhile and see where it goes.”
I stared out the window, my mind a mass of conflicting desires, swirling like a sea in a storm. Beneath it all there was an undercurrent, a black riptide that swept everything else away. Betrayal. I’d been betrayed by my twin sister, my best friend, even my daughter. I was everybody’s pathetic charity case, who needed to be manipulated for my own good.
“It’s not perfect,” I ground out. “This is so far from perfect, it’s not even in the same time zone. I can’t believe you and Collie would involve Sydney. Good Lord, Laura, what were you thinking?” I didn’t wait for an answer, just kept talking as the whole thing crystallized in my head. “I can’t believe Jocelyn would go along with it. She’s supposed to be a psychologist. And Zach … What did you do to convince him to help with romancing the stone? Or does he do this for every poor, pathetic single mother who comes to horse psychology camp? Is that some weird part of the therapy?”
“It’s not like that.” Laura clenched her hands on top of her head like a runner trying to get oxygen. Clearly this was not going as she’d planned. “Zach didn’t know, and Jocelyn … well … Jocelyn thought Zach needed to find someone, and this was worth a try, that’s all.”
“Nice experiment.” I shook my head, laughing ruefully. “You know what? Take me back to the cabin. I need to pack.”
“Fine.” Yanking the gearshift into drive, Laura stepped on the gas. “Go back home and live in that stupid apartment where you never bother to meet anybody interesting, and work in the basement of the museum, and lock your daughter in a closet so she’ll never be hurt or disappointed. Keep a death grip on your mommyhood, and be lonely, and let time go by, and see how that works for you.”
I winced at the picture of my life. “I have to put Sydney first,” I defended, even though I knew Laura wasn’t buying. “You can’t possibly understand how that is. You’re not a parent.”
Laura exhaled a long breath, her lips tight around the flow of air. “Yes, well, I’m going to be in about eight months, and I hope I’ll remember that to raise a happy child, you have to be happy yourself. Nobody wants to be around someone who’s miserable.”
I didn’t even respond to the news of my sister’s pregnancy, just leaned back against the seat, turned my face out the window, and watched Texas pass by.
When we reached the cabin, I opened the door and slid my feet to the ground. My legs buckled beneath me like wet spaghetti, and I held on to the door for a minute.
Reaching into the backseat, Laura grabbed a yellow sack and handed it to me. “Here are some clothes for Sydney.”
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my hands around the bag. I hovered there, unwilling to end things with Laura and me in a sister-fight. “Could you give Dad a call and tell him Sydney and I are going to come by the farm today? Maybe you and Collie could stop over after the wedding, and we can get some pictures of the girls? I really want to see Bailey before I go back to Colorado.”
“Sure,” Laura muttered, tapping a finger on the gearshift, probably considering switching it into reverse and running me over.
“I’m sorry… .” I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry I can’t take some fairy-tale leap of faith and move to Texas like you did. “I hope Collie has enough material for the horse psychology article. I sent her a couple of e-mails about the class. She can call me if she needs anything more. I’m sorry I couldn’t help her and Gracie find out who stole the dinosaur tracks.” It was so much easier to talk about business than about the things that really mattered. “I was really hoping to help.”
Laura shifted into reverse without looking at me. She was ready to give up and leave, and I was in the way. “Gracie’s working on your tip about the dark truck, and checking into some information Geoff sent in over the Internet. She had some kind of a stakeout going last night. As for the horse psychology article, Collie finished it yesterday. It’s done.”
“It is?” I tried to lead the conversation into more neutral territory. If I could keep Laura talking long enough, things would soften up between us. She would understand why I had to go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She cut a blue-eyed glare my way. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to run back home to your rabbit hole.”
“Oh.” Or maybe she’d never understand why I couldn’t take the risk of falling for Zach. Maybe this was a decision I’d have to make on my own. It was, after all, my life, and I knew what was best for Sydney and me. Laura would have to understand that I loved her, but I couldn’t live my life her way. “Congratulations about the baby. I’m really happy for you.”
Moving her hands to the steering wheel, she glanced in the rearview. “No, you’re not.” The words knocked me back like a slap. “You’re never really happy about anything. And the fact is, Lindsey, you deserve to be happy, but you’re afraid to take a chance.”
I stood silent, my arms hanging limp at my sides. What could I say to that? My sister, who knew me better than I knew myself, had me pegged. Afraid, afraid, afraid. Lindsey, afraid. Afraid of horses, afraid of heights, afraid of screwing up as a parent, afraid of failing in another relationship, afraid of being devastated all over again, afraid of losing control, even a little bit.
Laura let the car roll backward, so that I had to shut the door, then she drove away, giving me up as hopeless.
“She’s right, you know.” Geoff was standing on the path. His reading glasses were hanging at the end of his nose, making him look even more ridiculous in the outdated cowboy outfit. “Just because we fell apart doesn’t mean things can’t be different next time—for either one of us.”
“What would you know about it, Geoff?” I stalked up the sidewalk and past him into the house, barely resisting the temptation to shove him into the flower bed. He was the last, last, last person in the world to be giving relationship advice. “After all, you’re repeating all the same old patterns.”
Geoff followed me into the house, but left the door open, so that a splash of light fell over the desk by the fireplace, where Caroline’s journals and the maps, which had been in the wooden box, were now carefully spread out. I realized Geoff had been reading them. Angrily, I slammed the notebooks shut and crammed them back in the container, then clumsily tried to fold the map. “Leave this stuff alone, Geoff. It isn’t yours.”
“You found something here, Lindsey,” he said flatly, his voice still coming from somewhere near the doorway. “I read—”
“I said, leave it alone!” Frustrated, furious, I threw the map on the table and turned to face him. It was just like Geoff to ignore all the family drama and try to use me to make a big find. He’d read Caroline’s journals, snooped over the map, and probably also my field notes. My computer was open on the desk. No doubt he’d helped himself to those files, too. Over my dead body was he going to go digging around on this ranch. “Just leave it alone. There is nothing here. It’s none of your business.”
Folding his arms over the stupid cowboy shirt, he crooked his index finger and tapped it against his lips. “Come on, Lindsey.” I could tell he knew everything. He knew about Caroline’s dinosaur, and he meant to find it. “It’s right there in black and white. I read it. I read the letter you wrote to Sydney.”
“You had no right to—” Suddenly I realized he wasn’t talking about Caroline’s fossil. “The letter I wrote t
o Sydney? What are you talking about?”
He wheeled a hand toward my computer. “The letter—the one that went on and on about how you’re in love. ‘I catch my breath when he smiles. I’ve got butterflies when he looks at me. Is this the person I really am’—all that stuff.”
“You had no right to read that!” I gasped, hitting the mouse, so that the screen refreshed. My letter was there, back from the abyss of cyberspace, now shining in electronic black and white. “I thought that was gone.”
“Apparently not.” There was laughter in Geoff’s voice. “I assume you didn’t send it to Sydney. I think I would have heard about that.”
Hitting the delete button, I watched the letter disappear, then checked to be sure it was gone for good. Was Geoff accusing me of sinking to his level, of involving Sydney in things that didn’t concern her? “Of course not. I would never send something like that to Sydney. I would never tell her that … that …”
“That you came to Texas and fell in love with a cowboy?” Geoff interpreted.
“No.” I knew he was right. Even though it sounded ridiculous, especially coming from Geoff, dressed up as Howdy Doody, I knew he was right.
Clapping his hands together, he touched the tips of his index fingers to his lips, smiling. “Come on, Lindsey. You can’t con a con artist.” Before I could protest, he raised a finger to silence me, his brown eyes turning soft and crinkling at the corners. “What you decide to do about it is your business, but sitting here reading that, and the old journals, I realized something. I love my wife. When I’m with her, that’s the way I feel—just like you described in the letter, just like in those sappy old journals. And while I was reading it, I thought, What if this is my one chance to be happy, and I let it get away?”
I closed my eyes, feeling all the ice between us melt like a glacier into the sea. When I looked up, our eyes met, really met, for the first time in years. “If you really love Whitney, Geoff, you should go after her. And you shouldn’t wait. You should do it now, before all the resentments build up, like they did between you and me.”
Geoff’s gaze swept back and forth across the floor, his eyes slowly widening. “You’re right. You’re right. I need to go.” Pushing off the door frame, he patted his pants pockets, looking for his keys.
“Geoff, you don’t have a car.”
“That’s right. That’s true.” He paced a few steps into the cabin, then back toward the door. “I need plane tickets, and a ride to the airport, and some real clothes. Not necessarily in that order.”
A horse nickered outside, and both of us glanced up. Geoff peeked through the opening, then went outside. Crossing the room to follow him, I half hoped and half feared it would be Zach.
What if this is my one chance …
“Hey, look at you!” Geoff said as I reached the doorway. He’d already crossed the yard and was standing by the fence, watching Sydney come up the road, mounted on Sleepy. She rode confidently in her pink cowgirl suit, holding the reins with one hand and gesturing and talking with the other. Beside her, mounted on a brown horse, patiently answering her questions and giving instruction, was, much to my surprise, Dan, the grouchy ranch manager. Mr. Grits was trailing behind them, occasionally glancing up as Dan told Sydney about Sleepy.
“But old Sleepy sure enough likes little girls,” Dan said as they stopped in front of us. “You’re a pure ol’ natural cowgirl, Sydney.” Leaning over, he grasped Sleepy’s reins. “Slide on off the way I showed ya, now—with yer belly on the horse. There you go.”
Patting Sleepy on the shoulder, Sydney moved around to the front and pulled his head down to kiss his nose. “Thanks, Sleepy,” she said, then waved at Dan. “Thanks for letting me ride back down here, Mr. Dan, and can you tell Mr. Zach thanks too?”
Dan tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking adoringly at Sydney. He didn’t seem like a fossil thief now. He seemed like somebody’s grandpa. Clearing his throat, he straightened in his saddle and tipped his hat to Geoff and me. “Hope we didn’t hold y’all up. Pop had to cut the fishing trip a little short so there’d be time to ride, and then everyone left to get ready for the weddin’ festivities in town, but Sydney, here, sure enough wanted to ride some more. Nobody’d said when she was supposed to be back, so we just headed this way on horseback. Figured if you come lookin’ for her, we’d run into ya on the road.”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks for letting her ride.” Stepping forward, I slipped a hand into Sleepy’s mane. Memories rushed back like a swelling tide, and I leaned my head against Sleepy’s, my heart aching. “ ’Bye, Sleepy.” With one last look, I started toward the house, trying not to listen as Dan turned the horses around and headed up the road while Sydney blew kisses to Sleepy.
“Hey … wait,” Geoff called, and I glanced back to see him limping after the horses while trying to kick a piece of gravel out of his Moses sandals. “Do you have a vehicle near here somewhere?”
Turning around in the saddle, Dan pushed back his hat and squinted. “Well … back at the barn, I do, yes, sir.”
Geoff pulled out his wallet and started leafing through it. “I’ll pay you anything you want to drive me to an airport. Any airport. Whatever’s closest.”
Bracing both hands on the saddle horn, Dan stretched his neck back and surveyed Geoff critically, then looked at the wallet, softened, and said in a slow Texas drawl, “Well, all right. I reckon I can do that. If you’ll just wait, I’ll come back and git you in the truck in a little while.”
“No. That’s all right,” Geoff rushed, motioning to Sleepy. “Will this thing get me to the truck?”
Dan’s mustache tugged upward on one side and down on the other. “Reckon.”
“All right,” Geoff said, holding up a hand. “Don’t leave. Wait just a minute. I’m coming with you.” Jogging back to us, he kissed me on the cheek, then hugged Sydney, lifting her up and dropping her back on her feet. “You be good,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Be good for your mom. I have to go. I have to go after Whitney now.”
Bracing her hands on her hips, Sydney tilted her head to one side uncertainly. “When are you gonna come back?”
“Soon,” Geoff replied, and for the first time I didn’t doubt that he meant it. “I promise I’ll come see you in Colorado soon. But I said some things to Whitney that weren’t right, and when you say things that hurt somebody, the first thing you need to do is say you’re sorry. Does that make sense?”
“Uh-huh,” Sydney muttered halfheartedly. “After you get back, can you come watch one of my soccer games?”
“Absolutely. I’d love that.” Walking backward toward the horses, he gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry our summer was such a mess. Next time we’ll do better.”
She pressed her lips together thoughtfully, then finally shrugged and said, “OK, Dad. Tell Whitney hi.”
“I will. See you soon.” Blowing her a kiss, he turned and jogged to the horses. He vaulted onto Sleepy’s back with surprising agility, took the reins from Dan, and headed down the path of true love, bouncing along at a trot.
As they disappeared among the live oaks, I felt a stab of loneliness, a sting of jealousy, perhaps, because Geoff had the courage to hop on a horse and chase after a dream, and I didn’t. “Guess we’d better get our things in the car and get going,” I said finally, ushering Sydney and the dog toward the cabin. “It’s time to go.”
No sense putting off the inevitable any longer.
TWENTY-TWO
LEAVING THE JUBILEE RANCH WAS ONE OF THE HARDEST THINGS I’D ever done. As I stopped the car atop the hill and gazed back, I felt a part of myself being ripped away. Ranch Lindsey, and Horse Psychology Lindsey, and In-Love-with-Zach Lindsey were all staying behind. Like characters in a storybook who couldn’t step beyond the pages, they had no place in the real world. It was probably for the best. Their lives were about fixing windmills, and taming wild horses, and climbing goat trails up mountains. They wouldn’t have been happy in the basement of a mus
eum, anyway.
Letting off the brake, I faced forward and allowed the car to drift over the hill. Jubilee Ranch grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, until it was gone completely.
Sniffing, I wiped my eyes, straightened my shoulders, and tried to focus on the drive ahead.
Sydney slanted a glare in my direction from where she was sulking in the passenger seat. She’d been pulling a sullen act for the last half hour because she didn’t want to leave, and because I made the dog ride in the backseat, rather than on the floorboard under her feet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly looking worried. She hated it when she caught me crying, and this last year she’d caught me crying a lot.
“Nothing,” I said as we turned onto the county road and I hit the gas. “I had a good time here, that’s all.”
“We don’t have to go.” Hopeful brown eyes and a big pouty lip. “There’s fun stuff to do here.”
“No, honey, we have to go. We’re going to stop by the farm and see Grandpa Draper, and then we’re headed back to Denver. We have to get home.”
“I don’t go back to school for six more weeks, even.”
Reaching over, I stroked one dark braid and straightened the strap on the new sundress Laura had brought her. We’d folded the cowgirl outfit and left it on the table at the cabin, along with the Big Lizard Bottoms box and a thank-you note.
“We need to get back to our regular routine,” I said, falsely cheerful.
“Why?” Pulling away, Sydney crossed her arms, slouching in the seat. “It’s boring at home, and I have to sit around in summer day care, and you’re just sad all the time.”
The picture of our lives settled in my stomach like a big, black wad of tar, growing larger and heavier as we drove away. “It’ll be different when we get back,” I promised finally. “I’ll take some long weekends and we’ll do things together—go hiking and stuff. Maybe we’ll buy some new mountain bikes.”
