by Jane Graves
Before she could say another word, he left the café. The rain was letting up, but it still dripped from the brim of his hat as he hurried to his truck. He had one last stop to make before leaving town—the real estate office. It was time to find out what he needed to do to get his father’s property sold so once he left this place again, he’d never have to come back. But as he started to get into his truck, compulsion drove him to turn back and look through the window into the café.
Shannon was watching him.
After a moment, she tilted her head and he saw her lips move, forming words he’d never expected to see.
I’m sorry.
For several seconds, Luke couldn’t tear his gaze away. Maybe the rain drizzling down the glass had made him see things that weren’t really there. But if she had said those words, exactly what did they mean? Was she sympathizing?
Or apologizing?
He didn’t care. If it was sympathy, he didn’t need it, and if it was an apology, it was about eleven years too late.
He got into his truck, refusing to look back again as he drove away. Shannon belonged only in his memories, distant ones that were going to stay buried, now and forever.
Chapter 2
Shannon watched through the window as Luke drove away, averting her eyes only when his truck had disappeared from sight. Without thinking, she picked up her menu again, only to realize her hands were sweating. It was as if time had circled around and they were back in high school again, and memories that had faded with time suddenly came into sharp focus.
Even as a teenager, Luke had been tall and imposing, looking older than his years, but now he seemed to command a room just by walking through the door. His swagger had settled into the measured steps of a man who had ceased to live every moment as if he had something to prove. And eleven more years on his already-handsome face only made him that much more attractive. But what was between her and Luke had always been about more than simple attraction.
So much more.
She’d had a connection with him unlike anything she’d felt before, and she trembled with the thought of it now. She tried to tell herself in the years that followed that they’d only been kids, so realistically it couldn’t have meant that much. But no man since had made her feel the way Luke had, as if the sun rose and set only because she lived and breathed. He accepted everything she was and asked for nothing more, and for a few precious weeks during that long, hot summer, he’d made her feel warm and cherished in a way she never had before.
Then came the night that changed everything—the night that drove Luke from Rainbow Valley and left Shannon with a feeling of guilt and regret she’d never been able to shake.
Rita hobbled to the booth and sat down across from her. Shannon picked up her menu again, trying to get a grip.
“Storm came on fast, didn’t it?” Shannon said, still having a hard time breathing. And her heart—good Lord, how fast could it beat before she passed out?
“Sure did.”
“But the heavy rain didn’t last more than a few minutes. It’s going to take more than that to break this drought.”
“Yeah. It will.”
“A drought in Rainbow Valley,” Shannon said, hoping her voice wasn’t quavering. “When’s the last time that happened?”
“I don’t remember.”
“The back pasture is dry as dust. If we don’t get more rain soon—”
“Are you actually going to act as if you didn’t just see Luke Dawson?”
Shannon closed the menu, letting out a deep breath of resignation. Just seeing him had stunned her. She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if he’d come over. Would she have been able to stop herself from reaching out to touch him, just to convince herself it really was Luke?
And what would he have done if she had?
“I conveyed your condolences,” Rita said. “He wondered why you didn’t offer them in person.”
Luke hadn’t announced the service, but everybody in town knew when it was going to be anyway, including her. She’d fought with herself for days, trying to decide whether to go or not. But after what had happened between them, she just couldn’t bear the thought of facing him again.
“I just thought it was best if I didn’t,” Shannon said. “Who else showed up?”
“It was just me and Father Andrews.”
Shannon closed her eyes, an unexpected tremor of sadness passing through her. No matter what had happened between them, she still hated the idea of Luke standing at his father’s graveside, feeling as alone now as he had back then. But would it have helped for her to be there? Or would it have just dredged up feelings that were better off staying where they were?
“So where is he heading now?” Shannon asked.
“To a rodeo in Phoenix. Did you know he’s going to be competing in the World Championship bull riding competition in November?”
Shannon blinked. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“Yep. And he swears he’s going to win.”
Shannon couldn’t believe it. Luke Dawson? A bull riding champion? Then again, what did that take? Just a tremendous amount of physical ability, and Luke had never been lacking in that.
Shannon sighed. “Maybe I should have gone to the funeral.”
Rita thought about that for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s best just to let sleeping dogs lie.” She peered under the table at Goliath, who was still trembling. “Speaking of dogs, how’s this one doing?”
“Better. He can finally look at his own shadow without quivering, but thunder still scares him.”
Somebody had found him and dropped him off at the shelter several months ago, shivering and starving. Shannon didn’t know exactly what he’d been through, but his fear of sudden movements and loud noises gave her a pretty good idea. But if he’d been healthy and well-adjusted, he wouldn’t have landed on her doorstep in the first place.
“I thought if I called him Goliath, maybe he’d live up to the name,” Shannon said. “But so far, no. He’s such a sweet dog, though. He’ll come around.”
Bobbie came around to take their order. Rita went for her usual BLT, but Shannon decided to try Rosie’s new avocado and bacon burger. In Rainbow Valley, change came around about as often as Halley’s Comet, so she embraced it whenever she could.
“So how are things going with you and Russell?” Rita said. “I see you around town together every once in a while.”
“Good. We’re taking things slow.”
“Slow? Whose choice was that?”
“It’s mutual.”
“Mutual?” Rita made a scoffing noise. “I saw you having coffee a week ago. You might be taking it slow, but Russell wishes he already had a ring on your finger.”
Shannon slumped with frustration. “What in the world makes you say that?”
“Well, let’s just say you spent the whole time admiring the pretty foam pattern in your latte, and he spent the whole time admiring you.”
That was probably true. Sometimes she didn’t get why Russell was so interested in her when he could have just about any woman in town. As soon as he’d moved to Rainbow Valley and set up his dental practice, every woman of marriageable age had suddenly decided they’d put off that filling or crown long enough and it was time to get it fixed. But Russell had looked past all of them. Instead, he came to the shelter to adopt a cat and ended up asking Shannon out. They’d dated on and off since, though it was clear to Shannon that Russell would prefer it to be more on than off.
Shannon sighed. “I’m just not ready for the kind of relationship he is.”
“Then for God’s sake, stick to your guns. Don’t get roped into marriage if it’s not what you want.”
And if there was ever an expert on not getting married, it was Rita. She’d had three proposals over the years, and every time she’d made a list of pros and cons. When the cons won by a landslide, she’d continued to embrace single womanhood. Shannon had the feeling sometimes that she
was destined to be like Rita in more ways than one.
“So how are things at the shelter?” Rita asked. “It’s been a little while since I’ve been out there.”
“About the same. It always feels as if we’re one minor disaster away from closing the doors.”
“Sorry. That’s the name of the game when you’re dependent on donations and fund-raisers. That Texas Monthly article about the shelter came out last week. What happened with that?”
“Our phone rang off the hook.”
“Good! Lots of donations?”
“Nope. Lots of people with homeless animals they wanted to bring us.”
Rita sighed. “That’s the problem with PR. Sometimes you get the wrong result.”
“They tell us how wonderful we are, and that’s really nice, but it doesn’t put food in bowls and buckets.”
“Sometimes you have to say no.”
“I have a hard time doing that.”
“If you don’t, the place will eventually go under. And then you won’t be able to help any of them.”
Shannon knew Rita was right. But if she didn’t take some of these animals in, nobody else was going to. Every time somebody came in looking for an animal to adopt, she was tempted to say, Great! I have a dog with three legs, two bad-tempered cats, and a llama with a spitting issue. Which one would you like?
“How’s the hunt going for a new caretaker?” Rita asked.
Shannon sighed. “Not good. I hired a guy last week I thought was going to work out. Unfortunately, he didn’t bother to mention his drug problem.”
“Any other candidates?”
“Not for the salary I can pay.”
“But it includes living accommodations.”
“A room with a twin bed, a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a tiny bathroom. Not exactly the Ritz-Carlton.” She sighed. “It makes me really nervous if I don’t have somebody there around the clock. We always have animals recovering from all kinds of things. They need more attention than they’re getting.”
“Which means you’re staying late and working yourself silly. Why don’t you hire a couple more high school kids? At least they can take up the slack with the routine stuff.”
“I tried that. Except for Angela, most of the part-time kids I’ve hired just want to pet the puppies. Freddie Jo is helping out, but it’s not her job to clean out dog kennels. I need her in the front office. The volunteers help, but they come and go.”
“Somebody will come along.”
Shannon hoped so. As much as she loved the shelter, the twelve-hour days were about to finish her off.
Rita eyed her carefully. “Are you sorry you came back to Rainbow Valley?”
“What? Sorry?” Shannon shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You had a good career. Sometimes I feel guilty luring you back here.”
“Luring me at the salary I’m making?” Shannon smiled. “Sorry, Rita. But that wasn’t much of a lure.”
“I know. You don’t give a damn about the money. The lure was telling you the animals needed you. Because of that, you gave up a career you worked really hard to have.”
“If I hadn’t wanted to come back here, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me. Even crazy, dysfunctional, unadoptable ones.” She smiled. “And don’t worry. I’m going to keep that place running if it kills me.”
“You and Luke,” Rita said. “You’re more alike than you realize.”
Shannon’s heart jumped when Rita mentioned his name again. “Come on, Rita. You know there are no two people on the planet more different from each other than Luke and I.”
“I used to think maybe that was true. Not so much anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once you get your teeth into something, you don’t let go till it thunders.”
“And how does Luke fit that description?”
“He’s on the verge of winning the World Championship bull riding competition. You don’t get there by showing up only when you feel like it. You get there by wanting it so badly there’s nothing you won’t do to get it.”
Shannon hadn’t considered that. Maybe it was more than physical ability that got a man to the top of the rodeo world, which meant that maybe there was more these days to Luke Dawson than she ever could have imagined.
It didn’t matter, though. Now that his father was gone, Luke’s last tie to Rainbow Valley had been severed, so she couldn’t imagine him ever coming back. A few minutes ago, they’d looked right at each other, and still he’d turned around and walked out the door. That told her everything she needed to know. No matter what they’d meant to each other all those years ago, some hurts were just too great to overcome. He’d once held her heart in the palm of his hand, and when he left, he took a piece of it with him—a piece she’d never gotten back. Now she knew for sure she never would.
Thirty minutes later, Luke left the real estate office, wishing he’d gotten better news about selling his father’s property. The agent told him the market was depressed everywhere, not to mention the fact that the remnants of a sixty-year-old gas station were on the property. In order to sell it, Luke would have to pay a hefty sum to have the old underground gas storage tanks removed so the area could be environmentally certified. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford the tens of thousands of dollars that would cost, so for now, he was stuck with the property.
The real estate agent suggested he take out a short-term loan to have the work done. As much as Luke wanted to say good-bye to that property for good, he had no intention of taking out a loan for anything. The day he’d left town, he’d made a promise to himself that he would never owe another man money. Never get so swallowed by debt that he had no options in life. Never put himself in a position where he had to avoid answering his phone because there were creditors on the other end who knew he was a deadbeat.
In other words, he was going to be a better man than his father.
He thanked the agent for his time and left the office. As he crossed the square to return to his truck, he passed the brass statue of Mildred Danforth, the founder of Rainbow Valley, which stood next to a large fountain. Beside it, printed on embossed paper beneath waterproof glass, was the Legend of the Rainbow Bridge. When Luke had lived there before, he remembered thinking the legend was just about the biggest bunch of crap he’d ever heard. As he read it again now, he didn’t find his opinion changing any:
In 1952, Mildred Danforth deeded hundreds of acres on which to build the town of Rainbow Valley, with one provision: the town could be built on the hillside, but the valley portion of the acreage would be preserved in an untouched state forever. An animal lover with pets of all kinds, Mildred believed the valley was a spirit world tied to earth, inhabited by beloved pets that had passed to the other side. With all earthly age and disease erased, they wait in this transitional paradise for their human companions to join them. After a joyful reunion, together they cross the Rainbow Bridge to heaven.
Mildred really had donated the land for Rainbow Valley. And she really did believe the valley was a spirit world full of pets that had passed on. The only thing left out of the legend was that Mildred Danforth was clearly nuts.
Luke shook his head. Was there anybody else who actually bought that nonsense?
Yes. They were called tourists. And they flocked to Rainbow Valley every year, particularly for the Festival of the Animals, which came complete with an animal costume contest, a blessing of the animals, and a trip to the Rainbow Valley Lookout, a stunning view of the valley where the spirits of all the pets that had passed on were supposedly waiting to cross the Rainbow Bridge. Then those tourists came back to town, bought a bulldog T-shirt and a Puppy Power tote bag, and called it a day.
Hey, anything for a buck.
Luke got back into his truck, and as he drove, a light sprinkling of rain intermittently pattered his windshield. But by the time he approached the city limits, it had stopped completely. He drove along the ribbon of highway carved into the hillside,
surprised at how much he remembered about this place he’d wanted so much to forget. The memory of every curve unfolded in his mind seconds before he reached it, like a song he would never have remembered unless it started to play. When he’d driven this road as a teenager, he’d been behind the wheel of a rust and blue 1986 Mustang he’d held together with sweat and duct tape, smoking a Marlboro and dreaming of the day he’d never have to return there again.
He checked his watch. It was nearly noon. If he pushed hard, he could make it to Las Cruces tonight and drive the rest of the way to Phoenix tomorrow. That would put him in a day ahead so he could rest up before competing.
He swung his truck around a gentle curve, and the Pic ’N Go came into view. It was the same beige brick building trimmed in green and red with two gas pumps out front. Signs in the window included an ad for foot-long hot dogs and a multicolored poster advertising the Festival of the Animals.
He drove on, and soon he saw the entrance to the Rainbow Valley Animal Shelter. Animals lucky enough to end up there got a whole new life. When he was younger, he’d fantasized about a place where a kid like him could go for a second chance, too. Then he got older and realized that second chances for people like him came only with their own blood and sweat.
Forget all that. Past history. Keep on driving.
Then a twinge of foreboding ran along the back of Luke’s neck. If he was passing the shelter, it meant he was only a short distance from the gravel road that led to his father’s house.
Seconds later, he saw the property. The rickety metal gate hung open, and the rusted-out mailbox sat on the same wobbly four-by-four it had over a decade ago. A dilapidated barbed wire fence surrounded the acreage, its posts encircled by tall, thick-bladed Johnson grass.
He found himself pulling to the shoulder of the road. A crumbling concrete pad was the only thing left from the gas station that had been torn down decades ago. He stared down the long gravel road, trying for a distant glimpse of the house, but the overgrown foliage blocked it.
Was it really as bad as he remembered?
He didn’t know. Maybe he’d elevated the wretchedness of it in his memory, letting it run rampant in his nightmares and allowing it to have far more power over him than he ever should have.
