“Why’s that?” he asked.
She eyed him for a moment. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Could I before?” he asked jokingly.
“Like a vault,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Then I probably can,” he replied. “What’s going on?”
“My brother’s girlfriend is pregnant.”
“Pregnant!” Sawyer raised his eyebrows. “Wow. So...is this good news?”
“Yes,” she said with a decisive nod. “I mean, obviously, it wasn’t the order he’d wanted to do things, but a baby is always good news. And Shari really seems nice. He’s smitten.”
“Great. So, what’s next for him, then?”
“A wedding, I hope,” she replied. “At least that’s what I’m encouraging him to do. But it’s a bit complicated. He doesn’t have a lot of extra money, and she’s got her heart set on a dream wedding. There isn’t a lot of time to save up. Her parents might offer to cover it but he doesn’t want to be the guy who sailed through on someone else’s dime. It’s a matter of pride.”
“Yeah, I could see that,” he replied. Even without his memory, he could understand wanting to avoid that. A man had to be able to look himself in the mirror, after all. Independence mattered—something that was chafing at him now that he was functioning without his memory.
“Did I let Mia’s parents pay for my wedding?” he asked hesitantly.
“No, you and Mia had a really modest event. And her parents weren’t at your wedding,” Olivia said, and her gaze flickered toward him hesitantly. There was more to that—he could tell.
“Why?” he asked.
“Uh—” She sighed. “They hadn’t exactly given their blessing.”
“I wasn’t good enough?” he asked, and Olivia’s cheeks colored. So that was it. “What was wrong with me?”
“Back then, it was less about you personally and more about their hopes for her future. They were climbing and they wanted their daughter to marry up, so to speak.”
“So it was a money thing?” he asked, the words tasting sour in his mouth.
“More or less,” Olivia replied with a sigh. “But they’ve changed now. They aren’t the same.”
“It probably doesn’t matter too much since I haven’t seen them around. Where are they?”
“Billings...and DC. They travel between the two. He’s a senator.”
So, he’d married a senator’s daughter... He wouldn’t have guessed that. Sawyer sifted through these new details, looking for some memories to attach them to. There wasn’t anything.
“Do I ever see them?” he asked.
“Not since the funeral, no.” Her words were cautious.
“Olivia, just tell me what happened!” he said, exasperated. “I can’t play Twenty Questions with you. I don’t know what to ask.”
She looked over at him, then sighed. “You and Mia fell in love. Her parents wanted her to marry another up-and-coming politician who was sweet on Mia, but she’d chosen you. They refused to go to the wedding, and it was stony silence after that.”
“But they were at the funeral.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “They had only found out about your daughters when Mia passed away. They hadn’t even known she was pregnant. They were really upset. They thought that if they’d at least known, they could have provided access to better doctors, and all that. They thought maybe she would have survived the birth... It wasn’t fair of them to say that, but tensions were running high and everyone was very emotional. They’d lost their only child, remember. They were wrecks. You were furious—understandably. They left again, and you haven’t spoken to them since.”
Her words hit him in the gut—they thought Mia might have survived if they’d been able to help...
“Were they right?” he asked. “If they’d been able to provide better doctors...”
“No,” Olivia said quickly. “She was at the hospital. She had quality doctors. It wasn’t that. They know that, too. They just overreacted in the heat of the moment. But you didn’t talk to me about it much.”
“Because we were still distant with each other.”
“And because I was...close with them.” Color tinged her cheeks.
“So you chose them...”
“No, but they were my best friend’s parents! I knew them. We were all grieving for her. And you didn’t understand my relationship with them. So...you and I drifted apart for more than one reason.”
So in essence, yes, when pushed, she’d chosen them. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this right now. He looked over at Olivia, and she gave him an agonized look.
“That’s why, when you didn’t recognize me, I thought maybe you were just punishing me still,” she said. “There never should have been sides to begin with. You were all a family.”
Sawyer didn’t answer. Whatever had happened back then sounded painful. He hadn’t thought to question where Mia’s family had been in his life—at least not until now. So they’d rejected both him and Mia, because he hadn’t been up to par. That stung, even now. What he did know about himself was that he’d worked hard. He was told he’d been honest and loyal. Hadn’t any of that mattered?
“Does any of this sound familiar at all?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t remember it.”
“Okay...”
She was waiting for something from him, and he rolled this new information over in his mind, wondering if it changed anything. He didn’t have many memories of their past relationship to go on besides wanting to hug her in the street, but her compassion, her patience, her kindness, had all made a huge difference for him over the last couple of days. He felt like he knew her well enough to trust her intentions, at the very least.
“Look, I think I understand,” he said after a moment. “It was complicated, and you were doing your best. I guess you were kind of stuck in the middle. But you’re here now, and I really appreciate it. So...let’s just leave it at that.”
“Sure.” She nodded. “And I want you to know that our friendship does mean a lot to me. I care.”
Whatever had been between them before—that spark that had begun their friendship—was still there. And he could see why they’d gravitated toward each other to begin with. She meant something to him, too. Again.
“I am on your side,” she added. “I always have been, even when it was complicated.”
“I think I know that,” he replied gruffly. He wasn’t sure what else to say, how to encompass these softer feelings in words.
“Good.” She smiled. “Just for the record, I guess.”
He leaned back, stretching his arm out straight to rest the heel of his hand on top of the steering wheel. Lloyd seemed to have finished up his conversation because the woman smiled at him and headed off toward another vehicle. Lloyd looked in her direction for a moment, then glanced uncomfortably back at Sawyer in the truck.
Sawyer lifted two fingers in a salute, and Lloyd’s face turned pink. Sawyer couldn’t help but chuckle as Lloyd got into his own truck and started the engine.
Sawyer was glad that Olivia was here. Like following Lloyd in that pickup truck ahead of him along these back roads, Olivia was helping him navigate his way back home again. As much as he wanted to be able to do this on his own, he couldn’t. He needed help, and he was glad help had shown up in the form of this old friend.
“So, you’re going to be an aunt,” he said with a small smile, starting the truck.
“I’m going to be an aunt.” She smiled back, and it was more relaxed this time.
It seemed that God had provided for him before he even knew what to ask. Maybe in some small way, He’d provided for both of them. Because Sawyer wanted to help her. Even if that was just sitting there and listening when she needed to talk.
Chapter Six
Sawyer sat at the kitche
n table the next morning, his Bible in front of him and his gaze locked on the side door. He was frustrated. He had no memory of how to do the work that used to occupy him, but his muscles seemed to remember having done something other than this easy-paced recovery. And he was itching to exert himself. In fact, he was eager to get out there and actually work. It would come back to him—other memories had been resurfacing. Why not his job?
This was what he had—his hard work. That was one thing he’d heard over and over again—and he could see the evidence on his calloused hands. He might not have been half-good enough for a lot of women, but at least he’d been a hard worker. There was a lot of stuff outside of a man’s control, but his work ethic wasn’t one of those. He could choose how hard he worked—and that could define a man.
So being stuck in the house with his little girls was grating on him—as awful as that sounded. He loved them already, and he could remember a few little details about them now, like the way their newborn hair had swirled. He couldn’t remember anything else about those early days, but he remembered the tops of their heads. So this wasn’t about not loving his girls, it was about something deeper—his own need to put his muscles into some good, hard work, and loosen himself up again.
Lloyd’s footsteps sounded on the steps outside, and the door opened. The older man came inside, pulled off his hat and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“Another twelve calves since last night,” he announced. “And one had triplets.”
“Yeah?”
“Rare—it doesn’t happen too often. All three survived, too. The smaller two will have to be bottle-fed, but the bigger one is feeding fine.”
Sawyer nodded, then rose to his feet. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Lloyd pulled off his boots, then headed for the sink.
“Did you get my text?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah. My answer is no.”
Sawyer heaved a sigh. “It’ll come back to me, Lloyd. I know it.”
“You’ve had a head injury,” his uncle retorted. “We’ve been over this! I mean...” His uncle faltered and looked at him over his shoulder. “Do you remember us discussing that?”
“Yes, I remember it,” Sawyer said irritably. “I’m antsy. I need to do something.”
His uncle washed his hands, silent through the process, then grabbed a towel and slowly turned.
“You’ve got a real chance here to start over,” Lloyd said slowly.
“A chance?” he said with a short laugh. “I have no other choice. That’s what I’m trying to do—get back to where I was before.”
“But you’ve got a chance to do things differently. We don’t all get that.”
Sawyer eyed his uncle uncertainly. “Like, how differently? From what I can figure, I worked hard and I did a good job. That’s what you told me, isn’t it?”
“Yep, that’s true.”
“So why would I want to change? Let me learn that again. I feel like a coiled spring. I’m going nuts here.”
Lloyd regarded him for a moment, hesitating. Then he sighed. “We all have our faults. For me, I never took risks. I lived to regret it, you know. I look back on my life and I see times when I should have stepped up and done something. I should have put myself out there. I was always more afraid of rejection than I was of just not trying. I was more comfortable with cattle than people...than women.”
“Was I...like that?” Sawyer asked.
“I’m talking about me. I’m saying, I have regrets,” Lloyd replied. “I never got married. I knew I was kind of funny-looking, and I took a few well-aimed insults to heart. Eventually I just stopped asking girls out.” He laughed uncomfortably. “You used to know about this. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but here I am. I’m fifty and single. I don’t have a wife, or kids of my own. I was honored to take you in after your dad passed, don’t get me wrong. But I was too scared to make a life of my own. Too scared I’d put my heart out there and get turned down.”
“But you said I had the chance to start over,” Sawyer prodded. “What are my regrets that I don’t remember?”
“I’m not judging, Sawyer,” his uncle replied quietly. “But you’re like me in a lot of ways. You buried yourself in work instead of really living your life. Every extra minute, you were out there trying to build this ranch into something bigger. Like you had something to prove to yourself. And you had a good woman here—she loved you and she understood your drive, but when you get to be my age, you don’t look back on those years and regret not having worked harder. You regret the time you didn’t spend with the ones you loved.”
His hard work—had it gone overboard?
“I...neglected my wife?” Sawyer asked, frowning.
“She understood, but your daughters might not,” Lloyd said, and he shrugged apologetically. “That’s all I’m saying. Those little girls are going to grow up whether you’re around to see it or not. And they’ll have a few resentments of their own if they feel like you weren’t there for them. Maybe this loss of memory can give you a chance to start fresh—take more breaks. Whatever was pushing you before, doesn’t have to push you now.”
“Olivia told me that my in-laws thought I wasn’t good enough for their family. Didn’t even come to the wedding, apparently. And they cut Mia off for having married me.” Sawyer paused, swallowed. “So maybe I did have something to prove.”
“Who cares about the opinions of some hoity-toity politician types?” his uncle demanded. “Yes, it got under your skin, but people will have opinions about you. You’ll have a few about them, too. But other people’s ignorant biases don’t have to define you. You need to recover, and you need time with your children. Maybe forgetting a few things is a blessing. Ever thought of that?”
“You said you were the same as me,” Sawyer said irritably.
“I am,” Lloyd replied. “I let other people’s opinions hobble me for decades. And I’m not letting it stop me anymore. I might be late to the dance, but I’m here now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I want a wife,” Lloyd replied. “I might be a lot of things, but I’m still a man. And I want a woman by my side.”
Was that what that long conversation with the woman at the church had been about—another chance at romance?
“Okay...” Sawyer eyed his uncle. There was sympathy in those steel-blue eyes. And wisdom.
“You can change, too,” Lloyd said. “You’ve got a God-given opportunity here to start fresh. Don’t squander it.”
Sawyer looked away from his uncle, frustration rising inside of him.
“I appreciate the warning,” Sawyer said after a moment. “But I need to do something—anything—useful.”
Lloyd heaved a sigh, then looked out the kitchen window. “You see the vegetable garden?”
“Yeah.” He’d seen it. He’d been staring moodily at it for the last few days.
“It needs a good weeding again,” Lloyd said.
Weeding the garden... Not exactly what he’d been thinking of. He’d hoped for something that would take his whole concentration and distract him from the way his mind was still grabbing at elusive memories. When he did retrieve a few, what would he discover? He wanted his past back, his history. But he hadn’t stopped to consider that he’d also be getting his regrets back as well.
Sawyer was silent for a moment, then he rose to his feet, heading for the window. He looked out over the vegetable garden. He could recognize the first sprouts of carrots and lettuce. There were other rows he didn’t know immediately.
“Okay,” Sawyer said. “It’s something.”
Lloyd pulled a bowl from the fridge and put it into the microwave. He punched some buttons and it whirred to life.
Sawyer watched his uncle amble about the kitchen, his mind spinning. He’d assumed that his hard work had meant he was a good man, a worthy m
an. But he was beginning to see a different side to his past—a different version of the story where his hard work had gotten in the way of his relationships.
“Lloyd, what kind of father was I?” he asked.
Lloyd turned back, then shrugged. “You loved your kids.”
“But?” Sawyer prodded.
“You were a good dad, just busy. Preoccupied.”
“Was I like that in my marriage, too?”
Lloyd sighed. “I’ve never been married, myself, so I’m no expert, and I don’t pretend to be...”
“But Mia and I lived here—”
“In the manager’s house. You and the girls moved up here with me after she died.”
“Okay, but she must have talked to you,” Sawyer said. “Right?”
“She might have mentioned a thing or two,” Lloyd replied.
“Well?” he asked. “What did she say?”
“Instead of facing the stuff you didn’t like to think about, you got it out of your system with ranch work,” Lloyd replied quietly. “I can’t judge. I did the same thing. But I didn’t have a woman at home waiting on me. At least you were working and not out drinking or carousing.”
“She wasn’t quite so happy as a guy might hope.”
“She was lonely,” Lloyd confirmed.
Lloyd turned back as the microwave dinged, and he pulled the bowl out and peeled off the plastic wrap. It was reheated oatmeal, by the smell of it. Lloyd went about doctoring it up with sugar and milk, then took a dribbling bite.
“So, I messed things up,” Sawyer said.
Lloyd looked up. “We all have our hang-ups. You had yours. The past can’t be changed, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it. But right now, those little girls need their dad more than you need to prove yourself to the Whites.”
“Fine.” He could grudgingly see his uncle’s point. Lloyd was only trying to help—he knew that—but there was something fundamental about Sawyer that even erasing his memory didn’t change. Because even knowing that dedicating too much time to work had messed things up with his family didn’t change his rising frustration and his desire to be outside with dirt under his boots and get something done.
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