by Lisa Bingham
She offered him a laugh that was half sob.
“Thanks, Jace.”
He gestured to her plate. “Still hungry?”
“No. I think I’d like to go home now, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’ll take you back in the truck. It’s getting too cold out there for a walk.”
He started to stand, but she stopped him with, “Before we go, there was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
He relaxed into his chair again. “Okay, shoot.”
“I kinda gave you a hard time when you and my mom … when …” She took a deep gulp of air, then hurried on, “I want you to know I don’t mind anymore.” She briefly met his gaze. “I figure anyone who would stand up for my sister like that can’t be that bad of a guy to have around the house.”
Jace felt his cheeks flush. “Well, I … uh …” He cleared his throat. “I appreciate that.”
“Anyway, I think you should start coming by,” she said softly. So softly, that Jace nearly missed the words. “I think my mom needs you right now. P.D. and Helen have been great, and my grandma is so cool, but …” Kari lifted her shoulders and released them again. “I think she needs you. Maybe when you drop me off, you could … talk to her?”
“I don’t know if—”
“Lily won’t know. She’s in bed by eight and she sleeps like a log. Annie goes to sleep about the same time. Promise me you’ll think about it?”
Sighing, Jace reluctantly offered, “I’ll think about it.”
But he couldn’t deny the way his heart started beating harder in his chest.
*
BRONTE gently closed the door to Lily’s room, sighing softly. Following the advice of Lily’s doctors and therapists, Bronte hadn’t tried to force her daughter to talk about the incident in Jeremy Montero’s office. Instead, she’d concentrated on giving Lily love and acceptance and comfort. But she knew her daughter was hurting, knew she was confused. More than anything, Bronte wished that there was a way to help her daughter. If there were a magical incantation she could offer, Bronte would willingly bear Lily’s pain herself.
Unfortunately, there were no easy fixes to what had occurred. Bronte could only weather her own guilt at not realizing earlier why her daughter’s personality had taken such a sudden shift—then at the way she’d reassured her over and over again that Lily would still be able to see her father on a regular basis.
Sweet heaven, if she’d only known. If she’d left Phillip years ago, if she’d recognized the depth of Lily’s depression faster, if she’d contacted a doctor earlier …
If … if … if …
She found it a sad irony that her daughter’s first real deep breath had come after Bronte had carefully relayed the news that Phillip was in custody and would be doing some jail time over the next few years. Besides the reckless driving charge he’d received from the local authorities, it hadn’t taken long for them to discover that he also had an outstanding bench warrant for his arrest from Boston. Her ex-husband’s lifestyle was catching up to him, with charges of fraud, embezzlement, and theft. Although Bronte had witnessed his downhill slide for years, she still had a hard time reconciling the vibrant, successful man she’d married with the gaunt mug shot she found buried in one of the rear pages of a Salt Lake City newspaper.
Jeremy Montero had fared even worse. The investigation was still in its early stage, but it was clear that Lily wasn’t his only victim. Police had raided the clinic, uncovering evidence of a child pornography ring … and worse.
The thought of what could have happened gave Bronte nightmares. But she did her best to paint a positive smile on her face, knowing that this was one challenge she could not fail. She would find a way to help her daughter—both of her daughters—get past Phillip’s betrayal.
The phone in her pocket chirped, causing her to jump. Glancing at the screen, she saw a text from Jace.
Jace.
The sight of his name on a text filled her with more longing than it should, but she forced herself to push the sensation aside. She already had more than she could handle on her plate. She couldn’t afford to indulge in romance.
Nevertheless, she punched the icon for the text.
On our way back.
She stared at the words for a long time, wondering what had possessed Kari to even go to the Taggarts’ ranch.
Unable to help herself, Bronte typed a response.
Thanks.
But he wasn’t finished.
Could we talk tonight?
Talk. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think. She wanted …
Sighing, Bronte realized that she wasn’t sure anymore what she wanted. She only knew that she couldn’t handle one more thing.
Her thumb hovered over the N, but then, as if unable to control her own digits, she typed instead:
Give me an hour.
Only a few minutes passed before she heard the rumble of Jace’s pickup. Bronte stood at the top of the steps, wondering if he would try to see her now—hoping he would, fearing he would. But when the door opened, only Kari walked through.
When she saw Bronte on the steps, she offered her a quick, shy smile—one that Bronte hadn’t seen in years.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, there.”
“Sorry I didn’t text to let you know where I was.”
Bronte was beginning to wonder if she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. “That’s okay. Jace sent me a message.”
“Yeah, I know. He made me a burger, too. It was really good.” Kari bounced up the stairs as if she didn’t have a care in the world. When she would have passed Bronte, she paused, then leaned forward to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“He’s a good guy, you know. I told him he needed to come to the house more.”
Huh?
“Everybody else in bed?” Kari asked, continuing her climb.
“Yes. Your … uh …” Bronte was having a hard time thinking coherently. “Your grandmother turned in early and Lily fell asleep watching television.”
“I’ll be quiet so I don’t wake her up. I’m going to go to bed, too. I have a history test tomorrow.” Kari paused at the door to her room. “You should call Jace and have him keep you company. I told him to come over, but he said he’d leave it up to you.”
“I, uh …”
“Night, Mom.”
With that, Kari disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Bronte completely rattled.
What on earth had Jace said to Kari to bring about this transformation?
Weary, she crossed into her own room. If Jace were coming, she needed to shower, change her clothes …
Sinking onto the bed, she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Her brain seemed to whirl with a million thoughts, but was curiously numb at the same time.
Unfortunately, by sitting down, by trying to corral the emotions roiling in her brain, she zoned out and the next thing she knew, the rumble of Jace’s truck neared the house again.
TWENTY-ONE
SUDDENLY panicked, Bronte rushed to the window, already reaching for her phone. But even as her fingers stood poised to text him and tell him she’d changed her mind, it rang. Then it rang two more times before she snatched it up and answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
How did the sound of his voice manage to slide through her veins like a liquid tonic?
“Are you still up to having me stop by?”
His concern was palpable, drawing her toward the window as if she were attached to him by a string.
She pushed the curtain aside, causing a patch of light to spill onto the ground. Jace immediately looked up and smiled.
Bronte probably could have resisted the man except for that smile. She could have made an excuse and sent him on his way. But the gesture was filled with such love and concern that her face crumpled and tears pushed at the back of her throat, making it impossible to talk, to breathe.
She heard a soft curse on the line. Bef
ore she could fathom what he meant to do, he pocketed his phone, climbed the intricate wrought-iron porch support, hoisted himself onto the newly repaired roof, and gingerly made his way to the window.
By that time, she’d gathered her wits enough to lift up the sash. Then, he was stepping inside to fold her into his arms.
Instantly, the emotions that she’d tried to tamp down since Phillip had appeared came rushing to the surface. Clinging to Jace, she surrendered to the storm of emotion, sobbing into his chest.
To his credit, he didn’t seem put off by the display. Instead, he held her even more tightly, rocking her from side to side, stroking her hair and whispering, “Let it out. You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore. Let it all out.”
Never in her life had another person given her permission to cry. Not dainty feminine tears, but huge, air-gulping, chest-rending sobs that threatened to tear her apart. Yet Jace seemed completely undaunted, allowing her tears to soak into his shirt. There was no need for words. His actions conveyed everything she needed to know—that he loved her, cared for her, ached with her. As if the sobs loosened the dam she’d built around her emotions, the words also spilled free, rushing through her lips in a barely intelligible flood as she spoke of Lily, of what had been lost.
But when she began to blame herself, he held her even tighter. “No, Bronte, no,” he whispered. He lay her on the bed, then stretched out beside her, cradling Bronte against him and drawing a blanket over her shoulders. “You’re a great mom. Your daughters love you. Never doubt that. Ever.”
In time, the storm of weeping eased, then passed, leaving her weak and trembling in his arms.
“You must think—”
“Shh. I think you’re exhausted and worried. But you’re not alone, okay?”
Her chin trembled and the tears threatened to fall again. It had been so long since someone had offered to share her burdens. No, her problems hadn’t been magically solved, but she felt the soft sweet beginnings of hope unfurling in her breast.
When she tried to move, sure that Jace would be ready to sit up or even leave, he tenderly tucked her back against his chest.
“Shh. Lie still. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
The release of emotion had left her so tired that she didn’t resist. Instead, she allowed her heavy eyelids to close.
“You’re a miracle worker, Jace. Do you know that?”
“Hardly.”
She smiled against him. “You seem to have tamed the savage teenage beast that has been living in this house for the last few weeks.”
“She’ll probably make a reappearance in a while.”
“What on earth did you say to her?”
“Not much. She was worried about her sister and upset with her father. I think she’d already come to a lot of her own conclusions concerning his behavior. I reassured her that she had some men in her life she could come to if she needed help.”
Bronte damned the way her throat became tight again.
“Thank you, Jace.”
“My pleasure.” His voice rumbled pleasantly beneath her ear. “She gave me permission to come over tonight.”
She smiled against him. “I know.” She roused. “What about Barry? Do you need to—”
“Shhh.” Jace drew her back down again. “He’s with Elam.”
“He’s such a sweet boy, Jace. You’ve got to be proud of him.”
“I am. Lily has been the best thing to happen to him in a long time. He misses her.”
“Send him over tomorrow. I think it’s time they talked.”
“He’ll probably bring a bag full of ranch toys.”
“I’ll buy him a whole new set if he can get Lily to smile again.”
“Don’t tell him that.”
Jace’s fingers began to trace long slow strokes up and down her back. Soon her breathing began to sync with the motion. Bronte felt her tight muscles release, one by one, until she felt boneless and adrift.
“Jace?” she murmured with the last shred of coherence that remained.
“Hmm.”
“Love … you.”
There was a slight hitch to the rhythm of his fingertips, then, from very far away, she heard, “Love you, too, Bronte.”
*
THE next afternoon, Jace scowled up at the clouds gathering in the distance. Just as the radio had predicted, a storm was blowing in. He would have to hurry to get his work done so that he could meet Barry at the bus stop. He didn’t want him to have to walk in the rain.
He hurried into the Big House, intent on grabbing something quick for lunch. But as soon as he walked through the door, his phone rang. Distracted, knowing that he only had a few minutes before he had to meet the hay broker in the yard, he yanked open the refrigerator door as he hit the call button.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Taggart?”
Jace had been expecting the low, melodious tones of Esteban Peña, so when a woman’s voice greeted him, he straightened.
“This is Jace.”
“This is Natalie Noorda from the high school. Barry’s teacher asked me to get in touch with you and see if you’d like her to send his project home with one of the neighbors. They had the judging today and he won a prize.”
“That’s great. I know he was excited about the contest.” Jace’s brow creased. “Can’t Barry bring it home himself? I could probably swing by at the end of the day to pick him up if it’s too big to carry on the bus.”
There was a heavy silence, then, “Isn’t Barry home with you?”
Jace straightened, bumping the fridge door shut with his hip.
“Ms… . Noorda, was it?”
“Yes.”
“I dropped Barry off at the bus stop this morning.”
“Oh, dear.” The woman was clearly upset. “Mr. Taggart, I’m one of the paraprofessionals that meets the buses each morning to gather the kids for the life skills class. Barry didn’t get off this morning.”
Shit.
Lunch forgotten, Jace headed for the door. “Is there any way you could talk to the driver and make sure he didn’t see him at the bus stop?”
“Absolutely. I’ll also talk to Jake Eddington. He gets on at the stop right before Barry’s. As soon as I know something, I’ll call back.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as the woman hung up, Jace was speed-dialing Elam.
“This is Elam.”
“Elam, have you seen Barry?”
“Not since he headed down the hill this morning. Why?”
Jace was already climbing into his truck. “He came in, gathered his school stuff, and I dropped him off at the end of the lane like I always do. But the school called to say he never got there.”
“Hell. Where could he have gone?”
“I don’t know. They were having a special day today. His seed project was being judged, so I can’t understand why he didn’t get on the bus.”
“I’m headed down the highway now. I should be there in a few minutes. I’ll check my cabin first and then backtrack toward the house. In the meantime, I’ll call P.D. and ask if she’s seen or heard from him.”
“Thanks.”
“What about Bodey?”
“He left yesterday morning.”
“All right. I’ll call him, too. Not that there’s anything he can do to help. He’s probably in Cheyenne by now. But maybe he’s heard from him.”
Within minutes, Jace was in his pickup again, driving at a snail’s pace as he wound down the lane toward the highway. Had Barry forgotten something, started home, and then fallen? It wasn’t like him to wander off. Even when he was younger and still struggling with the limits of his disability, he’d remained emotionally tethered to familiar surroundings. He didn’t like dealing with unaccustomed situations or places.
A quick sweep of the area left Jace with no more information than he’d had when he’d started, so he swung his truck in the other direction so that he could scour the lane again.
When his
phone went off, he answered it mid-ring.
“This is Jace.”
“Mr. Taggart. Natalie Noorda. I spoke with the bus driver and he confirmed that Barry wasn’t waiting at the stop in front of your house when he drove by this morning. But Jake said that he thought he saw Barry before the bus appeared, but that he ran back toward home again with … ‘that new girl.’ Does that make sense to you?”
“Yeah. It does. Thank you.”
Jace changed direction again, taking the access road that would take him to Annie’s house. Even though he’d been given a better idea where Barry had gone, he kept a sharp eye on the fields and ditches on either side of the road.
When he pulled next to the house, he saw Bronte unloading groceries from the back of her van. As soon as she saw him, she set the bags back into the car and waved.
Skidding to a halt, Jace rolled down his window. “Have you seen Barry today?”
“No. Lily insisted on going to school, so I went to work this morning. Annie made sure she headed to the bus stop on time.”
Jace sighed. “I don’t know if she made it there. I got a call saying Barry didn’t show up. One of the boys down the highway said he thought he saw Barry and Lily heading back toward the ranch.”
“What?”
Before Jace could react, she ran into the house. He heard her speak briefly to Annie, then the sound of her footsteps disappearing upstairs. By the time Jace followed her inside, Annie had rolled her chair into the doorway of the living room.
“I saw her go off to school this morning,” she said, her eyes wide and worried. “She seemed excited. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her in days.”
Bronte appeared at the top of the stairs. “They aren’t here.”
Jace bit back a curse. “I’ll go check the tree house. Look through Lily’s room one more time. See if there’s anything missing—clothes, a suitcase—that could tell us if they decided to run away.”
He hated the way Bronte’s cheeks lost their color at the suggestion, but she quickly went to do as he’d asked.
Jace strode through the kitchen and out the side door in long loping strides. But after climbing the ladder, it was easy to see that the children hadn’t been there. The wind had deposited a fine layer of dust and leaves on the plank floors. If they’d been up here, the debris would have been disturbed.
