by Lori Ryan
“Hey,” Mindy said, giving her two friends a sullen look. “Some of us aren’t ready to joke about this. I really thought…” She didn’t finish but one of the Junes put her arm around Mindy’s shoulders and squeezed.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We all thought we were the one to get him to change his ways and tie the knot. Lord knows, that man puts on a good show, doesn’t he? I mean, who would think the town lawyer wouldn’t be good and ready to settle down?”
“We’ve had longer to deal with the reality than Mindy,” June number two explained to Phoebe with a sympathetic look at Mindy. “She only just threw in the towel a month ago.”
“All right, girls,” June number one said with a wave of her hand. “Enough about Shotgun Shane. Will you have breakfast with us Phoebe? We were headed into the diner?”
“Oh…uh. Wait, Shotgun Shane?” She looked at the women.
It was June number one who answered with a grin. “Only way to get him to the altar. Shotgun.” She winked at Phoebe. “Seriously, let me know when you’re finished having fun. I’ll set you up with Jake. Don’t you think she’d be perfect for Jake?” She said to the others as they all made their way into the diner.
Phoebe didn’t listen to the replies. She waved them off and bought herself coffee to go, skipping the cup she’d planned to bring Shane as well as the pastries. She was pretty sure she had a lump of concrete setting in her stomach. There likely wasn’t room for anything else in there at the moment.
34
Doesn’t it seem like life just shits on you sometimes?
Fiona O’Malley’s Journal
Shane frowned as he realized it was nine o’clock. It might be stupid, but he’d been hoping Phoebe would come see him as soon as she got in. Much as he hated to sound like a lovesick teenager, he’d been hoping she’d been wanting to see him as much as he wanted to see her.
He shoved back from his desk. He wasn’t too much of an idiot to go to her instead of waiting for her to come to him. As he rounded his desk, the phone rang.
“Shane Bishop,” he said, answering it while standing, with every intention of getting off as fast as he could so he could go see Phoebe.
“Shane, it’s Garret. I’ve got Elliot down at the station to answer some questions about Fiona’s death. He’s asked for you.”
Shane cursed under his breath. “I’ll be right there,” is what he said into the phone before grabbing his things and heading out of the office. The police station was only around the corner, so he didn’t bother with his car.
Minutes later, he found a bleary-eyed Elliot waiting in the small interview room at the police station.
Garret opened the door and let him in. “I’ll let you guys have a few minutes to talk before we get started.”
Shane nodded and stepped into the room.
“Sorry, Shane. I didn’t know who else to ask for, and Bev insisted I shouldn’t be alone.” Elliot’s head hung in the way of a man who’d been defeated by life. Who’d been handed more than his fair share to weather and had decided to throw in the towel instead of fight back.
Shane sat next to him, pulling a notepad and pen from the briefcase he carried. “Did they ask you anything yet?”
Elliot shook his head. “Garret said they found out about my wife. That they needed to bring me in to answer some questions. Bev was there. She said to call you.” He repeated the information like a child might.
“Do you know what Garret means? When he says they know about your wife?” Shane knew there had been a tragedy but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.
Now Elliot sighed and rubbed his head, then his eyes, like he could work away the memory. “My wife. It was years ago, Shane. Before I came here. She took some medicine she was allergic to. She didn’t know she had an allergy and I wasn’t home. She tried to call for help. It was anaphylaxis. It hit so fast and because she didn’t know about the allergy, we didn’t have an EpiPen or anything like that in the house.”
Shane made some notes. “And did Garret say anything about this? Did he say anything to you on the way to the station?”
“No.” Elliot looked up again. “There were whispers when Sheila died. I was a pharmacist, people said. How could I not know she could have died from the medicine she took, they said.”
“Was there an investigation?”
Elliot shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was ruled accidental death.” His voice cracked. “But now Fiona. Shane, I didn’t hurt Fiona. I didn’t hurt my wife or my son. And I didn’t hurt Fiona.”
Shane was staring at a broken man. He put his hand on Elliot’s shoulder and squeezed. “All right. Let’s bring Garret in here and get this over with. I want you to pause after each question to give me a chance to object if I’m going to. Don’t offer any information. Just answer the question he asks, but nothing more. Do you understand?”
Elliot nodded and Shane went to the door to tap on the glass.
Garret entered minutes later. Garret was a fair man and a good cop. He wouldn’t have any interest in arresting the wrong person here. Still, Shane knew he had a job to do and if he thought there was enough reason to question Elliot formally, he would do it without concern for how much Elliot was hurting.
He would do his job and so would Shane.
35
Somedays, I wish I’d stayed in bed.
Fiona O’Malley’s Journal
Phoebe came out of her office as soon as Shane entered. She and Margaret met him with matching expressions of concern.
“You heard?” He directed this toward Phoebe. As much as he’d like to tell himself it was only concern for Elliot he was seeing in her face, he knew something else was off about her.
Nonetheless, she nodded. “Margaret filled me in. How did it go? They’re not holding Elliot, are they?”
“Not right now. So far, they don’t have much to point to him.” His jaw clenched. “Elliot’s wife had died years before, but there’d been nothing to indicate foul play other than the whisperings of cruel neighbors. Anyone who’d seen Elliot today would know he was still torn up about his wife and child dying.”
There was also the fact Fiona and Elliot had travelled to Mexico several times. Rohypnol could be bought in Mexico. Of course, it could also be bought on the streets in the United States, so those two things alone were weak circumstantial evidence, at best.
Still, Elliot had been shaken by the interrogation. Shane didn’t like the way the man’s mental health was looking.
Phoebe nodded. “I’ve got some things I’m in the middle of,” she said and vanished back into her office without meeting his eyes.
“Do you need me to do anything for Elliot, Shane?” Margaret asked. If she felt the tension he could feel between him and Phoebe, she didn’t mention it. Then again, maybe he was imagining it.
“No. He’s home for now. It’s a waiting game at this point.”
“You’ve had several messages.” She pulled out her notepad and started running through the messages. It was all Shane could do not to toss the notepad across the room and chase after Phoebe.
He waited, though. Got through the message review, went to his office to set his briefcase down, then picked up a folder and casually crossed back through the lobby to Phoebe’s office.
She answered his tap with a small, “come in,” and he did. As soon as he saw her, he knew he’d been right.
She stood, looking for all the world like she wanted to take off rather than face him. He tossed the folder on her desk for her to look at later. It wasn’t important.
“Tell me what’s going on, Phoebe.” He was careful, moderating his tone so it wasn’t an accusation. Clamping his hands into fists so he didn’t go to her and pull her to him, using his mouth to convince her not to do what he knew was about to come.
All morning, he’d been waiting to see her. He’d wanted to see in her eyes that what they’d shared together the night before meant as much as he thought it had. Right now, her expression
said anything but.
She tilted her gaze to meet his, but glanced away again just as quickly. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think we made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” He repeated the words, hearing them, but still not believing them. She couldn’t really believe that. Shane almost wanted to laugh. He’d waited years to find a woman who made him feel as powerfully as Phoebe did, and she was saying he couldn’t have her.
“I…it’s not…it’s just…”
Shane took a breath, then rounded the desk in a few short strides and put his hands on her arms. He forced himself to be patient to rub gently up and down those arms. What he really wanted to do was beg, plead, drop to his knees. “Tell me, Phoebe. Tell me, what has you running? What has you worried? I thought we were having a good time.”
He’d said the wrong thing. He’d thought he was being smart, not pressuring her. Not telling her he really thought this could go somewhere between them. He thought maybe if he backed off and let her take things slowly, let her see this was right, she’d be fine.
He was wrong. He could see it the moment he said it.
She’d put up a wall as soon as the words came out of his mouth, and there was no undoing it.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want to be more than your employee.”
The word employee felt like ice slipping beneath his skin and crackling down his spine. Because that’s what she was. His employee. He couldn’t sit here and try to convince her. Convince was too damned close to coerce. He’d been a jackass to try this.
No, much worse than a jackass. He’d been a complete idiot. He was her boss. He shouldn’t have ever touched her, no matter what he felt for her or where he thought it might go.
Shane stiffened and stepped back, with a nod. “You got it.”
He didn’t say anything more before he walked out. Probably couldn’t have if he tried. Because he’d really been starting to think—hell, he couldn’t even think it to himself. It hadn’t been anything. It wasn’t going anywhere.
It just wasn’t what he thought it was. She’d made that much loud and clear.
Phoebe pressed her hand to her mouth after she watched Shane leave. She leaned over in her chair as she tried to keep her crying as quiet as possible. She couldn’t let Shane or Margaret hear her. The idea of it was mortifying.
She had a feeling she was failing, at least where Margaret was concerned. She turned her music on, leaving it low enough that it wouldn’t bother Margaret, but hoped it might muffle the sound as she worked to get herself under control.
She did it. She stopped the tears, but she ended up with one of those painful lumps lodged in her throat. There was no willing that thing away. She had done it to herself. She never should have let this get started. That had been one of the most foolish things she’d done in a long time, and she had a long list of things to choose from.
She breathed long and deep, slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. She could do this. She would do this. She would get through the momentary pain of falling for the wrong man again. Because, that’s what this would be, right?
It would hurt and she’d be raw, but she would get through it. And in the end, it would be better this way. She still had a job she loved and a new town and friends she loved. A home.
She blew right past the sense that this was somehow different. That this pain wasn’t likely to be washed away with a marathon session of Heath Ledger movies and a few good pints of Rocky Road. She had to, because if she didn’t…well, there just wasn’t any going there. She would forget about Shane and go on with her plan to find a man who didn’t break out into hives at the idea of her in a dress saying I Do.
She watched the clock tick down the rest of the day, and could easily say it was the longest day of her life. She wanted nothing more than to go home and hide.
36
Love isn’t going to come easily, and it isn’t going to stay easily. You’re going to have to fight for it. Then, you’ll have to fight and fight some more. It’s a fight you’ll come to love and a fight you’ll come to realize is worth it. Always.
Fiona O’Malley’s Journal
Shane didn’t want to see anyone. Laura and Cade would already be up at their house they’d built on the west side of the property, and May and Josh would have long ago gone to bed. Shane was here to visit a ghost.
He pulled his car down the small dirt road that wound around the back side of the rescue barn over to the tinker barn by way of the field, instead of going past the main house. No other ranch in the area had two barns that had ceased to be used for their original purposes in such a drastic fashion.
The rescue barn held animals, but not many of the kind it was intended to. Cade still used one or two of the horse stalls for his horse and whatever horses and donkeys he was rehabbing at the moment. Of course, the stalls were just as likely to hold cats, dogs, pigs, or whatever else found their way to Cade Bishop for rescue and training.
And the tinker barn—that had been the province of Jim Bishop. He’d taken over the whole of the downstairs and built workbenches and cupboards and what-have-you all along the walls on either side. There were still parts and supplies tucked away in most of the cabinets, although they’d gotten rid of the chemicals for safety after his father had died. No one else knew how to handle the materials.
Shane stood and breathed in the space. He could see his father standing at the workbench, clear as day, wiping down his tools.
“Tell me, son,” his dad would say as he looked him over, “two things you learned today. One good and one bad. How about that? Or one small and one large? One meaningful and one insignificant. Your choice.”
Shane snorted now, just as he’d done at his dad back then. His dad didn’t sound like any other ranch-owning father around. He’d been born and raised on the Bishop ranch, but somehow, his dad had never been meant for it. He’d lived and breathed for books and knowledge, and he wanted his sons to soak it up in the same way he had.
“Hey.”
Shane jumped at Cade’s voice behind him. The man was silent, he’d give him that. “Shit, Cade, make a little noise next time.”
Cade stomped his feet a few times.
“Wise ass.”
“Always.”
Shane shook his head. “Why aren’t you home with your wife?” Shane winced as the words came out of his mouth. It was a good thing Cade knew he didn’t have any feelings for Laura that went past sisterly. He’d sounded entirely too bitter.
Cade never was one to rile easily. He leaned against the barn wall, hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a sick mare. Just checking on her before I head back to the house.”
Shane grunted a response. Cade knew where he belonged in the world. With his wife, his family, and his animals.
Shane kept his gaze on the workbench, as though his old man was still standing there waiting for him to name two of the lessons he’d learned that day. You got bonus points if your lessons weren’t of the variety taught in school. Cade had been better at those lessons than Shane. Shane had always named something he’d learned in math or science class.
“You think he ever even knew how much she worried about things all the time? How hard it was for her to feed us or put clothes or shoes on us when he spent the whole month’s budget on a new experiment?”
Cade hadn’t ever resented their dad to quite the magnitude Shane had but he understood Shane’s feelings.
“No. I don’t think she wanted him to see. Ma was always good at making sure he only saw her support, her love. It’s why they worked so well together. She was happiest when she was taking care of us, and that included him. She never would have let him see the strain.”
“She should have.”
Cade shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. We wouldn’t have the money we’ve used to help all these people all these years if she hadn’t supported his dreams. If he hadn’t done things his way, we might be subject to the same ups and downs all the ranchers around
here go through. Who knows if we’d even own the land anymore.”
They’d seen a lot of ranchers lose their land or have to sell off parcels in recent years. Others had turned to other ventures, like tourism ranching or raising goats for goat milk soaps.
The ghostly image in Shane’s head flickered then came back into form. “Come on, you can think of another one, can’t you son? Surely there are two lessons you learned somewhere, from someone you met or talked to along the way today? It’s all about the journey, you know. The journey is what you’ll have to look back on at the end of your life. Where will your journey say you’ve been?”
Shane had forgotten the talks his dad had always made time for after school. As much as they’d felt like an inquisition at the time, he could see them for what they were now. His dad had cared. And he’d made the time to make sure Shane knew that, even if it was in his own way.
“What’s going on, Shane?” Cade asked.
Shane made a dismissive face. “Nothing. Just thinking back.” He looked up at the ceiling above them. Their dad had added a loft to the barn when they were teens. It had padded walls and punching bags. The boys had put in a small kitchenette a few years later. It was where their parents had sent them when they needed to blow off steam. Cade still used it.
Shane searched the ceiling as though it might provide a change of topic for him. “If Laura’s brother is…” he stopped, then started back up again. “When we get him out of there, he’ll need someplace to go. Someplace he can heal.”
He didn’t say what he’d need to heal from. In the time since they’d discovered James might be alive, they’d all likely imagined the horrors he might be going through. “We should get some of the guys together and gut the upstairs. We can put in a real kitchen, finish out the walls and insulate it. Turn it into a studio apartment.”
