by Cindi Myers
“You’ll be okay, Kelly. We’ll all be okay.”
“Keep saying that, Christa. Maybe soon I’ll start to believe it.”
* * *
RYDER TRANSFERRED THE last stack of T-shirts from the dresser to his suitcase, and then looked around the room for anything he’d missed. Two suitcases and a couple of boxes weren’t a lot to show for three months in a town.
Always before, he’d been proud of his ability to travel light, but it seemed like a man of thirty ought to have more possessions than would fit in a pickup truck.
He moved from the bedroom to the kitchen. Emptying the refrigerator was next on his list. Not that there was much there—he’d eaten out most of the time. He pulled a trash bag from a box on the counter and opened the freezer door.
A memory flashed of his mother standing before the refrigerator in base housing in some western state—Nevada? Utah? She’d been tossing a pile of foil-wrapped leftovers into the open bag, tears running down her face. Ryder, who had been maybe ten or eleven at the time, had stared at her. “Mom, what’s wrong?” he’d asked.
“Nothing.” Thunk! Another frozen lump landed in the trash bag.
“Why are you crying?”
She stopped, and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands. “People cry when they’re sad,” she said.
“Why are you sad?”
She sniffed. “Because I’m tired. I’m tired of always leaving friends. I’m tired of getting to know a place, of finally starting to feel at home, then having to leave.”
“You aren’t excited about going to a new place?” This was the speech Ryder’s father always made—that they should all look forward to discovering a new place.
“I’ve seen enough new places.” She turned back to the freezer. “I want to stay in a place long enough for it to feel old.”
Ryder stared into the now-empty freezer. He hadn’t thought of that memory for years. Was this uneasiness he felt now because he, too, was ready to stay someplace long enough for it to feel old?
Cedar Grove might have been that place. But not now. Like his father, he had to go where the work was.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He closed the freezer and went to answer it.
“Christa!” He tamped down his elation at seeing her, and eyed her cautiously. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He held the door open and she stepped into the living room. A hint of her perfume tickled his nose as she passed, stirring a deep longing. Was the longing for her, or for all the things he was leaving behind here—that sense of a deeper connection that he wanted, but could never have?
She glanced around the room, devoid now of his few photographs, books and personal items, though it still contained the furniture that had come with the place. Her gaze rested on the boxes by the door. “Are you packing to leave?”
“Without a job, I really can’t stay.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Have you found a job?” He shut the door and moved farther into the room.
“Not yet. But I’ve found you one—if you want it.”
She looked as if she was trying very hard not to smile. He scratched his head. “I don’t understand—you found me a job? Doing what?”
“Building a highway. The highway here in Cedar Grove.”
“Why don’t we sit down?” It felt awkward, standing in the middle of the room this way. He motioned to the sofa. She sat and he settled beside her. “Okay. Now explain yourself.”
“I made some calls, and that eventually put me in touch with a company called Parsons and Miller. Have you heard of them?”
“No.”
“They’re a private company that specializes in constructing roads and bridges—toll roads and bridges, mostly. They fund the project, and earn the money back through tolls over a set number of years. When that time is up, they turn the roads over to the state or municipality. They’re very interested in the highway project here.”
He’d heard of this kind of thing—more popular in big cities, but apparently the idea was spreading. “What does this have to do with me?”
She opened her purse and took out a business card and handed it to him. “Call this man. He needs an engineer to oversee the project. I told him you might be interested.”
He studied the card, though the words on it didn’t really register. “You did this for me?”
“I did it for the town. Cedar Grove really wants this highway project. Even I’m starting to see the benefits of it.” She leaned over and touched the back of his hand. “I’m sorry I blamed you when I found out my parents planned to sell the ranch. I was hurt and upset and I wasn’t ready to listen when you tried to explain what happened. I know you couldn’t break your promise to my dad.”
He turned his hand over to grasp hers. “I wanted to tell you—or really, I wanted him to tell you. I knew you’d be upset. I hated seeing you hurt. I know how much your family home means to you.”
She nodded. “Yes. But my parents are really happy about the move—or they were, until the highway got cancelled and everything got put on hold. So starting up the project again helps them, too.”
“You could have sat back and done nothing. The ranch would have stayed in the family and the town would have remained the same—exactly how you wanted it.”
“How I used to want it.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s not all about me anymore.”
He studied the business card again. “I never thought about working for a private company instead of the state.”
“I don’t know specifics, but I think they pay quite well. And you’d have a chance to complete a project you’ve already put so much time and effort into. You could stay in Cedar Grove.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’d like that, too.”
His eyes met hers, trying to read the emotions in those brown depths. “Do you think we could try again, you and me?” he asked.
“I’d like that, too.”
He pulled her close to kiss her. She tilted her head and brought her lips up to meet his, her arms reaching up to encircle him in a sweet embrace that confirmed what he’d known for weeks now, even if he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself. “I love you, Christa,” he said when their lips parted. “I should have told you before now.”
“I love you, too, Ryder. It scares me to say it.”
“You don’t have to be scared.” He tenderly smoothed the hair back from her forehead.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this kind of love. Love shouldn’t have limits, but I don’t know if I can follow you from town to town like a nomad.”
“You don’t have to. My nomad days are over. I’m staying right here. With you.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes. It wasn’t even a tough decision to make. This feels like the place where I belong. And I think it’s because of you. You showed me how to feel things I’d been afraid to feel before. I want to make my home here—and I want to make it with you. That is, if you’re staying here in Cedar Grove. Or we could move to Dallas—wherever you need to be.”
“I’m going to stay here,” she said. “With the highway project a go again, I can help the local businesses advertise their services to commuters and new residents. And Chad Bremer has promised to send me some clients. I think I can do this—and I have you to thank for the idea.” She kissed him again.
“What about wanting a man who’d make a big, romantic gesture like your grandfather to prove his love?” he asked.
“I was being a little silly,” she said. “Instead of idealizing my grandparents, I had a better example of love right in front of me, with my parents. They have the kind of equal, steady relationship I really want.”
“I’ll always do my best for you,” Ryder said.
“I know that Ryder. And your best will always be enough for me.”
“Have you told your parents the good news yet?”
“I thought maybe we could tell them together.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. Yes, this was definitely where they belonged—hand in hand, facing whatever the future held, together.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460334010
WHAT SHE’D DO FOR LOVE
Copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Myers
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