by Holt,Debra
Grasping the back of the chair across the table from her, he leveled his gaze on her. “I thank the Lord every day that I was given a second chance to become a better man. I do wish it had happened before I broke your heart, but I have to trust that He knew a better timetable for the redemption than me. I’m here now because I can’t get you out of my heart as easily as you seem to have barred me from yours. It may take me a while to do that.”
Silence was never as heavy as after his last words died away. His admission and apology stunned Macy. She tried to summon the anger he usually brought out in her, but it wasn’t there. In its place was an infinite sadness. And an overwhelming desire to reach out and place her arms around his waist and lay her head on his chest … to give an ease to the pain he was obviously carrying and to have her own held at bay by his arms. But something held her still. How could she ever place her faith in his words again? Yet, she also knew she could never be truly free of him until she found a way to release the pain and anger she still carried deep within her. Forgiveness would be the hardest step, but she had to take it.
“Thank you for the apology.” It was time she admitted some truths. “But you weren’t the only one who made mistakes back then, Trace. I think we were both too young. We both acted impetuously. What could I have possibly known about being a wife? And you weren’t ready to be tied down. If we’d been older and more mature, we probably wouldn’t have rushed into any engagement, much less a marriage.” The words hurt, but she was relieved she’d found the courage to give voice to them after so much time.
“There’s some truth in what you say,” Trace replied, a sad light in the depths of his eyes. “However, I don’t think it was immature or wrong of us to want to be together. If anything, I regret I didn’t try talking you into eloping. I should have taken you with me when I left that night. Of course, you probably would have told me what to do with that idea.”
She looked up at him directly. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I would have gone with you?”
“You had your heart set on that big white wedding shindig. Most females do, I suppose. What kind of life would we have had anyway? A different town each night, sleeping in a truck most often, eating truck stop food. It would have gotten real old, real quick.”
Macy stood abruptly, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them under control. Sparks flew from her blue eyes as she glared at him. “That’s what you thought of me? That I would have rather had a fancy wedding than be with you in that truck, helping you follow your dream? Well, in my book, when you love someone, you want their dreams to succeed, and you support them. Don’t you dare stand there and belittle the love I felt for you. The truth is, you wanted to be free and still have me waiting in the wings … just in case.”
“Now, wait a minute, Macy. Don’t put words in my mouth. Don’t belittle my love for you, either.”
“Stop!” She held up her palms, taking a deep breath. “This is only going to end in another argument. You apologized. I accept your apology. Let’s leave it at that and try to behave as adults.”
A smile caused the creases beside his mouth to deepen, and warmth spread into the emerald eyes. In their gaze, Macy felt as if a comforting shawl had slid around her, soothing her. “So we declare a truce? Start over as friends now that we can agree to be adults?”
“Anything is better than arguing … friendship may be too high an expectation,” she replied.
“I’ve always had high expectations. But for now, how about you let me buy you a hamburger at the Burger Barn since I’m probably responsible for your dinner burning to a crisp with my unplanned arrival. That’s something friends can do, right? Have a meal together now and then? And if we can make it through one simple dinner without bringing out the daggers, then maybe there’s hope for us as adults after all. You game?”
Hope. Macy’s heart twisted in a knot. Dare she believe in that feeling again? Hope for what? She couldn’t bear to answer that question. Hope is the beginning of faith’s gift. Another gem of Gram’s legacy of wisdom. All right, Gram. Hope and faith … let’s see where you’re leading me.
Chapter 10
What am I doing here? It was a little late to ask that question. Standing on the bank, watching Trace climb to the platform where the rope swing was tethered, Macy was sure she had taken leave of her senses. She should turn and walk away … or run. That would be even better. But there was something about watching the tall male form in front of her. Trace looked good—correction, he looked hot. And it had nothing to do with the weather. Broad shoulders, hard abs, long legs … every inch of him was one glorious male whose pair of cut-off jean shorts hugged his body in all the best ways.
When they’d arrived at the Burger Barn, Trace had gotten that gleam that meant adventure and presented a whole other idea. Ordering the food as takeout, he said it was definitely too nice a summer afternoon not to find a cool, shady spot to have an impromptu picnic. The problem was, he chose the Blue Hole … the swimming hole where they had spent many hours, way back in the days when they had been a couple, happy and not a care in their world … at least that she had known about.
“Are you too chicken to dive in?” Trace had reached the platform.
“I don’t see you getting wet.”
With a laugh, he grabbed the rope and pushed off. At the highest arc of the swing, he released his grip, and down into the clear spring water he went. Seconds later, he resurfaced, shaking his head. A grin creased his face. “Wow, have I missed this place! It’s great. It’s your turn now.”
“If you’d have planned this properly, I’d have brought a swimsuit. I’m not planning to do anything but put my feet in.”
“That’s a cop-out if I ever heard one. The Macy Donovan I used to know would have beaten me into the water. Guess you might not remember how to have fun on a hot summer day. Or maybe you’ve grown into a chicken.”
“I remember fun.” Darn you. Perspiration already had the hairs framing her face damp and clinging to her skin in the triple-digit heat. The water did look cool … the deep hole began with light shades of blue, and then darker sapphires took over as the depth increased. It was deep—thirty feet to the base of the springs that bubbled up and kept it flowing year around. She shouldn’t … but she wanted to feel the coolness. Chicken? Forgotten how to have fun? Maybe so. Maybe not! Her shoes went by the wayside; the towel landed on top of Trace’s shirt; and before she could talk herself out of it, she dove into the water.
Immediately, she was glad she had not listened to her sensible side. She surfaced and laughed at how much fun it was to be spontaneous. She swiped her hair back from her face as she treaded water.
“Nice dive.” Trace smiled at her. “You haven’t lost your form. You can also thank me now.”
“Thank you for what?”
“For daring you to dive in to begin with. Admit it … you’re glad I did.”
“Whatever you say.” She kicked onto her back and did some strokes across the pool. The water was great. Trace wasn’t too far behind. They both seemed content to keep their own thoughts and enjoy the pool for a few minutes of that truce.
“Do kids still sneak up here and go swimming?” she wondered, stopping to tread water, then lying back again to enjoy a float.
“Travis says they’ve tried a time or two. But it’s a distance from the road and the fencing between here and the nearest road has been a deterrent. It helps that they have that nice, Olympic-sized pool in town now, too.”
“So this remains the Cartwright’s private little paradise.”
“And open to visitation at any time by our closest friends … namely you.” His grin accompanied a wink. “I remember the first time we came here. It took me a while to convince you to get in the water. You were afraid of snakes and crawdads.”
“Thanks for bringing that up,” she retorted, splashing her hand in his direction and bringing herself upright in the water. She cast a wary glance around the edges of the area.
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br /> “You didn’t just try to splash me?” The grin took on a devilish turn. Too late, she realized his intent. She turned to head toward shore, but he caught her foot easily enough and yanked her backward, pulling her underwater for a second. She came up spluttering as his arms wrapped around her middle, holding her steady until she caught her breath. She turned and tried to push him away, but he only brought her up close. Oh, he shouldn’t have done that. Her body was plastered to his bare chest. All sorts of thoughts came to mind.
Judging by the dark look glittering in his eyes, much the same thoughts had registered in his mind too. His gaze lowered over her face to her lips. Macy found the breaths she was taking in harder to come by.
His palms spread across her back, heated even in the cool water. One of his legs moved to trap hers and hold her steady against him. He moved them both into the shallows where he could stand. Macy was at a disadvantage, not able to do the same. She should fight him. Break away. She should. But she didn’t. Her own palms moved over his shoulders; the feel of his bare skin enticed her to seek more.
When his head lowered to hers, she did not turn away. The green fire of his gaze mesmerized her. Heat flamed from his body to hers. His mouth claimed hers, searing and searching and setting her insides to quivering. Sensations rose like a phoenix from cold ashes.
From hot to cold in an instant. It wasn’t she who stepped away. Trace dropped his hands from her waist and dove back into the deeper water in a flash. When he surfaced, he gave her a quick nod of his head. “Trying to remember I’m being a friend right now … it’s best you use that towel to dry off a bit. You can use my shirt to cover your … umm … it’ll keep you warm on the ride back to your house. I’ll swim a lap or two more and meet you at the truck.” He didn’t wait for her reply.
What in the world? His sudden change and behavior made no sense and … oh no. She looked down at herself, and her cheeks heated in a second. Her thin tank top had soaked through and was clinging to her body, leaving nothing to anyone’s imagination. She quickly made for the bank and grabbed the towel and his chambray shirt. Returning to a perch in the sun on a nearby tree stump, she dried herself off, then donned Trace’s shirt. She kept her gaze on the distant pastures and hillsides, trying not to think about what had just happened. What Trace had done—or not done—was most perplexing. In the old days, he wouldn’t have been so chivalrous. But then, these weren’t the old days. And he did keep saying he’d changed.
Coming back to the truck, Chase found a dry T-shirt and shrugged into it. Then they headed home. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to reach Macy’s ranch. Once he’d parked, Macy took little time sliding out of the vehicle. He met her at the end of the sidewalk.
“There’s no need to walk me to my door.”
“I still remember the one time I didn’t walk you to that front door. Gram gave me a talking to about manners that I won’t forget. She was a great lady, and I admired her.”
They reached the front door. “Yes, she was.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when she left you. I should have been.”
Macy acknowledged the wealth of sincerity in his face and tone of voice. “You know, after she got over being really angry at you because of me … she sort of forgave you.”
“Forgave me?”
“She always included you in her evening prayers. I couldn’t understand it at first. But she said that you needed them more than we might even know.”
Trace gave a slow smile. “I’ve had a real angel on my side all the time and didn’t know it.”
She opened the door and stepped through, turning back to him. “Thanks for the lunch today … and the swim. I’ll get your shirt washed and back to you.”
“No problem. It was a good afternoon. And I think we made a good start on building a new foundation.”
“Foundation?”
“For our new friendship. You can build anything if you have a good foundation. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose.”
“That’s good enough for me. See you later.” He gave her a wide grin, winked, and then back in his truck in a few quick steps. She watched his truck disappear around the first bend in the road before she shut the door behind her.
Friendship? Foundation? Something had happened, but she had no idea what it was or how to describe it. Would it last? Or would tomorrow bring more disappointment in its place?
“Hi, Macy! Good to see you.” The deputy paused to give her a smile and hold the door open for her to pass through into the pharmacy.
“Good to see you, too, Wade,” she returned, her eyes taking in the poster he had been taping to the glass front door. “They’ve got you working in advertising now? Looks like it’s rodeo time again.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m doing my civic duty. You’re going to enter in the barrels, aren’t you?”
Macy laughed at that thought, shaking her head. “I gave that up a couple years back. I stick to training them now. I’ll be cheering my students on from a seat in the stands, though.”
“Everyone knows your barrel horses are some of the best to be found anywhere.”
“It’s good to know my hard work is paying off and that my reputation is finally out there. You take care. Tell your wife hi for me.”
“I’ll do that.” He tipped his hat to her as he headed off down the street with the stack of rodeo posters under his arm.
“Rodeo, rodeo … that’s all anyone can talk about in this town.” Emily smiled at Macy as she approached the counter.
“Well, it’s only been going on for the last sixty or so years,” Macy pointed out. “Kind of hard to get rid of a tradition like that one. Besides, it does bring in all those tourists and their dollars.” She handed over the prescriptions she was filling for Mr. Fremont and Jessie Briggs.
“True, there is that big plus for the town. We have our own local cowboys competing back in their hometown, and since most of them are card-carrying members of the PRCA, it does elevate our rodeo in prize money and points toward the National Finals.” Emily gave her a glance before she continued to work on the scrips. “Of course, the publicity this year with a hometown world champion competing is causing a lot of added interest.”
Macy looked up in time to catch the second glance sent her way. World champion? No, why would he? None of my business.
“Will Monty and his brother be entering the steer roping this year?” Macy asked, hoping to point the woman in another direction.
“Nope. J.J. tripped over an irrigation pipe on the farm and messed up his ankle and knee. Doctor said he had to stay out of the saddle for a while and put him on crutches. So they’ll be on the sidelines this year.”
Emily handed two bags over to Macy with a grin. “Guess you’ll be front row for the bronc-riding event.”
“I’ll be attending all the rodeo events … with Mike,” she replied with an even smile. People in town needed to get another hobby besides gossip involving her and Trace and their nonexistent romance. Macy concluded her business and left with the meds in hand. As she walked toward her truck, her eye caught another poster in the window of the hardware store. She slowed down and read it carefully.
Contestants from all over will compete for the prize monies, belt buckles, and saddle, including Cartwright’s Crossing’s own favorite son, three-time world champion bareback bronc rider, Trace Cartwright.
He’s going to do it. I knew rodeo was still in his blood. Macy quickly turned and made her way to her truck. Once inside, she took time to absorb the information. Why should it matter to her if he was competing or not? It was a free world. Maybe because the last time he competed in the Cartwright’s Crossing rodeo was the night he proposed to her … right after winning the competition. He had been so incredibly high on adrenaline and excitement. He had literally swept her off her feet. After completing the required eight-second ride, he’d left the horse and didn’t stop until he’d cleared the railing and grabbed her from where she stood cheering for him. He had whirled
her around until she was dizzy. Then he went down on one knee in front of the whole arena and proposed. Coming out of shock, she’d nodded her head, and he caught her up in his arms again. It had been a euphoric night; she’d been on cloud nine for days afterward. Neither of them had wanted to wait a long time, so with the help of her grandmother and Annie and many other ladies in town, they’d planned the wedding in four weeks.
Looking back now, Macy saw what should have been warning signs, signals to slow down and proceed with caution. Except love had been blind at that point. Hindsight was indeed twenty-twenty. It was the excitement of the moment and the crowd’s encouragement when they saw what was happening. That, combined with her own wildly beating heart that had loved her cowboy since the moment she’d laid eyes on him less than ten months before, had allowed the moment to sweep her up the same way Trace had physically done. The world was full of possibilities, and nothing mattered but how much she loved him. And then the momentum of the wedding swept them both along.
When had they actually sat down and talked about their future? Since their trip to the Blue Hole, she had examined those early days more and more. She didn’t like what had emerged.
In a long-overdue retrospect, Macy realized theirs had indeed been a whirlwind courtship, and conversations that most engaged couples had even prior to being engaged had never transpired between them. Discussions about their future, about where would they live, or what they would do. Did he want kids? Did she? How many? They had assumed, she supposed, that everything would continue to be perfect for them.
