by Jane Porter
“I just didn’t want to stir up unhappy memories.”
“And not bringing up that night is supposed to be better?”
“Yes. You hated Marietta. You never returned.”
“You’re right, and I hated this street, too, because every time I saw it, it reminded me of Mac’s last day being a happy, normal girl. She was only thirteen. Still a kid. I dropped her off for a slumber party and she practically skipped up the front walk, and then the next time I saw her, a couple hours later, I had to tell her that Mom and Dad were dead, and oh, Gordon, Ty, and Grace, too.”
Rory’s fury made the night crackle and snap. Sadie couldn’t stop shivering. Her teeth kept chattering. She wanted to tell him that she understood, far more than he knew, because it was her last night being a secure little girl, too. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. It’s why I felt guilty. I’ve always wondered if you hadn’t brought her here, would things have been different?”
“Yes. If she hadn’t been here, she would have probably died, too. She lived because she wasn’t there. I lived because I was bringing her here. And I don’t know why we both escaped the blood bath, but we did. And it was all because my folks asked me to drive her here, for your party.”
Sadie blinked back tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too.” He gave his head a slight shake. “I need to go.”
She wanted to ask him to please stay, just for a little longer. She wanted him to come in so she could explain why it was difficult for her to tell him about her party. She wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But she didn’t think everything would be okay. She had the feeling that nothing would ever be the same between them again.
“Will you call me later?” she asked unsteadily.
“I don’t know.”
Sadie stood shivering on the sidewalk watching him drive away, her gaze pinned on the red taillights until they disappeared from view.
Chapter Eleven
Rory didn’t know where to go. He was angry, truly angry, the kind of anger that put him on the road, doing stupid things, making him want to drink too hard, and fight too much.
Impotent rage filled him now. He couldn’t return to the little rental house. He didn’t feel like going to Grey’s—that was just asking for trouble. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less anyone he knew. And so he got on Highway 89, and headed north to the 35 and then east for his ranch outside Clark.
It’d take him two and a half hours to reach Clark, and another thirty minutes to reach the house and his bed, and by then, Rory hoped he wouldn’t feel like putting his fist through a wall or throwing bottles through a window.
This anger was why he rode bulls.
This anger was why he embraced danger.
And now he was furious, but this time it was at Sadie.
It took him all of three hours, but by the time he reached Wyoming, Rory had settled down. He wasn’t angry anymore, just tired, and disappointed.
He didn’t know why he’d gotten so upset so quickly—no, that wasn’t true. He knew why. Chance Avenue had been a problem for him. Just like the Douglas Ranch had been a problem, and the cemetery, too.
Until a week ago, Rory didn’t return to Marietta often, and when he did go back, it was for a day, and he avoided anyplace remotely uncomfortable, and all he’d done this past week was be uncomfortable.
He’d deliberately pushed himself out of his comfort zone, wanting to change for Sadie, wanting to be that man who could be in touch with his feelings, which meant opening up, and feeling, and growing, and letting go.
Clearly it was too much for a man who’d spent the past twenty something years choosing to be isolated, detached, and stunted.
Parking in front of the low log cabin, Rory lifted the bubble wrapped snow globe from the floor of the truck and carried it into the house with him. Even without peeling the wrap away, he could see the three scenes carved into the mountain, and he remembered how he’d felt when he found the snow globe.
He’d felt hope. And he’d felt love. And he couldn’t wait to give it to Sadie.
He should have given it to her, too. He should have done what he’d intended to do when he went to her house. Instead he snapped and pushed her away. Hard.
There was no reason to be so rough. She didn’t deserve it. And it seemed despite all the growing up he’d tried to do lately, it wasn’t enough.
Sadie wasn’t good with conflict. Her mom hadn’t been good with conflict, either, and had always struggled to stand up for herself. It was why her mother never asked for a raise, and continued to clean people’s homes for the same price for almost fifteen years. When Sadie had tried to talk to her about asking her employers for more, citing the cost of living, and the fact that Mrs. Mann had an excellent work history, her mom always refused, saying she didn’t want to create trouble. She wasn’t comfortable making waves.
Lying in bed, unable to sleep after her confrontation with Rory, Sadie wished she’d learned how to handle conflict better. And uncomfortable conversations. Maybe then she could have just told Rory the things she’d wanted to tell him.
She thought if she’d found the right words he might understand why discussing the night of the tragedy with him was so difficult for her.
Because what happened at his home, happened on her birthday, her actual birthday, and the memories of that night were so upsetting that she’d never wanted another birthday party. And forever since, her birthday marked the anniversary of the deadly home invasion at the Douglas Ranch.
It was as if she couldn’t escape the past, or the violence.
She couldn’t forget any of it, and instead of just worrying about Rory, Quinn, and McKenna, she prayed for them, all of them but over time Rory was the one that stayed in her heart. Rory was the one she couldn’t forget. The crazy thing was, she wanted to forget him. She wanted to meet someone wonderful and handsome, someone she could fall in love with so she never had to think about the violence again. She dated, though, and she tried to put herself out there, but she never met anyone who could replace Rory in her heart. It would have been so much easier if she had.
And so she’d accepted that he was supposed to be there, for whatever reason. But he wasn’t the easiest of loves. He never had been.
Rory spent the weekend trying to settle back into the routine of the ranch, the property tucked against the foothills of the Shoshone National Forest, the land so different here from Paradise Valley, which is why he’d bought it.
Thoughts of Sadie kept creeping in, even though he didn’t want to think about her. But every time he wasn’t riding, or hauling feed, or repairing machinery, he found himself picturing her on the street, shivering, as she looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.
At first he’d told himself it was part of her act—the worry, the confusion, the emotions—and then he hated himself for thinking that way because he didn’t believe it was true. He didn’t really believe she’d played him. He believed her when she said she didn’t want to upset him by bringing up the past. Everyone felt that way about the tragedy on the ranch. It was a taboo topic. It only created pain.
So why had he been so angry with her? Why had he been so hard on her?
The answer came to him as he was inspecting the deicer for the horses’ water trough. She’d caught him off guard, and he’d reacted badly because of that.
For Rory, control was everything. It was why he’d chosen to compete on the rodeo circuit, and then later, focus on riding broncs and bulls. It was dangerous, and demanding, and it required every ounce of his skill and concentration. Riding a massive, kicking, bucking animal tested his control, and there was no greater thrill—or relief—when he won. Every ride was a challenge, and every ride pushed him to his limits, and just being able to walk away after a wild, rough ride reassured him that he was still in control.
Maybe the problem with Sadie was that he cared so much, he wasn’t in control.
But that wa
sn’t her fault. That was his.
An hour later after returning to the house he sent her a text. “We should talk.”
Sadie sat back on her heels and gazed up at her handiwork. The tree was finished and it looked gorgeous. She was usually her own worst critic but she couldn’t find fault with her tree and no one else in the Graff ballroom had anything like hers. Her theme “A Very Vintage Christmas,” was inspired by her love of Marietta, and the Graff Hotel, and her beaded ornaments shimmered in between the gorgeous antique ornaments. Long strands of pearls draped the tree, and then to add some warmth and depth, she tucked a rich red velvet ribbon in and out of the branches so that the wide velvet just peeked out of the greenery adding a lovely softness to the crisp green boughs.
She hoped the tree would go to a high bidder. She hadn’t been frugal at all but the tree had become her therapy as the days passed without a word from Rory.
McKenna said he’d left town, too, and Sadie was devastated. She’d always feared this would happen—that she’d begin to get comfortable with him and then he’d leave—but she wasn’t going to crack today, and she wasn’t going to take to her bed tonight.
No, she was going to the party and she’d be confident and radiant. While putting the finishing touches on the tree, she pictured the beautiful dress she’d found to wear tonight. It was slinky and formfitting, a gorgeous teal satin with exquisite beading, and she’d planned to wear her hair down, but add some glamorous waves around her face. McKenna and Trey were still going with her, and Sadie wasn’t going to let them know how hurt she was that Rory had just disappeared from her life as if she didn’t matter.
Gathering her empty ornament boxes, she stacked them on the cart provided by the hotel, and was pushing the cart out of the ballroom and down the hotel corridor toward the back parking lot when she heard her phone vibrate. Sadie fished out her phone and checked for messages. A missed call from McKenna, and a text from Rory.
His text was brutally short and impersonal. “We should talk.”
Her eyes stung and she blinked hard to keep them from filling with tears.
He was going to break things off with her, she was sure of it, after a message like that, and the pain was staggering. Her heart fell, tumbling straight to her feet. Still fighting tears, she pushed the cart across the parking lot, the wind gusting, threatening to send her cardboard boxes in every direction. She glanced up at the sky, the clouds were high but thickly banked. Snow.
Of course. It hadn’t snowed in weeks and now, the night of the gala, it would snow. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad. She quickly loaded the boxes into her trunk and then returned the cart to the hotel’s catering department. And then, she finally replied to Rory’s text, determined to be calm and keep it together. “Can we talk tomorrow? Tonight is the tree auction and I’m running behind.”
Tomorrow would be better, she told herself. Whatever he wanted to say could wait. Tonight was her night. She was going to enjoy tonight no matter what.
Swallowing hard, blinking fiercely, Sadie walked back to her car and the first thick white flakes slowly drifted down from the sky. No, she told herself, blinking again. No, you will absolutely, positively not cry.
The auction was tonight.
Rory couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Had that many days gone by already?
He called McKenna. She answered, but not very friendly. “What’s the deal with you?”
“Tonight’s the auction.”
“Mistletoe and Montana, yes.”
“Are you going?”
“Sadie invited us. We were supposed to be sitting with you two.”
“I forgot it was tonight.”
“But that’s probably because you forgot about her.”
“I didn’t forget about her.”
“So you just leave town and don’t say a word?”
“I had to sort a few things out.”
“Whatever. I’m not interested in details—”
“I’m coming tonight,” he interrupted, shoving clothes in a bag as he talked. “I’m going to be there.”
“There’s a snowstorm predicted for the pass. You can’t drive it now.”
“Should take me just about three hours if I leave now.”
“Rory. Just call her, apologize, but don’t drive tonight. It’s not safe.”
“I’m heading to my truck. See you soon.” He hung up and walked outside.
Snow was falling, fairly steadily, but it didn’t trouble him. You couldn’t grow up in Montana without dealing with some formidable winter conditions. He placed his bags in the back seat of the cab and then remembered the snow globe in the house. He returned for the snow globe and then climbed behind the steering wheel, setting off for Marietta.
Forty minutes later, the snow was coming down so hard Rory’s windshield wipers couldn’t keep up and the blinding wall of white meant he couldn’t see taillights around him.
Fortunately, he knew the road well, and he tried to stay relaxed, and alert, to be ready for anything unexpected.
If it weren’t snowing so hard, he would have called Sadie to let her know he was on his way, but this was pretty much blizzard conditions and her dad had died in Wyoming during one of the infamous whiteouts, and the last thing Rory wanted to do was add to her worry.
The goal was to get there, and once there, he’d make amends. But until he reached Marietta, there was nothing he could do but let the stereo keep him company as the howling winds blew thick drifts of snow across the highway, turning the landscape into a blinding white. Snow now piled high in every direction, burying landmarks, and covering signposts.
It was slow going now, but he’d get there. Possibly late, but he would get there, and he would be her date.
An hour later he wasn’t going anywhere.
Law enforcement closed the interstate down outside Billings, with highway patrol cars lined on both sides of the freeway, forming a blockade, their blue lights flashing.
Rory felt sick as he sat, trapped in the truck, unable to move. Time was passing and the event would have started by now and he pictured Sadie there with McKenna and Trey. He pictured his place at the table, empty. His place shouldn’t be empty. He should have been there. He should have remembered that the auction was today. He should have not left town in a temper, either.
He had to make this right. But to do that, he needed the snow to stop, and the freeway to reopen, and both things could happen, if the stars aligned right.
But an hour crawled by and the snow continued to fall, and the wind howled, sending huge sheets of white blowing across the freeway.
It’s just a re-ride, Rory told himself, and he’d had countless re-rides during his career. The storm could blow out, and the roads could be plowed and he could be heading on to Marietta in no time.
He wouldn’t get discouraged. He wouldn’t give up. He was going to get there.
But another hour passed, and the time slid away, eight o’clock becoming nine, and nine becoming nine thirty, he was forced to accept it wasn’t going to happen. Because even if the roads opened now, it was still another ninety minutes to Marietta, and the event wouldn’t last all night. Once the trees were auctioned, people would leave. Sadie would leave.
Rory texted McKenna. “It doesn’t look good.”
She texted back. “I figured as much. Everyone’s talking about the storm.”
“How is it there? Hard snow?”
“Not as bad as Billings.”
“That’s where I’m now.”
“Sadie’s tree is up next.”
Rory’s chest ached. “How does it look?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Buy it for me. Just don’t let her know I’m bidding.”
“I’ll have Taylor do it. Where do you want it delivered tomorrow?”
“Sadie’s house.”
And then fifteen minutes later he got another text. “It’s yours, and it only cost you an arm and a leg.”
He answered with an emoji of a smile
y face.
She answered with an emoji blowing a kiss.
Rory started to put away his phone and then he pulled it back out and sent Sadie a text. “I am truly sorry to miss the party. I’ve been thinking of you all night.” And then he put the phone back, and turned the radio up as he heard Jennifer Nettles song “Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep” come on.
He felt as though he’d swallowed a bucket of nails as he listened to the lyrics and he gripped the steering wheel, feeling like a failure. He hated letting Sadie down. He’d wanted to be the man she needed, the man with integrity, the man who’d do the right thing.
He hadn’t done the right thing by walking away from her the other night, and he vowed then and there, that if she gave him another chance, it’d never happen again.
If he had the chance...
The chance. A chance.
He suddenly flashed back to that night in Clovis, and his prayer. Lord, give me a chance. Maybe it was being trapped on a freeway for five hours, buffeted by wind and blinding snow, but suddenly the prayer took on an entirely new meaning.
He’d prayed for help and a chance.
He’d prayed because he was in trouble.
He’d prayed because his mystery girl was there that night and he desperately wanted a chance with her.
And his prayer had been answered. Of course his prayer had been answered. And of course his girl would live on Chance Avenue, because where else did angel girls live?
Rory offered up a silent thank-you, and repeating his vow that he’d do better, he would.
A half hour later the road opened and Rory was driving. He’d missed the fundraiser at the Graff but he wasn’t going to miss saying good night to Sadie.
Sadie let herself into her house, and hung up her heavy wool jacket with the faux fur trim in the hall closet before slipping her high heels off.
