The Rancher's Return

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Can I get you anything,” he asked as he pulled an old chair out for her. “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Actually, I’m fine,” she said, holding up one hand. “I’m not staying that long.”

  Carter shrugged then pulled out an old armchair from beside the stove for her to sit on. When Carter dropped to the edge of the bed, she sat down, as well.

  “So what can I do for you?” He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands as he leaned forward. His blue eyes met hers, and Emma couldn’t stop a glimmer of attraction as a smile tipped up one corner of his mouth.

  He seemed more relaxed than he had been around Adam, which stiffened her resolve. “I need to talk to you about Adam,” she said, getting directly to the point.

  Carter frowned. “Sure. What about him?”

  She rubbed her hands on her thighs, trying to formulate what she wanted to say. “You seem uncomfortable around him.”

  Carter straightened, his gaze dropping to his hands. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” Emma said, lowering her voice. Trying to sound nonconfrontational. Understanding. “It wasn’t as obvious when we were out checking the cows in the pasture, but it was there, as well. Supper time was when it really came to a head.”

  Carter’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

  “In fact, he asked me why you were angry with him.”

  Carter pushed himself off his bed, turning away from her. “I’m not angry with him. I…” His sentence trailed off as he tunneled his hand through his hair.

  “I know you’re not angry with him, but that’s how he’s reading your actions. And I’m guessing it was because this evening was uncomfortable for you. I’m sorry that we invited you. I mean, not sorry in the sense that I regret it for my sake…” She caught herself, stumbling along through this potential conversational minefield while Carter stood with his back to her, his hands now planted on his hips. “I…I mean for your sake. I’m sorry for your sake. It must have been difficult to see Adam sitting in the kitchen. And I’m guessing it was a stark reminder of…of your son.”

  She stopped there, waiting for a reaction from him.

  Carter grabbed the back of his neck, still turned away from her. Still silent, but his resistance was a tangible force swirling around the cabin.

  She drew in a long breath, forcing herself to continue. She had to get this out of the way.

  “I know from talking to Wade and your grandmother that you haven’t been back here since the accident,” she said, her heart pushing heavily against her chest. “So you haven’t had a chance to get used to the idea he isn’t here anymore. And I’m sure seeing Adam…seeing me in that kitchen was difficult.” She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, desperately sending up scattered prayers. She was doing this all wrong. She was only making this worse for him.

  Carter turned around, holding her gaze. “Is this why you came? To tell me that you understand what I’m going through?” His words lay heavy between them.

  “Partly,” she said, licking her lips, her hands like ice. “But…I had another reason.”

  “Like telling me how sorry you feel for me? Telling me how sad it is that I lost my son and that I’ll get over it?”

  Oh, Lord, what have I started?

  She waited, letting the silence ease away the echoes of his voice. Then she took another breath. “I had no intention of trying to give you advice or to minimize what you’ve gone through. I’m only trying to tell what I’m seeing from my side of the situation and how it’s—”

  “Situation? What situation?”

  Emma squeezed her hands into fists, praying for patience. Sure, he was a grieving father, and, sure, he lost a lot. But she had a problem to solve, and if no solution was in sight she had to make a major decision.

  “While I respect your sorrow and grief, it’s causing a problem for my son,” Emma said, looking down at her hands, her fingers braided together on her lap. “As badly as I feel for you, my…my situation is that Adam and his well-being are my first priority. And right now, he’s afraid of you. And if that doesn’t change, I can’t continue to work under these circumstances.”

  Silence followed this formal pronouncement, and Carter turned around then slowly dropped onto the bed. He grabbed his head with his hands, his fingers clenching in his hair.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  His admission surprised her. Given his frustration, she thought he would simply tell her, fine. Leave.

  He released his breath, then looked up at her.

  “I know I’m uncomfortable around Adam. And you’re right. He does remind me of…of my son.” Carter looked away and pulled in another shaky breath. “And it does hurt.

  “But right now, to keep the ranch going, I need you to stay. You know how things work here. I haven’t been around enough to know your and Wade’s system.” He lifted his shoulders in a deep sigh. “I don’t know how my own ranch runs. And until the buyer comes or Wade returns, I need your help.”

  Though she knew he referred to the ranch, on another level it felt good to know that Carter needed her.

  “And I’m sorry about Adam,” Carter continued. “He’s a good kid. I like him…” Carter’s voice faded away and his lips curved in a wistful smile. “You’re doing a good job with him.”

  Emma waited, letting the moment settle, giving him space to deal with his own pain.

  Then he looked up at her, his eyes locking on to hers. “If I promise to try to deal with all of this, will you stay?” Carter asked.

  Emma held his gaze and heard the entreaty in his voice. She struggled to balance the needs of her son with what this handsome, appealing man was asking of her. Should she?

  Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth, trying to weigh her reactions, her feelings. Part of her wanted to jump up, grab Adam and leave.

  Yet the practical part of her realized that she had no other place to go. And no other real options. Yet.

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “If you can deal with Adam’s presence, then I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Thanks.” He gave her a careful smile, his eyes still holding hers.

  Emma couldn’t look away. It seemed as if time slowed while awareness fluttered between them. A hesitant shift in the atmosphere that both enticed and frightened her.

  She made herself look away. Made herself break the moment.

  “Sylvia’s mother called.”

  The words came out more blunt than she had hoped. But they definitely created the switch in the mood she needed.

  Carter straightened and blinked, as if pulling himself from another place. “When?”

  “Earlier tonight. She didn’t know Miranda and Wade were gone.”

  “What did she want?”

  The stiffness of his features made her realize her blunt pronouncement had served its purpose. And yet, the lonely part of her yearned foolishly for that small moment of closeness they shared only seconds ago.

  “She wants to talk to you.”

  Carter got to his feet and walked to the door, then back to the bed and then to the stove. “What about?”

  You passed the message on. You’re done. This isn’t your problem. This isn’t your place. Just leave, already.

  But when she saw his face, the pain and sorrow that had returned, she knew she couldn’t drop Sylvia’s mother into the conversation and then leave, in spite of her need to protect herself and Adam.

  “I think she misses you,” she said quietly.

  “Why would she?”

  Emma thought of her own lack of connections. Her father gone. Her grandparents dead. One aunt who lived in a retirement village in Florida. No uncles. Karl, a man she had hoped to spend her life with, gone. The paucity of relationships made her, for a moment, envy Carter in spite of his loss.

  “You are the only connection they have to their daughter and grandson.” She pressed on, not sure why this had become so important to her, but she wanted him to understand what he kept hi
mself from. “I lost my mother when I was young. I used to love it when my father would tell me stories about her. They became my way of connecting with her. Of feeling as if the hole her absence left wasn’t as big. I think she wants to talk to you about Harry. To share stories.”

  Carter shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe her. “A person has to move on. Living in the past serves no purpose. Waste of time. Waste of emotions.” Beneath his words, Emma heard a note of yearning that called to her.

  And the sorrow on his face eased past the barriers she’d been trying to erect to keep him at a distance.

  She leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. “Have you talked to your in-laws at all?”

  Carter emitted a short laugh. “I left right after the funeral. I couldn’t get away from here fast enough. Why does this matter to you?”

  She held his gaze and gave him a melancholy smile. “I’ve also gotten to know your family a bit working here on the ranch. They also lost something when Sylvia then Harry died. And they lost something when you left too. They lost your stories.”

  “Look, all I want is some peace in my life. And to get away from all the emotions and the crying and the pain. Now that my grandmother is moving off the ranch, I can put this part of my life behind me. Get some peace.”

  “And do you have peace now?”

  Carter opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he shook his head. “I don’t know. And talking about my son isn’t going to get me what I want.”

  “But the longer you wait to talk about your son…” She hesitated, realizing in a moment of blinding clarity that he never mentioned Harry’s name aloud. She wondered if anyone ever did in front of him, other than Adam.

  She plunged ahead, “The longer you wait to talk about Harry, the harder it’s going to be. It will hurt, but I think you need to get through this stage.”

  He said nothing to that, and Emma figured she had said enough, as well. And had spent enough time here. She had her own problems to deal with, and she had to be careful not to get pulled too deeply into Carter’s.

  He had to make his own decisions, and his problems weren’t hers. Once the buyer came here, she would be gone and Carter would be out of her life.

  She got up to leave, but the sight of this strong, silent man, sitting alone on the bed, his face in his hands, tugged at her heart.

  She touched his shoulder, hoping to give him some connection. Some small comfort.

  He eased out a sigh then, to her surprise, his hand came up and covered hers. The warmth of his large hand eased into the closed-off portion of her heart.

  She waited a few heartbeats, reminding herself what she had wanted to say.

  “You say you can’t talk to your family about Harry, but you might want to think about talking to God,” she said quietly.

  He lowered his hand, breaking the connection, creating a momentary sense of loss. “Do you think that will help?” He looked up at her, the broken longing in his gaze calling to her. “I feel like I’m all alone in this.”

  Emma slipped her hands in her pockets and drew in a breath. “God never lets us go, Carter.”

  “How can you say that with such conviction?” The faint note of uncertainty in his voice gave her hope.

  “I lost a father. I lost a fiancé. I lost hopes and dreams.”

  And I’m in the process of shelving a few more, she thought.

  “But the one constant in my life,” she continued, “Has been my need to depend on God. To connect with Him.”

  Carter blinked then looked away, shoving his hand through his thick hair. “I don’t know if I can start again. I’ve been away so long.”

  “God is faithful.” Emma sensed his receptiveness to what she was saying. “And He wants us to be in a relationship with Him.” She hesitated, wondering if she had overstepped the boundaries, but her concern for him outweighed her reticence. “It’s Sunday tomorrow. Why don’t you come to church? Reconnect with the people that care about you. Bring your questions to God and see if you can find a bit of the peace you’ve been trying to find.”

  Silence followed that, but Carter didn’t shrug off her suggestion. Nor did he mock her declaration.

  She waited a moment, then realizing she had said more than enough, went back to her cabin.

  Half an hour later the sound of his motorbike roared into the night, growing quieter as he drove away. As if he was outrunning his own pain and sorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  Carter parked his motorbike, pulled his helmet off his head and hung it on the handlebars. He finger combed his hair and checked it in the rearview mirror of his bike. Not great, but it would have to do.

  He adjusted his jacket then looked across the parking lot to the church building, gleaming in the morning sunlight.

  He hesitated, examining again his reasons for being here. Nana would love it. It was what the Beck family did every Sunday. Tradition.

  But even as he examined his motive, he knew something else had drawn him here this morning. The quiet comment Emma had made last night had chipped away at his resistance to God. He had gone out on a long ride last night, but he couldn’t quiet the angry questions he had thrown toward heaven after Harry’s death.

  Emma’s challenge to take those questions to the source stuck with him. So he decided to come to church this morning and face God directly. If nothing came of it, he could say he tried. And maybe, just maybe, he could find his elusive peace as Emma had said.

  As he stepped through the doors, a burst of noise greeted him. Groups of people gathered in the foyer of the church, talking and laughing. Children ran among the adults, playing a rambunctious game of hide-and-seek. The door behind him opened again, and two young girls ran past him to join in the game.

  He recognized a number of people. One woman close to him turned. Carter could tell the moment she recognized him. Her eyes widened, her hand fluttered to her chin and sympathy flooded her features.

  Carter only gave her a tight smile, then quickly worked his way through the crowd to the sanctuary. He wasn’t ready to face sympathy. Not yet.

  A quick scan of the half-full pews helped him spot his grandmother and cousin. He hurried down the aisle. He slipped past a purse lying at the end of the pew and dropped onto the empty space beside his grandmother, enjoying Nana’s surprised reaction.

  “Carter, how wonderful to see you here.” She slipped her arm through his. As she pulled him close, he caught the faintest scent of roses and hairspray, two smells he always associated with Nana and Sunday. “This makes me so happy.” She drew back, her contented smile erasing all the second thoughts that had dogged him all the way here. If Nana was happy, he was happy.

  Shannon leaned past Nana and gave him a quick smile and a nod of approval, her auburn, curly hair bouncing as she did. Carter was surprised to see her here. Only a month ago he knew she’d been working on decorations for the church for her wedding. When her fiancé called it off and left town, he’d been told that Shannon had stayed away from church too.

  But now she was here too, and he suspected it was for the same reason he was. To make Nana Beck happy.

  Though, as he settled into the bench beside Nana, he knew, beneath the desire to please his grandmother lay a deeper reason.

  “You didn’t bring your Bible?” Nana asked, frowning at his empty hands.

  “Uh, no…I came on my motorbike.”

  “They have Bibles in the back.” A gentle smile accompanied her suggestion, but Carter easily read the subtext.

  “Save my place,” he said with a wink as he got up. He walked past people coming in, giving vague smiles and replies to those who greeted him by name.

  “Carter. You old pirate.” A deep voice boomed across the foyer. Carter almost winced then turned to face Matt Thomas, an old school friend.

  The last time Carter saw Matt, he was thinner and had hair. Now his shaved head gleamed under the bright lights of the church entrance and a goatee covered his double chin. A leather jacket blazer
and black jeans strained against the extra weight across his waist. “Wow, it’s been a coon’s age since you’ve been here,” Matt said, slapping Carter on the shoulder. “I heard you were back to see your grandma. How is the old matriarch? Heard she had a heart attack?”

  “She’s doing much better. She’s here now,” Carter said then gave his old friend a grin. “So what’s with the biker look?”

  Matt ran his hand over his shiny head. “Not all of us are blessed with shag carpeting for hair. You trying to pull a Sampson?”

  “Nope. Just haven’t had time for a cut.”

  “Next free day you have you come around to Laurie’s shop. She’ll have you trimmed, gelled and moussed quicker’n you can say hair product. Then you and me can head over to the Royal for burgers and the best fries in Hartley Creek.” Matt slapped Carter on the back. “Like old times.”

  “That’d be good.” Carter grabbed a Bible off the rack and raised it toward Matt. “Sounds like a date.”

  He was about to leave, thankful for the lighthearted banter he had shared with Matt.

  Then Matt put his hand on his shoulder, his eyes grew moist and Carter inwardly braced himself.

  And here it comes.

  “Buddy, I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” Matt said, moving closer as people flowed past them. “Sorry about Harry. I never had a chance to talk to you. You disappeared right after the funeral.”

  Carter shifted the Bible from hand to hand. “It’s been a while. Two years now.”

  Matt squeezed a little harder. “I know, but it still must be hard. That’s something you don’t get over real quick. I want you to know that me and Laurie, well, we been praying for you.”

  Carter stopped, then looked up at his friend, surprised at how touched he was by the comment. He was moved to know that someone other than his grandmother kept his name before God.

  He gave Matt a careful smile. “Thanks for that,” he said.

  An awkward pause followed and Carter took a step away, poking his thumb over his shoulder. “Gotta get back to my grandmother. Told her I’d be right back.”