by Julia London
“We’re moving on to Garner tomorrow,” D.J. said. “Why don’t you come with?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wyatt said without thinking.
“Did you bring a change of clothes, man?” D.J. asked. “You look like you ran away from home.” He laughed.
Wyatt looked down. His white shirt was filthy, as were his khakis. “I, ah…I was just taking a little break.”
“Everyone needs a break now and then,” D.J. said. “Got any beer?”
“Yep.” Wyatt handed him a beer and opened one for himself.
“Hey, Mariah,” D.J. called. “Wyatt’s going to Garner with us.”
“Cool.” Mariah floated into their midst wearing a bikini top and a peasant skirt. She had a green snake tattooed around her shoulders. “You’re going with us?”
“Yep. This is the life,” Wyatt said, settling in. “Too bad not everyone can enjoy it.”
“Ah, man, anyone can enjoy it,” said D.J. “You’ve just got to choose this life.”
“My brother can’t,” Mariah said. “He’s in Afghanistan. What’s he enjoying?”
“Right,” D.J. said, and to Wyatt he said, “Mariah’s brother is a big, tough Marine. He used to hang out with us before he signed up.”
“He was home six weeks before he was redeployed. That’s it! He could really use some downtime,” Mariah said. She leaned over, picked up a beer, and wandered back to the picnic table.
“I don’t know about her brother, but some of those soldiers come back and get some downtime and just milk it,” Wyatt scoffed.
“What do you mean?” D.J. asked as he offered Wyatt a cigarette. Wyatt shook his head.
“I know of this one guy who came back from Afghanistan. I mean, yeah, he was a captive, but he came back, and he’s done nothing but milk it.” Wyatt tossed his empty beer can aside and picked up another beer. He was drinking fast. Marijuana made him thirsty. He wondered if D.J. had any more marijuana.
“That guy who was a prisoner of the Taliban?” D.J. asked. “I heard about him. How’d he milk it?”
“You know, he came back and became the big hero around Austin,” Wyatt said, waving his hand. “Ma—his wife had remarried, but he didn’t care. He just took her back, like he had a right. Took the dog, took it all,” he said, waving loosely at all. “And the guy doesn’t work a lick. He just milks it, walks around being the hero, getting everyone’s sympathy.”
“No, now, I heard about this,” Mariah said, appearing on their right again. “That guy went through a lot. Give me a cigarette, babe.” D.J. handed her the cigarette he’d just lit. Mariah took a drag and looked at Wyatt, pointing the cigarette at him. “He was a prisoner, and he lost his job and his land and his wife,” she said, letting the smoke escape with her words. “That’s not right. He shouldn’t have lost all that after what he did for this country.”
“If you ask me, I think she should have left that jerk she was married to right off,” D.J. said.
“Jerk!” Wyatt said, quickly angered by that. “Why’s he the jerk? What’d he do?”
“It’s obvious,” Mariah said before walking off again.
“What’s so damn obvious?” Wyatt called after her.
“Hey, peace, brother,” D.J. said. “It’s obvious because the wife wouldn’t have been with the second guy if she thought the first guy was alive.”
“Yeah, well, she thought the first guy was dead and fell in love again. Is that so hard to believe?”
“No. But she obviously loved the first guy, and when he came back, she had no graceful way out of the second marriage. Think about it. There’d be no smooth way out of that situation. The second husband should have been a man about it.”
Wyatt snorted. “So if Mariah’s first husband came back from the dead, you’d just let her go, huh?”
“Yeah,” D.J. said, frowning. “That’s what it’s all about. Hey, it sucks, but sometimes, life sucks. I just think if the dude really loved her, he would have walked in her shoes and let her go. That’s what love is. It’s letting go.”
Great. Wyatt wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if D.J. suddenly busted out a guitar and started singing while little flowers popped up and budded and birds gathered round to chirp along. He didn’t want to hear this hippie’s opinion. What the hell did he know?
The next morning, Wyatt told D.J. he wasn’t going to Garner with them after all.
“No?” D.J. asked, but he didn’t seem too disappointed.
“No. I think I’m done.”
“Done with what?”
Wyatt had to think about that a minute. “This,” he said, gesturing to the space around him. “Everything.”
That afternoon, he drove up to a closed Boy Scout camp near Pedernales Falls. It was locked up, but not too tightly. Wyatt looked at Milo. “What do you think, boy? Maybe this is as good a place as any to end this thing.”
Macy had called everyone she could think of, had talked to every law enforcement agency she could find. “The problem,” the police chief told her again, “is that he’s not really missing. He can go off for a few days if he wants. His truck hasn’t turned up; nothing looks strange.”
“You don’t think he’d call Linda Gail?” Macy asked. “Or lock his house?”
“Lots of people around here don’t lock up their houses, Macy. And by Linda Gail’s own admission, things really slow down in late July and early August. Now if he hasn’t shown up by Monday, we’ll get worried.”
“You may be worried on Monday, but I am worried now,” Macy said shortly. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and she felt awfully guilty. She’d done this. She was the reason Wyatt had left. And she would never forgive herself if something happened to him.
When Finn called to tell her they wouldn’t be able to get out of New York until tomorrow morning and tried to explain the anxiety he was feeling, Macy couldn’t concentrate. She was thinking that Wyatt had a friend in Dallas. What was his name? Jim, John…
“Macy?”
“Sorry, sorry,” she said. “So the deal is a good one, huh?”
There was a pause on the other end. “It’s a good deal. I’ve already told you that. I was just telling you how nervous I got at the airport. Macy, what is going on?”
She couldn’t hide it. “Something…something awful has happened.”
“The baby—”
“No, no, nothing like that,” she quickly reassured him. “It’s Wyatt—he’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“He took off with Milo.”
Finn said nothing for a moment. “Okay, so…?”
“So it’s my fault, Finn. Who knows where he is or what he’s done to himself?”
“Macy, he doesn’t need you to keep tabs on him.”
She was really getting very tired of people telling her not to worry. She knew Wyatt better than anyone. She was becoming increasingly frustrated with the world at large. Her head was killing her, she was starving, and she had more calls to make. “This is different. I know it. Something is wrong.”
“Let his family worry about it.”
“I am his family!” she cried. “He isn’t close to his parents and I am all he has, okay? And I am the reason he is out there, doing God knows what!”
“Calm down, baby,” Finn said softly.
Two wishes: Finn would understand and Wyatt would come back safe and sound. “Please don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you what to do.”
“I need to make some phone calls. You’ll be home tomorrow? Can we talk then?”
There was a long pause before Finn said, “Sure.”
Macy didn’t belabor the point. She said good-bye and hung up.
The first thing Finn did when they finally made it back to Austin—surprisingly, no worse for the wear—was drop off Brodie at his house. The second thing was to drive directly to Laru’s house because Macy wouldn’t answer her phone.
Jesse answered the door and told him that Macy was in town, at Wyatt’s office. Finn turned
the truck around and drove back to town.
He strode into Wyatt’s offices, startling the woman behind the desk. “My name is Finn Lockhart. I’m looking for Macy Lockhart.”
“Clark,” the woman said. “She’s in Wyatt’s office. I’ll let her know you’re—”
Finn didn’t wait for her to finish. He strode across the front office to the one in back, walking through the open door and startling Macy.
She was standing at the table, looking through some papers. “Finn!” she cried, hurrying forward to greet him. She hugged him, kissed him fully, then leaned back to look at him. “It’s so good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Wyatt had a friend in Dallas, but I can’t think of his name. I was trying to find it,” she said, and turned her attention back to the papers she was going through. “How was your trip home?” she asked absently.
Finn put his hand on her back. She looked up at him, but Finn had the impression she didn’t really see him. “What are you doing, Macy?” he asked quietly.
“I told you—”
“No, I mean, why are you doing this? Leave it to someone else.”
“Finn, please,” she sighed impatiently. “I’m Wyatt’s wife—”
“You’re his wife?” Finn said disbelievingly.
Macy gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. I thought we’d sorted all that out.”
“I am worried to death about him. He was in bad shape and I’m afraid he might have hurt himself.”
“Then the police need to find him. Not you,” Finn said, but Macy moved away from him.
“The police aren’t going to look for him until they absolutely have to.”
Finn didn’t like what was happening. He felt a strange, dark distance spreading between them. “All right. Then let me help,” he suggested.
“No.” Macy squeezed her eyes shut as if she needed a moment to compose herself. “Look, whatever happened to Wyatt, it happened because I pulled the rug right out from under his feet. Maybe I didn’t handle it right. I probably should have told him differently.”
“You don’t know that anything has happened—”
“He hasn’t taken his blood pressure medicine in weeks. He was supposed to play in a golf tournament but he didn’t take his clubs—”
“Macy, you are not to blame for anything but telling Wyatt the truth!” Finn insisted.
Her blue eyes were full of uneasiness. “I wish you could understand, Finn. I need to find Wyatt and know he’s okay. I owe him at least that much, if not more.”
“What else will you owe him?” Finn demanded. “Will you ever stop owing him? Are you going to let guilt rule you?”
“No! This is different—”
“Is it? Has it occurred to you that maybe he doesn’t want to be found?”
“Yes,” she said weakly. “That’s what scares me the most.”
“I think I found it!” the woman out front said.
“You found it?” Macy cried, and hurried into the other room, leaving Finn with a sinking feeling in his gut as he stared out at the stock tank.
41
The feel of a dog’s tongue licking his hand woke Wyatt.
It took him a moment to remember where he was. Oh, yeah—he’d broken into a Boy Scout camp. He was lying facedown on a cement cot with no mattress. Beer cans littered the floor around him, and Wyatt’s belly growled with hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
Milo looked very excited that he was awake, and Wyatt knew why. He’d shut the door of the cabin so Milo wouldn’t run off, and the dog had to go out. He pushed himself up off the cot, stumbled to the door to open it, and watched Milo bound out.
Wyatt walked outside, too, and looked around. It was a very bright day, already hot as hell. The front of his shirt was soaked with perspiration. He could smell himself, too, and wrinkled his nose. When Milo came trotting back, Wyatt gave him a healthy pat on the ribs. “You will be glad to know that I am done, sport,” he said. “I’ve got it out of my system. We’re going home, boy.”
It was strange, Wyatt thought, as he picked up the beer cans from the cabin, but he was more clearheaded today than he’d been since Macy told him Finn was alive. It still hurt like hell, but at least he had accepted it.
The truth was that he’d known when he’d first met Macy that Finn Lockhart was still in her blood. He’d known it when they were dating, when he’d suffered through all of her recounting what she and Finn had done here or there, on this date or that. He’d known it when he’d found her crying one afternoon. He’d thought something bad had happened—her mother had died, his mother had died, who knew?—but she’d finally admitted that she was grieving Finn. Again.
There were several occasions Wyatt had felt completely disconnected from his wife, and he would desperately assure her everything would be all right. Then Macy would be her old self, and he’d feel that connection to her, that lifeline, and his life would be wonderful again.
But Wyatt had known, had always known in the back of his mind, that he was competing with a dead man. And he’d known, the moment Macy told him Finn was alive, that he had no hope of competing with the man in the flesh. Now that he’d come to terms and admitted it to himself, he supposed he was even a little relieved.
He didn’t like the man he’d become these last few weeks. He was going to change all that, right a few wrongs, and get on with his life.
Wyatt went home to clean up before he did anything else. He was surprised to discover he’d gone off and left the house open. At least he assumed that’s what he’d done, as nothing was missing. He saw the empty blood pressure medicine bottle. He really needed to get that refilled.
He showered, fed Milo, and left his house, bound for the bank.
It took Wyatt a few hours to arrange what he needed to do. When he’d finished that, he drove to the office to check the mail and found it closed. “Great,” he muttered. “Go away a few days and Linda Gail closes shop.”
He picked up his cell phone and called her house, but he got no answer. He wondered if she had a cell phone. He honestly didn’t know—when he needed Linda Gail, he called the office.
Wyatt went in and checked the mail. There was nothing that needed his immediate attention. There were a handful of telephone messages, mostly from the contractors working on the resort. He wrote a note for Linda Gail to set up a meeting with the mayor. He hoped he’d be able to reconfigure the resort plans without any hassles, but it was best to have Nancy Keller on his side.
His last stop was Daisy’s Saddle-brew Coffee Shop. He needed a major dose of caffeine to get back to normal. He walked inside and braced himself when he saw Samantha Delaney behind the counter.
Sam gaped at him.
Wyatt had mentally prepared himself. They’d used each other—there was no point in pretending it was anything but that. “Look, I deserve whatever you’re thinking. I am sorry about what happened, Sam.”
“They found you? I hadn’t heard!” she exclaimed.
“Found me?”
“Wyatt…everyone is looking for you. Don’t you know that?”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Everyone. The whole town has been frantic about you.”
“Didn’t Linda Gail get my message?” he asked, confused.
“Apparently not,” Sam said.
Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and dialed the office again. Still no answer. He called Linda Gail’s home and got nothing. He thought he might have Linda Gail’s cell phone number at home.
He left the Saddle-brew and drove home, but when he pulled into the drive, he was met with several vehicles, including Macy’s Jeep, Linda Gail’s SUV, and a squad car. “Hell,” he muttered.
None of the people gathered in the great room noticed when he first walked in. Mark Ham, the police chief, was there, along with Linda Gail, Macy and Emma, and Mr. Turnbow, who owned the hubcap shop out on the
main highway. They were all talking at once. But when Milo got up and sprinted toward him with a bark of happiness, they all whirled around. Even from where he stood, Wyatt could see the relief in Macy’s face. If he needed any further proof, she pushed past Chief Ham and ran for him, throwing her arms around his neck, and squeezing the breath from him.
Then she suddenly reared back and glared at him. “Where have you been?” she cried, hitting him in the arm. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”
“No,” he said, looking around at them all. “I had no idea. I left Linda Gail a message.”
“I never got any message!” Linda Gail exclaimed. “Oh my God, Wyatt! I haven’t slept a wink since you went missing!”
“I wasn’t missing,” he said. “What’s the problem? What are you all doing here?”
“I came by today to get the mail and found Milo, so I knew you had to be back. We’ve all been looking, so I called them, and…and I think I’m going to faint,” Macy said.
“Don’t do that,” Wyatt said, and escorted her to the couch. “Look, I’m sorry I had everyone so worried. I left Linda Gail a message, but maybe the call was dropped. I had no idea anyone was looking for me—I’ve been out of town fishing.”
“Fishing?” Linda Gail cried incredulously.
“Fishing,” he said with a warning look for her. “I just needed a few days to clear my head is all.” He looked around the room. “But I’m fine. This is all a misunderstanding.”
“That’s what I thought,” Chief Ham said. He put on his hat. “I’m going to leave you folks now and go close out the report.” He looked at Wyatt. “Next time you leave town, you might leave more than one message.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I’ll get back to work, too,” Mr. Turnbow said. “I thought I saw your pickup in town. Guess I was right.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Emma said. She smiled at Wyatt as she walked by. “I’m glad you’re okay, Wyatt. But don’t ever do that again!”
“Thanks, Emma,” he said with a sheepish smile.
That left Macy and Linda Gail. Wyatt looked at his longtime secretary. “Linda Gail, I apologize,” he said. “You’re a good egg. I’m glad you’ve got my back.”
