“You should forgive yourself,” Casey said quietly.
“Have you given up a child?” she asked, meeting his gaze painfully.
“No.” He swallowed.
“It isn’t about forgiving myself,” she said softly. “It’s about living with myself. Two different things.”
“Is it?” Casey shook his head. “It might feel different to you, but I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing.”
“You can’t understand,” she said.
“I can try.” He released her hand and put his arm up across the couch, his rough hand close to her face, and she wished she could lean into him, feel his calloused palm against her cheek. Comfort... But longing for physical comfort could be a dangerous thing, and she’d learned that lesson young.
“When I gave up my son, I knew I couldn’t ever be a mother to another child. Adopted or biological—how could I tell my son I gave him away, but I kept another child? No, I knew when I gave him up that I was closing the door on future motherhood, and I’d focus my life on the good I could do for others.”
“Penance?” he asked quietly.
“Of sorts,” she agreed.
“I’m sorry if I made all of this that much harder,” Casey said, looking down at the infant in his arms. “If I’d known what you were going through, I obviously would never have asked you to help me with the babies—”
“But you didn’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m fine, Casey. I really am.”
And ultimately, Ember was fine. She was educated, she had a career, an avenue where she could help others through their difficult times, and she was that much more sympathetic to the shortcomings of her patients because she had been in their shoes and made choices that she’d later regretted, too. Her past weakness made her a better therapist today.
“Do you need to stop this? Helping with the babies, I mean,” Casey asked.
“I can’t avoid infants forever,” she replied. “You need help, and my mission here hasn’t changed. I know I had a bit of a meltdown today, but I’m really okay. I promise.”
“For the record, it sounds to me like you were young and confused, and did what you thought was the right thing for you and your baby,” Casey said. He leaned forward and used the back of one finger to brush a tendril of hair away from her cheek, his touch lingering there. She let her eyes flutter shut and leaned her cheek against his warm hand. But when she opened her eyes and looked into his face, she saw no judgment there. His voice was low and warm. “It was forgivable, Ember.”
And while she knew that anything was forgivable in a contrite heart, forgiveness wouldn’t erase the consequences of her actions. Forgiveness wouldn’t return the child she’d given away. This wasn’t about absolution so much as grief. And a mother never stopped being a mother to her child.
“Thanks,” she said with a sad smile. “But I’m okay.”
And she was. She was sad, she was living with deep regret and she had more hard-won wisdom than any other thirty-year-old woman she knew. But she was okay, because she was still in God’s hands.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, puddles forming on the gravel road and the patchy grass beside it. While she wished she could just lean into Casey’s strong arms and rest there awhile, she knew better. No man could fix this. Even a sweet man like Casey with those dark, gentle eyes and that stubborn streak that kept him good. He’d be an excellent father to these little boys. God was providing for these tiny orphans, and she could see that plainly.
But Casey Courtright wasn’t the answer to her prayers or her tears in the dark. Right now, all she could do was carry on. There would be light ahead eventually.
Chapter Eight
That night, Ember crawled into bed with the two heavy quilts on top of her, and she dreamed of her son as she so often did. She heard his infant cries and her dream-self was determined to find him. She would not hold herself back—not this time! She went down a hallway, opening door after door; she kept searching and searching, his cry so close. But whenever she tried to call out, her voice wouldn’t respond, and the baby’s sobs seemed to come from every direction at once. She woke up sweating and gasping for breath.
“Steven...” she choked out. He wasn’t Steven to her...but it was the name he’d be called throughout his life. He wasn’t a tiny infant anymore—he’d be a ten-year-old now, a tall boy with his own opinions.
Did he look like her? If she were to see him again, would she see her own features in his? But that was a dangerous line of thought, because she wouldn’t see him again. She had agreed to stay away. Unless he searched her out when he was an adult, that had been their last goodbye. Not every adopted child wanted to meet his birth mother. She might still yearn for him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be perfectly happy and fulfilled in the life he’d been given.
Ember swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat there for a few minutes, pulling herself out of the dream and reaching out in prayer.
“Father, take the dreams away,” she murmured. “And wherever he is, protect my son. Bless him. Provide for him. Pull close to him and let him feel loved.”
The nightmares had been getting worse lately, and caring for Casey’s charges wasn’t helping matters. This visit to Vern Acres wasn’t supposed to be such a drawn-out affair, either. She should be finished with this task already. Finding her family’s land and starting up her own enterprise on it was going to fill her heart and squeeze out that aching sense of loss. Life had to move on.
She’d meant to wait until Monday morning, but last night she’d found the Cascade County Historical Society and had gone ahead and sent them an email. She’d gotten an automated reply saying that someone would be in touch at their earliest convenience, and she was hopeful that there might be some sort of information that could guide her. Something.
But everything seemed to be spinning out of her control, including her ability to keep her personal issues private. She pulled a quilt over her legs again, shivering against the night air. Her mind went back to yesterday when she’d said far too much. She hadn’t meant to speak to him about her son. She kept telling herself it was only the timing—she’d kind of melted down in front of him, after all, and he’d deserved an explanation. But it was more than that. Casey was warm, strong, resolute and oddly comforting. She’d told him because she’d wanted to. What did that mean?
She’d kept her secret locked away these last ten years, opening her heart for no one. And having revealed her deepest regret left her feeling vulnerable in a whole new way.
Ember shivered, tugging the quilts back up over her shoulders. It was time to refocus her priorities. When the sun rose, she would see how close she could get to Harper Creek and see what was out there. She might be hoping for proof that wouldn’t even exist anymore, but at least she’d be able to see it all firsthand. She had to get moving on this—or she’d lose herself here.
And she fell back into a fitful slumber.
That morning, Ember awoke feeling less than rested. It had been a rough night, and the thought of helping with the infants this morning was too much to face. She could fall in love with those baby boys a little too easily.
When she ambled into the kitchen that morning, Mr. Vern had just come back in from his early chores. He poured himself a mug of coffee, and another for Ember.
“So how much of the ranch have you managed to see?” Mr. Vern asked as they sipped their brew together.
“I’ve seen a few fields, both barns, some silos—” Ember swallowed a scalding sip. “What I really want to see is Milk River, though.”
“It’s a ways out,” Mr. Vern said. “You mind if I ask why seeing it is so important?”
“My great-great-grandmother’s journal mentioned the names of some creeks off the river in the area of their homestead. Those old names don’t exist anymore, but there is a Harper Creek. My family name is Harper. I’m wonder
ing if it’s possible that my family settled by that creek. I know it’s a long shot.”
“How would you even know if you did find the right land?” Mr. Vern asked.
“My great-great-great-grandfather brought a single red brick from New York State when they came out to settle here in Montana. He built it into the front of their fireplace as a reminder of where they came from. I don’t know if anything would even remain of an original structure, but if it did...”
“You’re right. It’s a very long shot. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is also this...” Mr. Vern rose from the table and sauntered out of the room. He came back a moment later with a map that he unfolded and stretched over the tabletop.
“This is an older map,” Mr. Vern said, “and you’ll see Harper Creek isn’t on it. That creek was renamed for a mayor in the seventies.”
Ember sighed. Another dead end. Except she still wanted to see it...get close enough. Who knew? Maybe she’d recognize something there on a heart level. That was crazy, and she knew it, but when her mother used to tell her those family stories, she used to think that if she could just stand on the soil that her family had homesteaded, she’d feel them there...their memories, the family connection. She was a grown woman now and wasn’t the superstitious type, but still...
“—but if you want to see Milk River, get an idea of the area,” Mr. Vern went on, “there’s a service road that will take you all the way up there. It brings you a little east of this area you were looking at on the map, but it’s something.”
“Really?” Ember looked at the older man in interest. “How far is the drive?”
“An hour, maybe less,” Mr. Vern said, leaning back over the map. “There—this road here. You follow it up past the cow barn, and it circles east, so it’s not quite in the same direction you’re wanting to go, but it does bring you right close to Milk River here—” he jabbed a finger at the map “—and you can get a good look. That’s as close as you get without going on horseback.”
“That sounds doable!” Ember grinned. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to see...or feel. But she needed to at least lay her eyes on the river, get close enough to touch it.
“I can’t take you today, myself. I’m going back to the nursing home to see my wife. They’re saying that she needs to be transferred to a different facility that can give her more services.” He sighed. “I could get Casey to give you a ride.”
Casey—no, he was turning out to be a little too comforting lately.
“No, no.” Ember shook her head quickly. “Casey’s a busy man, and I don’t need him to chauffeur me everywhere. If it’s just a matter of following a service road, I’m perfectly capable of doing that.”
“Your GPS won’t work on those service roads,” Mr. Vern warned.
“Understood.”
“And there’s no cell service out there.”
Ember shot him a grin. “I’ll survive. It’s just a road. Would you be able to lend me a vehicle so I could drive up there and take a look?”
“Can you drive stick?” Mr. Vern asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure can.”
“Then you can take the red truck.” He went to a wooden board covered in hooks and key rings, and pulled down a set of keys. “You sure you don’t want that chauffeur? Casey would be happy to take you up there, I’m certain.”
“I’d rather do it alone,” she said.
“Suit yourself. Don’t wander too far from your vehicle, and keep a sharp eye out. The wolves are hungry this time of year. They tend to leave people alone, but I’d still keep pretty close to the truck, regardless.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate this, Mr. Vern. I want to get closer to the river. I don’t know what I expect to see, but—”
“Understood. Drive safe. I won’t be here this morning, so when you get back, if you could just put the keys on top of the sun visor, I’d be much obliged.” Mr. Vern gave her a nod, and Ember felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
Freedom, at last. She’d been praying all this time that God would show her what she needed to see out here on Vern Ranch. Maybe this was the land she was meant to buy, and maybe it wasn’t. But it was hard to listen for God’s voice when always surrounded by people. If God was going to show her something, she had a feeling He’d do it when she was alone and listening.
She was so ready for some solitude that she felt like skipping at the thought of getting out on the road by herself.
Guide me, Lord, she prayed. Help me to know if this land is my family’s or not.
* * *
Casey spent the morning checking on some new calves out in the south field. The cows hid their babies, so they could be hard to find sometimes, but there were nine new calves in the herd as of this morning—at least that he could see. Ember hadn’t come to take care of the babies today. She’d called him to let him know that she was taking a drive south to see the river, and Casey didn’t have much say in that. She had the boss’s permission and seemed intent on going.
“You sure?” he’d asked. “It’s pretty rugged out there.”
“I’m positive, Casey. I’m just letting you know where I’ll be.” There’d been a finality in her tone that told him she wasn’t interested in being mollycoddled.
One of the homeschooled girls from church came for the morning to do some babysitting, for which Casey was eternally grateful, and he’d headed off for his workday, doing his best not to worry about Ember.
She’d drive on down to the river, check things out and drive back. There wasn’t much to it. He’d called twice to check on her—he was the manager on this ranch, after all, and her safety was his business—but there was no cell service out there, so it was no surprise that she hadn’t picked up. Except, she’d been gone now for five hours, and Casey couldn’t help that stab of worry.
His cell phone rang, and Casey dug it out of his pocket, glanced at the number and picked up the call.
“Mr. Vern,” Casey said, punching the speaker button and dropping the phone to his lap. “What can I do for you?”
“Have you heard from Miss Reed yet?” the older man asked. “I just got back, and I don’t see the truck. Is she still out there?”
“It looks like,” Casey said. “I’m starting to get concerned. She might have had a flat or something. I was thinking of going out there to check on her.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mr. Vern agreed. “If you’d drive on out and get tabs on her, I’d feel better.”
“Will do, sir. I’ll head in that direction now.”
Casey pulled to the side of the road and dialed his house number. The babysitter picked up, her voice hushed.
“Are they sleeping?” Casey asked.
“Yes, finally,” the girl replied. “Diapers changed, and they’re due for a bottle soon, but I don’t want to wake them up. What do you think, Mr. Courtright?”
“Wake them up one at a time to feed them,” he said. “Or you’ll have two hungry babies at once.”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” she answered.
“I’m going to be a bit later than I thought, Jane. Are you okay to stay another hour or two?”
“Sure thing,” she responded. “It’s no problem. I’ll just call my parents and tell them.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Casey pulled a U-turn and headed back down the service road in the direction of the cow barn. It was a good forty-minute drive to the river if he stepped on it, so he had time to think. Normally, he liked the solitude, but today, he found himself frustrated and antsy. Having Ember on this ranch was turning into a real irritant. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. She wasn’t quite so self-sufficient as she seemed to think, and whether she liked it or not, he was worried about her. He wanted to keep her safe.
Last night, she’d
opened up, and it was only having infants in their arms that had stopped him from pulling her close. It would have been instinct—and not the kind of instinct he had with every other woman in his life. Ember was different. She was tugging at his defenses in the most infuriating way, because while she was the one standing between him and his life’s goal of owning his own land, he also found himself drawn to her.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
Ember’s emotional situation was her business...but he did care, even though he knew he shouldn’t. In fact, he cared too much.
Ember’s story about the baby she’d been talked into giving up... That had stuck in his heart like a shard of glass. He couldn’t quite forget it. If Ember hadn’t lost her own mother so young, she might have had someone on her side who could have given her better advice. Or if her mother agreed that adoption was the best choice, maybe she would have been able to help her make her peace with it all. A little support might have gone a long way.
Casey had lost his mother young, too. He’d been fifteen, and she’d drowned in a boating accident one summer. So he knew what it felt like to be motherless when he still needed a mom. The difference for him was that he’d still had his father. They’d pulled tight and moved forward together.
If this land truly had belonged to Ember’s family, he knew what that would mean to her. But this land would mean the world to him and his dad, too. Will and Wyatt might grow up right here. Casey had grown up on a family ranch, and there was no experience that could compare. That was something he might be able to give these boys—a decent childhood.
For the next forty minutes, Casey drove down that long, straight road, dust billowing up behind him. Finally, ahead at the side of the road where it took a sharp turn, Casey could see the red truck. He slowed down as he approached, unsure if he should be relieved or not, because it was empty. His truck rumbled to a stop behind the other vehicle and he turned off the engine. Outside, all was silent and still. Casey got out of his truck, and a brisk wind whipped around him.
Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings Page 10
