Rugged Hearts (6 page)

She used to tease Sarah as she pored over her future teaching options, that she’d wind up living in a tiny apartment in the middle of nowhere, while Aimee enjoyed a twelfth-floor condo with a skyline view. A tear rolled down her cheek and she pressed her hand against the cold sliding door. The frost framed her hand, leaving an imprint on the chilled glass.

“It’s okay to miss her, baby girl. We all do.” His voice cracked and Aimee squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the wave of sorrow washing over her, helpless to avoid it. He was right, and while she realized that the pain of loss would never fully go away, his understanding helped her to place her life in perspective. She imagined Sarah’s hand touching hers on the opposite side of the icy glass; she could almost hear her joyous laughter. “Thank you, Sarah,” she mouthed softly and lowered her hand, rubbing the moisture on her jeans. Once more, she sensed her sister’s presence and drew on the strength she offered to put her heart at ease. She let the blinds sway back into place.

“So when do you think you’ll be heading home?” her father asked.

Here it was. The conversation she’d been dreading. She hadn’t been able to find a way yet to explain why she couldn’t come home for Christmas, and she hated the thought of leaving them alone over the holidays. “Well, Dad, it’s like this,” she stated cautiously. “The town up here has a huge celebration every year. There’s a tree lighting in the town square—that’s assuming someone will donate a tree. And they have a community-wide toy drive that’s capped off at the fire station with a giant potluck supper. The whole town gets involved and on Christmas Eve they go out in groups to deliver toys and dinners to those families struggling to make ends meet.”

“It sounds like a good project. I take it you’re involved?”

“Would you believe they made me chairman of the toy drive and organizer of deliveries?”

There was a pronounced silence. Aimee pushed her hand through her short hair, tugging at the ends—a nervous gesture she’d had since she was a little girl.

“Stop playing with your hair, baby girl.”

Aimee dropped her hand and rolled her eyes. She had two degrees, was over the age of twenty-five, and managed a class of second-grade students. Still, her father could intimidate her. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Listen here, I don’t want you to waste one precious minute worrying about us. We understand, and honey, what you’re doing up there is the best present any parent could want. Your sister would be so proud, as are we. She’s looking down on all of us, keeping us together in spirit. Your mother and I truly believe that.”

Aimee heard his quiet chuckle, before he tossed in, “I suspect your sister would also like to know if you’ve met any nice fellas up there in the land that time forgot.”

She smiled. “Next time you speak to Sarah, tell her the town she chose over all the rest has a severe lack of eligible men. However, my kids keep me busy. Try to imagine fifteen and many of them far rowdier than Sarah and I were at that age.”

“Point taken. As long as you’re happy. I’ve always said when it’s time, love will find you, wherever you are.”

She had serious doubts even love had any clue as to where End of the Line was located. But at the same time, she couldn’t help feel a zing of awareness about her serendipitous encounter with her cowboy knight in shining armor—or stained T-shirt, as it were. “I’m happy, Dad, and between toy-drive director, checking over a ton of assignments, and getting grades in before the holiday, I’m not sure I could stuff in a relationship just now.”

A crazy thought crossed her mind. Maybe her folks could come to Montana for the holidays. They could see the school, she could give them a tour of the town, have coffee and one of Betsy’s prize-winning pastries. Then they could figure out what else to do with the other twenty-three hours in the day. She opened her mouth to offer the idea when she heard the soft
click
of someone picking up the other phone. “Hi, Mom! I was hoping to talk to both of you. I have a great idea. Why don’t the two of you come up here for Christmas? You can have my bed and I’ll bunk here on the couch. I’d love to be able to show you around.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Her mother greeted her with a cheery disposition. “I take it day hasn’t spoken to you yet about our plans?”

“Plans?” Aimee remarked, curious now about what was going on. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?” She could see in her mind, her mom perched on the side of the bed, where the other phone was. “I was telling Dad about my obligations here that prevent me from getting home for Christmas, but I don’t see why you couldn’t come here.”

“Douglas? You said you’d handle this. Would you prefer I tell her, dear?”

Aimee’s brow crinkled. Her first thoughts jumped to conclusions about her father’s health. “Dad, are you okay?”

“Oh, sure honey, I’m fine.”

“We’re both fine.” They stumbled over each other’s words.

“Then what’s going on?”

“Well, baby girl, we weren’t sure what your plans were, and we didn’t want to make any final arrangements until we knew for sure.”

“Final plans for what?”

“There’s this trip I’ve promised your mom since…well, I think since we first got married. A little road trip.”

“A road trip? Dad, that sounds like fun! Where are you going?”

“Vegas.”

The thought of her sedate, studious parents in Vegas gave her a moment’s pause. “Vegas?” She was thinking Rome, a Caribbean cruise…but Vegas?”

“It’s just been a little dream we’ve had, and we found some good deals through the Internet and thought maybe we should do this before we get too old to really enjoy it.”

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, huh, Dad?”

He laughed. “I doubt we’ll make the headlines, though I have always wanted to go check out the rumors about the Chicken Ranch.”

“Douglas!” her mother interjected and in her best teacher voice, to boot.

Aimee laughed. “This is a great idea, you guys. You’ll have so much fun. If you win big, please remember your starving student-loan-laden daughter up here in the land that time forgot.”

“You sure you don’t mind? We could change our plans, come up there instead.”

“Really, Dad? I wouldn’t.” Aimee chuckled. “Trust me. You’ll have a lot more excitement in Vegas. You can come here when you’re looking for a good game of pool at Dusty’s Pub and Grill.”

“End of the Line has a pub?”

“Funny, Dad. So tell me, when do you leave?”

“Two days before Christmas Eve.”

She’d not heard as much interest and enthusiasm in her mother’s voice in a long time. It made her happy to see them enjoying their lives again. “Wow, it doesn’t give you guys much time to get ready. Are you packed?”

“Except for a few things,” her mom responded.

“I love it and I love you guys for your support.” She swallowed a lump in her throat as she thought of Sarah punching her fist in the air, happy to see her parents again embracing life.

“Well, we’ll let you know where we’re staying when we get everything finalized. We’re proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Love you both,” she said softly.

“Love you more.”

The connection ended with the same phrase he’d always given to them for as long as Aimee could remember.

Later that night, Aimee sat on her living room floor, cutting long strips of red and green construction paper. She kept an eye on the excited reporter giving updates on the weather channel, thus far, they’d received around two inches, but the high winds could make travel in the open areas treacherous at night. Aimee raised her brow. She needed no reminder of that, still a couple of inches wasn’t about to cancel school up here. She flipped her fingers through hundreds of brightly colored strips, satisfied she’d be ready for her class tomorrow. If she could as readily organize her random thoughts about handsome, Wyatt Kinnison, she might be able to sleep.

Chapter Three

Not surprisingly, Wyatt’s night was as tortured as he thought it might be. He gave up on sleep, tossing and turning until finally he hauled his ass out of bed and sat in the dark, pondering what the hell had happened to his safe, cloistered world in the last twenty-four hours. A cold shower and hot cup of coffee later, he trudged across the frozen yard to the barn. Driven by the mystery of his fiery attraction to this young woman, he dove with a particular fervor into the morning chores.

Later that morning, he leaned against the kitchen cabinet, mesmerized by the deep emerald pine trees against the glittery white snow. A flash of red zipped past the window. A cardinal in search of food reminded him to check the feeders on the deck, or Rein would have his head. Despite the holiday, Wyatt loved the winter. He loved the stark quiet on the ranch after a snowfall. It was the commercialism of the Christmas season, the sudden turn of goodwill for one’s fellow man that Wyatt neither understood nor tolerated. For a few weeks, people seemed to share a benevolent care toward each other, but once the decorations were down and the wrapping discarded, so, too, went the goodwill. As Rein was quick to point out, he often reminded Wyatt that he saw the glass half-empty and the reason, he went on to diagnose, was his inability to take the risk to trust anyone but himself. Dalton was less diplomatic and simply labeled him Mr. Grinch. Wyatt took another sip of coffee and let the heat linger on his tongue. Maybe he was a Grinch, but if it were so, he’d share the credit with his mother, who’d taught him on Christmas what believing in love would get you.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hey, Wyatt. Glad you’re up. How much snow you’d get up there?”

“Two, maybe three inches. Not as bad as it could have been.” It was Rein again.

“Sounds like it will be soon enough,” his brother stated. “I’ve got good news and bad. What do you want first?”

He took another sip of his coffee and made himself comfortable against the kitchen counter. “The bad.” Wyatt preferred to face life’s difficulties head-on, as long as they weren’t packaged in the female form.

“Hmm, kinda figured as much.” He chuckled. “So the good news is we’ve just about closed the deal on the sale.”

Wyatt’s lip curled in a half smile. “Okay, so now the bad.”

“Apparently the storm that dumped ‘not too bad’ on you picked up in intensity as it came down through the Midwest.”

Wyatt straightened and his instinctive protectiveness for his brothers kicked in. “You guys are all right?”

“Oh yeah, we’re fine. But the airport here has grounded all small planes until the storm passes. We’ve heard rumors of a possible second wave hitting. Bottom line, we’re not sure when we can get out to fly home.”

“It’s a few days to Christmas. I wouldn’t worry about it. Your safety is what comes first. I can handle things around here and if I need help, I’ll call in a favor or two. Sadie and I will be fine.”

“Yeah, I wonder if you’d do me a favor. Check on the cabins for me, make sure nothing is leaking and no critters have gotten in.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Wyatt promised. Since his return, Rein alone had embraced his uncle’s dream of building small cabins to rent out to those who needed a place to rebuild their lives. He believed, as Jed had, that the hard work and satisfaction of getting your hands dirty could be a catalyst in turning what seemed a hopeless life, into something productive. Perspective, Jed used to say, can make all the difference in a person’s life. Though Wyatt was still skeptical of the premise, he envied Rein’s determination and skill in completing one cabin at a time, preparing them for the day when he’d have Wyatt’s blessing to move on with Jed’s dream. It was a topic filed under
tolerant
at best, much the same as Rein’s insistence Wyatt get out more and socialize. Dalton was Mr. Social enough for the both of them.

“I heard from Tyler they haven’t got a tree yet for the town lighting.” Rein let the news slip.

“Then let Tyler take care of it,” Wyatt remarked.

“I was thinking maybe….”

“I know what you were thinking. I’ve got enough to do with taking care of the ranch while you two gallivant around the country.” He gulped down the remainder of his now-cold coffee and smiled. The argument between them was friendly, most times, and he considered Rein a brother as much as Dalton, but there were times when he pushed a little too hard. Deep down, Wyatt knew he meant well, but Rein needed to let him work out his own issues. “Bottom line,” he used Rein’s business jargon, “don’t worry about me. We’ve been over this and I’m not Jed. Can we just leave it at that?” Wyatt turned and rinsed out his cup.

There was a silence on the phone.

“Look, Rein, I appreciate you seem to have found a way to accept your past and move on in your way.”

“How long are you going to use the past as your crutch, Wyatt?”

Wyatt’s jaw twitched under the strain of his clenched teeth. “At least you knew your father and didn’t have a mother that planned to leave you.”
Shit
. He could’ve attributed his snarled response to a lack of sleep, but as usual, Rein had skirted too close to the truth. “Listen, I understand and I’m working on it, okay? But give it a rest, especially about the tree. I have a lot of work today and a class starting tonight.”

“Hey, that’s great. What are you taking? Is it a class in town?”

Wyatt laughed quietly. “Online. Clearly, I’m a hermit.”

“Yeah, not the serial-killer variety just yet. Good to know you’ll be talking to someone other than Sadie while we’re gone. Even if it is through the computer.”

Serial killer
. The similarity in their descriptions of him caused Wyatt to consider sharing his experience with his beautiful visitor. But he held back when he reminded himself that nothing would likely come of it. Such an offer to Rein, even in passing was akin to tossing a dog a bone and then trying to wrestle it back. “How’s my ornery brother?”

“He found a bar just down the street from the hotel.”

“Keep an eye on him. He usually knows when to quit, but sometimes he thinks he’s a cowboy Casanova.”

Rein snorted. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll keep him in line and call you later. You sure everything is okay?”