The Rancher's First Love (18 page)

Remington didn't ask him to repeat what he'd said. He didn't really need to hear it. So far today he'd had advice from a nine-year-old and an almost-eighty-year-old. Advice wasn't going to change his feelings or Sam's heart.

He wasn't even sure if time was going to change things.

Chapter Eighteen

T
he day Sylvia Martin died was much like any other. Sam was at work when Brody showed up to give her the news. She didn't cry. She was numb. Too numb to know how she really felt about losing the woman who had never really been a mother to her.

Dr. Jackson told her to go home. He told her to take a few days to allow herself to grieve. Grief. She'd felt it before. When her brothers had sent Remington away. When they'd sent her away. And the greatest grief of all, when her daughter had been taken from her arms.

She couldn't allow herself to believe what she felt for Sylvia was grief. And yet...

When she walked through the front door of her little house, she found Kayla asleep on the sofa. Sam left her shoes on the mat and tiptoed through the room to the kitchen. Kayla had finished painting it.

The goldenrod-yellow color was a sunny contrast to the aqua blue of the living room. The paint job wasn't half-bad, either. There were a few drips and a couple of spots on the ceiling. She looked around, taking in the job her sister had done.

People could learn new skills. Or habits. She chuckled at the thought because it brought to mind an image of Remington, his smile, the amused flicker in his eyes as he teased her about becoming a habit in her life.

She opened the fridge to look for something to eat. Her stomach growled, reinforcing the thought that it was dinnertime. A sandwich, maybe a frozen dinner or a salad. She had canned soup in the cabinet.

What she wanted was a casserole. She wanted something with potatoes and beef and cream of something. But she didn't have a cookbook.

She pulled a can of soup out of the cabinet and found a recipe on the back. Perfect. Tater Tots, ground beef, cream of mushroom soup. She had the ingredients. She had the ability.

She could and would fix a casserole for dinner.

She was frying the beef in a skillet when Kayla wandered in, sleep still clouding her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun.

“I didn't expect to see you on my sofa,” Sam said.

“I hope you don't mind. I didn't know where else to go.” Kayla looked away with the admission, tears filling her eyes.

This wasn't how it should be when a mother died. A family should be together. “Kayla, I'm sorry.”

She reached for her sister and was surprised when Kayla stepped close, allowing the hug. The two embraced for a long time. When they pulled apart Sam brushed away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She grabbed a couple of paper towels and handed one to her sister.

“We're a mess,” Sam said. She was the older sister. She hadn't thought about it before. Kayla needed her to say and do the right thing. She had to be the person who didn't sweep someone else's grief under the rug, as if it didn't matter.

“I know she wasn't much of a mom, but she was our mom. And I'm going to miss her.”

“I know,” Sam admitted. “I understand. I think I'm going to miss the idea of who she might have been.”

“Maybe that's all we have?” Kayla blew her nose. “I don't mean to be a mess. I just wanted to be with someone who understands. I didn't want to go home to my dad. He asked me to come back to Austin.”

“He loves you.”

Kayla let out a long sigh. “I don't know. I'm not sure if its love or if he just wants me home to put on a show for him.”

“Don't rush off, then. Stay here as long as you like.”

Kayla started to make coffee. “Thanks. What are you making?”

“A casserole. It just seems like the right thing to do. I'm going to make a huge casserole and then call our family together. We should all be together.”

“What about the funeral?”

Sam hadn't really thought that far ahead. “We have a family cemetery.”

Kayla brushed a hand across her face. “I can't stop crying.”

“I know.”

Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. It was Remington. She reached for it, but she didn't answer. She couldn't. Not yet. She needed to do something to fight the emptiness. She needed to bake a casserole. She needed to be with her family. For the first time, she wasn't going to be alone when the grief hit. She wasn't going to handle things alone because she had no one to turn to. She had a family.

The phone rang again. Remington.

“Answer it,” Kayla pushed the phone into her hand.

She answered. “Hi, Remington.”

“I heard the news. Are you okay?”

She didn't know how to answer that. At the moment she was doing what she did, handling things.

“I'm good.”

“Of course you are. Sam, let me come over.”

“I'm going to call my brothers...” All at once, the grief became a living, breathing thing that took her by surprise. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she couldn't get the words past the lump in her throat.

Kayla took the phone from her and Sam slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands. Sylvia Martin would never come back to them. She wouldn't bake cookies or listen to her daughter pour out her heart when things got bad.

So many childhood dreams, lost.

Kayla settled on the floor next to her. The two of them held each other for a long time, crying tears for a woman who could never be who they needed her to be. After a while they brushed away their tears. Sam reached for her sister's hand and held it tight.

“The best thing she did was giving me a sister,” Sam said as she stood, pulling Kayla to her feet. “And we're going to make that casserole.”

Kayla laughed at that. “You make it sound like we're scaling Everest.”

“Have you ever made one?”

“Not a good one. Haven't you?”

Sam shook her head. “No, I haven't.”

Kayla leaned on the counter and watched as Sam put the ground beef in the pan. “I guess it's time to try new things.”

New habits. Sam drew in a breath and nodded. She missed Remington. She missed him in a way that shook her. Because she'd been missing him for so long, she hadn't realized that this was a new kind of longing. This was the kind of need that went beyond a summer romance. Ten years ago she'd needed someone to make her feel safe, to feel loved. It had been a selfish thing, that summer love of theirs. She'd been so lost and hurt, and he'd been there.

Now she needed to love him back. But she'd pushed him away. More than once.

“Are you okay?” Kayla asked as she leaned against the counter watching Sam put the casserole together in the pan before sliding it into the oven.

“I'm good.” Sam closed the oven door on a sigh. “I've really blown it with Rem.”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. Give it time, Sam. We'll get through one thing at a time and then the two of you can talk.”

“Yes, maybe.”

Headlights flashing through the window meant they had company. Sam headed for the living room in time to see another truck behind the first. Her brothers. All three of them and their families. Kayla leaned in behind her, watching the invasion of the Martins.

“This is what family is all about,” Kayla said. “I like it.”

Another flash of headlights came up the driveway. Remington's truck pulled up to the barn. She watched him get out, saw him stop to talk to Jake, and then look toward the house.

“I'll be back,” she told Kayla as she pushed the screen door. “Oh, can you take the casserole out of the oven if I'm not back before the timer goes off?”

“You won't be back.”

Breezy and Grace met her on the sidewalk, Brody behind them. Duke and Oregon were just getting out of their truck. Breezy pulled her close and hugged her. Then it was Grace's turn.

“Remington called,” Breezy said. “We all thought we should be together.”

“Yes, we should.” Sam smiled at her sisters-in-law, then her attention refocused on the man walking next to her brother. “We'll have to make plans. I have a casserole in the oven.”

Duke pulled her close and held her tight. “A casserole?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “It seemed like the right thing to do. At times like this, people make casseroles. They drink coffee and talk until late. They share stories.”

“We don't have a lot of stories,” Duke said.

“No, but we'll make some, won't we?” She stepped back, looking into his eyes, needing his reassurance.

“Yes, we'll make stories.”

One by one her family tromped past her into the house. She could hear their voices, loud and raucous. She could hear the children laughing as adults played with them. Remington headed her way, a rectangular, brown-paper-wrapped package in his hands.

“You shouldn't have come, but I'm glad you did.” She touched his arm, letting her hand linger for a minute.

“You've gone through too much alone, Sam. Even if you think her death doesn't matter to you, it does. She was your mom. She gave you life.”

“Yes, she did.” Tears burned her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “I should go in. They're all in there.”

“Yes, you should go.” His hand reached out and brushed through her hair.

She closed her eyes at the tenderness of it. A dangerous, clawing need tugged at her heart. A need for him to hold her, to make her feel safe. It frightened her, that need for him, that need to be a part of his life.

But what frightened her more was the thought of not having him.

“I need to go inside,” she repeated, smiling. “I baked a casserole.”

“A casserole, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I think I nailed it.”

He grinned, and he slid an arm around her waist to pull her close. “I never doubted you.”

“What's the package?” she asked, pointing at the box.

“A grand gesture,” he said as he handed it to her.

“A grand gesture?”

“Yes. Parker said I need a grand gesture if I'm going to get anywhere with you. I took his advice.”

“Maybe I should wait.” She held the package, her heart trembling with uncertainty.

“No, I think you should open it. And I think you should know that I love you. I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to give you time and space. But I'm not willing to let you go.”

* * *

They stood in the dark, just at the edge of the porch light's pale glow. Remington knew he would always remember this night. He prayed it would be a night they both remembered. He hoped it would be the night that changed everything for them. He hadn't really planned it this way. But here they stood and he knew, without a doubt, that he needed this woman in his life forever.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, her fingers trembling as she untied the string and removed the brown paper. She struggled with the box and he pulled out a pocketknife to slice the tape that held it closed.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She opened the box and pulled out the framed picture. Her sharp, indrawn breath revealed the moment she recognized the sketch in the frame. An awkward drawing of a horse, the ears and eyes large, the mane shaggy. In the corner the name
Marlie
, spelled in grade school penmanship.

She held it to her and tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Oh, Rem—” she shook her head “—it's beautiful, sweet and definitely a grand gesture.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it.” She drew in a breath and let it out on a sigh. “Somewhere out there is a little girl with your hair and my eyes. And she's happy. She dreams of horses and someday marrying a prince. I think sometimes she thinks about us. But she's happy. And I know that what I did, as hard as it has been, was the right thing to do. I'm just sorry that I wasn't able to tell you. I'm sorry we didn't make the decision together.”

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Sam. But I'm here now. And I want to be here for you every single day for the rest of our lives.”

“I'm a mess,” she said, reaching to touch his cheek.

“I've got it on good authority you can bake a casserole.”

“I think you should taste it before you make any decisions,” she teased.

“I'm not worried about the casserole. I'm not worried that you can't play the piano or teach Sunday school. I just want to know that you'll be with me.”

She moved close, the hand on his cheek touching his hair. He pulled her close and claimed her lips, claimed her heart as his. She was soft, sweet and everything he had ever needed.

When he stepped back she smiled up at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertain because of the humor that flashed in her blue eyes.

“You're a hard habit to break, Remington Jenkins. And I love you. I'm looking forward to our summer romance.”

“And a fall wedding?”

She nodded and kissed him again. “Yes.”

Epilogue

S
am held a bouquet of zinnias as she walked down the aisle to a George Strait song. She and Remington had decided this wedding would be theirs in every way. George Strait. Remington in dark jeans and a button-up shirt. Sam in a Western-styled wedding dress of white lace and pearls. They didn't have bridesmaids. No one walked her down the aisle. At the front of the church Remington stood with his best man, Parker. Lilly waited on the opposite side to stand with Sam.

Outside, Duke had arranged a barbecue that would feed the entire town for days.

But inside that church two lives were going to become one. It had taken them ten years and a few months to get here, to an autumn wedding and a life together.

Sam stopped at the front of the church and faced Remington. He winked and she reached for his hands. The pastor cleared his throat. She let go and waited for the cue.

Behind them people laughed a little. She heard someone crying. They were finally asked to take each other by the hand and repeat the vows to love one another, in sickness and in health, richer, poorer, through good times and bad.

They'd already been through some hard times. They'd shared some amazing times. They were sure to weather every storm with faith, knowing they could get through whatever came at them.

“I love you,” she whispered as the pastor spoke about the ring symbolizing eternity.

And then they waited for a few awkward moments as Parker dug around in the seat of his wheelchair, searching for the rings. After a few heart-stopping moments he pulled them out of his pocket and said, “Ta-da!”

They laughed until they cried. The best kind of laughter.

Then they were husband and wife. Remington kissed his bride, holding her close.

“I'm going to love you forever, Mrs. Jenkins.”

“I'm going to love you forever, Mr. Jenkins,” Sam whispered in his ear. They kissed again, and then he took her hand and led her from the church.

As they hurried to the tent where the cake was set up, waiting for them, the band played a song about loving each other forever. Forever and ever, amen.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt of
THE RAIN SPARROW
by
New York Times
bestselling author
Linda Goodnight.

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