The Rancher's Wife (13 page)

“Forget Sara?” Logan's throat closed, tightening to the point of pain.

Pop winced. “No. I didn't mean that.”

“That's exactly what you meant.” Logan's gut roiled. “And that should be easy, right? Because I'm a man? Because I didn't know her? That's the same thing everyone else said after we lost her.”

“Logan—”

“I knew my daughter.” His voice turned hoarse, tearing from his throat in rough rasps. “Sara knew me, too. I put my hand on Amy's belly every day and Sara kicked every time I spoke to her.” His breath shuddered from him. “That's how I knew something wasn't right. I put my hand over her that morning and talked to her and she didn't move.” He shook his head. “Amy didn't think anything was wrong. Not until later. But I knew that morning.”

Logan stared ahead, the flames of the bonfire licking higher and the smoke growing thicker.

“We'd lost her that night while we were sleeping.” His lungs seized, choking him. “Sara died right there in that bed beside me and I couldn't do a damned thing about it.”

“No one expected you to, son. Nature has a way—”

“Of taking care of things. I know.” Logan grimaced, eyes blurring. “That's why I can't understand it. When we saw her, she was beautiful. So perfect. She just didn't cry.” He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets. “I kept holding her, thinking they'd got it wrong. That she'd wake up. She would've been due in two more weeks. I can't understand how she could be that perfect and not cry. How she could
almost
make it...”

Pop kneaded the back of Logan's neck, his words low against his ear. “It's okay to mourn for Sara. To miss her. But it wasn't your fault or Amy's. You have to accept this was something you couldn't control and choose to move on. For your sake and hers.”

“Every choice I've ever made has been for Amy's sake.” Logan pulled away. “It's called loyalty. Something a lot stronger than this illusion of love everyone keeps holding on to. It's something Mom knew nothing about. Even Amy didn't have a clue what it was, lying to me the way she did. And I have no intention of trading it off for this reckless fantasy all of you keep trying to sell. The only thing that's ever been certain in my life has been my word. Everything else—
everyone
else—has been a damned disappointment.” He motioned to the hands across the field and called out, “Let's get this fire out. It's time to call it a night.”

They nodded, tossing their beers in the trash and rounding up buckets of water.

“Logan, you can't build a future when your hands are holding on to the past.”

“The only thing I'm holding on to is my wife. I made a vow and I'm standing by it because it's the right thing to do.” His lip curled. “The only
dignified
thing to do. Surely you can understand that.” He shook his head. “Amy and I may have been dumb kids back then but we're not now. I'm not going into this blind, and Amy knows exactly where I stand.” His mouth ran dry and he forced his words past the lump in his throat. “I knew my daughter. Sara was not
a mistake
. And neither was my marriage.”

Logan spun on his heel and joined the hands, grabbing a bucket of water and heaving it over the pit. The hiss and sizzle of dying fire sounded and smoke billowed out with fury. He grabbed another and repeated the motion, muscles screaming with every throw.

Things would be different this time. He wouldn't fail Amy. And thank God they'd never have the chance to fail a child again.

* * *

“M
MMM
.” A
MY
CLOSED
her eyes in bliss and wrapped her hands tighter around the warm mug. “Mama, you make the best hot chocolate in existence.”

Betty smiled. “It's all about balance, baby girl. You have to make sure the bitter matches the sweet. Besides, you can't break in Christmas properly without a decent hot cocoa.”

Amy took another sip and rolled it over her tongue, savoring the peaceful stillness of the empty kitchen. She and Traci had helped Cissy get the boys bathed and tucked in bed. Traci and Cissy had called it a night but Amy had lingered, reading three bedtime stories before the boys' eyelids finally fluttered shut.

Amy smiled. She could've stayed in the boys' room for hours, reading in gentle tones and listening to their soft breaths. It hadn't taken long for their rambunctious sweetness to slip into her heart. She'd grown so close to them it'd be painful to leave.

Betty set her cup down and reached across the table to squeeze Amy's forearm. “It's good to see you smile again.”

Amy drummed her fingers against her cup. “I smile enough. Matter of fact, we have plenty of laughs when you and Traci visit me in Augusta.”

Betty shook her head. “They're not like the ones you had out by the bonfire tonight. You looked like your old self again wearing Logan's hat and grinning. I don't know what he did to coax it out of you but he did it right.”

Amy's face flamed. She sat back, dodging Betty's narrowed gaze. “We went for a ride, is all. I just haven't ridden in so long it was nice to race again. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

Betty released her arm and retrieved her cup. Amy dug into the plastic bag of marshmallows on the table, plucked one out and plopped it into her cocoa. It bobbed around in the dark liquid, melting in white streaks around the edges.

She pressed the cup to her lips and the sickly-sweet foam of the melted marshmallow clung to her gums, rolling her stomach. She dropped the mug to the table with a clang and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Are you okay?” Betty leaned forward, brow creasing.

Amy nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I haven't been feeling well, lately.”

Her hand shook. Betty's gaze clung to it. Amy shoved it between her knees below the table.

“Baby, you know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how old you are?”

“I know.”

“Well, I'm here if you ever want to talk.” Betty shifted forward, mouth opening and closing a time or two. “About your new job or the move.” She shrugged, fiddling with the handle on her cup. “Or Logan.”

Amy's lips twitched. “Smooth delivery, Mama. Real smooth.”

Betty flushed and waved a hand in front of her face. “I forget you have so much of your father in you.” She smiled. “He never had much use for tact, either.”

Amy laughed, the churning in her gut easing. Betty was right. Her dad had always been blunt. They reminisced about his many missteps and before long, Betty joined her, doubling over and holding her belly as she chuckled. At the same time, Betty's eyes darkened with sadness over the loss of her husband.

The nausea returned and Amy's laughter broke away, fading with each jerk of her shoulders. Amy fought for air, her lungs burning. She pressed a weak fist to her chest, fighting to regain composure at Betty's shocked expression.

“I'm scared, Mama.”

Betty moved quickly to the seat beside Amy and hugged her close. “Of what?”

Possibly being pregnant. Losing another child. Losing Logan.
Her throat closed and violent chills racked her body.

“Try to relax, Amy.”

Betty's voice trembled. Her hand moved in warm circles over Amy's back, slowing as the spasms subsided and resting between her shoulder blades.

“Now, what is it you're afraid of?”

“Everything,” Amy whispered. “Leaving. Staying.” She clamped her trembling lips together. “
Myself.
I don't know who I am anymore.”

Betty smoothed her fingers through Amy's hair, tucking a long wave behind her shoulder. Amy leaned into her, craving the soothing touch as much as she had when she was a child.

“Maybe that's because you're trying to be someone you're not,” Betty murmured, gesturing toward Amy's necklace. “When did you take that ring off your finger and string it around your neck?”

Amy bit her lip. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” Betty squeezed her hand. “I know losing Sara was difficult. I knew you needed to heal and I thought leaving here for a change of pace was the best thing for you at the time.” She shook her head. “But you carried it with you.”

Amy licked her lips, the taste of salt lingering on her tongue.

Betty grabbed a cloth napkin from the table and dabbed at Amy's cheeks. “I think you've been so determined to get some distance from the bad that you forgot about the good.”

“What good?” A scornful laugh burst past Amy's lips. “Not one single thing I did was good. I lied. I hurt Logan. Not to mention Sara—” Her voice broke. She stilled Betty's hand, taking the napkin and wiping her eyes. “But I've been trying to be someone good. Someone better. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Betty whispered. “So long as you remember that no one can be perfect no matter how hard they try. We're, none of us, saints or angels. We all make mistakes.” She tugged Amy's hands to her lap and eyed her. “If you don't mind my asking, who is it you're really doing all this changing for?”

Amy ducked her head and picked at the hem of her shirt. “Logan, I suppose.”

Betty sighed. “I know I should be objective right now. Tell you how proud I am of you for being so repentant and selfless.” She slid closer, smile tight. “But I won't. You're my girl, Amy, and I'm proud of you. Always have been. I'd hate to see you change the things I love most about you to impress a man. Even if he is a good one.”

“There's more to it than that.”

“Is there?” Betty asked. “You used to like who you were and were proud of it. You were so brave and headstrong.” She smiled. “I remember watching you fall off a horse more times than I could count. Was scared to death you'd hurt yourself. But you'd get right back up, brush yourself off and try again. Every time. And you kept on trying until you got it right.”

“Or got it wrong,” Amy choked out. “I kept right after Logan, too, and look how that ended up.”

Betty took Amy's hands in hers and squeezed. “You've always lived hard and you love just as hard. Your heart was in the right place no matter how wrong you went about it. Your daddy was the same way and you remind me so much of him. That's why it's so hard for me to let you go.” Her eyes watered. “I'm not going to lie to you. I don't want you to move so far away. But I do want you to be happy. If that means moving to Michigan then I'll support you. Traci and I will visit you just as we've been doing.” Her features firmed. “But no matter what you decide, I won't help you hide yourself away. I love you too much to support you in that.” She tapped a finger against the ring at Amy's neck. “That one mistake has been weighing you down long enough. It's past time to set it down, forgive yourself and live again.”

The tension in Amy's muscles eased, the tightness seeping away and leaving a soothing stillness in its place. She hugged Betty, absorbing her strength.

“Now.” Betty squeezed Amy close. “How 'bout I sneak us a few sugar cookies and we pile on the couch and watch a late movie together like we used to?”

Amy sniffed and smiled. “I'd like that.”

They stayed up and watched the last hour of one of their favorite holiday comedies, nibbling on cookies and sharing laughs. Betty's eyes grew heavy and Amy kissed her cheek, suggesting it was time to turn in.

Betty paused at the door and smiled. “You're loved, Amy. No matter where you are or what you do. I wasn't the only one that loved the girl you used to be. Logan did, too. And would again if you'd give him half a chance.”

Standing motionless in the living room, Amy watched her mother leave. The house was quiet. All the guests had turned in for the night and Logan would be coming in soon. A steady ticking from the clock on the wall marked the time, bringing the future closer in small moments that weighed on her shoulders.

Amy glanced down at her boots. They were as banged up and muddied as they'd been when she'd run reckless as a teen. They felt as comforting now as they did back then. As if she could bound effortlessly across the ground with every step.

She wondered if the girl she'd been then was still inside her, the good and the bad in equal measure. She continued to ponder this long after she'd crawled into bed.

Logan joined her soon after, wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep. The gentle rhythm of his breathing offered comfort but sleep escaped her. She eventually gave up and slipped out of his arms, dressing and leaving the room quietly.

It was dark save for the light of the stars as she made her way to the stables. The path seemed to stretch farther than ever in the chill of the night air. She stopped more than once, almost turning back, but continued to put one boot in front of the other until she reached Thunder's stall and placed her palm to the bars.

“Hey,” she whispered.

Thunder's dark bulk shifted. He stomped a time or two and tossed his head.

“Not getting any sleep, either, huh?” Amy smiled. “Want to come with me? Take a night stroll like we used to and stretch your legs?”

He kicked, hooves striking the stall door. The sharp crack of wood split her ears. Amy held her ground, keeping her hand flat against the bars.

Thunder kicked again then paced, growing calmer and slowly approaching her hand. His nose drew closer, nostrils moving rapidly with strong pulls of air.

“Remember me?” Her throat closed and her vision blurred. “Because I think I need you to.”

He nudged closer, his wet nose and swift breaths tickling her skin. She reached with slow movements for the lead rope hanging on the wall.

“We'll take it one step at a time,” she whispered. “Until we trust each other again. That okay with you?”

Thunder tossed his head and pawed the ground but she managed to get the lead on him and move him to the round pen. She slipped the rope off him once they made it inside the enclosure. He took off, bucking and kicking at the fence.