Anytime Darlin' (14 page)

She reached for her baby, and Dr. Warden obliged, wrapping the child in a warm blanket and settling her on Mary’s chest. Kenneth replaced Delores and slipped an arm around his wife. He and Mary studied their child, cooing as they touched her downy head, opened her tiny, perfect hands, and counted her fingers and toes, utterly entranced. Neither seemed to notice when the placenta was delivered.

Within a few moments, the baby latched onto Mary’s breast. Feeling like her presence was intrusive, Devlin slipped away to make coffee for the paramedics and Dr. Warden. Touching her cheeks, she felt more tears. She’d seen animals born, calves, puppies, kittens, goats, foals, but never had a birth been so personal. Mary and Kenneth were a real family now.

Though they made her feel welcome, the birth of this baby reminded her that she was not truly a member of it. She was eighteen. It was time to move on.

Although she’d never really thought about it, Devlin now knew she wanted children of her own. She thought about Ken’s whoop of joy at his first sight of the baby, and instead she heard Jake’s voice. She had a vision of Jake lying at her side, his arm around her, as they explored their child together. The vision seemed so real, Devlin’s legs began to tremble. She grabbed for the edge of the kitchen table to steady herself.

This is just because of everything that’s happened,
Devlin told herself.
The vision means nothing. It’s a figment of my overactive imagination.

Devlin had just spent nearly two years learning that there was a huge difference between wishing for something and actually getting it. In her experience, wishes seldom came true. Jake was a grown man. He didn’t need a girl by his side. He needed a woman.

The sooner I face that fact,
Devlin told herself,
the sooner I can move on with my life.

At the thought of leaving Jake behind, a deep ache started in her chest. In an instant, it spread through her entire body. She felt like she did back in the hospital, unable to catch her breath.

Devlin ran to the counter and grabbed Mary’s address book, knowing Mary had the number to Jake’s parents’ ranch. She thumbed through it, fingers clumsy, searching for the
M
s, then stopped, forcing herself to set the book down. She couldn’t do it, ask him to save her once again. Save her from herself. He deserved better than that.

Devlin took a deep breath, focusing her attention on the present. She stood in Mary’s kitchen. She took in the countertops, the cabinets, the refrigerator. Moving mechanically, Devlin opened the shoebox full of homemade cookies Delores had brought with her. She got out a platter and filled it, then brewed some coffee and put out coffee mugs, cream, and sugar.

Devlin considered her options. The grand jury had delivered their indictments. Her uncle’s girlfriend had plea-bargained and would soon head to a federal prison for five years. Her uncle was unlikely to reappear, unless he wanted to walk straight into the hands of the police and federal authorities. Her aunt was dead.

Devlin could stay here, go to school here, get a job, but she had no real roots in Denver. Jake had kept her grounded for months, but being with him wasn’t an option. He’d accepted a job in Missoula. He’d be moving there in May. The last thing he needed was a frightened, helpless little girl tagging along. No, Devlin decided, as the paramedics and Dr. Warden made their way toward the kitchen, the time had come for her to return home.

Jake had never been so frustrated. He’d been out of touch for a week. The blizzard had downed power lines, and phone service was spotty. Every day, from before sunrise until long after dark, he spent with the stock. The cows had begun to drop their calves. Shelter and warmth meant the difference between life and death. Jake, his father, and his brother worked themselves ragged, driving the herd to protected pastures, rounding up strays, and hauling feed through heavy snows to stranded cows. His mother practically lived in the barn, nursing several orphaned calves. The horses and the dogs worked as hard as the men. Jake made sure the horses were bedded down dry in the stable every night with plenty of water and an extra ration of oats.

Before he turned in each night, Jake was tempted to call Devlin, but he was dead on his feet. He knew he’d only have a few hours of sleep before it was time to check on the cows again. After he’d missed her that first night, the night of her birthday, he was worried she’d be hurt. He didn’t think he could deal with that. Devlin was a punch in the gut.

She’d turned eighteen. He could have her if he wanted and if she wanted. Jake wanted her, but not at the expense of her innocence and his self-respect. Despite the fact that he had genuine feelings for her, she depended upon him. He would be an asshole to take advantage of that. He only wished his brain knew that when he was asleep. Devlin was killing him in his dreams. He was afraid he’d revert to adolescence. A wet dream at this age would be humiliating.

He’d called the day after her birthday, only to find that she and Delores had gone out to a movie, giving Mary and Ken some time alone with their new baby. Ken sounded like he’d been asleep, so Jake kept the call short. He congratulated him and sent his love to Mary and little Catherine Abigail Workman. Ken said he’d tell Devlin about the call and then signed off. Jake expected her to call back, but she hadn’t. Sighing, Jake ran his hands through his hair. Maybe it was for the best.

“Thinking about her, are you?” his mother said.

“Who, Ma?” asked Jake as he turned around, a note of exasperation in his voice.

“The girl. You love her, don’t you?”

Jake had never been able to lie to his mother. Even when he was a little boy, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how good the story he made up, she always knew. He gave up trying long ago.

“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s young, Ma, too young for me.”

His mother folded her arms. “It’s old enough. I married your father at eighteen.”

“I’m not talking about marriage, Ma. You know as well as I do that I’m not ready to settle down. And Dev shouldn’t even be thinking about it right now. She has her whole life ahead of her.”

“Is that her name then? Dev?”

“Eleanor Devlin Barre. She goes by Devlin.”

“You’ve been wrestling with this for months, Jake. I’ve heard it in your voice over the phone. I hear it in your voice now.” She gave him a wicked grin. “You’ve got it bad, Jake McKenna.”

“Ma!” Jake blurted out, surprised laughter in his voice.

Jake’s mother reached up and patted his cheek. “It will all work out in the end. Love always does, one way or another.”

“Oh,” laughed Jake. “And that cryptic remark is supposed to make it all better?”

“You have a great big heart, Jake. I’ve been waiting for the day you’d find someone to give it to. I suspect you’ve found her. You’re just not sure it’s the right time. And probably, it isn’t. You’re still figuring out what you want to do with your life. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You want her. It’s written all over your face. That doesn’t make you a bad person. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

Jake threw his arms around his mother. The top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. He wondered how she did it, managed to survive with three very large, testosterone-laden men.

“How do you know these things?” He shook his head.

She looked up and winked at him. “Easy. I’m your mother. I know my boys and pay attention. Besides, you’ve been touchy, on edge, like a stallion who’s caught scent of a mare in season.”

“Jeez, Ma! Do you have to be so graphic?” Jake could feel his face turning beet red.

“We live on a ranch. I married your father.” She laughed. “What do you expect? Now let me go. These calves won’t feed themselves.”

Jake kissed his mother’s brown curls and released her. As she walked toward the stalls, she turned back to look at him.

“Young or not, she must be something very special to catch your heart.”

“She is,” replied Jake. “She most definitely is.”

August 10, 1984

Devlin gripped the arm of the seat as the plane hit some turbulence. Normally she loved to fly. Today she was nervous. She was on her way to Denver. Three months ago, Beth had asked her to be a bridesmaid. Thrilled that Mike was finally making an honest woman of her after all this time, Devlin agreed without hesitation. Then it occurred to her. Jake would be Mike’s best man. She hadn’t seen him in over four years. Four long, eventful years.

She thought back to her eighteenth birthday. He never did call. He’d made a break, let her down easily. It hurt that he hadn’t given her an explanation, didn’t say good-bye, and never tried to get in touch with her. Devlin accepted it, tried to get past it, but it still hurt. She missed him. Not a day went by that she didn’t think about him or scan a crowd of people for his face. It was like a bad habit. She’d walk down a crowded street and scan the approaching faces, searching for Jake’s. She expected to catch a glimpse of him in movie theaters, restaurants, museums, airports.

She made sure she wasn’t obvious, and she didn’t mention it to anyone, but the hope that she’d see him again, that he’d find her somehow, never went away. The biggest problem of all was in her bed. Jake was smack in the middle of every relationship she’d had since Denver. A long, hard, hot presence hogging up too damn much space. Now she would see him again in the flesh. Tonight, in fact.

Devlin had no idea how she’d react. She’d been back a number of times to visit Mary and Ken, and her energetic goddaughter Katie. She’d spent a lot of time with Mike and Beth, but Jake was never around. She didn’t know if that was by design or by accident. She knew he lived in Missoula and worked for the Bureau of Land Management. He continued to volunteer for the mountain search and rescue with the sheriff’s department. Mike mentioned he’d bought four thousand acres near Stanley, Idaho and he planned to build a cabin. Devlin tried to be happy for Jake. He was born to live in the mountains. She avoided the topic of his love life like the plague, and so did everyone else. The only thing she knew for certain was that he hadn’t married.

Devlin wasn’t the same lost girl who’d flown away from him four years ago, all her possessions stowed in a backpack. She’d invented a life for herself. It was a good life for the most part and getting better all the time. When Devlin had arrived back in Omaha four years ago, the first thing she’d done was take a taxi to Walnut Hill Cemetery in Council Bluffs to see her family’s gravesite. She’d only been there once. Her aunt had taken her after she was discharged from the hospital, right before they left for Denver. Her aunt had pushed Dev up the hill in her wheelchair. She couldn’t get the chair over the grass and Devlin couldn’t walk, so she had to look at the graves from the sidewalk, a dozen or so yards away. At that time, the graves had been littered with dead flowers. When Devlin arrived in mid-April, they were littered with dead leaves.

On this visit, Devlin had reached down to touch the earth above her family. The soil had been cold and wet. When Devlin pressed her palms to it, all she’d felt was death. Yet when she’d cleared the leaves, she’d seen green, the pale green of Irish moss, the emerald green sprouts of young spring grass, even the forest green tips of irises pushing through the loose dirt. Devlin had recalled a lecture she’d attended in Grinnell. She could hear her mother’s voice as clear as if she sat in the lecture hall.

“The ancients believed life and death to be circular, with no beginning and no end. Endless cycles of time. Everything repeated. In death there is rebirth. In birth, there is already death. I suppose you can look at time and space the same way. Circular. If you could travel in a straight line faster than the speed of light, would you end up at your starting point? Or would you never move at all? Is our universe infinitely circular, or is it ever expanding? Does time move linearly? Or does it double back upon itself? These are the questions you’ll ask yourself for the next few years, possibly for the rest of your life. Physics and religion are a circle. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where one field begins and the other ends. They ask the same questions and sometimes arrive at similar conclusions.”

“I have a lot of questions, Mom,” Devlin sighed, “but no answers. I wish time would come around again, because you could tell me what to do. It only seems to do that in my dreams.”

She’d risen with care, unwilling to disturb the new growth over the gravesites. The wind had picked up. Devlin had slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed farther up the hill. She’d unzipped the pack and lifted out the jar carrying her aunt’s ashes. Standing with her back to the wind, she emptied the jar. The ashes swirled in random eddies around weathered granite monuments before vanishing into the trees.

“Ashes to ashes, Aunt Carolyn. I forgive you.” Devlin had turned away, stuffed the jar into her pack, and headed to the cab without a backward glance.

She had met with the lawyer, Charles Petrakis, in Council Bluffs. He apprised her of all her holdings, how much was in land, how much in investments, the life insurance payouts and her parents’ retirement benefits, which had been assigned to her. She listened in silence. After deciding upon a reasonable monthly allowance for herself, she left the remainder in his capable hands, including the money she’d earned from the sale of her aunt’s house in Denver. Her grandparents had obviously trusted Mr. Petrakis, and she had no reason to doubt that he would do his best for her. At that point in time, she had no idea what she would do with the money anyway.

She had called Mary’s brother Mark from Mr. Petrakis’ office and asked him to meet her. Devlin had already decided that if he wanted her grandparents’ farm, she’d sell it to him at a very fair price. If she thought he’d accept, she’d have given it to him outright, but Delores and Mary not only insisted he’d never accept, they’d told Devlin Mark would be insulted.

Mark arrived with his wife, Angela, wrapping Devlin in a great big bear hug. Devlin was delighted to see him. Like every other little girl in the county, she’d had a crush on him when he was captain of the high school basketball team. He was no longer the tall, wiry string bean Devlin remembered. Mark had grown into a handsome man. He’d filled out, his voice had deepened, and he already looked like a farmer with his clean, faded blue jeans, neatly tucked-in flannel shirt, worn work boots, and the fine lines etched into the corners of his eyes by wind and sun and cold weather.