Caribou Crossing (10 page)

The boy looked very alone in that moment. Almost like he carried the weight of the world on his frail back. Wade's back was a lot stronger, but he knew the feeling well.

 

Miriam and her little helpers dumped bags of groceries on the kitchen table. “You kids put things away,” she told Jessica and Evan, “and I'll get dinner going.”

“What are we having, Mommy?”

“Meat loaf.”

“Oh, goodie! We haven't had that in a long time,” Jessica said.

No, they hadn't. Miriam had been making basic meals: throwing pork chops, chicken, or steak into the oven; boiling or baking potatoes to accompany the meat; and getting Jessica to pick some kind of vegetable from the garden. But today, she wanted to do something more interesting.

“I remember your meat loaf, Mrs. Bly,” Evan said. “It's superlative.”

She smiled, a spontaneous one rather than a forced one. Yes, she was slowly getting better, just as the doctor had promised. “If you two peel the potatoes, I'll make mashed potatoes.”

“Yummy!” Jessica said. Then, “Where did Pa go? The truck's gone.”

“I noticed. Guess he had to go into town for something. Too bad I didn't know, or we could have picked it up.” She'd expected Wade to be out with the cattle. He was finishing off the weaning, so all the calves would now feed from troughs. It wasn't long until they'd be shipped off to auction.

Though she preferred summer weather to winter, she was glad Wade would be able to slow down a little. He'd worked himself to the bone over the past months.

Before sitting down to peel potatoes, Jessica clicked on the radio, which was set to CXNG. Miriam realized how long it had been since she'd listened to music. Since the hysterectomy, she'd avoided it because the songs depressed her. All the songs: the cheery ones, the love songs, the achy-breaky-heart ones. Now, though, she found herself moving to the beat of a tune she didn't know as she mixed the ingredients for meat loaf.

The radio host said, “Y'all been listening to Tim McGraw's ‘I Like It, I Love It,' and next up's Miss Shania Twain singing ‘Any Man of Mine.' ” Another new song she didn't know, but as she caught the rhythm and hummed along, she thought of Wade. Of the patient way he'd eaten the pathetic meals she'd prepared, thanked her for whatever tasks she'd managed to do, even told her she was pretty when she knew she looked like a hag.

Whenever he turned to her in bed, she pretended to be asleep. Her body felt so empty and unwomanly, and she always thought of the last time they'd made love. It was the night they lost the baby.

But no, that was all in the past. She'd walked around under a cloud for too long, and now the sun was peeping through. Miriam felt like a frozen stream thawing after a long, cold winter.

Maybe it was time to go back to her job at the vet's office, to set up regular lunches with her girlfriends, to buy some new clothes. Perhaps she could even work on Wade to take her and Jessica to Hawaii over the Christmas holiday.

Shania was singing that any man of hers would be a breathtakin', earthquakin' kind of guy. Yes, that was exactly how Miriam had always felt about Wade.

Tonight, she wasn't going to take a sleeping pill, and she was going to hug her husband in bed and see where things went from there.

She put the meat loaf in the oven, then chopped up the potatoes the kids had peeled, and put them in a pot of cold water. When Jessica begged permission to go see Rascal, Miriam laughed. “Nice try. You know the rule. Homework first. Right, Evan?” She cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

“We'll do it, Mrs. Bly. Come on, Jess, the sooner we commence, the sooner we consummate.”

Miriam choked back a laugh. Should she tell Evan to read
all
the meanings of that word in his dictionary? No, she wasn't about to raise the subject of sex with an eight-year-old, no matter how advanced he was.

“I swear, Ev,” Jessica said, “I don't know what you're saying half the time.”

Thank heavens!

Miriam went upstairs to take a leisurely shower, shave her legs, and apply the apple-scented body lotion Wade had always loved. She donned a denim skirt and a figure-hugging coral tee, brushed her hair until it fell in shiny waves, and applied glistening coral lip gloss. Oh yes, there'd be some
consummating
going on in this house, after Jessica went to sleep.

When she returned to the kitchen, the enticing aroma of meat loaf filled the air and the kids were working diligently at their books. She went out to the garden to pick tomatoes and a cauliflower, and by the time she'd washed them, Jessica and Evan had finished their homework. “Okay,” she told them, “you can go out and play.”

A few minutes later, Miriam was grating cheddar to melt on top of the cauliflower when she heard the outside door. She put down the cheese grater as the mudroom door opened and Wade stepped through. It was like she saw him clearly for the first time in ages. He was a hunk, her tall, strong cowboy in well-faded denim jeans, an even paler denim shirt worn open at the neck, and a dark brown Resistol cowboy hat set atop shaggy chestnut hair. He'd lost weight, though, and looked tired.

Love, a warm, poignant feeling that contained tenderness, lust, and appreciation, filled her. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said softly, going to give him a big hug and a firm kiss.

“Hey.” He gave her a perfunctory squeeze, then stepped past her. “Gonna grab a shower.”

Miriam sighed. That wasn't the reception she'd hoped for, but he'd no doubt had a long, hard day. He'd feel better after a shower, and even better when he saw dinner on the table. He'd always loved her meat loaf.

She put the potatoes on to boil, cut up the cauliflower to steam, and sliced the tomatoes. When the potatoes were ready to mash, she called the kids in.

Wade—who'd taken a really long time with that shower—came back and they all sat down together. Evan and Jessica raved about the food, and Miriam enjoyed every bite herself. Wade, though, shoveled it in mechanically as if he didn't notice or care what he was eating. When she tried to make conversation, he seemed to be off in his own world and sometimes didn't respond.

It dawned on her that this must have been what it had been like for him, all these months he'd lived with her depression. Was he just tired and distracted, or was something wrong?

When dinner was finished and the kitchen tidied, Wade said, “Why don't you kids go play upstairs until it's time to take Evan home?”

When the two children left, he turned to Miriam and said heavily, “We need to talk.”

Anxiety fluttered uncomfortably in her full tummy as they settled back at the kitchen table in their usual chairs across from each other. “What's wrong, Wade?” She reached over to rest her hand on his bare forearm. How warm and strong he felt, and how long it had been since she'd appreciated that. “Whatever it is, we'll work it out, sweetheart.”

“It's my fault.” He pulled his arm away, rested his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. “I messed up,” he said from behind his hands.

“Messed up how?” she asked cautiously. Wade never messed up. He was such a capable guy.

He lowered his hands and gazed at her, his face bleak. “We're caught up now but I missed two mortgage payments.”

“What? You missed mortgage payments?” She shook her head disbelievingly. “How on earth did that happen? Did you forget to mail the checks?”

A hard swallow rippled his Adam's apple. “There was no money in the business account to write checks on.”

Stunned, she gaped at him, then asked, “Where did it go?”

He gave a ragged laugh. “It went on life. Ranch expenses, food, electricity, gas for the car and truck, my impacted wisdom tooth. I've been selling livestock, trying to cover expenses, but I'm way behind on the bills. Taking the cattle to auction will carry us through for a few more months, but the bottom line is, there just isn't enough coming in.”

What? She hadn't had a clue about any of this. “But . . . why? I mean, the ranch is supposed to make money.” She'd never gotten far enough into the bookkeeping to understand the ranch's finances. “It always made money for your parents, right?”

“It did okay. Ranching's a tough business and there were some lean years, but they always managed.”

“Then what's changed?” None of this made sense to her. Were they going to lose the ranch? No, that was impossible. She just wasn't understanding.

“What's changed?” he repeated, his voice grating. “We've got that damned mortgage. And, well, it's not Pa in charge anymore. It's me.”

The mortgage. Yes, she knew it meant they had to be careful with money. But what did he mean about him being in charge? Frowning in puzzlement, she said, “But you know the ranch. You've always worked here. Aren't you doing the same things your father did?”

“I think so.”

She tried to work this through. “Didn't you phone him and ask?”

Wade flattened his hands on the table and used them to thrust himself to his feet. He paced across the kitchen. With his back to her, he said, “I thought I could handle it. I didn't want to ask for help like some little kid.”

She stared at his oh-so-familiar back. Wade was independent. Proud. She'd always known that. But now she realized he was insecure, and too mule-headed to get past it and ask for help. A bubble of anger churned in her tummy. Because of his stupid pride, he'd put them at risk of losing their home. “Why didn't you tell me what was going on?” she demanded, voice shrill.

He spun around. “Because you were so damned out of it, Miriam. You were so depressed, so unfocused. You could barely keep up with the house and Jessie, you didn't go back to your job, you'd given up on the bookkeeping, you just—”

“You're saying it's my fault?” She sprang to her feet, disbelieving and furious. “I lost my
baby
, Wade! I lost my
uterus
!” And maybe that was her fault, too, a guilt she'd live with for the rest of her life.

“I lost my baby, too. And all the other babies we might have had.”

“But you handled it. You went back to work like it didn't even matter!” She hadn't realized until now how much she'd resented that. How alone she'd felt in her grief.

“It mattered. Jesus, Miriam, it shattered something inside me.”

“It did? But you never said anything.” And that hurt; he'd shut her out.

“You were sad enough without me dumping my sorrows on you. Besides, there was work to do. I guess my way of handling things was to keep busy.”

Her anger faded as the truth sank home. Wade had grieved, too, and hadn't been able to come to her. Quietly, she admitted, “And my way was to fall apart. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.”

“Aw, honey.” He crossed the kitchen and caught her hands in his. His rich chocolate eyes were anguished.

His grief, their financial troubles, he'd had to deal with everything by himself. If she hadn't abandoned the bookkeeping, she'd have known their situation all along. If she'd gone back to her part-time job, they'd have had more income. Guilt put a sour taste in her mouth. “I should have helped more.”

“We both did the best we could.”

That was generous of him, but had she? Yes, she'd told herself she was too depressed and tired to deal with those things, but if she'd known the truth, maybe she'd have somehow found the energy to help. “I feel so bad that you couldn't tell me because you thought I couldn't handle it.”

“Well”—he swallowed—“it was also that I felt, you know, inadequate. Like I was letting you down.”

Those words sank in slowly, penetrating her guilt. She frowned. “So, because of your pride, you went ahead and missed two mortgage payments without telling me? We're supposed to be partners, aren't we?” She tugged her hands free and rubbed her head, which had begun to ache. Maybe she'd have been a better partner if he'd treated her like one.

Another bubble—no, more of a knot—of anger was growing, but she fought it down. “Why tonight? Why are you telling me now, if you got the mortgage caught up?”

“Because the bank manager told me I had to.”

“You saw the bank manager?”

“This afternoon. She said no one wants us to lose the ranch, but defaulting on the mortgage was a red flag and she wanted to discuss it.”

Miriam shook her head. She, a banker's daughter, had defaulted on her mortgage. If her dad found out, he'd be shocked and disappointed. Laying blame on Wade or herself was pointless now; there was only one thing that mattered. “We have to make sure it never happens again.”

“Exactly. The manager said”—he scowled—“she said I'm in over my head, trying to run the ranch. She said, if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.”

“Makes sense. So what do we do?”

“She said I had to discuss it with you, and—”

“She's right about that,” she interrupted. How could he have let things go this far without telling her? “What else?”

“We have to ask for help,” he added grudgingly.

Help? “A loan? My parents might give us a loan.”

“Uh-uh. More debt isn't the answer.”

“I guess you're right. What kind of help then?”

“Advice on ranching from Pa and other ranchers. Your dad could help us work out a budget. The bank manager said we need a solid business plan. She's right. We have to figure out a way to keep paying the mortgage, or else they'll foreclose.”

“Foreclose,” she echoed. Such a nasty, technical word for losing your home.

“We can't lose Bly Ranch,” he said. “We have to find a way of keeping it.”