Caribou Crossing (11 page)

“We can't lose our home,” she agreed, though the work involved in keeping it sounded overwhelming and unbelievably stressful. A year ago, life had been so easy.

Wait a minute . . . what did
home
mean? It was the place where husband, wife, and daughter lived, laughed together, and loved each other. They'd had that last year, before the move. Bly Ranch was . . . vast acreage, more than a hundred cattle, a bunch of horses.

Responsibilities. Huge ones. And debt.

She and Wade weren't even thirty yet. Their friends were building careers, falling in love, having fun. They weren't faltering under a crushing load of debt and the intimidating challenge of finding some way of turning things around. Even her parents, who both had careers, worked regular workweeks; they didn't slave away every evening and weekend.

She gazed up at her husband, noting the lines of tiredness and strain carved into his handsome face. Where was the lighthearted, romantic guy she used to dance with at the Lucky Strike? She thought back to their wedding night and all the dreams they'd shared, the bright future they'd envisioned. Things had gone so badly off course this past year, and some dreams—their four children—were lost forever. Maybe this was the time to abandon another dream—Bly Ranch—and envision a different future.

“What if we don't?” she asked tentatively.

“Don't what?”

“Don't try to keep it. What if we let it go?” She speeded up as she went along, and it felt like another weight was lifting from her shoulders. “We could sell, see if we can get out with at least some of the money we put in. Start fresh.”

Fresh. That word opened up so many possibilities, new dreams that could heal their wounds, weave their family tighter together, bring back the joy in their lives.

Wade gaped down at his wife as she gazed up at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Had she lost her mind? “You can't mean that.”

“Maybe it's too much for us. We can't handle it. All this responsibility and worry . . . We're not even thirty, Wade.”

“But you love the ranch. Don't you, Miriam?”

“I don't know.” Expression troubled, she said, “I did, but Wade, it's too much for us.”

“It's our home.” The home they were building together. Yes, losing the baby had been a big setback, and so was the financial trouble, but they'd get back on track. She couldn't lose faith in that. Faith in him.

Miriam shook her head. “Home is wherever we make it. We could get a small house in town, just like we planned a year ago.”

“But we talked about this when Mom and Dad decided to move. You agreed.” He scowled at her. “I'm not a quitter, and I didn't think you were either.”

“A quitter?” She came to her feet, took a couple of steps away, then turned back to face him. “It's not quitting to realize you've made a mistake. When we decided to buy the ranch, we didn't know how hard it would be.”

“This isn't a mistake.” The words ground out as pressure throbbed at his temples. “We just have to work harder. If you did the bookkeeping and went back to work at the vet's, that'd be a big help, and—”

“I know, I know. I should have done those things, but you didn't tell me we were in trouble.”

“I figured you'd get back to them as soon as you could.”

“Look, I know you were trying to be considerate, but you can't just keep secrets from me.”

“Keep secrets? You were in no shape to hear the truth.” His voice had risen along with his temper.

“So now it's all my fault?” Her eyes flashed.

“I'm not saying that! Damn it, Miriam. We both have to work harder.”

“Wade, you already work from before dawn until late at night. Every day. Seven days a week. You have no life except for work!”

He dragged his hands through his hair. “Work smarter then. Whatever it takes.” His parents had given them half of this ranch. He couldn't lose it. Didn't she understand how important Bly Ranch was to him and his family? Wasn't
she
part of this family?

“Whatever it takes? No!” Hands fisted on her hips, she glared at him. “Don't be so stubborn! Sometimes it's better to just admit you were wrong and move on.”

“Wrong? I'm not wrong.”

“Ooh! I don't even know you. You're not the man I married!”

“Well, this marriage sure isn't what I thought it would be.” When he married Miriam, he never could have imagined they'd be fighting like this.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I thought that we were partners. That you'd stand by me.”

“I would if what you were doing was reasonable, but it's not!”

They glared at each other across several feet of kitchen floor. For months Wade had wished that his wife was
present
, that they could have a real conversation. Well, she was dang well present now, and pissing him right off.

“Mommy? Pa?” Jessie's quavering voice made him spin on his heel to see her in the kitchen doorway, tears streaming down her face.

“Jessica,” Miriam started, and then their daughter was running toward her, yelling, “We can't lose the ranch! You can't get divorced!”

Divorced?
The word was a slap in the face, a shock icier than the first plunge into Zephyr Lake each spring.

“Divorced?” Miriam echoed the word disbelievingly as she gathered their sobbing daughter in her arms and they both sank to the kitchen floor. Over the top of Jessie's head, Wade's wife's agonized gaze settled on his face. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

He strode over and dropped down on his knees to wrap his arms around the two of them. Oh God, he loved them so much. He'd only wanted to look after them, yet he'd hurt them so deeply.

Forcing words past a lump in his throat, he said hoarsely, “We're not getting divorced, Jessie-girl. I love you and your mom more than”—he struggled to find words to convey the truth—“more than life itself.”

More than Bly Ranch, he realized.

And that was what Miriam had been trying to make him realize.

Their daughter raised a wet, blotchy face to focus on him, like she was wondering whether to believe him.

Miriam drew a quavery breath, but smiled through her tears. “And that's exactly the way I love both of you. I'm sorry we were yelling, honey.”

“We h-heard you from upstairs,” their daughter said, her words punctuated by a hiccupy sob. “Evan s-said parents fight all the time, and we should stay in my room. But you guys d-don't fight. So I came down and then I h-heard you saying those things.”

“Stupid things,” Miriam said firmly. “Sometimes when people are upset, they say stupid things they don't really mean.”

“We're really sorry,” Wade said, giving them another hug, then slowly easing his death grip on his family and standing up.

Then he noticed Evan hovering in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

Embarrassed as hell, Wade nodded awkwardly at the boy. “Sorry, Evan.”

Miriam looked over, too, brushing dampness off her cheeks. “Oh, Evan.” She rose and went to him. When she reached out to touch him, he flinched away. “We're so sorry,” she said gently. “We didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's okay,” he said cautiously. His solemn gaze fixed on her face, then traveled to Wade's, and then landed on Jessie's. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She sniffled, nodded, then went over to take his hand.

Though he'd sure rather Evan hadn't witnessed their family drama, Wade was still glad that Jessie had this friend who looked out for her.

“I'm sorry, Miriam.” Wade went over to rest his hand on his wife's shoulder.

“Me, too.” She gave him a shaky smile. “We'll figure things out, Wade. The important thing is, we love each other. We
are
partners, and we have to start acting like it.”

“Agreed,” he said wholeheartedly. He put his arms around her and she hugged him back. For a long minute he held her tight, wishing he never had to let go. They kissed gently, an apology and a promise.

When he turned again to the kids, he saw they were taking it all in, Jessie with a smile and Evan with a serious expression that was more an adult's than a child's.

“I should drive Evan home,” Wade said. “Is that okay, Miriam?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I'll put Jessica to bed.”

“And I'll come kiss you good night when I get back,” he said to his daughter. Then, to Miriam, “And then we'll talk. Like grown-ups.”

Evan got his things, and then the two of them went out to the car. Wade drove down the ranch road and turned onto the two-lane highway into town. He said, again, “I'm sorry about that. We've had some troubles lately, but that's not an excuse for fighting.”

“You need an excuse?” The question sounded genuine.

Wade shook his head. “There's never a good excuse. Not when you love someone.”

The boy didn't respond, and Wade glanced over to see him staring out the windshield, his brow furrowed.

“It won't happen again,” Wade promised.

Would the kid tell his parents about the fight? Wade had met them both, but only briefly. Blond Brooke had a vivacious personality. Mo, a half-Asian man, was more taciturn. Both were very good-looking, which made him think that one day skinny, big-eared Evan might turn into a handsome guy. They didn't seem overly concerned about their son's activities, maybe because he was so mature for his years. All the same, tonight had to have been troubling for the boy. “Want me to come in and talk to your folks?”

Evan's thin body jerked; then he turned and fixed those big, solemn blue-green eyes on Wade. “Why?”

“To reassure them everything's okay. I don't want them worrying about you coming out to the ranch.”

“Oh,” he said slowly. Then, “It's okay. They won't worry. Besides, they won't be home right now.”

Evan never said much about his parents. Wade knew that Brooke waitressed part-time, and Mo worked at an auto repair shop, but that was pretty much it.

When Wade pulled up at the shabby rental house, he reached over to touch Evan's shoulder. The boy tensed and turned his face toward Wade, expression giving nothing away.

“You're a good friend to Jessie,” Wade said. “And to her mom and me. We'll see you again soon.”

The boy gave a stiff little nod. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” He slid out from under Wade's hand and opened the car door. “Good night.”

Wade drove home quickly, then went upstairs. Jessie was tucked in bed, her mom beside her with an arm around her, reading from one of their daughter's favorite horse books. This, Wade thought, was what mattered. Yes, he loved Bly Ranch and would hate to lose it, but he could survive anything if he had these two females.

He hugged them, kissed Jessie, then took his wife's hand as they walked from the bedroom.

She turned to him and said quietly, “I'm exhausted. Let's never fight like that again.”

He shook his head. “Guess we both have some issues. But fighting's sure not the way to solve them. Are you too tired to talk tonight?” He hoped not. If he had to give up Bly Ranch, he'd rather know now than worry about it overnight.

To his relief, she said, “No, I'll never sleep unless we do. Let's go down and light a fire.”

“Great.” That would set the right mood. He and Miriam had enjoyed a lot of good times in front of a fire.

She went to make tea while he got a blaze going. Then they settled side by side on the couch.

“So,” he said, “where do we start?”

She took a sip of tea, then touched his shoulder. “I think I've figured out why we fought.”

“You mean, because we were both upset and we're dealing with huge issues?”

“True. But also, we don't know how to solve problems.”

“We don't?”

“Think about it, sweetheart.” Her eyes were as gentle as her warm hand. “Until this year, we were starry-eyed kids and all our dreams were just handed to us on a silver platter. We agreed on everything. Even buying the ranch. Looking back, I remember that my dad tried to make us look at some cold, hard facts, but we were so excited, we just leaped into it. We both love the ranch, we'd always figured we'd end up here, and we assumed everything would work out.”

As she spoke, he felt the truth of her words, deep inside him. “Guess that's true.”

“We can't be starry-eyed kids anymore. Yes, we still have dreams, but the silver platter's gone.”

“Sure as hell is,” he said ruefully. “And in its place, there's a hellacious mortgage.”

“Now we have to work for what we want. We have to learn new things. If we keep the ranch, I have to master the bookkeeping. You maybe have some things to learn about ranching, and have to learn to ask your dad and others for advice. We have to figure out how to do a business plan. And most important of all, we have to share our worries and problems with each other and decide together what to do about them.”

He rested his hand on her thigh, which was covered by her denim skirt. “You're pretty smart, wife.”

“You might have shared your worries if I wasn't so out of things.”

He shook his head. “Don't blame yourself. We each heal in different ways, and you needed time. It was a horrible thing, what happened with our baby.”

“It was. And it would've gone easier for each of us if we'd talked about it. But we didn't.” She studied his face. “Would you be willing to do that now?”

He swallowed. He'd wanted to before, yet it meant showing Miriam a side of him she'd never seen. But she was his wife. The person he loved and trusted most in the world. “Yes.” Wryly he added, “You're determined to see all my weaknesses, aren't you?”

Her eyes crinkled as she gave a small smile. “You've seen mine, all these months. And you're still here. I'm so glad of that.”

“Me, too.”

Her smile faded and her blue-gray eyes darkened. “What was the worst part for you? About my miscarriage?”

Oh, hell. The grief was something he wouldn't mind sharing. But it wasn't the answer to her question. He swallowed again, and when the two words came, they grated out as if he were dragging them over barbed wire. “The guilt.”

Her brows drew together. “You mean, my guilt?”

Confused, he shook his head. “What do you mean? No, mine. I didn't protect you. I saw the signs there was something wrong. Should've gotten you to the doctor earlier.”

Miriam's face paled. “Dr. Mathews said nothing could have saved our son.”

“I know, but maybe you wouldn't have needed a hysterectomy.” He reached for her hands, hoping she wouldn't pull away.

And she didn't. Instead, she gripped his fiercely. “It was my fault. My body. I'd even been pregnant before. I should have known.”

Seeing the pain in her eyes, he realized something. “You've been blaming yourself. And so have I.”

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You're right, I might not have needed a hysterectomy. We could have had more children.” A tear slipped free and ran down her cheek, then another.

His own eyes were damp. “Yes. That haunts me. Even more than losing our son.”

She nodded, the tears running free now. “Me, too.”