Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River) (12 page)

“Here we go,” Madeline muttered.

“That was my family!” Libby cried angrily. “Don’t you
get
that? They were my family and of
course
I want them back! Do you know how I ache for Alice and Max every single day?” she shouted, pressing her fist against her heart. “How much I miss hearing the details of their lives, or helping them brush their teeth, or watching them play? That was all yanked out from beneath me without warning, so
yes,
I
do
want them back. And if I have to take Ryan as part of the deal, I might just have to suck it up.”

“But here’s the thing, Libby,” Madeline said quietly. “It wasn’t really your family. It was Gwen’s.”

The truth detonated painfully inside Libby, exploding into painful little shards. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned around and walked out the door, onto the porch. She stood there, trying to suck in deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.

It wasn’t working.

She jumped off the porch and began to stride up one of the trails into the forest behind the house, her fists clenched tightly and her head aching from the many confusing, competing thoughts.

What was the truth? Or was she trying to create a new truth, one that suited her emotions, her sense of having been wronged? Libby truly didn’t know anymore.

TWELVE

Dani was behind the cash register when Sam stopped into the Grizzly Café for a coffee. “Good to see you, Sam,” she said cheerfully. “The usual?”

“Please,” he said. He glanced at the tables at the window—that’s where he always sat when he came in for a cup of coffee—but his usual table was occupied.

It reminded him of another time it had been occupied. He’d been passing by, and had seen Libby through the window, sitting at his usual table. She was hunched over a mug with both hands wrapped around it, staring at the tabletop. Sam couldn’t say how he knew, but she didn’t look right to him. Something was off. Maybe Sam should have walked on. Maybe he should have not let his emotions guide him. For whatever reason, he’d changed direction and had come in.

She’d been on his mind a lot the last couple of days, obviously, after that damn impetuous kiss. He couldn’t help thinking back to that day only a few weeks ago, and how she’d looked up when he’d entered, smiling a little and giving him a halfhearted wave. Her hair was always a mess of curls, but that day it looked as if she hadn’t attempted to comb it. She’d rolled a bandana and tied it around her head to keep it from her face.

Dani had told him that she’d been like that for an hour, sitting and staring. Sam had gone over to check on her.

Libby had tried to perk up. “Hey, Sam,” she’d said. “Sit down . . .
did you come for coffee?”

“Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. I could use the company.” She’d laughed, but it had sounded hollow.

Up close, Sam had noticed that her complexion was sallow, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It had alarmed him—he’d never seen Libby look anything but healthy. “Are you okay, Libby?” he’d asked.

She’d laughed and looked away from his direct gaze. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I really must look bad. But I’m fine. Really. I’ve just been battling a bout of insomnia, that’s all. My mom gets it, too.”

That had sounded to Sam like a practiced response.

“Sam?”

Dani tapped him on the shoulder, and Sam turned around. “I’ll have your coffee right out,” she said. Sam nodded. He sat down at a table near his usual one, his thoughts returning to the past. Libby had been so much on his mind recently that he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering back to that day.

He remembered Libby asking him what was up, and his casual shrug.

She’d said, “Hey, guess who I ran into last week? Don Chadwick
—remember him?”

Sam had remembered him—Don Chadwick had retired from the sheriff’s office about a year before Sam’s demise. “Sure. He was a nice guy.”

“He always helped me with the holiday parties,” Libby said. “He asked how you were doing. I told him you’re doing great, that you’re the county’s rural area deputy now. And he said he was very glad to know that you’d landed on your feet.”

Sam remembered thinking that it was nice of her to say something kind about him. He’d gotten past the shame of what had happened to him, but he still didn’t mind a good word now and then. He’d told her that it was nice of her to say so.

“But it’s true. You look great, Sam. You look happy.” And then she’d suddenly leaned forward, looked at him with dull blue eyes. “
Are
you happy?”

It had seemed an oddly earnest question to him at the time, but in hindsight, he could see why. “I’m as happy as I can be, I guess,” he’d said. “Are you?”

“Me?” She’d eased back, as if leaning away from that question. “Truth is, I’ve been better.” She’d shrugged. “But I’m okay. Really.”

“Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?”

With a soft sigh, Libby had looked down and rubbed her eyes. “Maybe trying to convince myself. Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you’d gone one way instead of the other? Like, what if you hadn’t gotten the job in the sheriff’s office? Where would you be now?”

Sam thought then what he thought now—that he’d probably be drunk in an alley somewhere. “I don’t know,” he’d said.

“I wonder . . . what if I hadn’t been in the office the day Ryan came in? I never would have known him. Poof, just like that, I would have had a different life. Maybe I would have moved. Maybe I’d have married someone. Maybe I’d be someone else right now, like a novelist or a singer.”

“Do you like to sing?” he’d asked.

“No,” she’d said with a funny little laugh. “I’m just saying, that but for one moment in time, your life could go down a completely different path.”

He could see where she was going. He’d gone there, too, in the last couple of years. But he’d had the benefit of looking at it from a long lens. “
True,” he’d agreed with her. “But you can make yourself crazy imagining all the things you might have missed or avoided. There’s no point to it. Personally, I think it’s useless to look back.”

“What do you mean? You never look back?”

“I used to,” Sam had admitted. “I don’t anymore. There’s just too much water under too many bridges, and I can’t change anything that happened.”

“I hear you,” she’d said, but Sam had been fairly certain she hadn’t heard him at all. She’d looked at her wristwatch. “I’ve got to go.” She’d gathered her things. “Sorry to sip and run.” Her coffee looked untouched.

As she stood up, Sam had impulsively grabbed her hand and had said, sincerely, “Libby . . . take care of yourself.”

“You and my mother,” she’d said teasingly. “I will, Sam. I promised Mom I’d go to the doc and see if I can’t get something for the insomnia. I just need to sleep, that’s all. Then I’ll be right as rain.” She’d smiled as she’d pulled her hand free, but again, that smile seemed off to him. “I hope you have a stupendous day, Lone Ranger.”

“I hope the same for you.”

He’d sat at the table after she’d gone, thinking about what she’d said. When he heard the commotion outside, he hadn’t at first registered what it was, not until he heard the sound of breaking glass.

By the time he rushed outside, everyone was shouting, Gwen was shrieking, and Libby was swinging the golf club. He’d run across the street and pulled Ryan back before he could launch himself at Libby, then put himself between Ryan and Libby.

“Libby!” he’d shouted.

He would never forget the way she’d looked at him, wild-eyed. Not all there.

Sam had lifted his hand, palm up. “Think about what you’re doing. Put the club down.”

Her grip on the club tightened, and she looked at the truck. She had bashed in all the windows except the window vent on the driver’s side.

“This isn’t solving anything,” Sam had said quickly. “This is just adding to the problems you’re having and making them worse. Give me the club, and let’s talk about it. I’ll help you, Libby. I’ll help you any way I can.”

Libby had lifted her arms, club in hand, as if she intended to have a whack at the last window. But then she had suddenly dropped her arms.

Sam had grabbed the golf club from her hand, and Libby had sagged against him. “I am so tired,” she’d said hoarsely.

“Yeah, I know,” he’d said, and put his arm around her.

That had only been a few weeks ago. Libby had a long way to go. And still, he’d kissed her.

Worse, he’d kissed her like a teenager in heat. But damn it, she’d been standing there with her blue eyes glittering up at him, and her hair in funny little ponytails. When she opened her mouth, his composure had cracked, and his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her. He hadn’t even realized it was in his mind. And now, all he could think of was all the other places of her body he’d like to touch.

This was the worst kind of trouble for a guy like him. First of all, Libby had some ghosts following her around, and Sam did not do well with women and their ghosts; he had a tendency to think he could fix things, to remove the ghosts, and he’d learned the hard way that he was no superman.

Second, Libby was violating her restraining order half the time, and he was enforcing it half the time, which made it more than just a bit of a conflict for him to walk around kissing her. Every cop knew not to fraternize with the people who break the laws they were charged to enforce.

There was nothing good that could possibly come from any desire for her, so Sam had studiously avoided her. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying went. But the saying was not entirely accurate, Sam discovered, because he really couldn’t avoid her in his thoughts. She kept popping into his head with those sparkling eyes and a charming smile, usually jabbering nonsense. He would push her out of his mind. But she would pop up again. And again.

There was no explaining the laws of attraction, but there was something about that woman that had crept under his skin.

He was startled by the sudden appearance of Dani, with his coffee and a creamer. “Sorry that took so long, I had to brew a fresh pot. So, are you going to be at the Kendricks’ Sunday night?” she asked, sliding into a seat across from him.

Sam clearly didn’t answer quickly enough because Dani slapped her hand down on the table. “Sam Winters, you’d better say yes! You hide away up there in those mountains and you don’t come down. It’s not good for a person to be so alone.”

Sam chuckled and began to doctor his coffee. “What makes you think I’m so alone, Dani? For all you know, I’ve got a harem up there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not as dumb as I look, Sam. And I’ll tell you this—if I don’t see you at the Kendricks’ Sunday, I am liable to drive up there and fetch you.” She suddenly smiled and stood up. “You want a cinnamon roll with that? I just made some fresh this morning.”

“You bet. Thank you,” Sam said. He wasn’t as dumb as he looked, either.

THIRTEEN

Dani’s warning notwithstanding, Sam did not want to attend the Kendricks’ dinner party. Sam wasn’t a big party guy anymore, obviously. In addition to being an alcoholic, it reminded him too painfully of his life with Terri. He was no good at small talk, and he was even less good at watching people drink. That part of his life never got any easier. And frankly, he preferred to watch the football game in his living room without a lot of chatter.

Dani was right. He was alone.

Still, Sam might have been able to say no to Dani. But he couldn’t say no to Leo. Not that he hadn’t tried, but Leo had talked him to death. Sam had to give in to the man or lose his mind.

But moreover, Sam wasn’t feeling himself. It alarmed him that in the last couple of days, he’d felt a creeping desire to drink unlike anything he’d felt in a very long time.

He knew himself well enough to know that the desire for booze was usually a good indicator of his stress level. Only Sam wasn’t stressed. Why would he be stressed? Work was good, everything was good.

Everything but this thing with Libby.

There’d be no avoiding her tonight, so Sam had to have a stern talk with himself. He resolved to treat her like he treated his sobriety. He would see her, think of her as an alcoholic beverage, and walk away. He would keep his hands in his pockets.
Never touch drinks or women.

He dressed in a collared blue shirt he’d picked up recently at Tag’s Outfitters and jeans that were actually clean, and his cowboy boots. He combed his hair and tucked it behind his ears—reminding himself that he needed that haircut—and skipped the shave, leaving a shadow of a beard on his face. He fed his horses and headed into town.

The little green house on Elm Street where the Kendrick men had taken up residence was lit up, even though the sun was still hanging over the horizon. It was unusually warm for this time of year—old-timers would tell you that meant an early snow was coming—but on Elm Street, the only thing coming that night was light and music drifting out from open windows.

The house was set back from the street in a big square yard. A few months ago, a church group had built a ramp up to the front door for Leo. Since then, Luke had built a deck that wrapped around the house. Little pots of flowers graced the corners of the railings, and there were two lawn chairs around a small table on the corner of the deck, beneath the boughs of the old elm tree that draped over the house and lawn.

Luke had removed the old front door and installed a wider one so that they could get Leo in and out of the house easily. Luke had also added a third bedroom and bath. The house was still awfully small, but at least it was more suitable to house three grown men. And it still needed work—the kitchen in particular. But the place was starting to look like a home.

Sam walked through the gate of the chain-link fence, past the empty dog igloo, and waved at Jackson Crane, smiling a little at Jackson’s pencil-thin slacks, rolled up over his bare ankles and leather loafers.

Jackson was probably in his early thirties. He was always wearing something that made it seem as if he’d just stepped out of an ad for private jets and fast cars, and it never failed to put a smile on Sam’s face. In that getup, Jackson looked ridiculous playing washers with Luke’s uncle, Greg Compton, who was wearing a sagging pair of Dockers and a T-shirt that had the Coors logo sprawled across the chest. “Hey chief,” Greg called out to him, lifting a beefy hand in greeting.

On the deck, Greg’s wife, Patti, was arranging chips and hot sauce on the little table. She was the de facto woman of the house from what Sam understood, the one who oversaw all family gatherings. Leo said she cooked for them once or twice a week so, as Leo put it, they wouldn’t all succumb to salmonella poisoning.

“Sam! It’s great that you could come,” she said cheerfully. She was a round woman, and looked just like the late Mrs. Kendrick, her sister. She had big, heavy breasts, and Sam could imagine that more than one kid had been smothered in them in the course of a motherly hug. “Dani says you don’t get down off that mountain much, so I’m really glad you did for us. Come in, come in!”

Sam resisted a groan. He asked, “Is that Norah Jones I’m hearing?” referring to the music that was piping out of the open windows.

“It sure is,” she said, her smile beaming. “Are you a fan?”

“I am.”

“Sam Winters, I always knew you were a man of discerning taste,” she said. “You’d think I put on church music the way the Kendrick boys reacted. Go in and get yourself a beer. We’ve got every kind you can think of because God forbid anyone should watch a football game without it. We’re going to eat a little early so everyone can settle in for the game. Luke’s rigged up a TV outside.” That she said with a voice full of awe, as if it were a feat of modern engineering.

Bob Kendrick, Luke and Leo’s father, was standing at the door when Sam stepped through. He reached out to shake Sam’s hand. “Good to see you, Sam. You know Marisol Fuentes, right? And her husband, Javier?”

Sam smiled at the fiery Marisol. She was rubbing her hand over her distended belly. “How are you, Marisol?”

“Ready for this baby to come out,” she said. “It kicks me, night and day. You want beer, there’s beer in the fridge and coolers on the patio,” she said, and began a laborious shift down onto one of two twin recliners in the room. Both recliners faced a blank wall where normally an impressive flat screen TV hung. Sam guessed it was outside.

In between the recliners was a large space where Leo usually wheeled in to watch his shows and play his video games.
Hounds of Hell
was his current favorite. Sam knew this, because when he’d stopped by last week, he’d had to listen to a detailed explanation of how Leo had made it to level fourteen.

“Sam, come with me,” Bob said. “I’ll show you where the drinks are.”

As they walked into the tiny kitchen, Sam heard Leo shout, “Hey, is that Sam? Sam, get out here!” Sam bent down and squinted out the little square window of the backdoor. Leo was on the deck, holding court like a fraternity brother. There was a picture in the house that Sam had once seen. It was of Leo, before his disease had manifested itself. He’d been a football player, a big tackle with a scholarship to the Colorado School of Mines. The picture of him had been taken on a river’s edge, and Leo stood a head taller than his companion, his arm looped around the guy’s shoulders, holding up a string of trout and grinning irrepressibly. It was the same grin Leo usually sported, but now it was made crooked by the betrayal of his muscles.

Bob opened an old white fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Leo’s in fine form tonight,” he said. “When he gets like this, he’s usually cooking something up. Be prepared.” He smiled as he handed the bottle to Sam.

“Thanks,” he said, and with the bottle of water in hand, he walked out onto the back deck. He noticed that a brace had been added to the headrest of Leo’s chair to keep his head from flopping to one side. It kept his head upright, but Sam realized Leo was even less mobile—now he couldn’t seem to turn his head at all.

“Sam!” Leo said, looking genuinely pleased to see him as he maneuvered his chair around to get a better look at him. “Hey, have you met Dr. Levitt? He’s my in-town doctor. Not to be confused with my Montrose doctors. So get this,” Leo continued as Sam extended his hand to Dr. Levitt. “Mark here doesn’t know who was the first quarterback to catch a pass in a Super Bowl. Can you
believe
that?”

Dr. Levitt smiled apologetically at Sam as he extended his hand. “Leo is very disappointed in me.”

“Then I guess he’s going to be disappointed in me, too,” Sam said, shaking the doctor’s hand. “I have no clue.”

“No clue about what?” Madeline Pruett materialized at Sam’s elbow. Luke was right behind her, clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder in greeting, and speaking to Dr. Levitt.

“Wow, Madeline, you look
gorgeous
,” Leo said. “Hubba hubba, if I weren’t in this chair . . .”

“If you weren’t in that chair, you’d be down at the Rocky Creek Tavern, buying cheap wine for cheap broads and you know it,” Madeline teased him, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “What is it that Sam has no clue about?” she asked, looking around at the men.

“Who was the first quarterback to catch a pass in a Super Bowl,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“Oh,” Madeline said with a flick of her wrist. “As if the answer isn’t obvious to everyone here.” She snorted. “Give him a tough one, Leo.”

Sam looked from her to Leo.

“Come on, Sam!” Madeline said, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “It’s John Elway, 1989!”

“There’s nothing that turns me on more than a woman who knows her football,” Leo said gleefully, “but it was 1988.”

“Was it?” Madeline said, and frowned a little as she tapped her finger to her lip. “You’re right, Leo. 1988.”

Sam and Dr. Levitt exchanged a look of surprise at Madeline’s knowledge of useless football facts. Madeline tried for at least a minute to seem very nonchalant about it, but then Luke sighed, and she burst into laughter.

“Hey, I can’t help it!” she said to Sam’s confused look. “This week is John Elway week at the Kendrick house, and it’s mandatory participation. Now that you’ve had your fun, Leo, I’m going to go say hello to Dani,” she said, and excused herself, walking past the men and down the deck steps onto the lawn, where Dani Boxer was chatting it up with Sherry Stancliff, who ran the Tuff Tots daycare.

Leo whipped his chair around to watch Madeline. His hands curled like claws, but he could maneuver that chair like a champ. “Dad’s making his famous shoe-leather brisket tonight,” Leo announced. “Dad! Sam wants chips and dip!”

“No, I—”

“Just go with it,” Leo advised, wheeling past Sam to the ramp. “We were giving Dad the business about his culinary skills, and I think his feelings got hurt. Excuse me, gentlemen, but I see ladies,” he said, and sailed down the ramp at what seemed like a breakneck speed to Sam.

“My feelings did not get hurt,” Bob Kendrick said, appearing at the kitchen door with a big red bowl full of chips. “All I said was that I would shove that dip down his throat with my fist if he didn’t knock off the food talk.” He handed Sam the big red bowl. “The kid’s got a mouth on him.”

“As if that is news to anyone in Pine River,” Luke added cheerfully. “Hey, Dr. Levitt, could I talk to you a minute?” he asked the doctor. “I’ve got a couple of questions.” He and Dr. Levitt moved to one side, leaving Sam standing alone on the deck with a big red bowl of chips in one hand, a bottle of water in the other.

He looked down at the lawn and the people gathered there, wondering what to do with it.

“Is that your own personal chip stash, or are you sharing?”

The sound of Libby’s voice slipped through Sam like a soft whisper and swirled around in the pit of him. He glanced over his shoulder; she was standing just outside the kitchen door in skintight black pants and a pair of leopard-print high heels. She wore a loose white pullover that swung around her hips, and had piled her wild curls into a loose bun on top of her head. A charge ran through him—Libby looked sexy as hell.

“Want some?” he asked, extending the bowl.

She shook her head as she walked across the deck to him. As she neared him, Sam could see that she was wearing makeup. He’d always liked the natural look Libby generally sported, but tonight, the dark, smoky lining around her lids had the effect of making her pale-blue eyes seem to leap off her face. She settled her weight on one curvy hip, holding a glass of white wine in one hand.

Sam’s blood rippled through his veins. She looked spectacular, and that did not help Sam’s muddied thinking. He did not want to think of Libby as “spectacular” or “attractive.” He didn’t want to think of touching her or kissing her. He didn’t want to think of her at all. He’d spent the last two days working very hard
not
to think of her.

Her gaze fell to the tub of chips he was holding. “You sure?” he asked, shaking the bowl a little before putting them aside on a table. Libby casually sipped her wine as she eyed him over the rim of her glass.

“You look nice,” he said, and instantly regretted it, because her eyes sparked with pleasure.

She glanced down at herself. “Thanks. I’ve been cleaning out the barn for the last two days and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to put on something that didn’t smell like horses or could be worn to ride or groom horses. And, you know, it’s my first party since Mountain View, so I wanted to make a big splash.” She winked.

Sam told himself to look elsewhere. He dropped his gaze to the water bottle and twisted the top off of it. “How’s Tony?”

“Tony? Tony D’Angelo? The guy you deposited at the ranch and then never came back to see? Tony is good. Tony is rebuilding my car, one screw at a time.”

“I told you he was good.”

“I was hoping he might speed things along. I need a car so I can go to town.”

Sam didn’t want to care why she needed to go to town. But he did. “Town, huh?” he asked, and casually drank his water.

“Yes, town, Lone Ranger,” Libby said. “In spite of what you are clearly thinking, I learned a funny thing while clearing out the barn—I need one of those big shop brooms.”

“Walmart,” Dani Boxer said as she sailed by in her signature Guayabera shirt and some chunky turquoise jewelry.

“See?” Libby said to Sam, gesturing to Dani’s back as she stepped inside. “I need to go to Walmart. So?”

“So . . . ?” he asked, confused.

“
Sooo
, are you going to come check on Tony, or are you going to leave him at the ranch forever?”

Sam had checked on Tony. Not a day went by that he didn’t check on Tony. He’d given him a disposable phone before he’d sent him up there, and had been diligent about calling. But he smiled at Libby now and asked, “Are you advocating checking on Tony? Because I was under the impression that you are adamantly opposed to checking.”

“I am opposed to people checking on
me
. I didn’t realize that meant you’d never return to Homecoming Ranch.”