Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River) (26 page)

THIRTY-ONE

Libby drove in a blind rage back to Homecoming Ranch, going much too fast on the gravel road up to the house, so that her car bounced and landed sideways a couple of times.

As she barreled into the drive, Tony limped out onto the lawn, his eyes wide, and watched her car slide to a stop before the house. “Hey,
hey
!” he shouted, waving his hand at her. “What are you doing? I’ve worked hard on that car, and you’re going to ruin it driving like that!”

“Sorry,” Libby said, and waved at Jason, who had wandered out of the garage to see what the commotion was about. Inside the garage, Libby could see Ernest’s old work truck, up on blocks.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” Libby shouted. “It’s a new day at Homecoming Ranch. Stay tuned, guys!”

She ignored their looks of surprise and jogged up the steps, bursting into the house. She stood in the entry a moment, her fists curled, her breath coming in furious, angry gulps. She hated Sam, hated him for being so damn afraid of life.

“What is going on?” Madeline called out, appearing at the top of the stairs. “Has something happened?”

“I need to talk to you and Emma,” Libby said, and stalked into the living room, starting a bit when she saw that Emma was already there, lounging on the couch in a long sweater and a pair of thick tights. She looked amused as Libby passed through to the dining room, gathered her papers, and returned to the living room.

Madeline came in behind her. “What the hell has happened?”

“You sound like you think she’s had another nervous breakdown,” Emma said casually.

Madeline sighed and rolled her eyes. “Emma, you don’t know what all has gone on here—”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s had another
breakdown
—”

“Hey. Please,” Libby said, holding up her hands. “I need to talk to you both. I’ve been doing some thinking. And some study and research and talking to people. I think I have a great idea for what to do with Homecoming Ranch.”

Both of her sisters groaned and fell back against the couch, as if they’d had this conversation dozens of times before. Which, perhaps they had. But Libby wasn’t going to stop now. Sam’s rejection was a huge blow. She’d always believed herself to be stable and trustworthy—at least she used to be. But he was right, in the last months, her irrational anger had clouded everything. Everything! She was guilty of the same thing she’d accused Sam of: hiding. Only Libby had hid behind her anger. She had refused to face reality or deal with it until it bubbled out in angry outbursts.

“Do we really have to have this conversation?” Emma sighed, her eyes closed now.

“What’s wrong, Emma?” Madeline said. “One time too many for you? Try a dozen times. Try living out here trying to make sense of this place,” Madeline said.

“Jesus, Madeline, are you going to hold a grudge forever?” Emma asked.

Things were going to change in Libby’s life. This morning’s conversation with Sam had been a turning point. He was always talking about turning the page, and she was doing it. Libby could feel it in her, could feel the sludge turning over to new, clean waters. “Seriously, can you guys snipe at each other later? Listen—did either of you ever see
The
Bachelor
episode where the guy chose one girl, but then spent some time with her, and later, chose the runner-up?”

“
What
?
” said Madeline and Emma in unison.

“Never mind,” Libby said with a wave her hand. “What I am trying to say is that we can’t turn Homecoming Ranch into a destination-event place, agreed? We tried, but we all know they’re laughing at us in Pine River for Austin and Gary’s wedding—”

“
What
?
” Madeline said, sitting up. “Who’s laughing?”

“It doesn’t matter, Madeline. I’ve been doing some investigating, and I’ve put together a business plan for something that is worthy of our time and attention.”

“Do tell,” Emma drawled.

“Tony is doing pretty good out here, right? And now he’s got his friends, Jason and Doug. We have the bunkhouse, and we have three cabins.”

“So?” Emma said.

“So . . . what would you think of making Homecoming Ranch a rehabilitation center for war vets?”

Neither Emma nor Madeline spoke. They stared at her as if they thought she was truly crazy.

“Think about it,” Libby rushed ahead. “There is always work to be done, and these guys really respond to having something to do. I talked to my therapist—”

“You have a therapist?” Emma interjected.

“Yes, I have a therapist,” Libby said impatiently. “I talked to her about the sort of things we could do, from cognitive therapies, to desensitization training, to even equine or dog therapy. She also said there are a lot people around here who would volunteer their time to help.”

Madeline, always practical, shook her head. “But how do we
pay
for something like that?”

“We solicit funds. We apply to the federal agency for grants that exist for his very thing. But to start? I have a business plan written up. And I am not taking no for an answer from Michelle again.”

Emma slowly sat up. “Who’s Michelle? Whoever she is, I don’t care. This idea sounds much better to me than a bunch of weddings. I like it. I like it a lot.”

Libby looked at Madeline. “What do you think?”

Madeline looked at Emma, then at Libby. “I don’t know,” she said. “For me, it would depend on the funding. If we can’t get funding, there is no point in talking about it, because we are surviving on fumes as it is.”

“We just raised fifteen thousand dollars for Leo Kendrick’s van in one silent auction,” Libby said. “And that was without any real campaign. It was people asking people to donate something we could bid on. Imagine what we’d be able to raise if we had a
plan.
And you know what? I am going to prove it with the 5k race we are doing at the end of this month.”

“I’m in,” Emma said.

Madeline looked at her with surprise. “Geez, Emma—do you mind at least telling us why, after months of silence, you’re suddenly on board? And
her
e
?
And do you plan on sticking around this time, or disappearing again?”

“Who knows?” Emma said. She stood and stretched her arms high overhead. “For the moment, I’m in.” She walked out of the living room into the kitchen.

Madeline stared at Emma’s departing back.

“Madeline, let’s try it,” Libby said. “We have nothing to lose by trying.”

Madeline sighed. She rubbed her temples a moment. “Okay,” she said, and looked up. “But prove that we can do it, Libby. Prove to me that we can raise funds to support this . . . camp, or whatever we’re going to call it. And I want to see that business plan. I want to know what we’re in for.”

The sound Libby imagined was her page being turned. “We’re going to call it Homecoming Ranch, because that’s what it is—a homecoming.” She handed Madeline her papers. “It’s all there.”

The first thing Libby did was call and arrange a meeting with Michelle. She was prepared for resistance, for disdain, for a flat-out
no.
Nevertheless, she dressed in her best outfit, stuffed her presentation into a briefcase she’d borrowed from Madeline, and marched into the bank as if she took out loans all the time.

Much to her surprise, Michelle loved the idea. “It’s a
great
use of the ranch,” she said as she pored over Libby’s presentation again. “Personally, I think this is something our community would get behind. But in order to lend you money, I am going to need to see some sort of plan for how much you anticipate in fundraising and federal grants in one-year, two-year, and three-year outlooks. Come back with more details, and we’ll see what we can work out.”

Libby walked out of the bank feeling as if she were walking on air. She stopped on the sidewalk and pulled out her phone to call Madeline and give her the good news when she saw Gwen Spangler walk out of a dress shop. Gwen saw Libby at the same moment, and she instantly turned the other way.

“Gwen!” Libby shouted.

Gwen walked faster.

Libby ran to catch up. “Gwen, please,” she said. “Just give me a moment. One moment.”

Gwen’s shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh, but she turned around. “What, Libby?”

Libby hadn’t really thought through exactly what she’d say when she saw Gwen again, so she said the simplest thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry. I am so very sorry for scaring you. I should never have taken Alice to get her costume. But, Gwen, you know me. I would
never
in a million years harm one hair on either of their heads.”

“Okay, you’re sorry,” Gwen said, and turned to go.

“Can I just . . . Gwen, wait.
Please
.”

Gwen sighed and turned partially toward her. “What?”

“Here’s the thing, Gwen,” Libby said, taking a cautious step forward. “You have two exceptional children. Beautiful, exceptional children. And I . . . I love them so much,” she said, alarmed that her eyes would water so quickly. “There is a huge gaping hole in my heart where they were, but I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about me anymore.” A tear slid down Libby’s cheek, and it appalled her. She swiped at it. “
Ignore the tears, will you? Anyway, I know I should have let go the minute you were back in the picture, and I didn’t. I have no excuse but that I was bruised and I loved the kids so much, and they were suddenly ripped from my life, and I . . . I couldn’t deal with that. It didn’t help that Ryan wasn’t exactly straight about what was going on, or that I never saw it coming, or that I was apparently the only one in Pine River who didn’t see what was happening between you and him . . .”

God, she was mangling this. She sighe
d.

“Look, I made some horrible decisions. I’m not offering an excuse. I only wanted to tell you that I am sorry. And that I love your children.”

Gwen folded her arms. Her eyes narrowed. Libby expected her to say she was going to call the cops. But she said, “Are you being real with me now?”

“Yes,” Libby said, nodding. “Completely.”

“Well then this is the first sane thing you’ve said since I came back to town,” Gwen said.

“It is?”

“My kids have missed you, too, Libby. Honestly? I think part of me didn’t want them around you because of that. Do you know how many times I hear Libby this or Libby that? Do you know how guilty I have felt that I had to leave them to go and get my license? I thought Ryan would take care of them. I thought he would live up to the promises he made, but I should have known he wouldn’t or couldn’t do it by himself.”

Libby’s heart began to swell with relief. She couldn’t suppress a small smile.

“And you’re right, Ryan isn’t the most truthful guy in town. I wondered what bullshit he fed you.”

“He knew how to play me, no doubt of that,” Libby agreed.

Gwen smiled a little. She glanced down at the ground a moment. “I thought you had some real hutzpah showing up on my committee.”

“I’ve known Leo since we were little, Gwen. I really—”

“No, Libby, I mean that I kind of admired you for it. Made me mad as hell, but I admired you for having the courage.”

“I wish you hadn’t been afraid of me,” Libby said. “I would never hurt Alice or Max.”

“Oh, I know,” Gwen said with a flick of her wrist. “I was just
so
pissed off.” She looked curiously at Libby. “Thanks for being honest,” she said.

Libby nodded. “I just wish I’d said this weeks ago.”

Gwen looked down the street and said, “I hope you and Sam work it out. He’s a great guy.”

That surprised Libby. “How . . . ?”

“God, Libby, everyone knows,” Gwen said. “This is Pine River. You tie your shoelace wrong or pick up a golf club and everyone knows.” She smiled a little at her joke and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run. The Methodist’s Women’s Group is meeting this afternoon. We’re still looking for ways to raise money. Are you still doing the race?”

“It’s going to be a Thanksgiving Day turkey trot,” Libby said proudly. “We’ll be putting posters around town later this week.”

“Well . . . good luck. See you around town.” Gwen turned and walked away.

Libby smiled heavenward.
“Finally,
” she whispered. Finally, a few things were going her way.

THIRTY-TWO

I’m never one to complain, no matter what Marisol says, but this has
not
been my month. First, the Methodists worked hard and raised about eighteen thousand dollars, all told. I know that sounds like a lot of money to
you,
but it’s not
van
money. I hate to say it, but my last shot at getting my van before the big game is Libby Tyler’s race on Thanksgiving Day.

At first, I didn’t have much hope of that working out, either, not after what happened the night of the silent auction, and I don’t mind saying that all those police officers really detracted from my spotlight. Don’t judge me—it’s not like I get the spotlight very often.

It’s not that I think Libby can’t pull it off, because I don’t think that. I know Libby, and once she gets her head on straight, she’s a tenacious little bundle of energy. But people have been kind of skittish around her, and I thought they might not come out to run if they thought she’d be chasing after them with a baseball bat or lurking in the shadows to steal their kids. You know what I mean.

I was all depressed about it, but then, who should show up but Emma Tyler! She’s really pretty, just ask any guy in town, and she’s been hanging around here a lot. A
lot.
I told Marisol she is totally into me, and Marisol was all, “You are a pig, Leo. You think every woman in a skirt wants you.”

Marisol exaggerates. In her defense, she was probably going into labor that very minute, because she kept going on about her contractions, and, sure enough, about ten hours later, she gave birth to a baby girl. Between you and me, I was hoping for a boy, because the last thing Pine River needs is
two
hot-tempered Latinas giving me a sponge bath. Don’t think for a minute Marisol is going to leave that little stinker home when she comes back to work. That stinker just better keep her tiny mitts off my new game,
Starbenders.

So back to Emma. I don’t think
every
woman wants me, but come on, I’m not so chairbound that I don’t know my own magnetism. And I haven’t had
every
muscle atrophy, if you know what I mean, and I know when a chick digs me. Emma Tyler digs me. She’s always smiling and touching me. I told Luke and he said that the MND was apparently creeping into my brain and making it seize because there was no way Emma Tyler was hot for me.

I told Luke he should go and get married already and get out of my face, and then he threw me a curve ball and said he
is
getting married. On New Year’s Eve. Great, there go all my party plans.

Anyway, Emma is helping Libby pull together the race, and she knows what she’s doing because she’s like an official Event Planner, and it’s obvious that every red-blooded male in town will come out just to see Emma put on some skimpy running shorts and bounce down the street. You should see Jackson Crane practically drool in her presence. Every guy in town is into Emma.

Everyone but Sam Winters, who is still moping over Libby.

Sam dropped by the other day, and I said, “Dude, do yourself a favor and go and talk to Libby. She’s doing great on the race.”

Sam said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” but he was looking the other way when he said it, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and I assumed he was being stubborn. Maybe as stubborn as Libby can be, which makes them a perfect match. And that reminded me of Dad’s mule.

So I said, “Hey, Dad, do you remember that old mule you used to keep up at the ranch?”

Dad was whittling something, and he looked like he just realized at exactly that moment that Sam and I were on the deck with him and said, “What? Yeah, I remember. Molly was her name.”

I said to Sam, “Dad loved that old mule so much,” and Dad snorted and said, “I didn’t
love
her. But I liked her well enough.”

And I said, “He loved her like his first love until she kicked him in the ribs.”

“That was that,” Dad said, and went back to whittling.

I grinned at Sam, who was looking at me weird, like he couldn’t make out the message in the mule story. He was probably thinking he was the mule. He was, but there were two mules in this story, and naturally, I had to spell it out to him.

“He still loves her,” I said. “But she kicked him, and it made him mad, so now he acts like he didn’t love her so much.”

“She was a goddamn mule, Leo,” Dad said, like he was insulted I would imply he could love a mule. But he did. Every night at supper he’d chuckle when he told us what old Molly had done that day. Mom once told him to go sleep with Molly if he liked her so much.

“My point is, don’t do what Dad did. Get over your mad and go see Libby. You don’t want to turn her into glue.”

Dad got pissed at the reminder of what happened to Molly and said, “What the hell is the matter with you, Leo?” And I said, “I have MND,” and Dad stomped off. But Sam laughed.

Anyway, that’s all I said to Sam, because who should come walking up just then? If you guessed Emma Tyler, you’d be right. She was wearing these killer tight pants and sweater, and I’ll just say this, I’m glad Marisol wasn’t there, because in the last month of her pregnancy, I think she would have scratched Emma’s eyes out. Emma was bringing me some chocolate pudding and Sam was suddenly much less interesting to me. He got up to go and I said, “Hey, don’t forget the race! We gotta make this happen, because I am running out of time!”

Sam really looked startled, and I said, “Not
that
time. I mean, yeah, I’m running out of
that
time, but I meant time to get a van before the game.”

“We’ll make it happen,” Emma said, and I wasn’t sure she was even talking about the race, so I had to explain to her that Methodists are great, but they aren’t that flush in the pockets, and then I had this great idea to call a family meeting to review where we are with the funds, and Emma was hanging on my every word, and when I looked up, Sam was gone.

Just like that old mule, Molly.