Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River) (9 page)

NINE

It was one of those early fall days when the sun began to sit lower in the sky and cast a gold light over the earth. It was perfectly still, not a breath of a breeze, and all across the meadow that stretched in front of the house, Libby could see dragonflies flitting across the empty tent pads, the sun glinting off their transparent wings.

She was sitting on the porch steps Luke had repaired. She had dressed in a cotton skirt and canvas shoes, and a long-sleeved Henley shirt. She’d pulled her unruly hair into a pair of low tails behind her ears. Below her, under the steps, the four dogs were lounging, waiting and watching for a sign that something would happen.

Maybe today something
would
happen. Maybe today, Ryan would find a way to properly apologize to her. Maybe they would agree to start thinking about how to get on with life in the new reality. Libby was aware that meant forgiving his affair with Gwen, and all the lying. And while she wasn’t quite ready to forgive Ryan for anything, she was acutely aware that it meant having Alice and Max back in her life. It meant having a family again. That Ryan had apologized for anything was a positive step, and it had put Libby in a very good mood. She felt buoyant and hopeful for the first time in weeks. She relished the beauty of the day, the dogs lying beneath her, the dragonflies, the sun—
everything
.

Her host of problems didn’t seem to loom quite as large today.

And yet, nothing had changed. Her plans for Homecoming Ranch were looking impossible. She’d met Michelle Catucci, a banker, and had explained the obstacles she’d encountered in getting Homecoming Ranch Events off the ground.

“Okay,” Michelle said. “What sort of business plan do you have?”

“That’s it,” Libby said. “Making it an event destination.”

“No, I mean a business plan,” Michelle had said. “With goals and benchmarks and some cost estimates we could look at. We can’t loan money without some sort of idea of what you’ll be bringing in.”

“It’s kind of a catch-22, isn’t it?” Libby had pointed out to Michelle. “I mean, I can’t pay back the loan until I get some business. But I can’t get business without a loan.” She’d laughed a little, as if the conundrums of a business like hers were shared by all businesses.

“Come back with a business plan,” Michelle had said as she’d put her Chanel-clad arm around Libby’s shoulders and shown her out. “And your bank records. Get all that together, and we’ll talk about this again. I want to help you, Libby, but the plan has to be truly feasible.”

Libby had been too embarrassed to admit to Michelle that she really didn’t know exactly what went into a business plan. But not nearly as embarrassed as she would have been if Michelle had seen her bank records.

“Hey, Libs.”

She glanced over her shoulder as Luke sauntered out onto the porch, dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

Luke smiled at her, his teeth awfully white against the dark beard he was growing along with his hair, which he was wearing in a little tail tied at his nape. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He walked down the steps and leaned down, tugging on the dog ear of her hair. “You okay?”

Luke and Madeline were always asking her that since she’d come back from Mountain View. “I’m okay,” she said. “Isn’t it a gorgeous day? What are you two up to?”

“Pottery,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

“Hey!”

Madeline had emerged from the house in hiking pants, a halter-top, and
a floppy sun hat, under which her sleek black hair hung down her back in a ponytail. At the sound of her voice, the beasts below the stairs began to rouse, coming out from their shade, stretching long, and yawning. Madeline was their favorite now, probably because she took long walks with them up the trails behind the house. Libby used to do that, but, well . . . things hadn’t been the same lately.

“I’m waiting on a guy to come and fix my car,” Libby said.

“Oh, good.” Madeline maneuvered her way between Libby and Luke, placing a hand on the top of Libby’s head to balance as she passed. “Luke, did you tell her about Sunday?”

“Right. Dad has invited some people to dinner on Sunday. The Broncos are playing their first regular season game, and in the Kendrick household, that’s what’s known as a Big Deal.”

Madeline paused in her progress down the steps and looked back at Libby. “You’ll come, won’t you? I think you should get out,” she said, before Libby could answer. “Don’t you think you should get out more? I worry about you sitting up here, night after night.”

“But I—”

“Sam’s coming.”

Libby was so startled that she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Okay,” she said slowly. “And why are you telling me that? Is he going to do something special? Whip out a guitar and sing a few tunes?”

“I just thought you’d want to know,” Madeline said with a shrug. “I thought you were friends.” She looked pointedly at Libby.

“Maddie,” Luke said, tangling his fingers with Madeline’s. “Leave her alone.”

“Okay,” Madeline said. “But will you come, Libby?”

There was hardly anything Libby wanted to do less, but she knew if she declined, Madeline and Luke would stop everything, sit on the step with her, and look at her gravely while they asked if she was
really
okay. “Yes,” Libby said. “Wouldn’t miss it. Is there anything I can bring?”

“No,” Luke said. “Dad’s going to grill, I think. Aunt Patti has the rest of it covered.”

“I can make a cake,” Libby offered. “Leo loves cake.”

“For Leo, cake batter is better,” Luke said. “The swallowing thing isn’t going so well,” he said, gesturing to his throat as he cast his eyes to the ground. “I’m sure Leo would love to drink cake batter through a straw, but I don’t think Marisol will allow it.”

Luke rarely talked about Leo’s condition, but everyone in Pine River knew that Leo was a ticking clock, every second counting down on what was left of his young life.

The sound of a vehicle on the road caused them all to look up. Sam’s patrol truck appeared and barreled up the dirt road.

“Oh no,” Madeline said, and looked back at Libby. “Did something happen?”

“God, Madeline. One minute you’re trying to hook us up, and the next you’re worried he’s coming to arrest me. Nothing happened,” Libby said, and stood up. “He found a guy to work on my car, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke said, sounding interested. “Nothing like getting under a hood on a day like this.” He walked down to the drive as Sam’s patrol truck rolled to a stop.

But Madeline was still looking at Libby with very intent dark-blue eyes. Dad’s eyes, Libby thought, although she would never say that to Madeline. Madeline had never known their dad, and what she did know, she didn’t like. “That was nice of Sam,” she said. “So . . . you guys are
kind of chummy, huh?”

“Because he is helping me out?”

“Well? Luke knows everyone in town. He could have found someone to work on your car a month ago. How does Sam even know your car needs work?”

Libby looked at Sam, who was shaking Luke’s hand at that moment. She stepped past her sister. “There is nothing going on between us, Madeline, trust me. He knows a guy who is a vet and who needs some work. And he knows my car is crap because I told him. Nothing more to it than that.”

Madeline nodded, but she was still studying Libby. She had a bad habit of doing that, of looking Libby up and down as if she was scoping for clues to some big mystery. “Good, then. I am glad you’re getting your car fixed. By the way, Gary’s mother called. She and the happy couple are coming early next week to check out the barn.”

“Great!” Libby said. “We’ll be ready.” She had learned in the last few weeks that if she just kept smiling, and smiled long and hard enough, everyone calmed down and didn’t stand around, waiting for her to break down again.

“Will we?” Madeline asked, wincing a little. “Because it really stinks in there.”

“It does now, but we’ll move the horses out of there. Not to worry.”

“I hope not, because we have no backup plan,” Madeline said, as if Libby needed reminding.

“You worry too much, Madeline,” Libby said.

Madeline sighed. “I know I do. I try not to, but old habits die hard.”

“Don’t worry about this. We’re in good shape,” Libby said. “I better go see about my car.” She continued down the steps before Madeline could voice any other concerns about the wedding, walking onto the drive where Luke, Sam, and Tony were standing.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” Tony said when he saw her. “Where’s the clunker?”

“It’s in the garage with the other clunker,” she responded, referring to Luke’s late mother’s Buick. She glanced at Sam, but he was squatting down, his attention on the dogs.

“I’ll show you where it is,” she said.

“Yep. Got some tools in the back of the truck,” Tony said, and walked lopsidedly to the back of Sam’s truck.

Sam stood up, his gaze barely meeting Libby’s. “Hello, Libby,” he said, and then he shifted his gaze to the back of the truck and called out, “Okay, Tony, I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours!”

Libby waited for him to say more than hi. But he turned to Luke and said, “What kind of engine do you have in the Bronco?”

“Hemi,” Luke said proudly. “Come take a look.” The two of them walked away from her.

Libby blinked with surprise at Sam’s broad back. All right, he didn’t believe that she and Ryan could find a way to get along, but he didn’t have to be rude about it. She found his aloofness unsettling—she was used to the Lone Ranger hovering around her.

“Okay, see you, Libby!” Madeline called out to her, throwing a tote bag over her shoulder and then lifting a hand. She walked up to where Luke was standing and slipped in under his arm.

A swell of jealousy and hope filled Libby. She wanted that sort of affection and love in her life and always had. She wanted to be wanted and needed. Funny how she kept ending up with people who didn’t want her or need her.

“So . . . which way to the car?” Tony asked, having hoisted a rusted toolbox from the bed of Sam’s truck.

“This way,” Libby said, and turned her back on the happy couple and Sam.

Her car was parked next to Mrs. Kendrick’s old Buick, which they kept around for emergency transportation when one of their cars was in the shop, as Libby’s had been frequently the last few months. But lately, Libby had not been able to get that one to start, either.

Tony squinted at her car. He put down his toolbox, took a smoke from his pocket. “It’s a Dodge,” he announced.

“Does that make a difference?”

“Just saying.” He wandered over to the car, and with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he popped the hood and propped it open. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding.

“Oh yeah? Oh yeah what?” Libby asked, moving in beside him to have a look. Only she had no idea what she was looking at. A lot of greasy things were all she could see.

“It needs work.” He leaned down, started sorting through his toolbox.

Libby heard the sound of two vehicles start up and drive away. She leaned to her right and through the open garage door she watched Sam’s truck move down the road ahead of Luke’s Bronco.

He hadn’t even said good-bye, hadn’t told her to stay out of trouble. It stung—ignoring him was
her
thing, and honestly, she’d started to come around to his showing up with basketsful of unsolicited advice.

She settled against the Buick as Tony began to dismantle parts of her engine. She watched him a few minutes and asked, “Did you learn to do this in the Army?”

“Marines. And no, my old man taught me about cars.” He paused to take a drag from the cigarette he’d perched on the edge of her car, and then adjusted the dirty bandana he’d tied around his head.

“May I ask what happened?”

Tony squinted at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m guessing you aren’t talking about what happened when my old man taught me about cars. I was in the Helmand province of Afghanistan. Heard of it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Meanest place on earth, I’ll tell you that. Ran into an IED.” He glanced at Libby again. “Improvised explosive device. That’s what the locals make to blow up big nation armies.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me too. Sure has put a crimp in my style.” He leaned over the car again, tapping on something. His pants, Libby noticed, were stained, as if they hadn’t been washed in some time. His shirt was torn at the hem. “If you know about cars, maybe you could get a job at Wilson’s in Pine River,” Libby suggested, referring to the oldest auto shop in town.

“Got no way to get there,” he said. “No license, no wheels. Not to mention hard to drive without a leg.” He grinned at her as if he found that amusing.

Libby wondered why Tony lived so far out if he couldn’t drive. Once, her dad said that the people who came to live in the mountains around Pine River were usually running from something. At the time, she’d thought Grant was referring to himself, because if ever there was ever a man who ran from responsibility, it was him.

“Maybe Sam could take you,” she suggested, absently studying her cuticle.

“Sam? He drives me around a lot, that’s for sure. To the store, to the clinic. To my meetings. Not fair to ask him to come and get me every day and take me into work.”

“What meetings?” she asked curiously.

“AA,” he said, squinting at her again through a tail of smoke. “Twice a week. Sam, that dude has a sweet tooth. He likes the cookies.”

The Stuffed Shirt formerly known as Sam didn’t seem the sort of man who would drop someone off at a meeting and run in to get a cookie or two. “You mean you bring him cookies from your meeting,” she clarified for her own benefit.

But Tony shook his head. “It’s not my meeting, it’s our meeting. We go twice a week, and everyone gets a cookie. I mean, you sit for an hour or so. People get hungry, so they put out cookies.”

While Tony explained the reasoning behind providing cookies at meetings, a bell was clanging in Libby’s head. “Wait—Sam goes, too?”

“Sure,” Tony said, his focus on the engine of her car. “I thought you knew that.”