Chasing Clovers (32 page)

Clive placed his hand gently on John's shoulder and squeezed. "She's been gone a long time friend."

A lone
tear streaked down his face and he let it fall. "There's nothin' left of her. Nothin' left for me to hold on to."

"
You were holdin' on to the wrong things, friend."

He gazed at the locket in his hand
.

"
She's here." Clive patted his chest.

"
I built this house for her," John went on as if he hadn't heard Clive. "I kept her clothes, her sewing. I…" he choked, "I didn't want to let her go."

Somber, Clive nodded. "I know John. I know."

Overwhelmed by the anguish and pain he broke down and wept.

Clive squeezed his shoulder.

"
I… loved her…so much."

"
You'll never stop lovin' her."

He
thought about his son. Ben hadn't so much as glanced his way ever since Livy left, and Clive had been keeping his distance from him as well. He was surprised that his friend had come over to talk to him at all, after what he'd done. "I've…pushed Ben away. I said things…to you…to Livy. I've been so cruel."

"
It's okay," Clive whispered.

He
shook his head.

"
You have to let Becky go. You have to let her rest."

He
looked through blurry eyes at his friend. "It's like she's died all over again."

"
I know."

"
I've held onto her memory for so long."

"
Becky wouldn't have wanted that, John."

H
is wide shoulders shook as he wept, releasing all the anguish he'd kept inside for the past three years.

"
She loved you, loved Ben and Emily. Becky would want you all to be happy."

He
ran his hand over his eyes.

"
And…" Clive said, "I think she would've approved of Livy."

John
knew that Becky would always be a part of him, and every time he'd look at Emily he'd see his wife's face in hers. But was he able to put that aside and love another woman? He didn't know, and it scared the hell out of him to have to find out. Becky had been his life—his reason for living. He couldn't help but feel as if she'd been tossed aside and Livy took her place.

He looked
at where his house used to stand, and found it hard to breathe. Becky's home was gone. The home he'd built for her, ravaged by fire, reduced to nothing but a pile of black wood. He had hammered every nail into the two story home, slaved for months so he could show her how much he loved her. But all that meant nothing now.

He ran his hand along his chin, Becky wasn
't coming back, and he knew that. It had been three years, and he had to put her to rest, like Clive said. It meant he'd have to say goodbye, something he hadn't done yet, and it frightened him to have to let go.

"
John," Clive asked, "do you have feelings for Livy?"

His thoughts had often wandered to Livy over the last few days. Her face haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He'd been a fool. He could see that now. But he knew there was nothing that could be done. Livy was gone.

Over the course of the week he
'd tried to sway his heart that this was for the best, that he didn't care for her, and the children would get over her in time. But his chest had begun to ache, a slow dull pain, and he was as miserable as they were. His daughter asked for her every day, and Ben still hadn't spoken to him. He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a ragged breath.

"
I feel like I'd be betraying Becky if I loved another woman." Anguish and torment oozed from his voice.

His hand still on John's shoulder, Clive spoke sympathetically. "You can still love Becky and love Livy at the same time."

He
didn't see how that was possible, and shook his head. "No. I can't."

"
You and Becky had somethin' special. She was your first love, the mother of your children. No one will ever take that away," Clive whispered, "but you and Livy have somethin' new, somethin' fresh and honest, and strong. They are two separate loves."

What Clive said made sense, but he didn't know if he could give his heart to Livy. "I don't know if I can."

"
How will you know if you don't try?"

He
shook his head.

"
You have to try."

"
I don't even know where Livy is."

"
I do."

He
stared at his friend.

"
She's in town," Clive said, "singin' at the Prairie Dog Saloon."

He
rubbed his tired, sore eyes. "How do you know that?"

Clive shrugged.

"
A couple of the men went into town the other day, saw her singin'. Said she sounded like an angel."

She was in the saloon? He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. The guilt made him feel sick. "She'll want nothin' to do with me." He lowered his head. "And who could blame her after what I said."

"
Isn't she worth a try?"

"
I pushed her to go back there. I forced her to leave." Disgusted, he stood.

"
John, don't make the same mistakes I did."

"
You did go after your wife, and she turned you down."

"
Yeah, but I waited too long. I let my pride get in the way. Maybe if I hadn't waited so long, she'd have taken me back."

"
I don't know."

"
Don't wait, John. Don't do what I did."

He
stood silent, thinking about everything Clive had said. He didn't want to be sitting here two years from now, mourning the loss of a second chance at love, wondering where Livy was and if she was okay.

"
Clive, I'm sorry. For everythin'."

"
It's all right John," he said, patting his shoulder.

He grabbed Clive and hugged him. Friends like Clive were hard to come by, and he was grateful that God had given him this one. Clutching the necklace in his hand, he had one more thing he needed to do.

A light wind blew over the prairies. John took off his hat and placed it on the ground beside him. Kneeling in front of the meager wooden cross he had nailed together, he let his fingers trace the grooves where Becky's name was. It was a peaceful place near the river. The grass, full and green, offered a blanket to sit on while he visited with her. A bouquet of daisies, her favorite, sat resting on his lap.

He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The house is gone, and it's time I realized that you are too." He pictured her in his mind, smiling up at him, happy. "You used to love this spot. Said you could see the whole ranch from here. I'll always love you Becky. That won't change."

Still holding the necklace, he gently hung it on the cross.
"But I have to let you go. I have to let you sleep."

He placed a soft kiss on the cold metal heart, and taking the daisies fro
m his lap, he placed them in front of the marker. "Goodbye, Becky."

"
You're on in five minutes," Tom called from behind Livy's closed door.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror, she stared blankly at her reflection. She had filled the saloon, like she said she would, and had been allowed to stay. After her first night, the news had spread about a singing Angel inside the Prairie Dog, and the men came in droves to hear her. Tom paid her double what he'd originally offered, and she now had enough money to leave. Her ticket bought, she'd be taking the stage heading east in the morning.

She hated being back in a saloon. She felt sick to her stomach each time she stood up in front of all the dirty, unkempt cowboys who thought she'd offer them more than her voice. Last night was one of those nights. She shivered. After her ballad was done, she exited the stage and was caught off guard by a slobbering, drunken cowboy who decided he wanted her for himself. She kicked him hard in his groin and fled upstairs. Her room had no lock, so she slid the wooden dresser in front of the door and stayed awake all night, afraid that he'd come looking for her. She finally fell asleep at sun-up.

Relieved that
tonight would be her last. She put on her makeup, dug the brass combs into her thick hair one more time, and slipped into the maroon colored dress she sang in. Her breasts were barely able to fit inside the low-cut bodice, and seemed as if they would burst out at any minute.

The
slinky garment hugged her breasts and waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her shoulders bare, she couldn't wait to strip it from her body knowing she would never have to wear it again.

Her ticket sat on
the nightstand beside her bed. Livy's eyes were drawn to the box sitting next to the ticket. The box Ben had given her. She wasn't ready to open it and see what was inside. The pain of leaving the ranch, leaving Ben and Emily, was still too hard for her to deal with.

She glanced at the mirror one more time before she opened her door and headed downs
tairs. She heard the cowboys, they were rowdy tonight.
John.
He was always on her mind. Her dreams, filled with images of him and the children, often woke her in the middle of the night, reminding her of the things she would never have. Her heart ached for them, yearned for one more glimpse of them. She missed the children terribly, and knew she'd never feel whole again.

She
was tired of this life. Tired of singing in saloons. Tired of lying. This is what had caused her so much pain from the beginning, and she was determined to end it once she left here.

Since her arrival at the Prairie Dog, she had been holding on to the solace she found in the honest words of a child.
Ben
had told her his mama would watch over Emma in heaven. Whenever she thought of her baby, she took comfort in knowing that the woman who had raised such a fine boy was caring for her daughter, and the gnawing pain that had always been there wasn't as hard to deal with. Emma was a part of her, and she was grateful for the short time they had together.

Tom stood by the piano while he waited to introduce her. Al sat on the bench in front of the old music maker. The saloon was an unusually large building, with square wooden tables scattered about the planked floor. The bar, long and shiny, glistened with fine craftsmanship and was the one classy piece in the room. Liquor, mostly bottles of whiskey and moonshine, lined the walls behind the bar―the place Tom would be the rest of the night.

He had sectioned off a small area in the corner of the room where Livy could stand and sing. As he introduced her, the crowd―ranging from scruffy looking men, to men in well-tailored suits―sat cheering and whistling for her to come out. She took a deep breath,
this is the last time
. Her dress scraped the floor, making a swishing sound as she stepped to take her place. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile onto her face, turned and motioned for Al to begin. He took his cue and ran his talented fingers along the keys. The notes to "Clementine" echoed throughout the room.

John tied Midnight in front of the Prairie Dog Saloon. Pulling his hat low on his head, he pushed through the swinging doors and went in. The place was full of men all staring in the same direction. He joined them and was taken aback when he saw Livy standing beside the piano.

She was wearing a long
dress, cut low and draped off her shoulders showing her creamy white skin and the cleft where her breasts came together. He was struck speechless at how she'd transformed. He made his way to the back of the room, and chose a table that shadowed him from her view. A voluptuous woman with blonde hair swayed over.

"
What can I getcha, cowboy?" she asked, bending so he could see her bouncing breasts.

"
Nothin', thanks," he said, smiling up at her.

Her chubby red lip stuck out as she pouted and stomped away. He ignored her, and watched Livy, mesmerized by her lovely voice and the way she brought each song to life, as if she'd written it. Amazed at how beautiful she was, how her hips swayed to the music, making him want her even more.

He
'd been a fool to ever let her go, a bloody idiot to say the things he did, and he worried she'd want nothing to do with him. A light haze hung in the air, and he could smell the sweet scent of cigars wafting throughout the room. All his senses were tuned to Livy. Her body. Her lips. Her hair. Her voice.

Livy closed her eyes and let the music wrap around her, taking her to another time and place. She opened her mouth and let the words―charged with meaning―seep from her. She sang from her heart, as the crowd grew silent, listening. The grubby saloon, lit by a few kerosene lamps, had a calm, serene aura, and her body swayed back and forth in rhythm with the tune.