Dakota Home (17 page)

Another laugh, this time to let his sister know that Maddy was living in a dream world. “Hardly,” he said.

“But I thought—”

“You both thought wrong,” he said, his anger close to the surface. “If you want to invite her to spend Thanksgiving with the family, then fine, go right ahead. But I won't be there.”

A long silence followed and Jeb held his breath. His sister knew him too well and he feared she'd see through his words.

“Oh, Jeb…”

“Listen, I'm sorry to disappoint you about Thanksgiving. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll come into town for Christmas.”

“All right.” She sounded distant, deep in thought.

“Thanks for calling,” he said, eager now to get off the phone.

“Jeb,” she stopped him. “About Maddy—”

“I don't want to talk about Maddy,” he shouted, his pain evident despite his effort to hide his feelings.

“Doesn't she deliver groceries on Thursdays?”

“Yeah.” He didn't elaborate.

A pause. Then she asked, “You saw her this afternoon?”

Jeb pressed his index finger and his thumb against his eyes. “I saw her.”

Sarah, God love her, seemed to know everything without his needing to say a word. All at once the pretense was too much for him. He couldn't pretend he didn't care, not with Sarah.

“Oh, Jeb,” she whispered.

“Listen, Sarah,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even and unemotional. “Do me a favor, would you?”

“Anything. You know that.”

“Would you check on Maddy for me?”

She hesitated. “Of course.”

“I want to be sure she got home all right.”

“Okay,” Sarah whispered.

“If she isn't there in another hour, phone me?”

“I will.”

“Gotta go. Thanks, Sis,” he said, and then before he could say anything more, he replaced the receiver and leaned his forehead against the kitchen wall.

Never in all his life had he felt less of a man.

I
n the past, Sarah had always found it possible to immerse herself in her quilts. Troubles and money worries would vanish when she sat down to her quilting. But whatever tranquility her work had offered over the years had deserted her in the past week.

It'd all started last Thursday when she'd spoken with her brother. Jeb might think he could fool her, but she knew him far too well to let his tone or even his words put her off. Rarely had she heard such pain in his voice. It had nearly broken her own heart when he'd asked her to check on Maddy. He hadn't said anything about what had happened between them, but Sarah knew.

In the time Jeb and Maddy had spent together during the blizzard, Maddy had fallen in love with him. Sarah had prayed something like that would happen. Maddy was perfect for her brother, and Sarah had recognized it early on. She'd been absolutely delighted when she learned the two of them had been holed up together, trapped in his house for three days. Nature had wrought a far more successful plan than anything Sarah might have schemed.

After her phone conversation with Jeb, Sarah had done as he'd asked and checked to see if Maddy made it safely home. But Maddy had refused to answer her phone, so Sarah had walked over to the small house attached to the store. The Bronco was parked out front, but even repeated knocking didn't bring Maddy to the door. Sarah could only guess that Maddy had no intention of answering.

When she'd phoned Jeb to tell him Maddy had arrived home, he didn't answer his phone, either, so she'd left a message on his machine. In the days since, Sarah hadn't called him, nor had he returned her call. She suspected he wanted his privacy the same way Maddy did.

She'd begun to despair of Jeb's ever finding the love or companionship he needed. In rejecting Maddy's love, he'd turned his back on a normal life. Apparently he preferred a reclusive existence, preferred to think of himself as handicapped. What he didn't seem to understand was that it wasn't his leg that limited him, but his mind.

Sarah's heart ached for him and the choices he'd made. But her heart also ached for herself and the impossible choices
she'd
been forced to make over the years. Discouraged as she felt about her brother, she really couldn't say much, since she was guilty of rejecting Dennis's love.

With her arms wrapped about her waist, she walked over to the shop window and stared out at Main Street. Dirty snowbanks lined both sides of the street. The town now seemed gray and dingy, matching her mood. She tried to shake it off. She should be quilting, should be doing any number of things other than fretting over Jeb when she had troubles enough of her own.

She looked toward the Cenex station at the far end of town. She hadn't seen Dennis since before the snowstorm. He used to come by her shop two or three times a week; whenever he did, she'd tried to convince herself it would be better if he stayed away—but that had been a lie, like so much else in her life. She missed him painfully, missed his laconic humor, his decency, his unstinting love. She missed the morning cup of coffee they sometimes shared. Most days now, she struggled with the truth and how much to tell him about her marriage. Most days, she felt lost and bewildered about what she should do.

Dennis assumed she came to him for sex, that she used him, took advantage of his love for her. The tally of her sins mounted every time she totaled them. What he didn't realize—because she'd never told him—was how much she loved him, too. She wanted more than anything to marry him, but she couldn't. She was still married and in addition to the emotional damage Willie Stern had done, he'd left her with debts. Half of the debts he'd incurred during their marriage were legally her responsibility. Little by little she'd paid off each one. And there'd been no more; the legal separation had seen to that.

Dennis's silence could only mean one thing. He was impatient with her. He wanted Sarah to make a decision regarding their relationship: marry him or end the affair. He'd grown frustrated and angry with the waiting.

He couldn't know that her hands were tied. She had nothing to offer him, not even herself. At twenty-nine, he wanted a wife and children. She couldn't marry him, and as for children—her heart clenched as she considered having a baby with Dennis. At one time she'd longed for more, but it was too late. Surely Dennis could see what a rotten job she'd done with Calla. Her daughter was rebellious, belligerent, headstrong—and getting worse every day. Sarah had already failed once as a mother and wasn't eager to repeat her mistakes.

Calla's attitude had deteriorated further since a letter had arrived from her father. She'd refused to allow Sarah to read it. Calla carried it with her like some precious talisman, far too valuable to leave at home where her mother's prying eyes might fall upon it.

Sarah cringed every time she thought about that letter. She could only imagine what Willie had written about her. No doubt he'd fed Calla more lies. If the girl's attitude was anything to go by, Willie had probably suggested there was hope for him and Sarah. What a crock
that
was. Sarah would never take Willie back and should, in fact, have left him a lot sooner than she had. The final blow had come when he'd taken the small amount of money she'd managed to save and used it to pay for another woman's abortion. Another woman he'd impregnated. Willie Stern didn't understand the concept of
fidelity.
She'd been a naive idiot to believe that marriage would change him or that her love and devotion to him would make a difference. Talk about a reality check!

His letter to Calla had undoubtedly cast Sarah as the bad wife, the bad mother, the enemy. In the three days since Calla had received Willie's letter, she hadn't said a civil word to Sarah.

The bell over the door chimed, announcing a customer. Sarah had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed anyone even walking by. Whirling around she found it was her father.

“Dad,” she said, shocked to see him.

“Thought I'd stop by on my way home to see if you wanted me to pick up anything for Thanksgiving dinner,” he said. But his look said something else entirely. He was worried about her, worried about Jeb. Unfortunately their father had never been comfortable with emotions; offering help with their Thanksgiving meal was his way of showing he cared.

“I've taken care of everything,” she told him, loving him. He didn't see himself as a good father, but Joshua McKenna was a decent, hardworking man. A widower who'd never completely recovered from his grief; a loving father who'd do anything for his family. He was important to the community, too. As president of the town council, he'd held them together during the worst of the economic crisis.

“Is Jeb coming for dinner?” Joshua asked.

Sarah shook her head and made an excuse for her brother. “It's a busy time for him.”

“Hogwash. Don't give me that. The plain and simple truth is Jeb doesn't want to come.”

“He told me he'd be here for Christmas.”

That seemed to appease Joshua. He nodded. “What about Dennis? Will he be joining us?”

She shook her head again, but didn't explain that she hadn't invited him.

“Why not?”

“He's…got other plans.”

Joshua's frown grew darker but if he had any questions he didn't ask them. Sarah was grateful.

“You might want to invite Hassie,” he said next, surprising her.

Sarah had already thought of that. “She's spending the day with Lindsay and Gage.”

Joshua rubbed his hand along the side of his face. “I should've guessed.” He started out the door, then stopped himself. “You mean it'll be just the three of us?”

Sarah nodded, knowing they'd be lucky if Calla deigned to join them. “I'm…I seem to be having a bit of trouble with Calla,” she admitted.

He nodded. “You were a handful yourself at her age.”

Sarah remembered, but she couldn't believe her behavior had been as bad as Calla's. “I was hoping you had some advice for me. Dad, I don't know what I'm going to do with her. Sometimes I think she hates me….” Her voice trembled as she struggled to hide the discouragement and pain. She'd never thought her relationship with her daughter would disintegrate to this sad point.

Her father looked away, silently telling her he had nothing to suggest. “I don't know what to say, Sarah. Just love her.” He glanced out the window toward the Cenex station and sighed. “Are you sure Dennis can't join us?”

Now it was her turn to look away. “I'll find out,” she promised.

On his way out the door, Joshua hesitated, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Sarah couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed her and was warmed by this rare show of affection. He might not have advice, but he did love her.

Before her father had brought up the question of inviting Dennis to share Thanksgiving with them, Sarah had been content to leave matters as they were. Now she realized how important it was that she and Dennis spend the day together. While she still had the courage to ask, she closed her shop and walked the short distance between their two businesses.

Dennis was busy working on an old Dodge sedan when she entered his garage. In addition to delivering fuel to the outlying farms and ranches, he worked as a mechanic.

“Be with you in a minute,” he called out from beneath the car.

“It's me,” she told him. “There's no rush.”

She heard the clang of something hitting the floor as if he'd dropped a wrench. Almost immediately he rolled out from beneath the vehicle and stood with a gracefulness she envied.

Taking a rag from his hip pocket, he watched her in silence. She had trouble reading his expression. Disbelief? Scorn? Longing? She couldn't tell.

“I…I came to ask about Thanksgiving,” she said, her voice faltering.

“It's a little late, don't you think?” he muttered, continuing to clean the grease off his hands. “Thanksgiving's two days away.”

“I…know.” She was well aware that she'd been unfair to him. “Dad and I would welcome your company,” she added.

“I've already agreed to spend the day with my parents,” Dennis informed her, his words stiff.

She nodded, unable to hide her disappointment. “How are they?” she asked, wanting to make conversation, using any excuse she could find to linger, to savor these moments with him.

“They're both fine,” he told her. “And eager for me to settle down and start a family.”

That pointed reminder was all she needed. As the situation stood right now, she could do neither. “I'm sorry you won't be able to join us,” she whispered, angry with herself for being weak, for making things worse instead of better. “I need to get back to work.”

“I should, too.” But neither moved.

Dennis stared at her, his eyes pleading with hers to marry him, to give him what he wanted most. She held his look for as long as she could until the pain became too much to bear, and then she tore her gaze away.

“Maybe it's time you started dating someone else,” she said, amazed at her ability to actually get the words out.

He let the suggestion hang between them. “Perhaps you're right,” he said after a moment. He tucked the rag in his hip pocket and returned to whatever he was doing beneath the old Dodge.

 

Thanksgiving morning, Merrily woke early. Stealing out of bed, she crept down the stairs, suitcase in hand. At the bottom of the steps, she paused and looked up toward the room where Bob still slept. She'd only been back a few days, but already she knew she had to leave. Yet every time she walked away, she found it more difficult.

Falling in love was the last thing she could afford right now. She shouldn't have come, shouldn't have left California, but she'd heard about the blizzard and worried about Bob. She'd planned to stay just long enough to make sure he didn't need her. He didn't, at least not in the ways she'd expected. What had struck her this visit, more intensely than at any other time in their strange three-year relationship, was how much
she
needed
him.

Until she met Bob, she'd drifted from one part of the country to another, with no real reason to settle anywhere. With no family to root her, and friends who lasted only as long as the good times.

Meeting Bob had been a fluke, an accident of fate. Down on her luck and practically penniless, she'd driven into town, needing money for gas. Buffalo Valley didn't look promising in the job department, but she'd had no other choice. Her gauge was on
E
and it was either find work or get arrested. She'd walked into 3 OF A KIND, willing to wait tables, wash dishes, anything to pay for enough gas to take her farther down the road.

Her life had changed from that point forward. The first time she'd left Bob, she hadn't intended to return. He was a big man, with a heart to match. What she couldn't quite get over was how much he cared about her. Someone needed to tell him she'd been around the block more than once—and a long block it was, too. She didn't deserve his devotion; it was that simple. So she'd left….