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“What do you mean by that?”

“You're worried I'll want you to marry me. That's your biggest concern, isn't it?”

“I don't think marriage would be—”

“You're right, it wouldn't be beneficial to either one of us, let alone our child, so that's the end of that. Discussion closed.” She stood and carried her untouched tea to the sink, dumping it. “That was short and sweet, wasn't it?”

“But I—”

“You're absolved from any responsibility.” She waved her arms in a dramatic gesture. “Okay?”

He stared at her, obviously at a loss for words.

“I want you to go now,” she said abruptly.

“Maddy…”

“I'm tired, Jeb. This isn't a good time. Please go.”

He stood slowly and when he looked at her his eyes were sad. “I am sorry.”

Maddy clenched her fists. “If you say that one more time, I swear I won't be responsible for what I might do.”

“But I—”

“Just go!”

Still he hesitated. “I'd like to talk about this some more.”

“Not now.” The way she was feeling just then, it'd be a very long time before she had anything else to say to Jeb McKenna.

 

Ever since she'd returned to Buffalo Valley, Sarah Stern had hardly ever left. When she'd been Calla's age, she couldn't wait to graduate from high school and escape her parents, escape this town. She'd hated life here, wanted the freedom to explore the world, the luxuries and opportunities she'd never have in Buffalo Valley.

All too soon, the world had taught her one painful lesson after another, and she'd hurried home to the safety of the very town she'd once despised. She'd retreated to Buffalo Valley and the people who knew and loved her, hoping to leave her troubles behind. At first she thought she'd succeeded, but she'd learned that you carry your problems with you.

Now, late in January, she sat in the waiting room of a Grand Forks attorney, nervously clutching her purse. It'd taken her a long time to find the courage for this. Too long. Her fears might well have cost her Dennis's love.

“Mrs. Sullivan will see you now,” the receptionist informed her.

Sarah stood, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything but the fear.

Sarah had chosen Susanne Sullivan's name out of the phone directory. Her last attorney had been a man, and while she was sure he had an excellent legal mind, she hadn't connected with him on a personal level. She wasn't sure she would with this one, either.

Mrs. Sullivan's compact office displayed half a dozen framed family photographs, a lovely inlaid table, bookcases, plus a desk and computer. It was the perfect blend of business and family. Just enough to tell Sarah that she was an attorney but also a wife, a mother, a grandmother. Just enough to let her know she was a woman, too.

“Please sit down,” the attorney invited. She was older, slim, with medium-length gray hair and a crisp, professional manner, tempered with a kind expression and a gentle smile.

Sarah chose one of the guest chairs, her hands clenched so hard they ached.

Susanne Sullivan took the chair behind her desk. “What can I do for you?”

Sarah dragged in a deep breath. “I got married more than fifteen years ago—but I haven't seen or talked to my husband in ten years.” It was difficult to think of Willie in those terms.
My husband.
Not her ex-husband, but the man she remained legally bound to. Yet she didn't feel anything for him except disgust.

“He deserted you?” Susanne poised her pen over a legal pad.

“No, I was the one who left.”

“Children?”

“A daughter…”

“Has he paid any support?”

“No…none.” She went on to explain that before she'd left Willie, she'd seen an attorney about obtaining a divorce. Those had been difficult days and what money she'd managed to put away Willie had taken. Stolen from her. Sarah's stomach tightened every time she thought about finding the jar empty. Their last big fight had been about his “girlfriend.”

By that time, Willie had destroyed their credit rating and they were burdened by debt and hounded by finance companies. Sarah felt crippled by what was happening to her life when all she wanted was a decent home for her daughter and a man who loved her. Instead, she was trapped in a marriage with a man who cheated on her, demeaned her, treated her with contempt.

“I filed for a separation…I didn't want to assume any more of my husband's bills.”

“Good.” Mrs. Sullivan marked that down next.

“The attorney I saw was named Mark Maddix…I don't know if he's still practicing in the Minneapolis area, but he has all the paperwork in his files.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Please.” Some of the stiffness was beginning to leave her shoulder blades.

“So you'd like to go ahead with the divorce?”

Sarah nodded. “Yes. I don't care what it costs.”

Mrs. Sullivan smiled knowingly. “You've met someone else?”

“Yes…This marriage is a millstone around my neck.”

“I understand.”

Sarah took a breath. “I believe Willie will agree to the divorce. He…might assume we're already divorced. He's never shown any real interest in our daughter.”

“But some interest?”

“A postcard now and then.”

“Financially?”

“Very little. Twenty bucks a year, if that.”

The attorney's mouth thinned with disapproval.

“I…I've been involved with someone for the last few years,” Sarah explained, unable to meet the other woman's eyes. She'd left Willie because of his extramarital affairs, and now she was having one herself. He could—with some justification, she thought—say that she was no better than he was. The reality shamed and humbled her. “I'm afraid if Willie knows he'll claim adultery.”

“He knows about your…friend?”

“Not unless my daughter told him.”

“Do you think she has?”

Sarah nodded. Calla carefully guarded any correspondence she received from her father. “Willie told her I took her away from him. That isn't true. He could have seen her anytime.”

“You don't need to convince me of this, Mrs. Stern.”

“Calla's at a difficult age, and she's put her father on a pedestal. She believes I'm the one who—” She paused, drew in a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. “I want that divorce, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Let me put things in motion and I'll get back to you.”

“I have money for a retainer.”

“Good.”

Sarah didn't mention how long it'd taken her to save the thousand dollars. Her father would gladly have helped her; so would Dennis if she'd asked. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. Both men believed her already divorced. She'd misled her father and let Dennis make the wrong assumption. Alone, afraid, broke, she'd returned to Buffalo Valley. Her marriage had been a disaster from the start. She'd done what she could to get out of it, to untangle her life from Willie's legally, but she'd been stymied when she ran out of funds. At that point, she'd returned to her family home. She felt enough of a failure without asking her father to pay for her divorce—and a divorce he thought she'd obtained a decade ago.

They talked a few minutes longer, and Sarah left feeling better than she had in a long while.

Calla was home from school, standing at the kitchen counter, when Sarah walked into the house.

“Where were you?” her daughter demanded, shaking cornflakes into a bowl.

“I had an appointment.”

Calla's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where?”

“Grand Forks.”

“Who with?”

Sarah glared at her daughter. “What is this, an inquisition?”

“You never drive into Grand Forks.”

“Well, I did today,” Sarah said with finality. They rarely had a civil conversation these days and she wanted to avoid another argument.

Still dissatisfied, Calla reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. “Must've been important for you to close the store.”

“It was.”

Calla poured milk into the cereal bowl. Sarah had asked her a hundred times not to eat breakfast cereal for snacks. It seemed that everything she asked her daughter these days was an invitation for Calla to defy her.

“Did Dennis go with you?”

Although the question was framed in a casual tone, Sarah wasn't fooled. “Why do you want to know?”

Calla shrugged as she carried the bowl to the table. “Just curious is all.”

Sarah didn't believe that for an instant. Calla was interested in anything to do with Dennis. Her unreasonable dislike of him was as hard to understand as it was to tolerate.

Then, in that same casual tone, Calla announced, “I'm going to see my father.”

This time Sarah didn't bother to hold her tongue. She didn't want her daughter anywhere near Willie—especially when he learned she was going ahead with the divorce. “No, you're not.”

Calla set the sugar dispenser aside and smiled up at her with smug confidence. “Wrong again, Mother.”

Their conversation was destined to escalate into a full-blown argument if Sarah didn't put an end to it.

“I'll be back later,” she said as she slipped out of the room.

“Where are you going now? To see Dennis?”

That was exactly what Sarah intended, but she wasn't about to admit it to Calla.

Sarah grabbed her hat and coat and headed out the door before the girl could sidetrack her with more questions or goad her into an angry reaction.

Dennis was working inside the station when Sarah arrived. She eased the car close to the pumps and waited a moment. Always before, he'd hurried outside, refusing to let her pump her own gas. Either he didn't see her now or was hoping to avoid talking to her.

Opening the car door, Sarah climbed out into the cold and started to lift the gasoline hose.

Dennis met her and clicked the nozzle into place.

“Hello, Dennis,” she said, her voice carried off by the wind.

He nodded, studying some unknown object in the distance. His expression was blank, unreadable.

“How are you?” She realized that was an inane question, particularly when she had to shout to be heard.

“I'm fine.”

“I'd like to talk to you,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets and hunching against the cold.

“When?” He still hadn't looked at her.

“Soon.” She moved closer to him. “The sooner the better.”

“All right.”

At least he'd agreed to that. “Could you meet me tonight?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” It wasn't any of her business, but she couldn't keep from asking. Before he answered, Sarah knew what he'd say. “You're seeing Maddy again, aren't you?”

He nodded and boldly met her look. “We have a dinner date.”

 

Scolding herself, Maddy purposely left Jeb's house for the last delivery Thursday afternoon. He'd faxed in an order, and she wasn't sure if he actually needed supplies or was using the request as a means of seeing her. They hadn't talked for three weeks, since the evening he'd driven into town and demanded to know the truth.

When she reached his ranch, she slowed down and turned into his driveway. Several inches of snow had fallen in the past few days, and because his driveway was so seldom used, there weren't tracks for her to follow. Maddy had to forge her own path; it wasn't the first time, she thought with grim humor.

The instant she pulled into his yard, the back door opened and Jeb appeared. “I'll carry the groceries inside,” he insisted, coming down the steps. He lifted out the box in the back of her vehicle and she stood there, unsure if she should go with him or drive away.

Jeb paused on the bottom step and turned toward her. “Can you come in for a few minutes? We still need to talk.”

“All right.” She shouldn't be this pleased at the prospect of spending time with him, but despite everything, she couldn't keep the gladness out of her heart.

He set the box on the kitchen counter, then surprised her by helping her off with her coat and hanging it on a peg by the door. When he'd finished, he walked over to the coffeepot, which was half-full as usual, and took a mug from the draining rack, holding it up.

“None for me,” she told him. “I'm avoiding anything with caffeine. It's not good for the baby.”

“Neither is lifting groceries. How long are you going to continue with this delivery business?”