If Wishes Were Horses (24 page)

B
Y THE TIME
all the guests had departed, Wyatt was exhausted. It was nearly three
A.M.
He was sick of being sociable, and he hungered for some quiet time before turning in.

To his surprise, Gabby had left without saying good-bye and he felt her absence sharply. After bidding good night to the Winthrops he had searched for her, only to learn that she and Trevor had already left. Walking Gabby and Trevor to their car had become a welcome habit for him, and he missed doing so tonight more than he might have guessed. Because Gabby had left so suddenly, her behavior left him wondering. But as he sat on the porch with the night's final glass of bourbon, he could find no ready answers.

The ball had ended about an hour ago. All the guests, caterers, and musicians had packed up and departed, making the Fly
ing B strangely quiet in their aftermath. The lights adorning the big house and the outbuildings had been switched off, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the grounds. Now the only music came from the chirping crickets, their gentle chorus accompanying the rhythmic creaking of Wyatt's rocking chair.

Gabby and Wyatt had parted company many times before, but never without saying good-bye. Because the New Beginnings Program had ended, Wyatt wondered whether he would ever see her again and the uncertainty stabbed at his heart. Her stealthy departure seemed somehow treasonous to him, like she had rushed off to become entwined in the arms of another man. But because she wasn't his, no such treachery existed. Even so, he felt abandoned.

Wyatt looked across the grounds and toward the old cemetery, its headstones glinting palely in the moonlight. He thought of his mother, of Krista and Danny, and of all the other Blaines who had been laid to rest there. He liked to believe that each of them had somehow secured his or her own measure of happiness before dying.
But will I?
he wondered.

Wyatt's next sip of bourbon tasted bitter—a sure sign that he had reached his limit. Moments later, Ram approached and sat down in the rocker alongside Wyatt's. For some time the father and son said nothing, each of them glad that another annual ball had come and gone.

“Good party,” Ram said.

Wyatt nodded. “I guess.”

Ram turned and looked at his son. “Why so glum?”

“Just tired, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but that's not the entire reason, is it?” Ram asked.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “Did you see Gabby and Trevor leave?”

“Yep. Gabby seemed upset. She tried to hide it, but I knew different.”

When Wyatt didn't respond, Ram made up his mind.
Jacobson was right,
he realized.
This moment is long overdue.

“I know that it's late,” Ram said, “but we need to talk. Although you won't like what I have to say, you're going to hear it anyway.” Despite his desire to call it a night, Wyatt waited calmly.

“Do you remember the old playground that used to stand near the swimming pool?” Ram asked.

The question surprised Wyatt. “Sure,” he answered. “Morgan and I always wondered why it was there one day and then gone the next. You and Mom never told us.”

His eyes shiny with tears, Ram told Wyatt the story that he had kept hidden for so long, including his failure to dismantle the swing set. Soon Wyatt's eyes were also moist. He stared incredulously at his father.

“My God…,” he whispered.

“Your mother begged me not to tell you boys,” Ram answered. “So I didn't. Because I felt responsible for what happened, she didn't want to make things worse, or to have my sons think ill of me.”

Wyatt gazed toward the family cemetery. “Was it a boy or a girl?” he asked softly.

Ram shook his head. “Dunno. There wasn't enough of the child to warrant a burial, and we didn't have such fancy tests in
those days. That's why there's no marker in the cemetery. Even your mother didn't know she was pregnant until after the accident.”

Ram also turned to look at the cemetery. “Phoebe and I even had names picked out ahead of time, if she ever became pregnant again,” he said wistfully. “Another son would have been called Virgil. A daughter would have been named Annie.”

Wyatt smiled faintly. “Virgil Earp and Annie Oakley…”

Ram nodded. “My first choice for a daughter was Calamity, after Calamity Jane. I thought that it was a fine name for a girl, but your mother wouldn't hear of it.”

“And so you named the dog Calamity,” Wyatt said.

“Phoebe and I compromised.”

“Why tell me this now?” Wyatt asked.

“Because I've come to realize that my story has as much to do with you and Gabby as it ever did with Phoebe and me.”

Wyatt scowled. “How so?”

“Whether you know it or not, Gabby has become the best thing in your life,” Ram answered. “I'm not trying to belittle how much you cared for Krista and Danny. But by letting Gabby go, you're rejecting a wonderful future. The difference between her and you is that she knows it. She also understands that your heart is still burdened, so she keeps her feelings about you to herself.” Pausing for a moment, Ram lit his first cigarette of the new day.

“I know that a man has to make his own decisions,” he said. “But you're still devoting your life to two people who are gone and are never coming back. Krista wouldn't want that. And if Danny had been old enough to understand, he wouldn't have wanted it either. Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing, save for ruining
your life. Trust me, I know. I suffered the same guilt about your mother and our unborn child. Some days, I still do. But I expect you to do better.”

“I don't know if I can,” Wyatt said.

Ram took another drag on his cigarette, its far end brightening in the relative darkness. “Then let me say one last thing, son. After that, I'll never speak of this again. Hell, Wyatt, dying is easy. Any dumb bastard can die. But living—really
living
after suffering a great personal tragedy—that's the hard part. It takes a brave person to get on with living again. And last time I checked, I hadn't raised any cowards. So whatever your real feelings might be, stop trying to deny them by smothering them in guilt. Instead, search your heart for what you really want and set it free.”

Ram looked down at his boots for a time. When his eyes returned to Wyatt's, they held a faraway look. “I don't want you to end up like me,” he said simply. Saying nothing more, the old man stood and walked into the house.

Left alone again, Wyatt pondered his father's words. As he did, he returned his gaze to the cemetery. He soon imagined another family headstone nestled there among the others. Somehow he knew that his mother's unborn child had been a girl. The imagined headstone was smaller, and it bore the name Annie Blaine. He again thought about Krista and Danny, and Gabby and Trevor.

And then, like a suddenly bursting dam, the floodgates guarding his heart finally opened. His armor had at long last been shed and his repressed wants and needs truly broke through, causing fully fledged tears to run down his face. Holding up his trembling
left hand, he saw his wedding ring. The simple gold band suddenly seemed foreign and unnecessary. Soon he was on his feet and walking toward the cemetery.

As Wyatt opened the gate, its old hinges creaked with familiarity. He walked across the well-tended earth until he found himself standing before Krista's grave. After removing his ring for the first time since his wedding day, he stared in silence at Krista's cold, lifeless headstone. When Wyatt spoke, his words arrived as softly and earnestly as his tears.

“I still dream of you, you know,” he said. “And Danny, too. Maybe I always will. And those dreams are the only way I have of seeing you again. I loved you more than life. But you're gone, and I have to face that.” His tears coming harder now, he took a deep breath then let it out slowly.

“But there's something else you need to know, Krista,” he added softly. “Although in my own way I will never stop loving you, my heart has finally been freed. Not from your memory, but from the mistaken belief that I could never love another the way that I loved you. I was wrong, my darling, and I hope you can forgive me for what I must now do.”

Wyatt went to his knees. The earth was soft and gave way easily to his touch. After burying the ring before Krista's headstone, he stood.

“Good-bye, my love,” he whispered.

With tears still streaming down his face, he finally stood. He then looked up at the stars, as if he could watch his heartfelt words rising toward the heavens.

“Wyatt?” a voice called out in the darkness.

Wyatt turned to see Mercy standing just outside the cemetery fence. After walking back through the gate, he faced her. She, too, was still wearing formal attire.

Wyatt took a deep breath. “You heard?”

Mercy nodded. “I didn't mean to. I couldn't sleep, so I was taking a walk. All the excitement, I guess. I'm sorry.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Don't be.”

Mercy took a deep breath then she, too, looked up at the stars for a time. Before gazing back at Wyatt, she wiped away some tears.

“The heart wants what it wants, Wyatt,” she said. “And as much as it pains me to say it, we've both come to realize that your heart wants Gabby.”

When Wyatt started to speak, Mercy reached out and placed her fingertips against his lips. She shook her head.

“It's all right,” she whispered. “I suppose I've known ever since that night Sadie's colt was born. I saw her and Trevor leave tonight, and she seemed upset. Go to her, Wyatt, before it's too late.”

Wyatt stepped closer. Leaning forward, he gave Mercy a light kiss on one cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, and then he was gone.

S
EVEN HOURS LATER,
Gabby lay awake in bed. Her sleep had been fitful, at best. She looked at her alarm clock to find that it was nearly ten
A.M.
As she thought of Wyatt, tears came again and she quickly brushed them away. Then she remembered that it was Sunday, and she groaned. She and Celia had made plans to eat breakfast together and then go shopping.

Some retail therapy might do me good,
Gabby thought.
But not so much as some hot coffee and a brisk shower…

Right on time, the doorbell rang with an insistency that only Celia could somehow muster. Gabby groaned again and covered her head with her pillow. Celia was her best friend, but it was too early to suffer her snooping.

She'll be frantic to find out about last night,
Gabby realized.
That's too bad, because she'll surely be disappointed.

There was no point in dallying, so Gabby threw off the covers.
After trudging to the closet, she grabbed a nightshirt at random and pulled it on over her head. Without looking, she stepped into the nearest pair of slippers. As she shuffled toward the front door she realized that she had slept in her makeup and that she must look terrible, but she didn't care. Then the doorbell rang again.

“Jesus, Celia!” she shouted. “Knock it off! I'm coming as fast as I can!”

Without peering through the security lens, she opened the door. She was fully prepared to give the snoopy redhead a good piece of her mind when her jaw dropped open.

Wyatt stood there, looking her up and down with mild curiosity. He was dressed in ranch clothes. After pursing his lips, he made a comic show of examining the number on her town house door.

“The Powers residence, I presume?” he asked.

Despite last night's party he seemed as fresh as a daisy, with a smile to match. He checked the door number again then looked back at Gabby.

“Strange,” he said, shaking his head. “I was told that a beautiful woman lived here. Do you know where she might be?”

Gabby was mortified. She instinctively moved to close her robe before remembering that she was wearing only the flimsy nightshirt. When she tried to speak, no words came.

“Wyatt…?” she finally uttered.

“In the flesh,” he answered.

Wyatt held a bulging Dunkin' Donuts box in one hand, and a tray containing two paper coffee cups in the other. Only he and God knew how he had managed to ring the doorbell.

“May I come in?” he asked. “I brought caffeine and sugar, two of my favorite food groups.”

“Uh, er, yes—yes, of course,” Gabby said, still nervously clutching the front of her nightshirt. Wyatt sauntered in and looked around.

“Please don't take this the wrong way,” Gabby said. “But what are you doing here?”

Wyatt set the coffee and doughnuts on the kitchen table. After Gabby shut the door, Wyatt looked into her eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, “and I didn't want do it over the phone. I hope that you can forgive my barging in this way. I got your address from Trevor's New Beginnings application.”

Wyatt handed her a cup of coffee. “Drink that. It's not as potent as Aunt Lou's, but it's pretty good.”

“Bless you,” she answered.

Like him, she drank her coffee black. The paper cup warmed her hands, and the life-giving brew tasted good. She suddenly wondered what she must look like, so she stared across the kitchen and into a wall mirror. To her horror, it was even worse than she'd thought.

Her hair and makeup were a total mess. The nightshirt that she had chosen at random had been a gag gift from Celia. Across its front, huge letters read: a day without sex is like a day without sunshine. Then she looked down at her feet. Her slippers were hot pink, with bunny faces embroidered across the toes and pink bunny ears drooping down on either side. Gabby groaned inside.

Jesus,
she thought.
Of all the mornings in all the world…

Wyatt sensed her embarrassment and smiled. Then he pointed
to her nightshirt. The phrase printed there hung strangely askew, as it blanketed the twin peaks of her breasts.

“I couldn't agree more…,” he said.

Wyatt's wolfish comment wasn't lost on Gabby, and she blushed. “Could you give me a couple of minutes to pull myself together?” she asked.

Wyatt smiled. “Sure. I'll just sit here with my health food. By the way, is Trevor home?”

Unsure, Gabby glanced at the message board clinging to the refrigerator door. It read:
“Gone to the pool
.” She pointed it out to Wyatt.

“Ah,” he said.

Desperate to make herself more presentable, Gabby left the kitchen. Ten minutes later she returned wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and white Keds. Her face was washed, her teeth were cleaned, and she had put her dark hair up in a scrunchie. The new and improved Gabby certainly didn't qualify as a
Vogue
cover model, but she would have to do. She again joined Wyatt at the table. Too nervous to eat a doughnut, she politely took another microsip of coffee.

Wyatt smiled at her approvingly. “Better,” he said.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked. Beneath the tabletop, one of her feet began to twitch.

Wyatt put down his coffee. “Are you angry with me?”

“God, no! Why would you think that?”

“Because you left the ball without saying good-bye. Ram and Mercy thought you were upset. Was your Honda about to turn into a pumpkin or something?”

Her mind racing, Gabby tried to devise an answer that wouldn't give too much away. “I was very tired, and so was Trevor. That's all it was. I was planning to call you today, to thank you again for your wonderful gifts.”

Wyatt sat back in his chair. “Okay. I'll settle for that.”

Gabby said nothing for a time as she tried to adjust to the fact that Wyatt had come to visit her. Only minutes ago she'd thought she would never see him again. And now here he was, calmly drinking coffee at her kitchen table. Although the doughnuts weren't glass slippers, it seemed that the prince had found her after all.

“Was there something else?” she asked.

Wyatt nodded. “I know that it's a spur-of-the-moment thing, but I'd like you and Trevor to come with me. One of the ranch Jeeps is parked outside. We're leaving for the day—assuming that you're interested.”

“Where are we going?” Gabby asked.

“Back to the Flying B. I was hoping that Trevor could spend the day there while you and I ventured off on our own.”

“Where?” Gabby asked again. Her foot was twitching even faster now.

“I want to show you my lake house,” Wyatt said. “It'll be just you and me, for once. Aside from your ill-fated horse ride, we've never spent more than an hour in private.”

Gabby's heart leaped at Wyatt's offer, but she needed to be sure of his motives. She gave him a sly smile. “Why, Mr. Blaine,” she said. “Are you asking me out on a
date
?”

“Yes, Ms. Powers,” he answered. “I do believe that I am.”