Love Me Tender (27 page)

She'd actually been thinking of Dave and Robin, but quickly said, “Oh, it's just the generic ‘we.' I'm a pretty good rider. As for staying, well, I'm kind of committed to being here for a few more months.”

“Yeah? Got a great job?”

“I have, as a matter of fact. And the scenery is amazing, the town is so cute and charming, and the people are terrific. But, uh . . .” Could she really do this? She didn't want him to think she'd called because she wanted something from him. “The thing is, I've got this little health issue and need to get settled into a treatment plan.”
Plan
. No matter how many times she said it, the word still made her wince.

“A
little
health issue that requires a treatment
plan
?” he echoed slowly. “What's going on, Cass?”

She breathed in and on the exhale said, “I have MS. Multiple sclerosis. The same disease GG died of.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, shit.”

“My sentiment exactly.”

“Are you, um . . . Oh man, I have no idea what to say. How bad is it?”

For the next twenty minutes or so, she filled him in.

When she finished, he asked, “What can I do? How can Mags and I help?”

“Oh, JJ.” Moisture filled her eyes and she had to wait a moment until her voice was steady enough to speak again. “It's so sweet of you to offer.” And she didn't deserve it. “I'm doing all the right stuff and I've got friends here. Don't worry about me, okay? I want you and Mags to enjoy planning your wedding, and I'll look forward to seeing you then.”

“Me too. But you have to let me know if you need anything before then.”

“I will.”

“You going to tell Justine and Luis?”

“Someday, I guess. I'm in no big hurry.”

“I hear you. They may come for the wedding, but I'm not counting on it. In some ways, it'd be easier if they didn't.”

“I know. It's your special day, yours and Mags's. When our parents are around, it always becomes about them.”

They were both quiet for a moment; then Cassidy said, “Well, I'll let you go now.”

“Okay. Look after yourself, Cass. And call me, okay? It's good to talk to you.”

“It is. And you call me too. I love you, baby brother.”

“I love you too, big sister.”

When she ended the call, she felt a sense of peace. Despite her disease, something in her life was actually improving. She took Pooh Bear from the end table and hugged him to her chest. Maybe one day she and JJ would be best friends again.

Automatically, she picked up her phone again and scrolled to Dave's name. Then she paused. Would he still be awake?

Then she smiled. Even if he wasn't, he'd forgive her for waking him up once he heard about her conversation with her brother.

“I'm glad it went so well.” Dave, who'd been reading in bed when Cassidy phoned, was proud of her for calling JJ. She'd grown a lot since he first met her. Or maybe he'd just come to know her better and discovered her internal strength. “You'll really enjoy seeing him in Victoria at the wedding.”

“I will. It's okay if I take time off work? The wedding is December twentieth but I'd like to take a few extra days.”

“Of course.” Madisun would be working at the Wild Rose during her school holidays. “Would you stay for Christmas?” A sense of loss chilled him. He'd looked forward to showing her how wonderful a big Caribou Crossing Christmas could be. More than that, if he was honest. He'd looked forward to having her share and brighten his own Christmas.

“I . . . I'm not sure.”

Maybe it would be better if she stayed in Victoria. If she shared Christmas with him and Robin, it would only build a closer emotional bond. It wasn't like Cassidy would be there the next Christmas, or the one after. “No rush in making up your mind. Madisun will be here.”

“Right. She can do the job as well—better—than me. It's not like you need me around.”

But he did. At work, but more importantly in his personal life. And that wasn't good.

“Well, good night, Dave.” Her tone was subdued, not bouncy like when she'd first called.

“Night, Cassidy. I really am glad you and your brother are growing closer.”

How could a person not grow closer to Cassidy once they got to know her?

 

 

Dave had a restless night, forcing himself to take a hard look at his feelings for Cassidy. He should build more distance into their relationship, yet he was one of her key support people. Not to mention her boss. And her lover. But sex was so intimate. At some point—quite a while ago, if he was honest with himself—sex had become lovemaking. Cassidy might be capable of keeping things casual, but it seemed he wasn't built that way. Or at least he wasn't when it came to the strong-minded, gypsy-spirited woman with the wild goose tattoo.

He couldn't let himself love her. When Anita died, he'd sworn he would never again let himself be vulnerable to that kind of loss. It was almost ironic that it wasn't Cassidy's illness that would take her away from him; it was her own free spirit.

Over a breakfast of French toast and bacon, Robin babbled happily about last night and how much fun she'd had.

“Sweetheart, you like Cassidy a lot, don't you?” he asked.

“Well, duh.”

“You know she's not going to stay forever. Only until the doctor is confident she has a good treatment plan.”

Robin shook her head. “She'll stay. People don't leave Caribou Crossing.”

“Of course they do. She already did. She only came back because of her diagnosis.”

“She would've come back anyhow. Like Evan.”

“It took Evan ten years,” he pointed out. “And he only came back because one of his clients asked him to check out an investment opportunity.”

“Whatever,” she said blithely. “Cassidy won't go. She didn't come back because of her diagnosis; it was because she belongs here.”

It did feel as if Cassidy belonged here. “She doesn't seem to think she belongs anywhere. She doesn't want to belong. You've heard her talk about all those places she's been.”

His daughter splashed more maple syrup onto her French toast. “She can live here and take holidays to other places. Like how Mom and Evan and I went to New York City.”

“I know, but I don't think that's how she sees it. She doesn't like being tied down.”

“Tied down?” Her childish brow wrinkled. “It's not being tied down when you belong somewhere and have people who love you. It's, you know, being home.”

“That's exactly what it is.”

But Cassidy didn't understand what “home” was. Her parents had taken that away from her at age seven.

He and his daughter finished breakfast and tidied the kitchen. Feeling the need for fresh air and exercise to clear his muddled brain, he took Merlin and joined Robin in the ride to Boots.

There, he spent a few quiet moments sitting atop Malibu, watching his daughter and ex-wife bustle about. Ever since he'd known Jessie, she'd dreamed of creating some horse-oriented business of her own, and he was so happy she'd finally managed to do it. He was proud of her, and glad that he, along with a number of relatives and friends, had helped her realize her dream.

She was so happy now. Her horses, her business, the fact that she was helping disadvantaged adults and children. Her love for Evan—a love that had never died despite her marriage to Dave, and ten years' separation. Her much-loved daughter, and her new baby. And, of course, her large and loving extended family. It hadn't all come easily for her. She'd worked, suffered, fallen down, and picked herself up. She deserved every moment of happiness.

He had worked and suffered too. He was picking himself back up, thanks to Cassidy. In his life, what would happiness look like?

Dave turned Malibu back onto the trail, trotting at first, then kicking up the pace until they raced along. Merlin loped happily along beside them. Dave took off his hat, hoping the wind in his hair would clear away the confusion in his brain. The confusion named Cassidy.

The first time he had talked to Anita, his heart had recognized her as his soul mate. She'd been a strong, self-sufficient professional, but she had happily let Dave look after her. They'd walked through life side by side, arms around each other, never butting heads.

With Cassidy, it was different. He and she weren't such similar people. They challenged each other, argued, and prodded each other's boundaries. They weren't a comfortable fit. But she was amazing. Fun, generous, competent. Passionate. Willing to experiment in bed and laugh when things didn't work out. Fantastic with Robin. Gutsy when it came to dealing with her disease. Tough-minded, self-sufficient, and damned frustrating sometimes.

What would Anita think of Cassidy?

As Dave slowed Malibu and turned toward Caribou Crossing, he knew the time had finally come. For more than three years, he had hidden two items in the back of his closet and tried never to think of them. This afternoon he was going to Sally's, but he had enough free time before then to do what needed to be done.

 

 

Dave tied Malibu's reins to the hitching rail at the back of the Wild Rose, then ran upstairs with Merlin. He collected the urn and the envelope with “Dave” on the front in Anita's shaky handwriting, and placed them gently into a bag that tied onto the back of the saddle.

When the dog, in the kitchen lapping water, glanced up expectantly, Dave said, “Not this time, pal. This is something I need to do alone.”

He ran back downstairs, not giving himself time for second thoughts.

After strapping on the cantle bag, he headed Malibu in the direction of Dragonfly Lake, one of the lakes that dotted the countryside. This wasn't a large one like Colcannon, where teens and families went to picnic and swim. It was no more than an irregularly shaped blue dot in a remote grassy field, accessible only by horseback. He and Anita used to ride there for picnics. They would spread a blanket and make love under the wide open sky.

The last time they'd come here, the last time she'd been well enough to ride, she had asked him to scatter her ashes here. He hadn't been back since.

Now he slowed Malibu as they approached the lake. It looked exactly as he remembered, its blue waters reflecting the crisp blue October sky and a few puffy clouds. Anita always found shapes in the clouds, just as Robin did. He'd never seen them himself, being more a practical guy than an imaginative one.

That last time, it had been summer and Anita had lain back on the blanket and named off a St. Bernard, a whale, and a kitten. She'd taken off her clothes, her body ravaged by illness and chemotherapy, and he'd made love to her as gently and slowly as he could. Because it would have to last forever. They'd both known it was the last time. They had both cried, and that was when she'd asked him to scatter her ashes here, and to ride out and visit now and then.

He dismounted, untied the cantle bag, and left Malibu to graze.

“I'm three years late,” he said as he stood on the lakeshore. “I'm sorry, but it hurt too much. Every time I thought about you, my heart broke all over again. I don't know if I was wrong all those years, or if I did need time to heal a little, but now, the more often I think about you or talk about you, the easier it gets. There are so many memories, Anita. We had so much love. I'd shut it all out—the memories, the love—and I did both of us a disservice. Now I'm letting it back in. My heart hurts when I miss you, but it's kind of . . . warm, as well. Like you're in there, always with me.”

He sat down in the dry grass and balanced the urn carefully beside him so it didn't tip. And then he opened the envelope. Inside were two pages from a simple lined pad. Her words were more printed than written because she'd had trouble writing by that time.

Tears blurring his vision, Dave lifted his head. Forgive her? Had she known, somehow, about the irrational anger he fought so hard to repress? Anger against the cancer, of course, and against the fate that had given it to her. But yes, at Anita too. For making him fall in love with her and not only dream of a future but plan one. And then for getting sick, for betraying their future, for not winning against the cancer. For leaving him.

Unfair, irrational, stupid anger. He'd had no place to vent it, so he'd nursed it deep inside, his own private cancer making him feel like a shitty person. It was only when Cassidy had persuaded him to talk about Anita, to let himself remember all the good things, that the guilty ache had begun to ease.

When his vision cleared, he went back to the letter.

As tears slid down his cheeks, Dave carefully refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. This, he would keep forever.

Then he curved his hand around the womanly shape of the urn and rose to his feet. Holding the thought of Anita in his mind and heart, he removed the top and flung the ashes, letting the light breeze scatter them onto the grass and into the lake. Tiny pieces of the woman he had loved. Still loved. Yes, he would come visit her here.

Perhaps he should have done this long ago.

If Cassidy hadn't come to Caribou Crossing, he might never have done this. His feelings for Anita might never have evolved to this point, where he felt joy as well as sorrow, and mostly a certainty that Anita would always be a part of him.

He lay back in the grass, pillowed his arms behind his head, and gazed up at the sky. “I still can't see anything other than clouds.”

He could almost hear her amused voice as she pointed. “Over there, you dummy. Can't you see the sheep? Or the peacock spreading his tail?”

“No,” he murmured. “I needed you to see those things. I needed you for so many things, Anita.” He stared fixedly at a wispy cloud that looked like . . . a cloud, nothing more.

“I did meet someone. She doesn't know I'm here, but it's because of her that I am. At first, I thought we'd keep it light, you know? That's what we both wanted. Nothing more. She made me smile in a way I hadn't smiled in a very long time. It wasn't the same as when you and I met. It was so different that I didn't even feel disloyal for being with her. The thing was, I knew you were my soul mate, my ‘once in a lifetime' love.”

As the high clouds continued to drift across the cool blue sky, he thought about Cassidy.