Love Without End (20 page)

“Maybe easy wasn’t what you needed.”

Kimberly hadn’t been this angry in a long, long while. Or this hurt.

In one swift movement, her friend shifted from her chaise longue to the edge of Kimberly’s. Janet’s expression softened, as did her voice. “Kimmie, you’re my dearest friend in all the world.” She took hold of Kimberly’s hand. “All I want is for you to be happy. You know that. But I feel like I need to shake some sense into you. Remember that line from
Auntie Mame
when Mame says, ‘Live! Life’s a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!’ That’s what I want to say to you.
Live!
Stop being so afraid of getting hurt again or being disappointed again. Take a chance. You might discover something wonderful.”

Inside the house, the telephone rang.

“Think about it.” Janet stood and went inside.

Think about it?
The anger drained out of Kimberly, leaving an ache in her chest. Tears welled over and streaked her cheeks.

“The phone’s for you, Kimmie,” Janet said from the doorway.

Kimberly swiped at the tears and sniffed.

“It’s Chet Leonard.”

She felt her stomach flutter.
Most poor suckers are starving to death.

“Shall I tell him to call back later?”

“No.” Kimberly sniffed again. “No, I’ll talk to him.”

Anna

1948

L
ETTERS FROM
M
ILES
S
TANLEY
STOPPED ARRIVING
at the end of January. First Anna was concerned. Then she was angry. And finally came despair.

Whenever time and weather permitted, Anna rode to the line shack, far from the main house, far from Abe’s and Violet’s watching eyes. She rode to
their
line shack—hers and Miles’s—where she had first confessed her love to him, where she had offered herself to him. Always, she built a fire in the stove and lay on the bed and wrapped herself in a blanket. Then she wept.

He hadn’t said he loved her.

It was clear now that he didn’t love her.

He’d never intended to come back to her.

Had he found someone new? Someone older? Someone prettier?

The pain in her heart was every bit as great as what she’d felt when her parents died. In some ways it was worse, because
she knew how much her parents had loved her. They’d told her so often. But not Miles. Miles had kept those words to himself. They’d been implied but never spoken.

Her eighteenth birthday arrived in mid-March. The day mattered little to her. Growing up. Getting older. It didn’t change anything. Miles had said it would but it didn’t, now that he was gone. Now that he was silent.

Then a letter from California came in April, addressed to Anna McKenna. The writing on the envelope didn’t belong to Miles. She knew his writing as well as her own. But her heart skipped at the sight of the address all the same. She opened it.

Dear Miss McKenna,

My name is John Anderson. I’m an attorney. Miles Stanley hired me to put his legal affairs in order early this year. It is my sad duty to inform you of his passing after a lengthy illness and to advise you that you are the sole beneficiary of his last will and testament . . .

There was more writing on the sheet of paper, but the ink blurred before her eyes. The letter fell from her hands and drifted like a feather to the floor.

Then she followed it, blackness swelling over her.

Twenty-four

I
T WAS NO SMALL THING
, S
AM
’
S GIVING UP HIS TICKETS
to see Josh Turner perform in Boise. Sam was every bit as big a fan of the singer as his father, and he’d spent his own hard-earned cash to buy the tickets when they’d gone on sale months earlier. When Chet tried to refuse the offer, Sam had said, “Take ’em, Dad. I’m the one who told you to ask Mrs. Welch out. It’s the least I can do. Don’t want you falling on your face by taking her someplace lame.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Feeling as nervous as any teenager, he arrived at Janet Dunn’s home a little after four o’clock that Friday afternoon. Janet answered the ring of the doorbell.

“Come on in,” she said, taking a step back. “Kimmie’s almost ready.”

Chet ran the fingers of one hand through his hair as he moved inside. True to Janet’s word, Kimberly appeared out of one of the bedrooms a moment later. She wore a little
black dress, and she looked stunning in it too. The dress had spaghetti straps and a full skirt that ended a couple of inches above her knees. On her feet she wore sky-high black heels. They made her shapely legs look like they were a million miles long. Her nails, both fingers and toes, sported apple-red polish that matched the small purse and sweater she carried.

“Wow,” he said, sounding breathless.

A smile curved the corners of her rosy mouth. “Thanks.”

Tara appeared behind her mother. “What time are you going to have her back, Mr. Leonard?” She sounded dead serious, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“Does she have a curfew?” he asked.

“One o’clock or she’s gonna be grounded.”

“Then I’ll have her back before one. Don’t want to get her grounded. If I do, she might not agree to go out with me again.”

Kimberly turned and gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek. She said something softly. Too softly for Chet to hear—and he was sorry for that. Then she moved toward him. He stepped to one side and motioned her through the open door, following right after her, feeling more than a little out of place. What was he doing with this beautiful, sophisticated woman? She was completely out of his league.

All you have to do is get through the next few hours without making a fool of yourself.

He opened the passenger door, then with a hand on her right forearm, helped her into the cab of the pickup. When he started the engine a few moments later, he saw Janet and Tara on the stoop, waving and grinning. Were they the reason
Kimberly had accepted his invitation? He preferred to think she
wanted
to go out with him.

The drive down out of the mountains was mostly a silent one, Chet concentrating on the winding river road, Kimberly gazing out the window at the passing terrain. Pine trees gave way to sagebrush as they neared the valley floor.

Susan Lyle had told Chet of a nice restaurant near downtown. Warm and intimate but not too fancy or expensive. “The chef is marvelous,” she’d promised. Chet found the place without any trouble and lucked into a nearby parking space. Inside, the restaurant had soft lighting. A maître d’ escorted them to a table and, after they were seated, handed Chet a wine list.

“Do you care for something, Kimberly?”

She declined with a shake of her head.

“Thanks.” Chet handed the wine list back to the maître d’. “Nothing for us.”

When they were alone again, Kimberly asked, “Have you come here before?”

“No. Susan told me about it when she heard we were going to the concert.”

Kimberly offered a hesitant smile. “I thought maybe you brought all your first dates here. It’s very nice.”

“There’s only been one other first date since I got divorced.” He shrugged. “It didn’t go anywhere. I wasn’t ready and neither was she. But she and her husband have become good friends.”

“Her husband?”

“Allison and her ex remarried. I was glad to see it happen.”

Kimberly’s gaze wandered from Chet, taking in the room
and other diners. When she looked at him again, she said, “How do you know you’re ready now? To start a relationship, I mean.”

“Not sure how to answer that. Emotionally, I’m ready to move on. But I was comfortable being a husband, and I’m not so sure of myself as a date. Do they even call it that today? Dating. I think I’ve forgotten how a guy’s supposed to get to know a girl. What’s the best way to impress her?”

H
E WANTS TO IMPRESS ME
?
K
IMBERLY FELT A PLEASANT
warmth in her chest. How flattering.

“Let’s get the easy stuff out of the way first. Maybe that will help.” He cleared his throat. “How long were you and your husband married?”

“Fifteen years. You?”

“Marsha and I were married for twenty-one years.”

Kimberly took a sip from her water glass. “Did Marsha grow up in Kings Meadow too?”

Chet shook his head. “She was from Boise. We met at a rodeo and dated each other for a few years before we married. You and Ellis?”

“We met while I was in college and married right after I graduated.”

“Mind me asking how he died? Was it an accident?”

Kimberly stiffened. Talking about Ellis made her uncomfortable—because thinking about him often made her angry, and her anger made her feel guilty. She hadn’t shared the brutal truth of that anger with anyone. Not even Janet. “No, it wasn’t an accident,” she said at last. “He had a heart
attack. There wasn’t any warning. Just suddenly he was gone. He was only forty.”

“Forty?” He shook his head again. “That’s mighty young.”

She lifted the water glass a second time and took a few more sips. “I believe it was the stress that killed him. Our finances had been unraveling for a long time, but he kept it a secret from me. Maybe if he’d shared the burden of all of—” She broke off suddenly, her throat tight.

“I’m sorry, Kimberly.” Chet’s words were as gentle as a caress.

She gave him a shaky smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay. What about this? You aren’t crazy about horses like your daughter.” He put his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned toward her. “So, what are you crazy about? What’s your passion, Kimberly Welch?”

“My passion?” Her gaze dropped to her hands, now folded in her lap.

She hadn’t a clue how to answer. She’d been in survival mode for such a long while. And before that . . . before Ellis died? When she looked back, many of her activities seemed shallow and self-absorbed. Buying new clothes and jewelry. Visiting the spa regularly. Redecorating their home . . . again . . . and then again. Lavishly entertaining Ellis’s business associates. Sending Tara to the best private school possible.

She drew a deep breath and looked at Chet again. “If I ever had something I was truly passionate about, I’ve forgotten it.” She forced a smile. “Tell me yours.”

“That’s easy.” He grinned. “I love the horses, of course. Always have. Love the ranch. Love living in Kings Meadow,
knowing where my roots are. Above anything else, I love God and my family. That’s what I’m most passionate about.” He gave a slight shrug. “Doesn’t sound very exciting to some, I suppose, but it’s a great life.”

He was wrong. There was something about the tone of his voice, about the look in his eyes, that made what he said sound most appealing. Simple. Homespun. Down to earth. It was exciting, only in a different way. Wasn’t that odd?

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, his voice low.

“Hasn’t the value for a thought gone up to at least a nickel?”

He chuckled, a sound so pleasant it caused her insides to twirl.

As if to rescue Kimberly from that feeling, the waitress arrived at their table to take their order. Neither of them had even glanced at the menu. Kimberly found the first thing that sounded good and pointed it out to the waitress. Chet ordered the same.

As soon as their server walked away, Kimberly turned the conversation to Tara and Wind Dancer, and Chet followed her lead.

J
UDGING BY THE SMILE ON
K
IMBERLY
’
S LIPS WHEN
the lights went up in the arena, she’d enjoyed the concert every bit as much as Chet had. Returning her smile, he took hold of her elbow and eased her out of their row and into the flow of people headed for the exits.

Night had arrived while they were inside the windowless arena. The air was cool enough for Kimberly to need the sweater she’d carried with her all evening. They stepped to one
side of the departing throng and stopped. Chet took the red sweater from her hand and held it up so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. As he stood behind her, the breeze carried the now familiar citrus scent of her shampoo, teasing his nostrils.

Sam was right. Chet liked Kimberly. A lot. Far more than he’d been willing to admit up to now. Far more than he’d thought possible, given his past, given their differences. To be honest with himself, he could be falling in love with her. Which didn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Unless, of course, he could convince her to stay in Idaho, in Kings Meadow, for good.

On the drive home, they talked about their favorite songs from the concert. Kimberly didn’t know a lot about country music—that was obvious—but she’d become a fan of Josh Turner tonight. That pleased Chet.

After all, if she could change her taste in music, maybe he could change her mind about staying in Kings Meadow too.

Twenty-five

K
IMBERLY AWAKENED SLOWLY THE NEXT MORNING
. A dream tried to pull her back into sleep. A pleasant dream, though it hastened into foggy corners of her mind with the arrival of full consciousness. Stretching, she opened her eyes. Daylight seeped between slats in the blinds. She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock. It was already after eight. Despite the hour, she was in no hurry to get out of bed.

She closed her eyes again, remembering the previous evening. It had been close to midnight by the time Chet walked her to the door. They’d stood, facing each other, for the briefest of moments. Then Chet had leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Little more than a brush of lips against lips, but it had sent an unexpected jolt through Kimberly. The memory of it made her feel the same jolt all over again.

A groan escaped her. A cowboy. Really?
Really?
A horse-riding, horse-training, horse-loving cowboy whose family roots were over a century deep in this mountain community.
Chet Leonard was wrong for her for those and so many other reasons.

A soft rap sounded on her door, then her daughter’s voice. “Mom?”