Love Without End (14 page)

Sixteen

W
HEN
S
AM
WALKED DOWN THE STAIRS THE FOLLOWING
Saturday, dressed in his new suit, Chet remembered the night Rick had taken a girl to the school prom. Marsha had insisted on snapping dozens of photos before Rick left the ranch. Chet didn’t make the same kind of fuss over Sam as Marsha had over Rick, but he did make sure to take a few pictures with his digital camera.

“When you pick up Tara, tell Mrs. Welch that I’d like to get copies of any photos she takes.”

“Sure, Dad. I’ll tell her.”

Anna retrieved the corsage from the refrigerator and handed it to Sam. “You look very handsome, young man. I hope you and Tara have a wonderful evening.”

“Thanks.” He leaned down and kissed Anna’s cheek. “We will.”

Chet cleared his throat. “Be careful. I know you won’t
drink or do drugs, but other kids might not behave the same. So watch out on the roads. Keep your mind on your driving.”

The look Sam gave Chet said he’d heard that warning from his father many times. Too many times. But that didn’t matter to Chet. He couldn’t lose another son to the winding Idaho roads.

Anna took Chet by the arm and drew him with her onto the porch, so they could wave as Sam drove away from the house. After the pickup was out of sight, she said, “Maybe you should try talking to Pete again.”

“I doubt it’ll do any good.”

“Try anyway. He’s around back.”

“Practicing his roping again?”

Anna nodded.

Chet drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll give it another go.” He went down the steps and rounded the house in time to see Pete release the lariat. It settled with ease over the dummy steer’s head. “Nice one,” Chet called to him.

Pete acted as if he hadn’t heard his dad as he went to free the rope.

Sometimes parenting was for the birds.

Chet forced himself forward, all the while trying to remember what his father had said to him when he got out of line. But nothing helpful came to mind.

Pete returned to the worn spot in the grass where he liked to stand to toss the lasso. “Is he gone?”

It seemed a dumb question. Pete couldn’t have missed seeing the pickup driving down the lane to the highway. Chet answered anyway. “Yes.”

“I hope he gets a flat tire,” the boy mumbled, the words probably not meant for his dad’s ears.

But Chet heard them. “Not a nice sentiment.”

“I don’t care.” Pete adjusted the lariat in his hand.

“Pete . . .”

“I don’t, Dad.”

“Son.” Chet placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, stopping him from tossing the rope again. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Pete obeyed. An angry scowl knitted his brows, and defiance sparked in his eyes.

“You can’t go on feeding your resentment the way you have been. It isn’t good for you or for the family. I like Tara. She’s a nice girl. But you’ll like quite a few girls before you graduate from college. For whatever reason, they’ll come and they’ll go in your life until you meet the one you’ll want to marry.” He paused for effect. “But Sam’s the only brother you’ve got. He loves you and you love him.”

“It isn’t fair, Dad.”

“Nobody said life is fair.”

Pete lowered his gaze to the ground. “Why not?”

“Because the world is a broken place, Pete, full of broken people. None of us are perfect. Even the nicest people we know, even the most upstanding Christians, are going to hurt others. That’s just how it is.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Sam was trying to be thoughtful to Tara, not get in your way.”

“That’s what he says.”

“I believe him.”

“Yeah, you would.”

Irritation sparked, and Chet decided to leave well enough
alone before he said something he shouldn’t. He’d tried again to make Pete see reason. That was all he could do.

K
IMBERLY
DIDN
’
T
LIKE TO GET ALL MUSHY AND
weepy in front of others. However, as a woman who cried over certain commercials during the Christmas season and wept during romantic movies, it seemed a foregone conclusion that she would, at the very least, tear up as her daughter prepared to leave on her very first date.

Sam Leonard was almost as tall as his father and easily as handsome. He wore a cowboy hat and a western tie with his suit, and somehow, both looked just right. He even brought Tara a corsage. Kimberly had wondered if boys in the Idaho mountains would do that.

“Okay, you two. Before you go, I need to take some pictures. Stand in front of the fireplace, please.”

Tara looked like a fairy princess in her turquoise dress, all sparkling and shimmering. Tomorrow, no doubt, she would be back into jeans and boots, but tonight she was one hundred percent frilly female. A real girly girl. Kimberly snapped as many photos as the couple could tolerate, then bid them a good night and watched as they went to the truck where Sam opened the passenger door and helped Tara up to the seat.

“Remember our first prom?” Janet asked from nearby.

“Mmm. I sure do.” Almost as if it were yesterday, she envisioned the dress and the hair and the limo that four of the boys had chipped in on for the evening. She remembered—

“My night was a disaster,” Janet interrupted her musing.

Kimberly turned from the door. “It was? I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because I never told you. You were all gaga over your date. He was all you could talk about the next morning. Him and how perfect everything had been.” With a shake of her head, Janet walked from the kitchen into the living room.

Kimberly followed. “How could I not have known? You were right there in the limo with me.” Although it had happened two decades before, she felt a twinge of shame over her failure to notice. What kind of best friend did that?

Janet sat in a chair and picked up her crochet hook and yarn, setting them in her lap. “You know what, Kimmie? I wouldn’t be that age again for a million bucks.”

“Me neither.”

“But it would be nice to fall in love again.”

Kimberly sank onto the sofa. “Again? Who were you in love with?” She really was a lousy best friend if she didn’t know Janet had been in love. “When was it? Back in high school? Do I know him?”

“No.” Janet shook her head. “I met Dan after I moved to Kings Meadow. He was a super nice guy, but it didn’t work out. We wanted different things. Too different, it turned out. So I broke it off, and not long after, he took a job in Arizona.”

“You never said a word,” Kimberly said softly.

A smile briefly curved Janet’s lips. “It was a long time ago.”

Kimberly didn’t like the glimpse she’d caught of herself. Janet had been and still was her dearest friend. The only friend who had opened her home to a mother and daughter in desperate straits. But how often through the years had Kimberly
been there to help Janet? Not enough if Janet hadn’t felt free to tell her about a failed love affair.

“What about you, Kimmie? Would you like to get married again?”

“No.”

Janet cocked an eyebrow in response to Kimberly’s swift answer.

“Well . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe someday. Not anytime soon.” Unbidden and unwelcome, the image of her stepfather came to mind. “Not until Tara’s out on her own.”

Kimberly had been thirteen when her mother married for the second time, and the turbulence in their home over the following years had been in the extreme. Kimberly and her stepfather, Paul, had fought frequently, and more often than not, her mother had sided with her husband. Kimberly would never risk doing the same to Tara. Not ever.

Janet seemed to read Kimberly’s thoughts. “You wouldn’t make the mistake your mom made. You’ve got better sense than that.” The crochet hook and yarn began to fly between her fingers. “Don’t let what happened with your stepdad keep you from finding happiness again.”

Another image came to mind. This one a tall cowboy with a slow and slightly crooked smile. A strange feeling shimmered in her stomach.

No. Absurd. If ever she looked for love again, it most assuredly would not be in a place like Kings Meadow!

K
IMBERLY WAS OUT OF BED THE INSTANT SHE HEARD
the closing of the truck’s doors. She slipped her arms into her
robe and tied the belt around her waist. By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, she heard voices and knew that Tara stood in the kitchen doorway, bidding her date good night. Waiting was hard, but somehow she managed to hold her ground until she knew Sam was gone. Then she hurried out of the hallway. Tara had brushed the curtains aside and was looking out the window, presumably watching Sam drive away.

“Hi, honey. Did you have a good time?”

Tara turned around. She wasn’t smiling but neither did she look unhappy. “It was okay. I’m not a very good dancer. Sam was real nice the whole time, and he made sure I met all his friends.”

“But?”

“I don’t know.” Her daughter shrugged. “It’s like I think I should really like him. You know, like a boyfriend. I thought when he asked me out that’s what I would feel when we were at the prom. Only I didn’t. Is that messed up?”

Kimberly offered a small smile. “No, it isn’t messed up.”

“Sam feels the same way, I think. I mean, he was real nice and all, but it wasn’t like he wanted to kiss me or anything.”

Thank goodness for that.
“Some boys are just meant to be friends, not boyfriends. It’s okay to feel that way. For both of you.”

“Sorta like you’re just friends with Mr. Leonard?”

Odd, the way she felt as she answered, “Yes, sort of like that.”

Tara yawned. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good idea.” She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, and the two of them walked down the short hallway. In the bedroom, after helping Tara unhook the back of
her gown, she kissed the girl’s forehead. “Good night, honey. Sweet dreams.”

“You, too, Mom.” Tara yawned again.

Laughing softly, Kimberly returned to her own room and closed the door. The relief she felt made her almost giddy. Relief that Tara’s first date and first prom hadn’t been a disappointment. Relief that Tara wanted to be friends with Sam and not something more. Relief that Chet Leonard wouldn’t have cause to worry.

Sorta like you’re just friends with Mr. Leonard?

The giddiness left her, replaced by that odd sensation she felt whenever Chet entered her thoughts. All too often of late.

She removed her robe, turned out the light, and got into bed. Closing her eyes, she willed away all thoughts of Chet, of his dark good looks, of the way he walked, of the sound of his voice, of his smile.

She had to stop this. They weren’t meant to be anything but friends. If even that. She was moving back to Seattle the first chance she got.

Seventeen

B
Y
THE FOLLOWING
S
ATURDAY
,
TENSIONS HAD EASED
between the Leonard brothers. Today, Pete had volunteered to ride with Tara up to the Gold Digger’s line shack. Chet thought that was a good sign.

Tara continued to use one of their calmest geldings for any lesson that carried her away from the ranch complex, but it wouldn’t be long until her pinto was ready for her to take beyond the enclosed paddocks. Training sessions continued to go well. Not only that. When Tara was at the ranch, she did whatever was assigned to her without complaint. And that girl could pitch manure and straw from a stall as well as any hand he’d ever employed.

The thought made Chet smile as he watched Pete and Tara ride north. He noted Tara’s posture in the saddle, the way she kept her heels down in the stirrups, and that, too, made him smile.
Good job, kiddo
.

He turned, his gaze sweeping past Kimberly Welch’s car,
then returning to it. Kimberly was inside the guest house with Anna. This was the second weekend she’d come to help the older woman sort and organize. He suspected that, to the two of them, what they were doing was more fun than work. It was tempting to set aside his own chores to see what they were up to. What treasures would they uncover today? What stories would Anna tell at the supper table because of a jogged memory?

Still smiling to himself, he headed for the large metal building beyond the barn that served as a workshop and, in the worst part of winter, a garage. Awaiting him inside was the old John Deere tractor, the one his father had purchased in 1965, two years before Chet was born. The tractor wasn’t used for any heavy-duty work these days. Chet kept it more for sentimental reasons. He’d learned to drive steering this old piece of equipment around the fields.

At the workbench, he switched on the CD player. Josh Turner’s deep voice came through the speakers, singing “Long Black Train.” One of Chet’s favorites. He turned up the volume. Then he grabbed a wrench and a rag and went to work on the tractor. When “Me and God” started to play close to fifteen minutes later, Chet sang along, feeling a spark of joy, knowing that he and God were a team, as the lyrics said. Something he needed to keep in mind more often.

When the tune ended, in the brief silence before the next track began, he heard a soft clearing of a throat. He pulled his head back from the tractor engine to see Kimberly in the wide doorway.

She smiled slightly when their gazes met. “Sorry to intrude.”

“No problem.” Chet set the wrench aside and strode to the workbench to pause the CD. When he turned again, he found Kimberly had closed the distance between them.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“On the CD?”

She nodded.

“Josh Turner.”

“Loved his voice. Yours too.”

He liked the way the compliment made him feel. Kind of warm on the inside. Then, just as quickly, it bothered him that he’d liked it. “Thanks.”

“I never listened to country music until we moved in with Janet.” Kimberly looked around the interior of the metal building. “She doesn’t listen to anything else, so I’m starting to learn who some of the artists are. I like it more than I thought I would.” Her gaze returned to him once more.

Chet couldn’t help but ask, “What’s your favorite kind of music?”