Once in a Blue Moon (41 page)

Standing in the road,
he grabbed both ends of the blanket, whirled it around his
shoulders, then pulled her in and enclosed them both. “I think
so.”

She leaned in and
savored the embrace, his warmth, the excitement arching between
them. “Just make sure you get us back. We need to get home. We
don’t belong here.”

“Don’t worry, I have it all figured out.” He rubbed his chin
against her temple. “On the thirty-first, we’ll go out to Sully’s:
to
our
place. We
need to get there before the moon rises. Then we wait, all night if
we have to. Before you know it we’ll be ordering take out and
sitting in the hot tub.”

Melissa groaned. “And
sleeping on a Serta. It sounds wonderful. But what if we don’t go
back?”

“We will,” he stated
confidently as he leaned down to kiss her neck.

She shivered as
goose-flesh broke out on her skin and pulled him closer, enjoying
the caress.

A stick broke, the
sound loud in the stillness of the night and, startled, Melissa
tensed.

Richard raised his
head, and muscles bunching, dropped the blanket and pushed her
behind him. “Who’s out here?”

A dark shape loomed up.
A man had been crouching behind a bush on the side of the road,
only a few feet from them.

Fear skittered down
Melissa’s spine and she bit back a scream.

“Howdy, folks,” rumbled
a deep voice. “Just out for a stroll. Thought I’d leave some
flowers on Mrs. Kendal’s steps.”

It took a moment, but
Melissa finally figured out who the voice belonged to. “Mr.
Jenkins?”

“After dark?” asked
Richard, his tone deep, aggressive. “What are you doing hiding on
the side of the road?”

Melissa shivered. Was
the guy a stalker?

“I heard someone.
Wasn’t sure I’d be welcome this time of night. Some of the boys
around here carry guns.”

“You’re right, you’re
not welcome.”

A horse whinnied in the
distance.

Richard’s fists
bunched. “Sounds to me like your horse is missing you. This is
looking very suspicious. I suggest you find yourself another woman
to court and stay away from here. This one is mine.”

“I didn’t mean nuthin’
by it.” He held out the bunch of flowers toward Melissa.

Richard knocked them
out of his hand and into the dirt.

Curly stilled.

Melissa held her
breath.

Finally, Curly
chuckled, then touched a hand to his hat.

“Evening, ma’am.” He
turned and headed off.

Richard, still tense,
watched him go over the hill.

Melissa tugged at his
sleeve. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Richard picked up the
blanket, and they headed back toward the ranch.

“Was he spying on us?
Watching us?” Melissa whispered and glanced back. The road was
empty, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of danger as she imagined
Curly hiding in the shadows. The guy had definitely given her the
creeps.

A new thought suddenly
occurred to her. “What did he overhear? We talked about the blue
moon, and about the widow and Sully. Did he hear us?”

“We talked about Mrs.
MacPherson and Sully down the road a ways.” Richard’s tone was
still hard, his normal casual air absent. “We were in a big open
area. He didn’t hear. And anything he overheard about the blue moon
he wouldn’t understand.”

Creeped out, and
feeling menaced, she hurried back to the cabin, ran up the steps,
opened the door and checked on the kids. They were sound asleep and
breathing evenly.

She let out a
breath.

The blue moon couldn’t
get here soon enough. She wanted to go home.

Melissa glared at the
foreman. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Mrs. MacPherson was
avoiding me.”

The older gentleman
tugged at his ear and his sharp-eyed gaze dropped to the ground.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know about that, ma’am.” He slid a look toward
the main residence. “Have you checked up at the big house?”

Melissa’s eyes
narrowed. She knew when she was being given the run-around. She had
no doubt the foreman knew exactly what went on at all times in this
place. Did the guy think she was an idiot?

“Yes, I’ve checked the
house! And the office, the orchard, the corral, and the stables;
everywhere you’ve told me to look. I also asked at the bunkhouse,
checked in the smokehouse, and I know she wouldn’t be in the
bathhouse. She’s not out by any of the cisterns, wells, fields or
even in the--”

A rumble of wheels had
Melissa turning her head just in time to see a horse and buggy
coming out of the barn. The widow was driving.

Melissa ran the four yards to the dirt-packed road, blocked
the passage of the horse, raised her arms and waved.
“
Wait!
I need to
talk to you
!”

The brown horse jerked
its head and snorted.

Melissa didn’t
move.

At the last second, the
widow pulled on the reins, the buggy stopped, and the irritating
woman sighed loudly. “All right, Mrs. Kendal. What do you want? I’m
headed toward town and I have a very busy day ahead of me.”

Yes, no doubt hiding
from people took a lot of effort. Melissa bit back the comment and
smiled instead. This situation couldn’t be more perfect. Privacy
was exactly what they needed. “Great. I’ll go with you.”

The widow’s mouth
pressed tight, but when Melissa stepped up into the buggy, she
moved to accommodate her. The moment Melissa sat down, the widow
flicked the reins, clicked her tongue, and they were off.

Melissa swayed back,
righted herself and settled in to enjoy the light bounce of the
springs. It might be a lame mode of transportation, but it was
actually kind of fun. “Nice day.”

“Is it?”

Melissa looked up at
the blue skies as they drove past the orchard. “I think so. Not too
hot, not too cold, the breeze is pleasant and I like the smell of
the hay and--”

”Just tell me what it
is that you want.”

Melissa’s spine
stiffened and she stared at the space between the horse’s twitching
ears. Hadn’t the woman ever heard of small talk? Melissa was
nervous enough to broach the subject, and didn’t need to be snapped
at.

She huffed out a
breath. “Okay, fine. We’ll dispense with the courtesies. I would
like you to write a personal history, all about yourself and your
life: where you come from, who your ancestors are and where they
come from. Things like that. Sully’s putting one together too.”
Melissa darted a glance sideways.

The widow’s mouth hung
open and she snorted in amazement. “I can’t imagine why you would
want such a thing from me, or why you’d think I’d give it to
you.”

“Can’t you?”

Straightening her
shoulders, the widow turned to stare straight ahead. “No, I
can’t.”

Melissa sighed. The
woman never made things easy. “Okay, here’s the deal. My
mother-in-law is into genealogy; you know, researching her
ancestry. Richard too, though not to the same extent.”

Melissa took a deep
breath and swallowed. “And the fact that you are Andy Sullivan’s
birth mother, and the fact that no one knows about it, would be
very exciting for Richard’s family. And the more they know about
you and your family, the happier they will be.”

There was a very long
pause. Melissa, shoulders tight, didn’t look at the widow and
wondered if she’d be thrown out of the buggy. She gripped the black
seat.

“Sully?” the widow
choked out hoarsely.

Melissa let out the
breath she’d been holding. “No, he didn’t tell me. I guessed when I
saw you with Jessica. She resembles you, and especially your photo
in the parlor. I confronted Sully and told him I already knew
everything. He filled me in on the rest.”

Silence lasted for a
long time. A flock of small birds darted out of a tree and streamed
in front of them, only to reroute and return to the tree. The
steady clop of the horses’ hooves filled the air.

The widow’s hands were
white on the reins. “Sorry, but I’ll have to decline your request.
I’m not interested in opening my soul for your amusement. I suppose
this has to do with the changing time thing?”

Melissa frowned. “Yes,
the time travel. Don’t you believe me anymore?”

“No, I don’t. I never
did.”

Oh really? Melissa
wanted to ask why she’d cried when she’d found out her son was
alive. Why she was hanging out with Jessica. Why Jeremy was coming
home too full to eat dinner because he’d been waylaid by the widow
and fed? Why she’d been pumping the kids for how many cousins,
aunts and uncles they had--if she didn’t believe.

But Melissa refrained.
She didn’t want the widow to stop something that was giving both
her and the children pleasure. “Please do this. It will mean
something to the ones who come after you.”

“No.”

“You’ve still got a
week to think about it. A week until we leave.”

“I won’t change my
mind.”

Frustration had Melissa
grinding her teeth. She knew what the problem was, but didn’t know
how to address it with tact. She decided to just jump into it.
“Look, you’re being silly. What happened in the past doesn’t matter
anymore. The only thing that matters is what you’ve made of
yourself. You should be proud of who you are and what you’ve done
with your life. Proud that you’re helping so many people build
lives here on the ranch, and proud that so many love you.”

Melissa’s gut twisted,
as she realized that the same logic could apply to her own
situation. That she should be proud of who she’d become rather than
ashamed of her past.

She shut off the
wayward thought. This wasn’t about her, it was about the widow.
“Your posterity in the future will be thrilled to find out about
the way you overcame hardships and became a prominent figure in the
community. They’ll be excited to know who you are in your own
words.”

The widow sat,
stern-faced, but listening.

Melissa waved a hand.
“You don’t have to do it now. You don’t have to give it to me.
After we go back you can give the information to Sully. He’ll know
what to do with it.”

The widow pulled the
buggy to a stop. “Are you finished? I think you can walk back from
here.”

Melissa paused. How did
she get through to the woman?

“I’ll bet your
descendants know all about Louisa. I’m sure they are very delighted
by her and proud to be related to her.”

The widow’s eyes
flashed fire. “Out. Right now. Get out.”

“You’re worried that
I’m trying to trick you; that you’ll look like a fool if you
believe me. But if your son shows up in a couple of years, you’ll
know I was right. Then will you write your history?”

Wide-eyed, Mrs.
MacPherson turned to Melissa and a sudden sheen of moisture
brightened her eyes. “My son,” she said softly. “That’s the first
time anyone has ever called him that.” She paused, swallowed, then
nodded. “Yes. If my son shows up, then I’ll write a history and
give it to Sully.”

Melissa willed back the
dampness in her own eyes. “Promise?”

“Yes. I promise. Now
will you get out?”

Melissa looked around.
They were still on the dirt road leading away from the ranch, but
were almost to the main road. She’d have a good mile to walk back.
“Yes, I do believe this is my stop.”

She climbed down and
watched the widow drive away, leaving a trail of dust that slid off
to the side of the road. Satisfaction burned through her. She’d
done what she’d set out to do. Richard and his mom would be
ecstatic if everything worked out.

She started the walk
back and wondered if her life would mean something to someone
someday; if perhaps she should write a personal history.

The thought made her
stomach lurch. She wouldn’t want anyone to ever know about her
early years. Those were private, and she’d never reveal them to
another soul.

A niggling feeling of
uncertainty dug at her conscience and she wondered again if
perhaps, just like the widow, she too should be proud of who she’d
made herself into.

* * *

Jessica ran to the
table, peered over Melissa’s shoulder and gasped. “Come on, Mom,
hurry! Everyone is setting up. We’re going to be the last ones
there!”

Melissa whipped the frosting a few more times. “Okay,
okay,
okay
!
Richard and Jeremy, you go ahead and take the table outside,” she
gripped the frosting bowl with one arm and lifted the cake off the
table and onto the still warm stove. “I’ll just finish this over
here.”

Melissa spooned
frosting from the bowl onto the cake and started to spread the
creamy mixture.

“Yes, ma’am,” said
Jeremy.

Melissa glanced up to
see if she was being sassed, but wasn’t. Manners were rubbing off
onto her son.

Richard hefted one end
of the table, Jeremy lifted the other, and they headed out the
door. Richard winked at her. “We’ll try to save you some food.”

Melissa rolled her
eyes. “I’m coming!”

Jessica practically
danced around the room. “Everyone is there already. We can’t be
late for our own party!”

Exasperated, Melissa
hissed out a slow, steady breath. “I’m almost done. Take the bowl
of cookies and go.”

Jessica grabbed the
cloth-covered bowl. “Do you need more help, or can I stay
outside?”

“No, you go ahead. I’ll
be right there.”

Jessica left at a
run.

Melissa finished
frosting the cake, cleaned the knife and cut lightly into the
frosting, decorating with little diamond-like swirls the way Emma
had shown her. She lifted the pan, headed outside, and walked
toward the widow’s house.

A part of her just
couldn’t believe their family was leaving tomorrow night. Couldn’t
believe how quickly the day was flying by. Church had already been
over for a few hours, dinner was finished, the women were done
baking, and it was already after five. Time was going fast. Too
fast.