Summer of Two Wishes (17 page)

While Wyatt was waiting for Randy, Macy was lying facedown on her bed, her hair covering her face. In the hand that dangled off the edge of the bed she held a picture of her and Finn taken at an Independence Day lake party several years ago. She was wearing long, tropical-print surfboard shorts, a bathing suit top, and a big floppy hat. Finn had on his straw cowboy hat, a muscle T-shirt that said
Lucchese Boots
across his chest, and plain brown board shorts. Macy was laughing at something the person taking the photo had said—one of those big, openmouthed laughs, which she thought was odd now, since she couldn’t remember the joke any longer.

But what struck her about the photo was Finn. He was smiling in that lone cowboy way he had, like he knew something no one else knew, or saw something no one else saw.

In her other hand, which was balled up beneath her pillow, Macy held a picture of her and Wyatt on a cruise along the Pacific coast they’d taken last summer. It had been one of many surprises from Wyatt, just because he’d wanted to surprise her.

In the picture, they were standing in the ship’s casino. Macy was wearing the dress Wyatt had bought her—a shimmering peach silk that she’d loved—and holding a stack of chips. He was wearing the Hawaiian shirt she hated, but never had the heart to tell him. He loved that shirt. They looked picture perfect, a happy couple very much in love. They’d
been
that perfect couple. They’d talked about children, both of them wanting several, and they’d started trying this summer, and now…
now
….

Everything will be all right.

Milo whimpered to be let out of her room. Macy got up, pulled a shirt on over her shorts, and opened the door. Milo scampered down the hall.

“Macy-cakes Clark, is that you?” Jesse called.

Macy stuck her head out the door and saw Jesse down the hall. “Who wants to know?”

“Just making sure you’re alive,” he said, strolling down the hall toward her. “You never miss having a couple of bowls of Froot Loops and when we didn’t see you this morning, I worried something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, realizing that she sounded defensive as hell. “Where’s Laru?”

“Out telling Ernesto how to do his job,” Jesse said with a grin, and paused outside her door. “What you got there?” he asked, nodding at her hand.

Macy looked down. She was still clutching the picture of Wyatt. “Nothing,” she said, and moved back into her room. A brush. She needed a hairbrush.

“Lot of nothings in this room,” Jesse observed, propping his shoulder against the jamb.

“Okay, Jesse, you’ve seen me, I’m alive,” Macy said, and pushed a handful of her hair from her face. Where was her hairbrush?

“You coming? I’ll put out some Cap’n Crunch for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, and looked away.

Still, Jesse didn’t move. Macy glanced back to see why he was loitering and noticed he was looking at something at the foot of her bed. Macy followed his gaze and saw the pregnancy test stick that she’d thrown to the end of the bed and left there. With a cry of alarm, she lunged for the stick, but it was too late. Jesse was staring at her, eyes widened with shock, as if she’d done something criminal.

“That is none of your business!” she cried, shoving the stick under her pillow.

“I’ll take it from that reaction that it came up positive,” he said dryly. “Jesus, girl, you’re a mess. Now what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know what I am going to do, but if you breathe a word of this to
anyone
, Jesse Wheeler, I will personally wring your neck!”

He looked slightly offended. “I wouldn’t give you up.”

“Not even Laru,” Macy cried, pointing her finger at him.

“
Especially
Laru. You think I’m crazy? If she knew this, she’d be all over you like spines on a cactus, and just about that prickly.”

“Tell me about it,” Macy muttered.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jesse asked. Macy instantly looked up, suspicious. But Jesse shrugged. “I like you, kid. If I can help you, I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. The pregnancy test changed everything. She still wasn’t sure she believed it. The two tests she’d taken hadn’t turned as blue as the picture on the box. She and Finn had tried for two years to have a baby, and she and Wyatt had just started trying. It had taken two weeks!

“Would it be rude to ask who is the father?” Jesse asked.

“Are you kidding? It’s Wyatt’s, Jesse!”

“Hey, okay,” Jesse said, throwing up a hand. “I know you’re in a tough spot. When I heard about the scene at Ruthie’s—”

“What?” Macy cried. “You
heard
about that?”

Jesse was beginning to look a little uncomfortable. “Macy, have you
been
to Cedar Springs? Because in case you didn’t notice during the twenty-eight years you’ve lived here, it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone else’s business. I think the only person who hasn’t heard about what happened is the guy who owns that hubcap place out on 71, and only because he’s deaf.”

“Ohmigod,” Macy moaned.

“Look, don’t freak out,” Jesse said. “That test could be wrong.”

“It could?” Macy asked hopefully. “See, that’s what I was thinking!”

“Oh, yeah. I had a girlfriend once who thought she was pregnant. That thing came up so blue you’d think the sky was in her bathroom. But it was wrong. Turns out she had too much stress or something like it.”

Stress! Macy was under an incredible amount of stress. She looked at the stick.

“But if it turns out to be right, you let me know if you need something,” Jesse said. He walked out, leaving Macy with hope that it was false.

Randy pulled up in his black Dodge one-ton Hemi pickup at precisely nine o’clock. He gestured for Wyatt to get in his truck. Wyatt preferred to drive, but he never argued with a prospective buyer.

They drove out west of town and deep into the Hill Country to have a look at the prime ranchland Wyatt was hoping to sell Randy. They got out and walked a good ways into six hundred unspoiled acres so Randy could size it up for grazing suitability.

In the middle of a grassy patch, Randy swept off his trucker hat and looked at Wyatt. “You’re right, Wyatt—this is good land.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Let’s go on back to town and talk,” Randy said.

A wave of relief rushed through Wyatt—Randy was going to buy, he could feel it. “All right,” he said dispassionately.

As they started back to the truck, Randy asked, “So how are you these days, Wyatt? That soldier still in town?”

“Yep,” Wyatt said curtly. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

“So what’s up with that?” Randy asked unabashedly, squinting at him. “Must be strange for your wife, man, and you’ve gotta be in a strange place.”

So strange he couldn’t see a foot in front of him. Wyatt needed this deal too much to risk offending Randy by telling him to keep his mouth shut. “Yeah, she’s got to make some decisions, I guess.” He said it with a laugh that sounded more like a bark to him than anything else.

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to pry. I just figured—”

“It’s complicated,” Wyatt said.

“Okay,” Randy muttered as they trudged up the hill. “So how’s the resort and spa coming?” he asked jovially, changing the subject.

Wyatt glanced at Randy. “Truth is, the idea for that project was developed on the land Lockhart owned before he was given up for dead. It was part of the package I put together and I was about to close the deal on behalf of my wife, and then Lockhart drops out of the sky and wants it back.”

“Oh man,” Randy said sympathetically. “How much land are we talking?”

“Three hundred acres of prime ranchland.”

“What did he run on it?”

“A few dozen head of cattle. His real business was training working cutting horses.”

“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” Randy said, nodding. “Pretty good at it, too, wasn’t he?”

To hear Macy tell it, he was God’s gift to horses. “I gather he was one of the best in the southwest.”

“That sucks,” Randy said.

“Yep. Yeah, this whole thing really sucks,” Wyatt admitted, letting his guard down for a rare moment. “We were using the southern end of the property for a condo development, and we’d even begun a little of the excavation on the southern end of his ranch. I mean, I represent the seller and the buyer—I couldn’t see the harm in it, but then wham, the bottom falls out when this guy turns up alive.”

“No kidding. When was it supposed to close?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Wyatt said. He had yet to cancel the closing. Couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember, something like that.

“You’ve got the legal authority to sell?”

“Yes. My wife couldn’t face selling it but knew it had to be sold, so she gave me power of attorney.” He explained the legal situation to Randy as his lawyer Jack had explained it to him: If Wyatt sold the land, he would have to return the value to Finn, but they wouldn’t take the land from the new owner. At least in that scenario, Wyatt would be out the money, but he’d have the land.

Randy stopped walking, put his hands on his hips, and looked at Wyatt. “Look, Wyatt, I don’t want to get in your business, but I get the idea you don’t want this guy around.”

Wyatt snorted. “Would you?”

“You haven’t met my wife,” Randy said. “But I’m serious about this. If you want the soldier to move on, the best way to make that happen is to sell that land. If he doesn’t have a way to make his living, then what’s he going to do? He’s going to go somewhere he can have the kind of space he needs to run cattle and train cutters. West Texas, most like.”

Wyatt stared at Randy. What he was suggesting was so unethical, so outrageous, so abhorrent that Wyatt couldn’t believe Randy had even
said
it.

But Randy merely shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you want that guy gone, the best way to do it is to go ahead and sell his livelihood.”

“Okay, a, that is not exactly legal at this point, and b, all he’d have to do is take it to a judge and get it back,” Wyatt said incredulously.

“That’s right. But think about it. They’ve done the title search, right? A big title company in Austin isn’t going to connect Lockhart to that land at this point. They’re just shoving papers under your hand to sign. Legal or not, you know as well as I do that stuff gets through these closings that shouldn’t all the time. So it happens. Then Lockhart will be going up against a conglomerate that’s already begun excavation on a multimillion-dollar project. You think he’s got the kind of money he’d need to fight it?”

“He’d have the proceeds from the sale of the land,” Wyatt pointed out.

“That money will be sitting in your account. How’s he going to get it unless you give it to him? Furthermore, what if you just wrote him a check? He’s still going to want his land back, and he’ll run through all his money and them some trying to get it back. Then he’d have nothing. No, he’d take the money and run.”

“No,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to do anything that underhanded. It’s not right, Randy.” He meant it. He would do whatever it took to save his marriage, short of stealing the land right out from under Lockhart as Randy was suggesting.

“Suit yourself,” Randy said, and started walking again.

Finn’s nightmares kept getting longer and more vivid instead of fading away as he’d hoped, terrifying him in the middle of the night and waking him with a pounding heart and sweat-drenched body.

He’d gotten into the habit of drinking a couple of beers to get back to sleep.

That particular morning, he couldn’t get back to sleep because his mind was on Macy, on his ranch, on where he went from here. He should never have let her out of the truck two days ago without something more than a vague promise to call it off with Wyatt. He’d expected to hear from her by now.

Why hadn’t she called him?
After that explosive night at Two Wishes, he’d thought that was it; situation resolved, nothing left to do but tell Wyatt and tidy it up with whatever legal action was required.

The anxiety was making him crazy. He could call her, but Finn felt like he’d laid it out there more than once. He needed Macy to make the next move.

He tried to keep his mind from blowing up by working around the folks’ place. He repaired a fence and hauled out some salt licks, dropping them around for the cattle. He helped his dad work on an old tractor. When he finished that, he drove down to Two Wishes and took down the
FOR SALE
sign. But then he wandered aimlessly about. There was so much work to be done, work that required money. Finn couldn’t ask his folks for it. The only other option he had was to get a job and work on the ranch in his spare time. That idea only added to his anxiety, which felt like it could pick him up and carry him off at any moment.

Finn returned to his folks’ house and helped himself to a beer. He guzzled it and was contemplating another one when he felt someone else in the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder.

His mother was standing there, staring disapprovingly at the beer in his hand.

“What?” he snapped.

“I worry about you.”

God, he didn’t want to have this conversation again. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine, huh? Is that why you don’t sleep? Why you won’t talk with the man from New York? Why you won’t let anyone help you?”

“The only help I need is getting my life back on track,” he said irritably, and decided to have another beer after all. He grabbed it out of the fridge and opened it.

“Finneus, you drink around the clock! Don’t you see that is not normal?”

“I’m not exactly normal anymore, Mom. It’s not like I’m home from college.” He opened the cabinet and pulled down a bag of tortilla chips.

“Oh Finn,” his mother said with disgust. “At least let me make you some lunch.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said.

His mother snatched the bag of chips from his hand. “You’re
not
good. Now listen to me,” she said sternly as she put the chips back in the cabinet. “You have got to get some help. I was talking to Reverend Duffy and he said—”

“Mom, don’t,” Finn warned her. “Don’t start preaching at me. I can’t take that.”

“I am not preaching at you! I am trying to get you to see that you need help! Finn, please, for my sake, talk to someone!”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone!” he exploded. “Why is that so hard for you to understand? I need my life back! I need to get out of this house, to buy a couple of horses and get Macy, and I need to start
living
! I haven’t lived in three years, Mom! I haven’t—”

He suddenly couldn’t speak. There was a pain in his chest—a stifling sort of pain—and he winced, clutching his chest.

“Finn!” his mother cried, and put her hand over his, the other on his forehead. “Oh dear God! I’m calling 911—”

“No, no,” he said, and gripped her hand. The pain passed. “It’s nothing. Indigestion. Too many beers.” He had to get out of his parents’ house. He patted his mother’s hand. “Really, I’m fine.”

He put the beer down, squeezed his mother’s shoulder, and moved past her. He didn’t look at her—he wasn’t so far gone that he liked seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he said.

“What about lunch?”

“No, thanks, Mom!” he said over his shoulder, and walked down the hallway, past the new shrine she had put up on the wall—all the various clippings about his survival, framed and arranged around his Purple Heart.

Either he got out of here, or he would lose his freaking mind.

Macy never ate her cereal—she’d gotten sick again. As she was preparing to leave for an afternoon meeting about the gala, Jesse handed her a cheese sandwich and some crackers. “Try to eat the sandwich and put these crackers in your purse. Eat them if you get nauseated.”

Macy gave him a quick, appraising look. “How do you know this stuff?”

“I’m a multitalented kind of guy,” Jesse said with a wink. “And I was the oldest. My mom had four more after me, so I learned a couple of things.”

“Thanks, Jesse.”

“Thank you for what?” Laru called, padding out into the entry in bare feet and the extremely short bathrobe she favored. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed Jesse. “Thank you for what?” she asked.

“For cleaning up the kitchen. She’s running late,” Jesse said. He ruffled Laru’s hair and started toward the kitchen.

“God, Macy, you are so pale,” Laru said, folding her arms and studying Macy’s face. Behind her, Jesse whirled around and made a slashing motion across his throat. He pointed to her Jeep, indicating Macy should go. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just tired,” Macy said. “I better run—”

“This is craziness,” Laru said. “You’ve got to come to some conclusion, Macy—for
your
sake. You’re going to ruin your health if you don’t. Look at you, you’re so bloated!”

“Bloated!”
Macy cried, her hand going to her belly.

“You devour carbs—what do you expect?”

“Okay,” Macy said, working hard to remain even, “I really have to run.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Laru asked, her brow furrowing with suspicion. “I know that frantic look. What’s going on?”

“I’m late.”
In more ways than one
. “I’ve really got to go.” She waved her fingers as she hurried out the front door and down the flagstone walk to her Jeep. As she got into the driver’s seat, she glanced back and saw Laru standing there, still frowning.

“Lord,” she muttered, and started her car. But she’d barely reached the end of the drive when her cell phone rang.

“Macy, I’ve been hoping you’d call,” Finn said when she answered. His low voice was like a salve to an open wound, and tears welled in Macy. She was on a hormonal roller coaster and felt like she was about to plummet again. “I need to see you, too,” she said tearfully.

“Are you crying?”

“No! Yes,” she said, pulling over to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“What’s wrong—has something happened?” he demanded.

“Nothing’s happened. It’s…it’s
everything
,” she said. “Everything! It should be so simple, Finn, but it just gets harder—”

“I’m coming to get you—”

“No, no,” Macy said, and shook her head, clearing it. “No, really, I’m all right. I’m just tired. I’m on my way to a meeting about the fund-raiser. I missed the last one, so I can’t miss this one, and there is so much work to do, and honestly, I’ve been useless—I can’t let them down.”

“When can I see you?”

“I’ll call you—”

“I’m not waiting for you to call me—”

“Finn, please. I’ll call you, just as soon as I get out of this meeting. I have to think of a place we can meet—”

“What do you mean?”

“Austin,” Macy said, her mind rushing ahead. “People won’t recognize us in Austin.”

There was silence on the other end. “Am I understanding you? You want to meet in Austin like…like we’re having an affair?”

That was precisely what she meant, but when he said it like that, it sounded so base, so strange. “No, I don’t mean that,” Macy said. “I just don’t…” She didn’t know what she was doing.

“When are you going to tell him?” Finn asked quietly.

Her head was throbbing now. “I…I’m going to, but it’s very hard. I mean—” She had no idea what to say. She could scarcely think.

“Okay, Macy,” Finn said. “Okay. But I need to see you.”

“All right, yes. I’ll call you just as soon as I can.”

He didn’t answer right away. “Listen…I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly. “I’m sorry this is so hard on you.”

“I’m sorry for us all,” she said.

The “Life Under the Texas Stars” fund-raiser meeting was in full swing when Macy entered. She was at least fifteen minutes late, maybe more, and she waved as she hurried to her seat. But as she took her seat, she detected uneasiness in the room. Macy looked around the table; there were Mr. and Mrs. Francis, who had lost a son in Iraq and had donated quite a lot of energy and money to Project Lifeline. And Misty Fitzgerald, whose sister had served three tours in Iraq before she was discharged. Misty’s sister had committed suicide about three weeks after that, a victim of PTSD. There was Jasper Adams, whose son was at Brook Army Medical Center in San Antonio, his legs gone, his torso and arms badly burned. And Brian Cahill, whose father had been killed by friendly fire.

And last but not least, Samantha Delaney, who was sitting at the head of the table, staring at the paper in front of her.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Macy said, feeling conspicuous. “I know I’ve been a slacker, but I finished stuffing the mailers. They’re in my car, ready to go.”

No one said anything.

“Please don’t stop on my account,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”

“Macy, we’ve been talking,” Sam said, still looking at her notes. “And we’ve come to a difficult decision.” She glanced up then, her eyes dark and surprisingly cold.

“We have?” Macy asked, looking around the room.

“We think we need to substitute someone else to host the event. Brian knows Rick Barnes from the local NBC station and thinks he can get him to be the emcee.”

Macy blinked.
She
was supposed to be the emcee, to run the silent auction. They’d been over it already and everyone had agreed she’d be the best person for the job. But there was something in Sam’s expression that caused Macy’s heart to slide. “But why?”

“We…” Sam glanced around the table. “We don’t think it’s a good idea because your husband came home, and…and you haven’t decided what to do with him.”

“I haven’t decided what to
do
with him?” Macy echoed incredulously. “What has that got to do with being the emcee of a silent auction? I’ve worked as hard as anyone sitting at this table,” she reminded them.

“Macy,” Mrs. Francis said kindly, “this isn’t a knock against your hard work, or abilities, and Lord knows you’ve poured your heart and soul into this. But Sam’s right—your situation has changed and we don’t want this important event to be overshadowed by your circumstances. I’m sure you don’t want that either. Everyone in this town is talking about it.”

“Talking about what?” she asked uneasily.

Mrs. Francis looked uncomfortably at the others. “Who…who you’re going to choose.”

Shocked, Macy gaped at them. “It’s not a lottery,” she said quietly.

“Of course not,” Mrs. Francis said. “But the local media wants to know if you’re going to be at the fund-raiser and the mayor thought it would be a great opportunity to give Mr. Lockhart the key to the city, but we thought, what about Mr. Clark? He’s a generous donor and has been a great supporter. Do you see our dilemma?”

Macy couldn’t believe it. She looked around the room. “Is this a joke?” she asked hopefully.

“We wouldn’t joke about something like this,” Sam said quietly. “We know how much it means to you.”

Sam knew better than anyone else. They’d sat up like schoolgirls the night they’d conceived the idea, talking about the possibility, excitedly planning it. “You’re right, it does mean quite a lot to me,” Macy said. “We came up with the idea together, Sam. We’ve worked a long time to organize it. I’ve booked some of the best music acts in the area and convinced people to donate services and activities they wouldn’t have otherwise donated. And now, because my husband is alive, you are going to remove me from the event?”

“We’re not removing you,” Jasper said uneasily. “There’s plenty of work to be done besides standing out front.”

“Right. Stuffing envelopes,” Macy said. “I’ve done that. I am ready to raise quite a bit of money in the auction.”

“But the thing is, Macy, you’ve got
two
husbands,” Sam said, as if she were explaining this to a child. “We don’t want your two husbands getting all the press for this fund-raiser. Surely you can understand that we want to keep all the attention on the work we are doing, can’t you?”

Macy felt ill. “Samantha, come on. Don’t do this.”

The color drained from Sam’s face and she looked down. Macy looked around the room. Everyone was staring at her, unable to answer.

“Okay,” she said, getting to her feet. “I understand. I’ve got all the mailers in my car. I’ll leave them on the hood of yours, Sam.” She picked up her purse.

“Macy! Don’t leave!” Mrs. Francis pleaded with her. “There’s a lot we need to talk about!”

“You guys seem to doing fine without me.” She glanced at Sam on the way out, but Sam was looking at her notes again, her jaw clenched resolutely.