Reunited with the Cowboy (9 page)

“It's cream of potato soup,” she said. “I made it this afternoon.”

“You always were a fine cook,” he said.

“And you're a fine guy for saying exactly the right thing,” she returned, her smile blossoming.

As their eyes met, he felt a quieting in his soul. In spite of her high spirits as a young girl, he could always do that to her. Make her smile. Whenever they were together, he felt as if he was exactly in the right place, with the right person.

Then her smile shifted, her expression grew serious and emotions, a blend of old and new, swirled between them.

He wanted to get up, close the space between them and pull her into his arms. Kiss her.

He looked away, massaging his forehead. He wished he could get his thoughts organized. Keep his focus. He thought of his daughter and slowly got to his feet. “I'll go check on Adana,” he said.

“She's upstairs. In Lee's old bedroom, across from mine.”

The fact that he knew exactly which room had belonged to which Bannister sibling was a reminder of how entwined his life was with theirs, especially Heather.

Adana was fast asleep in the crib, her thumb in her mouth, her bottom in the air. She was wearing sleepers and smelled of shampoo and baby soap. Obviously, Heather had bathed her while he'd slept. The thought made him smile.

John pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “Sleep tight, little one,” he whispered.

As he stroked his daughter's cheek, his thoughts drifted to the child Heather had lost. The fact that she'd told him explained so much, and had caused a seismic shift in his perception of Heather's actions around Adana.

And created a measure of sympathy for what Heather had gone through.

Please, Lord, help Heather through this
, he prayed.
Comfort her in her sorrow. Help her to find her place in this world.

As he tried to imagine what that might look like, a small intriguing image lurked around the edges of his mind.

He and Heather and Adana. Here on Refuge Ranch. Together.

He tried to shake that thought off. Heather was just passing through. The phone call she'd taken this morning was a stark reminder of that. He had to be careful and not fool himself, again, into thinking she would choose him over any other plan she was making.

He came back downstairs, clinging to the bannister, disappointed at how shaky he felt. He sank down on the couch again just as Heather brought a tray into the living room.

“You look exhausted,” she said. “Are you sure you don't want to go to bed? You can sleep in the room with Adana.”

The thought tempted him, but he shook his head. “I'll just eat something and then head back to the house.”

“Okay. Sit up and I'll give you the tray. Unless you'd sooner eat in the kitchen.”

He glanced toward the table, but the thought of getting up again and walking over there seemed like too much work. Especially when his food was right in front of him.

So he sat up and Heather put the tray on his lap. The soup made his mouth water, but before he picked up the spoon, he bowed his head and prayed a blessing on the food, then prayed again for clear thoughts and direction.

“You still do that,” Heather said quietly as she settled in her chair.

“Do what?”

“Pray before you eat.”

“You used to, also.” In fact, when they were dating they'd often prayed together.

“I did. My faith life has been barren of late.”

“In that case, it was good to see you in church on Sunday.”

“Felt good to be there. I appreciated what the pastor had to say. That our walls are ever before God. That though we are a work in progress, He is patiently remembering us and working with us. That's...that's a big comfort for me right now.” She picked up the book she'd been reading, running her hand along the edge of the pages.

“In what way?”

She just looked at the book, silent, and he wondered if she was going to answer. Then she gazed over at him.

“Like I said, my life has been fragmented.” She spoke tentatively, as if ashamed of what she might be telling him. “It's been kind of messy. A real work in progress, and I'm comforted by the fact that God is guiding me. I just have to trust that everything that happened to me had a purpose.” After a moment's pause, she picked up the book she'd been reading and opened it. As if ending that conversation.

John let it lie for now. But he thought of the baby she'd lost and her divorce from Mitch. John didn't want to delve too deeply into her past, since it seemed to hurt her to talk about it, yet at the same time that made him want to know more.

She might be an old girlfriend, but she was still a friend who was hurting. He wanted to help her, but sensed it would have to wait until she was ready to tell him.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“The Cat in the Hat,”
she said, giving him a sly grin, a happy glimpse of the old Heather.

Her answer hearkened back to a prank John had played on her when she was in junior high school. Heather didn't like reading, something that Monty and Ellen often complained about. John used to tease her about it. She'd always told him that she would only read books that were short and to the point. So, as a joke, he'd bought a secondhand copy of
The Cat in the Hat
at the library's year-end sale and given it to her.

She'd laughed about it, and next year, for his birthday, she'd given it back to him. It became a running joke between them.

“I won't spoil the ending for you,” he retorted. As he ate, he slowly felt as if his brain was firing on a few more cylinders. “Have you seen the movie?”

“Didn't do the book justice.”

He laughed and she lowered her head, back to her book.

But this time the silence held a comfort that surprised him. He finished his soup, set the tray on the coffee table, then picked up the mug of tea she had made him.

“So what are you really reading?” he asked as he leaned back on the couch.

She showed him the cover. “It's called
Reclaiming Peace.
”

“I've heard of it. Is that the one about a young girl growing up in Russia?”

“Not the happiest read, but it's compelling.” Heather slanted him a curious look. “You seem surprised.”

“A bit. From someone who didn't like reading much...”

“I started reading more when I was modeling.”

“You had time to read?”

“It's not all posing and walking down runways. There's a lot of time spent waiting for lighting to be set up, having hair and makeup done. Gets tedious at times. A friend lent me one of her books, which I started reading because I was mind-numbingly bored. To my surprise I enjoyed it more than any of the reading I ever did in college.”

“I got the idea you didn't enjoy college.” He recalled some of the letters she had written to him.

She bit her lip, looking down at her book again, then slowly shook her head. “I didn't. I never told you, because I was too ashamed, but I didn't do well in college. At all.”

John frowned. “I didn't know that.”

“It was a hard thing to face,” she said, her eyes still on her book. “I had hoped to graduate with something. Some degree. Something that would make you proud of me.”

“What do you mean?”

She ran her thumb up and down the edge of the book, as if trying to draw out the right thing to say. “When we were dating, I was always aware of who I was. Where I came from. The pretty girl whose mom was a drunk. I wanted to be more than that for you. I wanted to be deserving of you.”

He could only stare at her, as her words settled into his muddled mind.

“But when I was in college, I missed you too much,” she continued. “I couldn't study or concentrate. That second year I kind of gave up, and my marks showed it. But Mom and Dad had paid so much for me to go. I felt so stuck. I knew I wouldn't be graduating with a degree, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility. Then Mitch came around, promising me a job that would pay well. Modeling.”

She stopped there, biting her lip, then looked over at John, her eyes holding his. “You were right to warn me about Mitch. I should never have gone with him. I should have told you what was happening in my life.”

“Why didn't you?”

Heather pursed her lips, as if still weighing what to say and how to tell him. Finally, she said, “I was afraid. Ashamed.” Her eyes held a glint of sorrow. “I should never have broken up with you,” she continued. “Never. I'm so sorry. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

He could only stare at her as her words fell into the parched and empty places that his life had been after she'd left Saddlebank. After she'd broken up with him.

As he gazed at Heather, as their eyes met in a long, soul-searching look, he felt the hesitant stirrings of promise. Of hope.

Chapter Nine

A
s Heather noted John's shocked expression, her mind raced.

Should she have told him? Should she have kept her feelings to herself, when she knew she would be leaving?

But at the same time, she felt as if a load she'd been carrying too long was finally lifted from her shoulders. The past few days she had spent with him reminded her how much she respected John and how dearly she wanted his forgiveness for the mistakes she had made in her life. She wanted to clear things up between them and remove the shadows on their friendship.

Is that the only reason? Could it also have something to do with that photo of you he still has?

She pushed the question away even as her heartbeat quickened. Under John's scrutiny, she felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted, setting her on another path. Though she wasn't sure where she was headed, it seemed now as if she had John at her side.

“So why did you?” he asked. “Why did you break up with me? Was it because of our fight?”

She had started this, Heather reminded herself. She had to finish it.

She folded her hands in her lap and gathered her thoughts. “You need to know where I was at, how I was feeling. I'm not trying to excuse my behavior, but explain it to you.”

He was silent, so she continued.

“I had just gotten my midterm grades for my second year and I had failed. Badly. I was so depressed. I knew I wasn't going to pass, which meant I was never going to be a teacher. I felt useless. Through my parents, I had heard about Sandy. How well she was doing and that she was graduating top of her class. That made me feel even more ashamed. Then out of the blue Mitch called me up. There was a career fair that weekend at the college and Mitch said he would be there representing the modeling agency he was interning for. He encouraged me to check it out. So I did. The guy he was with told me that I could have a great career as a model. I didn't tell you at the time, but Mitch and he flew me to New York to meet with the guy's boss the following week. He was excited, and after failing so badly at school, I found it great to hear. I felt like modeling was something that I could do. That I might finally be good at.”

“And that's when you signed on with him.”

“And that's when you and I had our big fight.”

John sighed, pushing his hand through his hair as if he still remembered the awful words they had thrown at each other.

“I'm sorry—”

She shook her head. “No. Don't be. You were right. I should have figured out a way around my problem instead of listening to Mitch. Trouble was, what he offered seemed so much easier than studying harder and taking extra courses, like you suggested. I was afraid if I did what you said, I would fail even more, and I couldn't face that. I'd had enough failures in my life.” She drew in a long, slow breath, as if centering herself. Finding her way through this tangle of broken dreams. “Like you warned me, I took the easy way. Trouble was, it didn't turn out to be the easy way.”

“What do you mean?”

Too late, she realized that she had ventured too far into waters she'd promised herself she would never stir up again.

“It doesn't matter,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “For now, I needed you to know that what we had mattered to me. That I didn't just walk away without regrets.” Admitting this seemed to shift what had happened between then and now.

John sighed and laid his head back on the couch, but still gazed at her. “I think all of us live with one type of regret or another. None of us make the right decisions all the time. I think it's a consequence of life.”

“Do you have any regrets?” she asked.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. A few. I regret letting you go as easily as I did. Truth was, I was jealous of Mitch. The first time you two dated, I remember thinking I had missed my chance with you. When he broke up with you, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Then college happened and Mitch was back in your life. I thought part of the reason you went with him was because you missed him.”

John's words were like rocks, falling into the dark pools of her memories.

She was surprised how much it hurt. How much could have changed if they had taken the time to really talk to each other.

“I never missed him. I only went along with his plans because I couldn't see a way around my problem of owing Mom and Dad money.”

“They never asked you to repay them.”

Heather held John's gaze a moment, realizing that he would never completely understand. What burdens of guilt and obligation she carried, as a child who'd been rescued from her crazy life with her mother.

“I better get that tray back to the kitchen,” she said, feeling suddenly breathless. She got up, her book falling to the floor with a thunk.

She picked up his tray, glancing once more at him, but his eyes were closed.

At the sink she busied herself with washing the bowl and utensils. Cleaning the mug. Busy work that kept his words, and the consequences of them, at bay. She had to give herself some time to let the repercussions ease away.

She couldn't let regret eat at her, she thought. She and John had each gone their own way, their lives taking them down diverging paths. She'd had her own goals and, it seemed, he'd had his.

When she could do no more in the kitchen, she returned to the living room. John still sat on the couch, but his face looked more flushed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned. “Do you have a headache?”

“A bit.”

She touched his forehead with the back of her hand to check. It was hot, but not burning.

“Do you want me to get you something?”

To her surprise, he caught her wrist, his hand rough on her skin.

“No.”

He said nothing more, but didn't let go of her. Slowly, she sat down beside him. Their earlier confessions seemed to have erased the final barriers between them.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I should have fought for you. Gone after you.”

“John...” She breathed his name, not sure if it was a protest or an affirmation.

“I don't want to live with regrets,” he whispered.

An invisible force kept their eyes locked on each other, neither able to look away. Past and present melded. Old memories and new. Then he gave her hand a quick tug, his eyes holding the light of promise. She had never been able to resist him.

So she moved closer.

His free hand slipped around her neck, and hers rested on his shoulder.

When their lips met, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. His touch was so familiar it was like finding the dancing partner she had missed all this time. They fit. They belonged.

His lips were warm on hers, and when he kissed her cheek, it was as if he was putting his mark on her.

She tucked her head against his shoulder, her sigh of happiness mingling with the regrets she had given voice to.

“I'm sorry for what happened before,” she murmured. It was all she could say.

“I'm sorry, too,” he whispered. “I missed you so much.”

His words settled the sorrow she had been carrying for so long. “I missed you, too.”

He kissed her again, an easy, gentle kiss that created hope.

They sat together for a precious moment, in the here and now. But Heather knew the past would eventually intrude.

It always did.

* * *

“So what happens now?” John asked, gently stroking her hair from her face, his movements creating a measure of peace he hadn't felt for a long, long time.

He kept his thoughts resolutely on Heather, his eyes on the fireplace ahead of them. He couldn't look back. He had taken a huge step in a different direction. He had to see this through.

“I don't know.” Her voice was quiet, and she rested her hand on his chest.

His head still ached and his mind still seemed fuzzy and confused. But at the same time he felt crystal clear, as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“You still have Adana and I still need to find a job,” Heather continued.

He thought of the phone call she had received, and uncertainty marred the moment.

Then he pressed another kiss to her forehead, his arm tightening on her, as if holding back the inevitable. “I shouldn't have asked that question. I'm trying to plan again. To look too far ahead.”

“Maybe we'll have to take this one day at a time,” she said.

“I'm not used to that,” he admitted, laying his cheek on her head. “I've spent too much of my time looking to the future. I've never been able to go with the flow like you. Part of me always admired that.”

“Don't admire it too much,” she said, with a short laugh. “That was more of a survival skill than a talent.”

“From living with your mother?”

Silence followed. Heather had never talked much about life with her mom. It was one of those areas that he had found out was off-limits. He had never pushed, but he also knew that very lack of openness had probably contributed to some of their problems.

She nodded. “I learned never to get too attached to plans because, with my mom, they always changed.”

“You never talked about your mother much when we were dating.”

She sighed and pulled away from him. She sat back, her arms folded across her chest in a defensive gesture.

“Are you willing to talk about her now?” he pressed.

“Why? That was in the past.”

He stifled his annoyance at the stock answer she always gave.

“You never like answering that question, do you?”

She shook her head.

“But your life with your mother is a part of you,” he said, keeping his voice calm. Nonthreatening. “I feel as if knowing more about that would help me know more about you.”

Again, silence followed his comment. Finally, she lowered her arms and looked at him. “Do we really need to talk about this?”

John held her gaze and slowly nodded. “I think we do. I sometimes think if I had known a bit more, I might have...” He paused there, his eyes holding hers. “Maybe I would have been more patient with you, with some of the decisions you made.”

Heather frowned, as if she wasn't going to say anything. Finally, she pursed her lips, her expression serious. Almost cold. “You want to know about my life with my mother? I spent the first ten years hungry. Tired. Sick. My mom would get a job, hate it, quit, spend weeks hanging around whatever furnished apartment, mobile home or motel room we ended up in. We'd get kicked out for nonpayment, move to another town and do it all over again. My mom had guys coming over from time to time. Always someone different. And I went to so many new schools, I can't even remember half of them. I was always teased for my clothes, which were either unsuitable for a girl my age or worn and ragged. When we came to Saddlebank, I expected more of the same. And then I met Sandy. She was one of the few people in my life that saw past all that. One of the few who saw me for who I was.” Heather paused, shooting John a quick glance, as if to measure his reaction.

He just smiled at her. “That sounds like Sandy.”

“She made all the difference for me. She was the one who told Ellen that I never had lunch when I came to school. She was the one who would invite me over in spite of the fact that her mother didn't really care for me.”

John grimaced at that. “What do you mean?”

Heather shrugged. “I think she figured I was an unsuitable friend for her daughter, and given my mom's behavior the few times she was around, when they brought me home, I don't blame Kim for thinking that.”

“You really think Kim felt that way about you?”

“Maybe I was oversensitive, but that was the impression I got. Anyhow, when Monty and Ellen took me in, they gave me more than a home. They gave me a measure of self-worth that I never had before.” Heather looked suddenly vulnerable. “That was new to me. And I always promised myself that no matter what, I would try to find a way to pay them back. But I didn't know how. And then, when they paid for my education and I failed, I felt even more useless. Then Mitch offered me a way to repay them. With modeling, I'd finally found something I was good at.”

“I didn't know you felt that way about the work.”

“It felt good to be appreciated and admired instead of constantly feeling like a failure.” Heather gave him a wan smile. “But I still should have listened to you.”

He caught a plaintive note in her voice, one at odds with what she'd just told him. “You had other skills,” John said softly, thinking of the fight they'd had over the phone. He hadn't even had the opportunity to talk to her face-to-face.

Or to call Mitch out on what he was telling his girlfriend.

“Barrel racing,” she said with a faint snort. “That didn't pay the bills the way modeling did. Working in New York helped me find a way to pay Mom and Dad back.”

“They didn't need your money, Heather. You know that, right?”

“I know, but I always felt I could never give them enough. Moving in with Monty and Ellen was like moving from murky gray into a world filled with color and light. I always felt as if I owed them.”

John's heart hitched and he slipped his arm across her shoulders. “I wish I had known about your struggles,” he said. “I wish you would have let me help you.”

Heather slowly returned to his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. “I know. I guess I learned early on in my life that I had to take care of myself, in spite of all that Mom and Dad did for me. I carried that a bit too far, I think.”

“I should have come for you,” John said, acknowledging his own failings in what had happened. “I should have been more forceful. Tried to talk you out of it.”

“I don't know if it would have helped. I felt so deep in this hole that doing what Mitch offered seemed to be the only way out of my dilemma. And it wasn't horrible work at first. I enjoyed dressing up,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “And to be honest, seeing myself all made up gave my ragged self-esteem a boost.”