To Wed a Rancher (12 page)

Still no answer.

“Shane?”

“Rachel, do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Don't—please don't try to save me. Just lie here with me beneath the stars. No touching. Nothing like that. Just be here with me.”

“Anything,” she said, her heart breaking.

He pulled her into his arms and lay down with her. “This isn't the romantic evening under the stars you once mentioned.”

No, it wasn't, but she was right where she wanted to be. Not that she could tell him that. Ever. “It's…peaceful,” she whispered, although it wasn't really peaceful. It was quiet. It was sad.

“Shh. Sleep,” he said.

And what could she do but give him what he asked. It was all she
could
do. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but she tried, and eventually she slept. Because Shane's arms were around her.

Some time after that the stars disappeared behind a threatening cloud and Shane gathered up their things and gave Rachel a helmet with a light on it. He led them home.

“Don't go now,” he said. “The roads are dark and deserted. You can have my room. I'll sleep in the spare.”

She wanted him to hold her again, but he didn't. He simply walked away.

So she lay there in the dark, thinking about how she'd only made things worse for him by pushing. She'd forced him to face things he had put in a box. And now the scab had been removed from the wound and he was distant and unhappy.

 

Shane woke and got dressed the next morning feeling as if some of the heaviness he'd been carrying in his chest had been lifted and yet…it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Probably because he'd done what he hadn't wanted to do. In his urgency to give Rachel the truth he'd felt she deserved, he'd saddled her with more worry.

That wasn't right. There were a whole lot of things that weren't right. And it was no longer just about
his
pain now. He'd seen her face when he'd lost it last night. He'd dragged Rachel in. Down.

“Fix it, Merritt,” he ordered. Yeah, and the first thing he was going to do was what should have already been done. The open house was in four days. Rachel had offered to let him off the hook and find a place to store the contents of Eric's room. But that wasn't fair or right.

Tension rose within him, hard and hot, as he thought of opening that door. But he beat it back.

Silently, he walked toward the room and turned the knob.

R
ACHEL
felt the difference in the house when she woke up. There was a silence, a sense of anxiety, as if the whole world was just waiting to implode. As soon as she walked into the main part of the house she sensed what had happened, and her footsteps carried her to the room where Shane had buried his past.

The door was open. She didn't even have to be nosy or rude. And in the middle of the room, surrounded by boxes, by photo albums, by bits of paper and old souvenirs, Shane sat on a small sofa, the upholstery sagging.

He looked up when she came in, and she saw that he was holding a bundle of yellowing letters tied with a bedraggled pale peach ribbon.

“Are you…all right?” she whispered.

His response was to call her to his side. He brushed aside a pile of clothing, making a place for her. “I'm sorry about last night,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“For hitting you with all that brutal stuff. For not—”

“Holding it in?” she said, standing up. “Shane, how can you say that? I'm so…honored that you agreed to tell me. I just hope I didn't push too hard.”

To her surprise, he smiled slightly. “You always push. It's cute.”

She blinked, unsure of how to react, but he took her hand and drew her to his side again. “You've spent so much time dealing with the detritus of this ranch. You deserve to see some of its history. Will you sit?”

She wedged in beside him, his warmth, the length of his thigh near hers, making her want to move closer. She resisted.

“It's all here, the pieces of their lives,” Shane said. “Here's my mother's home in Boston. Here's Eric when he lost his two front teeth.”

Rachel looked down at a photo of a very young smiling boy, clinging to the hand of his older brother, a much younger Shane. And the Shane in the photo was smiling back at Eric as they shared a private moment.

“He looked up to you,” she said.

Shane shrugged. “He was a kid.” Just as if Shane hadn't been “a kid,” too. “Here's my mother's garden in better times.” And now Rachel could see just how awesome a gardener Vera Merritt had been. The flowers were full and fat, purple and pink, white and gold blossoms a perfect contrast to the mountains in the distance and the green of the fields.

“She could have won prizes. She was an artist,” she said.

“She would have liked to hear you say that. But…” He picked up the discarded letters. “These detail the events that led to my birth and to my mother marrying Frank. To her credit, she didn't lie to him or promise him anything. She was upfront about her reasons for marrying him. But it's clear that she wasn't happy. Unfortunately, Eric would have seen these after Frank died.”

“He didn't know?” she asked incredulously.

“He was only four when she died. Why expose him to the dark stuff?”

“I don't care what you say. You were a good brother,” she said, “and your mother must have loved you and your brother very much to make the kind of sacrifices she did. Mothers like that aren't born every day,” she said, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

“Rachel, I wish—”

“No. My parents are imperfect, but they're mine and I'm fine with that. I'm okay,” she said as he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. She couldn't help herself then. She leaned into his touch, but in her leaning her gaze fell on something.

“Shane, look at this,” she said. She was staring down into a box, its contents a mess of papers. “These must be your brother's school papers.” She picked up a handful and saw reports on “Calf Roping by the Numbers,”

“Alfalfa and Oats as Feed” and “The Road to Being a Quarterback.”

“He wrote about what he loved,” Shane said. “There's Eric right there in your hands.” He took the papers, devouring the words as if now that he'd opened the doors and let the past in, he couldn't help himself.

“Shane.” Rachel's heart nearly stopped.

He looked up. She held out a single sheet of paper. The title read, “Why My Brother is My Hero by Eric Merritt.”

“I never knew he wrote that,” Shane said.

“He wrote it after you left. Look at the date,” she said.

When she turned to Shane he was staring at the ceil
ing. A single tear tracked down his cheek. Quietly, she got up and left him alone, closing the door behind her.

It felt as if this was already goodbye. Shane would be all right now, she hoped. He could be happy with his work, knowing that Eric had remembered the years when Shane had watched over him, cared for him and loved him.

Eric had just returned the favor. He'd given Shane a gift that was worth more than gold, silver and diamonds combined.

It was wonderful. They were a family again.

And she? She would soon be on her way elsewhere. Like always.

She was just about ready to go about her work when Shane came into the kitchen.

“I want to thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For being in the road that day. I'm not sure I would have found that report if you hadn't been there. I might have burned everything.”

“Shane…”

“Sorry. I can't seem to lie to you. That's why I'm not going to lie and tell you that some miracle has happened. It hasn't. I'm not eager to visit with the people of Moraine, but I'm going to.”

“Because it's the right thing to do?”

“Because you want it so much.”

Rachel felt a lump in her throat, and not a happy lump. To have Shane do something just because she wished it broke her heart. It touched her, but…

“You can't—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “And because even though I don't think I deserve forgiveness from my neighbors, I feel that they deserve the right to call the
shots, not me. I'm not even sure how to approach them, though.”

“Then you're lucky I've been thinking about this,” she said, risking a smile.

His answering smile was the kind that was wide enough to reveal his dimples. “Why am I not surprised that you have a plan to get me to town?”

“Oh, not to town. Here. I was thinking…a gathering. Not the open house. That's four days away, anyway, and it's about business. This would be…I don't know…tomorrow. And just people.”

“I wasn't thinking anything quite that formal. Or that soon.”

“It doesn't have to be formal. Just all-inclusive. A party.”

He looked a bit taken aback. “A party? Tomorrow? I don't see—”

“I'll make it happen.”

“I don't want to put that kind of work on you.”

“You won't be. I really do want this get-together, Shane. I'll be gone in four days. I'll never be a Moraine girl again, never a cowgirl again, never here with all of you again. They're nice people. You're nice people. Nice people should get together.”

“And have parties?”

“Of course.”

“Another rule to live by?”

“When you change schools every year or six months, you learn ways to get in quickly and connect with people, parties being one way. Because even if you never get to see them again, you still get to count them as friends.”

“Damn it, Rachel.”

Shane moved up beside her. He trailed his index
finger down her cheek. She felt the heat rise within her. She heard his breath quicken.

“I'm not going to kiss you this time. I promised that I wouldn't hurt you, but you…amaze me.”

“I wish you would kiss me. And don't say ‘Damn it, Rachel.' I know I'm being outrageous, but time is short.”

“Kissing…accelerates things. Situations tend to get out of hand. At least that's how I know it's going to be with me if I kiss you.”

She shook her head. “It won't. I won't let it.”

He reached out and cupped her elbows, pulling her toward him. Their bodies weren't touching other than his fingertips feathering across her elbows. Then he leaned forward slowly and traced her lips with his tongue. Softly. Gently. He kissed her.

Her elbows tingled. Her lips tingled. Her…everything tingled. Heat rose within her. Higher. Higher still until she was swaying toward him. She was just going to wrap her arms around his neck, but she heard herself only seconds before, saying, “I won't let it.” She remembered that Shane was the king of guilt. If something happened, he would not let her take the blame even if it was totally her fault.

And yet…she quickly looped one arm around his neck, kissed him quick, hard, drinking in as much of him as she could, tasting as much as she could manage. Then she squeezed her eyes tight and pushed away.

“You're safe,” she said. And she didn't know whether she was talking to him or to herself.

“I don't feel safe,” he said.

“Me, either,” she admitted.

“How do you feel?”

Lost. So lost. She was losing him. Only four more days. Four short days and then a lifetime of no Shane.

Rachel took a deep breath. “I feel frustrated and as if I need to do a lot of stuff to take my mind off of kissing. Fortunately, I have a big party to plan.” And, with that, she ran off to start planning.

 

Shane walked out onto the grassy area where Rachel and Marcia had hastily set up tables and chairs decorated with white tablecloths and Rachel's favorite flowers. He and Hank and Tom had constructed a make shift wooden dance floor in record time. There would be musicians. There was food galore. “Some of which Marcia let me look at but not touch,” Rachel had teased.

He had laughed. Hard to believe he had been able to laugh or look her in the face after all the things he had confessed the other night. He should be feeling self-conscious. He probably would be if the person on the receiving end had been anyone but Rachel.

Because Rachel wasn't like anyone else, he thought as he looked up to see her walking toward him. She was wearing her pretty blue-trimmed boots and a white fringed skirt with a blue blouse. A white hat hung down her back on a string, and she kept trying to look over her shoulder and see it, to no avail.

“Does any true cowgirl ever wear one of these?” she asked. “I'd hate for anyone to think I was making fun of real cowgirls.”

He smiled at her because…he just couldn't help himself. “You can wear whatever you like. No one will mind.”

And that theory was proven correct when the guests began arriving.

“Nice hat, Rachel,” someone said.

“Beautiful, Rachel,” a male voice said.

Shane swung around to see Jarrod Ollis staring him in the eyes.

“Want to fight over her?” Jarrod teased. “I'll wrestle you for her.”

“Are you actually trying to manipulate me into a fight?” Shane asked with a smile. “If I recall—and I do—the last time we fought, you walked away with a broken arm.”

“A scratch.”

It had been much more than a scratch, and it hadn't been a good-natured fight that time, either. Shane took a deep breath. “I'm—Jarrod, I'm sorry.”

“About the broken arm? Forget it. I was probably asking for it.”

He hadn't been. Not really. “About the arm, but also…about everything.” That covered a lot of territory. He wanted to be more specific, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Jarrod punched him in the arm. Gently.

“Hey, man, no. I didn't come here to humiliate you or for an apology. Lots of things happened. We were young and stupid, then not so young. Maybe still stupid at times. Whatever. Things change. Some bad things happened to both of us. Probably to all of us. But I'm still here. And so are you. I came to see you.”

Shane's chest felt tight. He could see Rachel over Jarrod's shoulder. She was fanning her face as if trying not to cry. So, for her sake, he couldn't lose it right here. But he slapped Jarrod on the back. “I'm glad you're here,” he said.

By then the guests had started arriving fast and furious. Ruby and Angie and Cynthia cornered him.

“We missed you, you big…Shane,” Angie said.

“Come into the store anytime,” Cynthia offered. “I'll pull out your favorite licorice whips.”

“I'll be sure to come by the store and the diner before I go,” he promised. And then… “I've missed you,” he said, and meant it as he gave them each a big hug.

“Don't think you're going to get away with one hug from me,” Ruby warned. “I want two hugs and a kiss on the cheek.”

“I can do better than that,” Shane said, meeting her demands and then swinging her around in a circle.

“Shane,” she shrieked. “Put me down. I weigh a ton.”

“You're a feather,” he told her.

She laughed. “Oh, I've missed you more than you can ever imagine.”

And that was when he lost it. He pulled Ruby close and hugged her again. “I'm sorry, so sorry for holding you at arm's length. You mothered me a lot when I was growing up. Even when I was bad.”

“You don't ever have to apologize to me,” she said. “But I'm so glad to see you again. I owe Rachel a lot.”

“I owe her more.”

“You're really going to let her get away?”

“Ruby…”

“All right, I won't pry.”

“You'd better have a good time, though,” he warned. “Rachel worked like the dickens to pull this off. I want it to be the best night ever.”

Because after this…the open house didn't really count. There would be lots of people. The ads had gone out, complete with Rachel's photos, to five counties. He might not get to see her alone for more than a minute or two that day. They had reached the top of
the mountain and now they were rushing to the bottom. Shane took a deep breath and dived into Rachel's party.

At some point he took the mike and thanked everyone for coming. Despite Jarrod's words, Shane told everyone he was sorry he had been rude and distant and in general a jerk, and was shushed by the crowd. But he saw a damp eye or two or three, and some sad faces when he finished thanking them for loving his baby brother and for being good neighbors to Eric in his absence, so he was glad he'd been allowed to apologize.