CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

As had been their custom for years, Linda and Tanner joined family and friends at Jay's Bar and Grill to celebrate New Year's Eve. For the pair it was an especially festive occasion, as Macey had returned home with them and was back in her old room, at least for the time being. Since her time on her own, their scatterbrained daughter appeared to have matured at a startling rate. No more unfounded talk about Mr. Right or Mr. Wrong. In fact, the silly, impetuous girl was now often quiet and pensive. So much so, that Linda worried her daughter's character had metamorphosed to the opposite extreme.

Not a word of complaint when her father asked her if she would like to join them for New Year's Eve celebration at Jay's. Her simple reply — a smile and a nod, “Sure, Dad.”

That was a far cry from the former Macey. Since becoming a teen, she hardly ever wanted to go anywhere with her parents, stating that she frankly preferred the company of her friends instead.

The moment they entered the bar and grill, Macey's former high school friends clustered about her. Though no one at Jays remarked about her daughter's change, Linda read the surprise on everyone's face. This wasn't Macey. The girl answered questions with politeness, thoughtfully aware of the other's sensibilities. Besides courteous, she actually appeared to weigh her replies before speaking them. Macey had changed, matured, and her fast friends slowly drifted to other parts of the room.

By eleven o'clock, most everyone who habitually came to Jay's for New Year's Eve, had shown. The Driscolls had come and gone to host their own yearly celebration with their families at their combined horse and cattle ranch. Cal had not been with them. Upon inquiry, Leatrice explained that because of the extreme cold and heavy snowfall last week, he was out taking his turn on the hay truck scattering additional bales of hay for the cattle in the winter pasture. No one was sorrier to hear this, than Macey.

Linda shouldered her daughter with motherly concern. “Sweetheart, come outside with me to get a breath of air.”

“Sure, Mom,” Macey replied.

They both shrugged back into their winter jackets and strolled out to the parking lot.

The night was cold, but clear, and star-studded, allowing the moonlight free rein. Macey inhaled the brisk air and exhaled with a sigh. Her warm breath created steamy vapor. “I guess I'm too late.” She knew she stated the obvious. Since they had been back, Cal continued not to answer her phone calls, nor bothered even to call Tanner. His tenure as her guardian was over now that he thought Michael had replaced him.

“Does he know you broke up with Michael?”

Macey shrugged. “If he'd bothered to answer my calls—“

Maybe he's hurting too much knowing he's completely lost any chance at winning your heart. I'd say he's purposely avoiding you.”

“It's the non knowing that's driving me crazy. If I've lost his affections, I need him to tell me. I won't blame him in the least if he wants nothing more to do with me. But I need to know. I mean, he was there for me at every turn, and now suddenly he's gone. Now that I've come to my senses, and fallen head over heels in love with him. At least he should know how I feel.”

Linda nodded. “I tend to agree with you.” Mouth pursing, she turned to her daughter, a determined look in her light brown eyes.

“Cal may not be here tonight, but he's in the area,” she said. “We're not that far from the winter grazing field. How's about I drive you to where he's at?”

 

They drove a half hour before spotting the truck cab with the attached open trailer bed half emptied of its bales of hay. It was parked on the side of the road, near a snow-coated outcrop beside a tall white cloaked butte. A small fire burned by a makeshift campsite. Cal, bundled in a shearling coat, his ten-gallon hat, and winter jeans and thick-lined boots, sat on a protruding edge of the butte, near the fire.

“That's Cal, Mom,” Macey said.

Linda knew the spot. It was a stop that ranch hands on Driscolls' Bar LB sometimes used to rest.

“I'll wait here till you're sure it's Cal,” Linda said.

“Oh, it's him, Mom,” Macey reassured.

“You can tell from this distance?” Linda asked.

“I'd know him anywhere. See the way he's holding his cup of coffee.”

Linda glanced at her daughter askance.

Macey smiled. “He's hugging the cup, letting the steam warm his face.”

“Yeah, but so would many on a cold night, to ward off the chill.”

“That's true, but it's the way he does it.”

Linda shook her head, wondering if her daughter were spouting nonsense, or if Macey did see something that eluded her. “All the same, I'll wait here until you signal me it is Cal. Just tip a finger to your hat. Like your Dad does.”

“Okay, mother,” Macey smiled, using the formal endearingly. Macey exited her mother's car and closed the door quietly, not wanting to alert Cal as yet to her presence.