Chapter Thirty
Inside Dave’s suite, Cassidy hung her coat in the closet, pulled off her boots, and slid her sock-clad feet into the sheepskin slippers that sat by the door. Expecting the place to be empty—with Dave at Sally’s, as was his custom on Sunday afternoons—she was surprised when Merlin greeted her.
“Hey there, beautiful boy. Why did Dave leave you at home? Oh, right, Sally’s boarding that new horse that’s paranoid about dogs.”
When Dave had given Cassidy a key, he’d told her to make herself at home anytime she wanted. Now she wasn’t sure exactly what she needed, but some instinct had led her here. Her journal was in her bag; maybe she’d curl up on the couch and try to process her thoughts by writing them down, as she’d done many times in the past months.
She picked up a sweater she’d left behind the last time she was over, and noted her travel magazine lying open beside Robin’s sketch pad. She thought of her comfy yoga pants and tees folded in Dave’s closet, her toothbrush and body lotion in his bathroom. In small ways, she’d started to become part of this home. And Dave had offered her a chance at the real deal.
Toying with the Canada goose pendant that hung around her neck, she gazed out the window. In the town square, chattering groups of people cleared away the Halloween trappings.
The Wild Rose was in the geographic center of Caribou Crossing. More than that, it was the heart of the quirky, vital, historic town. Because Dave was the heart, the person everyone turned to and relied on. Could she imagine herself beside him as his partner in life?
The first and only time Cassidy had truly believed she had a home, she’d been a little kid. In her innocent world, it had never occurred to her that parents might tear a family apart, but hers had done it. When Justine and Luis had reconciled and remarried, things had seemed good at first but she’d never fully trusted in it. And she’d been right; the happy family thing had been an illusion. And then the one person she’d counted on to always be there for her, Gramps, had died. Of course, that hadn’t been his fault, but all the same it had been the final straw. Never, since then, had she allowed herself to count on anyone.
Even Dave and Ms. H—no, make that Daphne. Cassidy had, rather grudgingly, taken the support they offered, but she’d never let herself rely on it. Never let herself believe it would always be there. Because, of course, she didn’t need it to be. When she had come back to Caribou Crossing, she’d imagined a year, max.
She was doing fine. Sticking needles in her body was routine; the side effects of her treatment were minimal now; the pseudoexacerbations were manageable. If she had another attack—well, she’d deal with that then. There was no reason not to move on.
Or was there every reason to stay?
“I’m so freaking mixed up!”
She had just pulled her journal out of her bag when her phone rang. Her pulse jerked. Dave? What would he say? What would she say?
She didn’t have to decide. The number was an unfamiliar one and when she answered, she couldn’t believe it. “Justine?” When was the last time she’d spoken to her mother? They exchanged occasional notes on Facebook, but that was it. “Is everything okay?” She could just guess what was going on: her parents were divorcing again.
“I’m here too, mija.” It was Luis, his voice slightly muffled.
“Hi, Luis.”
“We’re fine, baby,” Justine said, “but how are you? JJ says you have MS? I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”
Oh, shit. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you.” She was going to kill her brother.
“He didn’t mean to. We called him yesterday and it slipped out. But why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m doing fine. They have much better treatments than back in GG’s day.”
“I know. JJ researched it, and so did we.”
Ah yes, the joys of the Internet. “Well, I’m on a DMT.” Was she testing Justine?
If so, her mother passed. “A disease-modifying therapy? Good. Which one?”
“Seriously? Look, I have a good family doctor, a neurologist, and a treatment plan. You don’t need to know the details.”
“Don’t shut us out,” her father said rather sharply.
“Luis,” her mom said, “calm down. Cassidy, you’re coming to JJ’s wedding so we’ll have an opportunity to talk then.”
If they really did show up, something she’d believe only when she saw it.
“In fact,” Justine said, “we have news. We are moving back to Victoria. We’re selling the house here and will buy a new one there.”
“Seriously?” she said again. “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but are you sure Victoria’s a good place for you? You’ve lived there twice, and each time, you got divorced.”
“That won’t happen this time,” her father said with certainty.
Yeah, right.
“We’ve changed, baby,” Justine said. “We’ve always loved each other but we weren’t the most mature people . . .” She paused, then said, “I’m waiting for the snort or snide comment.”
“I bit my lip,” Cassidy said truthfully.
“People can learn,” her mother went on. “We don’t want to make the same mistakes, or new ones either. We’ve been seeing a marriage counselor. We’re learning to talk about our needs, insecurities, doubts, and fears, rather than keep quiet or fight.”
“That sounds good,” Cassidy admitted. It was a lesson she was learning too, thanks to her counseling group. It was the kind of lesson that, along with a sprinkling of magic dust, kept so many Caribou Crossing marriages strong when problems arose.
Luis said, “We are learning to believe in the strength of the love that has kept us returning to each other for almost thirty years, rather than to doubt it.”
“I’m glad for you. I really hope things work out.” Of course she did. “But why are you going back to Victoria?”
“JJ’s getting married,” Justine said. “We want to be part of their lives. He and Mags will have children one day, our grandchildren. We don’t want to be those people down in Mexico who send presents on birthdays. We want to be involved.”
She really, really hoped that her parents didn’t get JJ’s hopes up, then disappoint him.
“We haven’t been good parents, baby,” Justine said. “We know that and we’re going to do better.”
“That’s nice.” It was another thing she’d believe when she saw it.
“We want you to move back to Victoria too,” Luis said.
“What? Me? Why?” She’d been thinking about it herself, but their move wasn’t necessarily an incentive.
“So you can be with people who love you,” Justine said. “It’s the closest thing you have to a home, and once we were all happy there.”
“A very long time ago,” she pointed out.
“We’re all older and wiser,” her mother said. “We want to look after you, baby. To be there for you. And so does JJ, and he says Mags feels the same.”
With JJ and Mags, she might actually believe it. But still, she didn’t need to be looked after. “I’m not sick, Justine. I’m working, doing just fine. I’m riding, doing yoga, I’m strong.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” she said. “But in the treatment of MS, having the support of loved ones is important. You shouldn’t be with strangers; you should be with family.”
“We are not a perfect family, mija,” Luis said, “but we are yours, and we will do better. Your mother and I promise you that.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“I know this all comes as a surprise,” Justine said. “You need time to think.”
“I do.”
“We love you, baby,” she said.
“Te amamos,” Luis affirmed.
“I love you too.” And she did. But at a safe distance, where they couldn’t hurt her.
Now they said they wanted to help her. Did she have any reason to trust them? She stared unseeingly out the window as they all said good-bye, and she slid the phone back into her pocket.
A sharp bark made her glance down. Merlin sat at her feet, his head cocked up toward her, a hopeful expression on his face. He wanted a walk; even better, a run. “Yeah, me too.” In fact, she’d love a ride, and knew the poodle would like to come along.
Dave’s dog. She’d have to call him. Did she want to?
Yes. She needed to hear his voice. Hear what he had to say. Was he mad at her? Even worse, hurt? Had she perhaps even misunderstood what he was saying last night? The fireworks had been loud. Had she been obsessing for no reason?
Before she could think twice, she pulled out her phone again and called him.
“Cassidy?” he answered.
“Hi.”
“Look, I’m sorry about last night.”
“You are?” So he hadn’t meant the things he’d said. She should be glad. Now they could get back to normal. She didn’t need to leave. So why did her heart ache?
“I shouldn’t have pushed and I shouldn’t have walked away.” He sighed. “Hang on a sec.” A moment later he said, “I’m mending fences at Sally’s, just wanted to set down my tools.”
Mending fences. She guessed that was what the two of them were doing too. “You didn’t exactly push. But I thought we knew how things stood between us, and it seemed like you wanted to change that, though now—” Before she could finish, to say she realized she was wrong, he broke in.
“I do. I love you.”
Her heart gave a startled, stupidly ecstatic leap. Oh God, he really meant it. The idea scared the shit out of her, mainly because of how good it sounded. But it couldn’t be true, couldn’t work. She wasn’t the kind of woman who stuck around. Or the kind people stuck around for.
She shook her head, calmed her racing heart. Dave knew all of that. When he said “love,” he meant friendship-love, like he and Jess had shared as teens. Not love-love.
“And I meant everything I said,” he went on. “Cassidy, if you think there’s hope that you could love me, I’ll be patient. We can go on the way we have been, and see where that takes us.”
Work with him, play with him, sleep with him, and see where things went? But where could they go? Wasn’t it better for her to leave now, before . . . before her heart did any more hoping? And aching?
“But,” his voice grated as he went on, “if there’s no hope, I want you to tell me. You can still stay in Caribou Crossing as long as you want, I’ll still be on your support team, but I have to know if . . . if I have to stop hoping.”
Stop hoping? Hoping that she’d love him? That sounded almost as if . . . as if he really did love-love her. If that might possibly be true, how could he be so generous? If love meant putting someone else’s needs ahead of your own, and if she truly cared for Dave, wouldn’t the best thing be to leave and let him find a healthy, whole, less complicated and pigheaded woman? “I need to think,” she whispered.
“Okay.” A pause. “Did you call to tell me that?”
So much had gone through her mind, tugged at her heart, in the last few minutes, she had no idea why she’d called. A glance at Merlin reminded her and energized her. Now, more than ever, she needed to get out on horseback. “I’m going for a ride. Is it okay if I take Merlin?”
“Sure. You’ll have your phone?”
“I will.” Even before her diagnosis, Dave hadn’t liked the idea of her riding alone. Finally, he’d come to terms with it as long as she took a charged-up phone.
“Do you want to get together tonight?” he asked. “After that, I’ll have Robin for a few days.”
Get together and talk? Was there any hope she’d have sorted through the mess in her brain so she had something sensible to say? “Can I let you know later? See how I’m feeling?” By which she referred more to her emotions than her physical state, which she figured he knew.
After they said good-bye, she leashed Merlin and they walked toward her place so she could change into riding clothes.
Maribeth, who was coming out of a gift shop, stopped her. “Cassidy, I was going to call you,” the curvy redhead said. “This gorgeous red sweater came in. Can’t have been worn more than a couple times. I almost snagged it myself, but I don’t look so great in red. It’d be perfect with your coloring. Want me to hold it for you until you have a chance to pop in?”
If Cassidy left Caribou Crossing, she’d be donating clothes to Days of Your. If she stayed, a red sweater would be perfect for winter. For Christmas. “Can you hold it?”
Next, she came across Karen Estevez, in uniform, taking a report on a car with slashed tires. “It’s probably Halloween vandalism,” Karen told the well-dressed couple who owned it. Smiling ruefully at Cassidy, she added, “Caribou Crossing often seems idyllic, but there’s a reason we have an RCMP detachment here.”
The town did seem idyllic. It was almost reassuring to be reminded that it wasn’t perfect. No place on earth was perfect—as Cassidy, the world traveler, well knew. And no person was perfect. When she’d first arrived here, more than one female had told her that Dave was the perfect man. No, he wasn’t. He could be stubborn, high-handed, and overprotective. Maybe that, too, was reassuring.
When she was a little kid, she thought her family was perfect. When her parents tore that family apart, she was shattered. A person shouldn’t believe in perfection; it was a façade. Better to see the flaws as well as the strengths, to not expect more than was humanly possible.
Her parents seemed to be admitting to their flaws. They’d never sought marriage counseling before, and on the phone they’d both sounded committed to making things work. They’d apologized to her. They’d said they wanted to be there for her.
Earlier today, she’d pretty much decided it was time to move on, and was thinking of Victoria. It would be great to spend more time with JJ, to get to know Mags. As for Justine and Luis . . . She was wary, but maybe a little hopeful too.
Esperanza. Hope. Sometimes she thought it was a naïve emotion, yet how miserable life was when you assumed the worst.
Victoria might actually work out. If she decided to run away from Dave. Run away from her feelings for Dave.
Life without Dave, the same kind of life she’d enjoyed so much in the past, would be empty, lonely, sad. Yet she couldn’t stay unless she agreed to the possibility of a future together. The prospect was appealing in so many ways, but how could she believe it was realistic? Might it be possible for her—a woman who had no experience with or faith in permanence—and Dave—a divorcé who’d lost the love of his life—to build a loving, supportive long-term relationship like the one his parents had?
As she went up the walk at Ms. Haldenby’s house, she remembered her landlady’s girlfriend, Irene, saying, “Home is where the heart is.”
Did Cassidy dare let her heart take root with one person, in one place?
She was still musing over that question half an hour later, sitting easily in Cherry’s saddle as they loped along with Merlin running happily beside them. The brisk air warned of winter coming. She was glad of her sheepskin jacket.
Two weeks ago, the aspens and cottonwoods had blazed with golden leaves, but now their branches were mostly bare and the only gold was in the faded grass. Behind the rolling ranchland, hills rose dark green, clad in hemlocks and cedars. The sky was a cloudy bluish purple. The natural grandeur was such that you could turn in any direction and snap a calendar-worthy photo.
Every time she went out, the scenery had changed a little, and so had the activities on the ranches and farms she rode past. Did a search for new sights and experiences have to mean a gypsy lifestyle? She couldn’t imagine losing her yen to explore the world, but could it be satisfied by a holiday or two each year? How would Dave feel about that?
But wasn’t the real question, how did she feel about Dave?
As she slowed Cherry to a walk and turned back toward Caribou Crossing, she said tentatively—to the horse, the dog, the bluish purple sky—“I love him.”
None of them responded. Nothing terrible happened. In fact, her heart didn’t jerk in shock; instead, it pulsed warmth that spread through her body. A warmth that felt like . . . joy and rightness.
Could she trust in that feeling? Could she trust in Dave, the man who reminded her so much of the one man who’d never let her down, her grandfather? Yes, Dave might die as Gramps had, but while he drew breath he would be loyal to the people he loved. She knew that, with utter conviction.
Could she trust in herself, in her ability to be a person like Gramps rather than like her parents?
Could she let herself believe that Dave truly loved her and wasn’t just trying to rescue her? Did he even know for sure himself?
Cherry whinnied, and another horse answered in the distance. Cassidy saw a lone rider on a black horse, too far away to make out whether it was a man or woman, much less identify the person. All the same, they both gave friendly waves.
If Cassidy lived here, she could get her own horse, maybe even buy Cherry Blossom. That is, if she figured her MS would let her keep riding. Her health was a big unknown. That still pissed her off and scared her, but she wasn’t going to live her life expecting the worst. One woman in Caribou Crossing had been in remission from MS for thirty years. Cassidy was going to take her treatment seriously, rest when she needed to, and hope for the best.
Though she couldn’t control her MS, there were things she could control. She could be a loyal, reliable, loving person like Gramps. She couldn’t promise Dave that she wouldn’t get sick, but maybe she could be a woman who deserved his love.
They had time. It wasn’t like he’d gone down on bended knee and proposed. He’d asked her to stay, to see if she could love him—well, it seemed that one was easy!—and to be open to the possibility of a future together.
But would it be selfish of her to take him up on that? Really, wouldn’t he be better off with another woman?
She needed to decide whether to go or to stay, but it wasn’t right to make that decision on her own.