Under the moonlight, they enjoyed the apple cobbler Ryder had cooked cowboy-style over the fire. She had no idea how something on and under the coals could produce this kind of delicate dessert. The sweet crunchy topping mingling with the fresh-picked apples was a pleasing combination that set off the meal just right. As she savored her last bite, she was sorry the evening was coming to an end. Darkness had fallen over them, cloaking them in darkness except for the light from the fire.
The embers sparkled much like those gemstones Ryder collected. He too had an artist’s eye. He just hadn’t realized it yet.
The words from her childhood pastor flooded back. God doesn’t give us anything just for our own benefit. She’d always considered painting her gift. Maybe that’s why she was now being so drawn to it again. There was more she needed to do with her gifts.
“You all done?” Ryder asked.
“Yeah. Sorry, I was kind of daydreaming.”
“I noticed. Something good?”
Lorri placed her fork in her bowl. “Yeah. I was thinking about this town. How it inspires me.”
“It’ll do that. You know, I’ve been talking to the family, well, Diane, Reece, and Ross, about starting a scholarship fund in Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne’s memory.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I want to figure out how to shift my thoughts to something positive so the memories won’t be as painful. I think Valerie would love this idea, and I know she wouldn’t be proud of the way I’ve stalled without her here.”
“Well, don’t beat yourself up on that. If it takes twenty years for you to heal, it’s no one else’s timeline but your own. Don’t forget that, but it’s such a wonderful gesture.”
He nodded.
“I could do the branding for you. Any idea what you’ll call it? Bolt Memorial Scholarship maybe?”
“No. Something simple and generic. I’m not looking for recognition for it. The mission behind it is personal, but others don’t need to know that it’s a memorial scholarship. Maybe just Dalton Mill Scholarship, or since I’d like it to be awarded to students with an eye toward agriculture in some way, maybe we’ll tie that in.”
“Good idea. Maybe something as simple as the Ranch Scholarship.”
“I like that. I really like that a lot, and since The Wedding Ranch is pooling a percentage of all of their profits into the fund too, it’s a cool tie-in.” Then Ryder turned to Lorri. “Or we could call it the Lisa Scholarship. You know, like the butterfly. Diane always said the yellow ones were symbols of hope and guidance toward positive change.”
“Then I think that’s the one to go with.” Design ideas were already fluttering in her mind.
“I agree. It’s a good change. Diane will like it too.” He pressed his hand to her leg. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t deny the feelings that came over her when they touched. She leaned into him. Will being just friends really be enough? If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t stop him. She might not leave at all. She lowered her gaze, wishing he’d tip up her chin and kiss her.
“Reece and Ross are going to set up some events to raise money. I’ve got Ronnie Dwayne’s college fund. I never stopped paying into it since the day he was born. Nice chunk of change to seed the account.”
“I’d be happy to design shirts, or maybe offer a painting if that would help.”
“That would be great.”
“You should put up a few of those beautiful feathers with the stones on them. Maybe even turn one into a necklace?”
“So you can bid on it,” he teased.
“I would.” She hoped he’d say yes. “Reece and Ross are smart. They could figure out how to take it online to expand the reach. I think some unique and one-of-a-kind things are important.”
“I don’t want people knowing I make those feathers. I do it for the joy of it. It would ruin that.”
“People love you, that would drive the price right up!”
“No. I feel funny about that.”
“Well, then put them up without any information on the artist. No rule against that. Whatever I can do, you let me know. I could work on any branding you might need.” She stood and held up her plate, looking around for a trash can. “Where do you want me to put this?” Lorri reached her hand out to him. “I can take yours too.”
“Best thing about all of these plates and the cutlery is you can toss them in the fire. Totally disposable.”
She lifted the wooden utensils from the bowl. “These too?”
“Completely. Ross is all into that zero-footprint thing. He gave them to me for Christmas a couple of years ago and I’m hooked. Go ahead. Throw them in.”
Hesitant, she waited to see if he was going to stop her, but he didn’t. As soon as they hit the coals the flames licked the edges of the bowls making them disappear into curling smoke. Embers sparkled along the edges of the utensils, burning them quickly to nothing but ash. “I don’t mind doing dishes as much as I thought,” she teased.
“It’s kind of liberating, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” She brushed her hands together as she watched Ryder push dirt over the fire and secure the area.
“You ready to go?”
“Guess so.” But that wasn’t entirely true. It was hard to leave, and it was getting harder to say goodbye to him.
Ryder drove her and Mister home, walked her to the door, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.” There was something more in his voice that she couldn’t put her finger on.
She and Mister went inside. She got undressed and showered. So much had happened between her and Ryder in the short time they’d known one another. Something real. She felt it when they were apart. Needed it when they were together.
In her bedroom she lifted the blinds, wanting to sleep beneath those twinkling stars. Lorri slipped under the covers and lay there looking out at the sky. The moon was a sliver. Mister laid beneath the window, exhausted from their busy day.
The next morning, she resisted the urge to call Ryder and thank him again for the night.
It’s an excuse. I already said thank you last night.
She had plenty to do, and even though she thought of Ryder often throughout the day she didn’t call.
Her calendar was full of meetings, and two new proposals to work on. One was for a bookstore chain slated to open twelve locations in closed movie theatres in major cities across the country. It would take the bookstore experience to a venue where booklovers could gather for live hosted events or via satellite on the big screens. It was a great concept. The other was annual updates to the Ford automotive materials. She’d been in charge of those for over six years now. It was a huge amount of work, but they were never looking for anything very different, preferring the vehicles to be the draw, so it was more project housekeeping than creativity.
At the end of her workday, she was satisfied with all she’d achieved, but disappointed that Ryder hadn’t reached out.
She fed Mister then let him out back, taking her laptop with her. A bird fluttered from a branch to the new birdhouse, making it sway under his weight.
Mister took off across the yard after a squirrel who’d already scaled a tree and hopped to another before he ever made it over. He stood there looking a bit defeated.
The bird squawked, as if warning Mister, or maybe he was making fun of him. Poor Mister. He wasn’t the hunting type. No, he was slow even at full speed; only the length of his legs gave him the advantage to make it anywhere in a hurry.
His nose to the ground, he traced the curling trail of some animal that must have crossed the yard recently.
She opened her laptop and searched for the article she’d seen in Ryder’s study. She’d only had a moment to scan the details.
She typed in Ryder’s name first. A long list of agriculture boards, hay for sale, even an article about The Wedding Ranch filled her screen. Apparently, he’d been the prize pitcher of the Dalton Mill High School baseball team, setting records and even being scouted for the minors. He’d tried to stop the land sale between Bloom and his parents to no avail.
There were no pictures of him playing baseball, but she did run across one of his house before the porch and shutters were added. There was also an aerial of the entire spread. The best she could tell, she was situated just below where his parents’ house had once been. Maybe in their old front yard. That must be weird for him. Small world.
She continued her search trying other keywords. Finally, by searching the name of the local paper, then going through the archives from seven years ago, she was finally able to track down the article.
She took her time reading through it word for word this time. There weren’t many facts about the accident itself. It was more of a local interest story telling about why Valerie had been in Raleigh that morning, and the loss it was to the community. She’d driven to visit a former Dalton Mill resident, Agnes Dewey, who’d been moved to an assisted living center to be closer to her daughter. Valerie and her four-year-old son spent the afternoon and evening with Mrs. Dewey, bringing her Valerie’s homemade strawberry preserves. They’d worked on a puzzle made from a photograph of butterflies taken on the family’s farm that summer.
The journalist clearly understood the little things mattered the most. The mention of the homemade preserves and the puzzle seemed so familiar that she felt connected to the people in the story.
Valerie must’ve been a special woman. She could see Ryder having wanted to drive them himself, but he’d never have told her not to go. That would have been selfish, and Lorri knew there was nothing selfish in that man’s spirit.
The last line of the article was vague, mentioning the driver of the other car had been convicted of two prior DUIs.
Familiar anger settled in Lorri’s chest. The kind that stole her breath. She’d lived through this emotion before.
What makes people so reckless?
It’s one thing to abuse yourself, but when you let that abuse drive irrational thinking that takes another life—unforgivable.
Her brother had well-greased this pipeline of emotion over the years.
She couldn’t imagine the pain Ryder experienced. Losing a spouse was hard; losing a child had to have been agony—especially without his spouse there to share the burden of that loss. She’d do anything to help him survive that sorrow.
A shiver ran through her.
She printed out a copy of the article, reading it one more time.
Only this time the similarities struck her in a different way. Her heart sunk and her hand began to tremble. She hopped up and ran upstairs to her studio where she’d tucked the personal box of Jeff’s things in the attic. Scrambling, she pushed the other things that had been shoved in front of it since then and dragged the box into the room.
She dug to the bottom where the court records were. Flipping through the papers she stopped and slowly reread the details of the accident. This time she was reading it with a new perspective.
Please don’t let it have been Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne.
Her heart pounded. A tear slipping down her cheek as she tried to focus on the words on the page. Where is it?
She found what she was looking for. Her hand to her mouth she whispered, “No.” She stared at it, reading the names over and over again.
“No. Please wake me up and tell me I’m dreaming. It can’t be. This isn’t fair.”
God be with Ryder, and help him live his life with their love in his heart.
She’d be no comfort now. My fault. Not directly, but by way of not finding a way to stop Jeff’s self-destructing behavior from destroying Ryder’s family.
She walked downstairs, numb with despair.
She tucked the article into the top drawer of her desk. She’d probably never read it again, but it seemed only right that there be some sort of reminder of this woman and child who had meant so much to Ryder.
Ryder called the following morning, but she let it go to voice mail. He left a message inviting her out on a short trail ride. She couldn’t face him. Not yet, maybe never.
On Thursday night Lorri’s doorbell rang, but when she opened the door there was no one there. Puzzled, she started to close it when she noticed a tote bag on the mat.
She carried the bag inside. A delicious smell rose from the top. In the kitchen she unpacked three containers. Heaping servings of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and greens. She folded the bag, and a small card fluttered to the ground. She knelt down and picked it up.
The back of Ryder’s business card read, Hope you enjoy dinner. Call me when you’ve got some free time.—Ryder
Lorri stood there at her kitchen counter looking at all that food. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten much the last few days.
She made a plate for herself and took it to the table. Mister sniffed the air. She poured a little gravy over his food, then sat back down. Sitting there eating alone, her mind drifted to her brother, Jeff.
Lorri brushed her hand against her damp skin as she remembered her mother clinging to her that day they got the news. She’d been frantic over his injuries, praying that this would be the catalyst that would set him straight. It wasn’t until the next day that they learned of the full scope of the accident, and that there’d been fatalities.
I can’t keep this from Ryder.
She got in bed, and tossed and turned until sunrise. She took Mister out for his morning walk early, hoping to avoid interacting with anyone. She just wasn’t up to it.
They walked over to the farmers market through the shortcut in her back fence. The market was busy with commuters stopping for coffee. They gave the residents a discount on coffee in their neighborhood mugs. It looked like she must be the only one who didn’t take advantage of that deal on a regular basis.
She waited in line and ordered a cup of tea. She and Mister sat at a table and people-watched while she scanned her phone messages.
A post on social media caught her eye. She scrolled back up. The headline read, “Finding True Peace in Past Disappointments.” She clicked on it. Internet service this side of the building was spotty sometimes though, and the connection timed out.
Probably for the best. “Come on, Mister. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes anyway. We’d better hurry.”
As soon as they walked through the gate, Mister sat waiting to be unleashed. She unhooked the leash and let him take off on his own.
She got back to her desk just in time to dial in to the meeting. Feeling restless today, she spun her chair to one side then the other. She jotted down a few notes, then marked off the completed sections of the itinerary as the call progressed. She didn’t even have a report out for this meeting. She was simply listening in case she needed to participate.
She grabbed a green colored pencil and started scribbling on the desk pad.
Pam texted her during the meeting.
Pam: Checking in.
Lorri: Busy with conf calls today. Ugh.
Pam: Hate those days.
Lorri: Me too. Plus I was up all night.
Pam: What the heck?
Lorri: A bunch of things. Ryder. Jeff.
Pam: Anniversary of Jeff’s death is next Tuesday. I was wondering if you were okay.
Lorri: I’ll call you. You good?
Pam: Great.
The conference call droned on for another twenty minutes. By the time she hung up she had several drafts branding the Lisa Scholarship. Some of them were pretty good.
She got up and fixed another cup of tea, then sat down and worked all day on her favorite designs. She put together a full packet, just like she would for a paying customer. There were four different designs and color layouts, but she had a clear favorite.
She wondered which ones Reece, Ross, and Diane would like best. She’d become so close to all of them. To think she was falling for the one man that it would be impossible to have a relationship with weighed on her.
She emailed the whole package to Ross at The Wedding Ranch email from their website, wishing them well on the project with a note that said they were welcome to use any or all of the designs gratis, but not to feel bad if they had something else in mind.
That weekend Mother Nature delivered true fall-like temperatures. She’d missed several calls from Ryder that week, and he had to be wondering why she was avoiding him.
The next time he called, she forced herself to answer.
“How’s my friend Lorri this morning?”
“Hi, thank you for the dinner. That was so thoughtful.”
“Didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked.
“No.”
“You don’t sound good. Are you okay?”
How was she supposed to respond to that? “Not feeling so great lately.”
“I’m sorry about that. I wanted to see if you’d spend the day with me over here at the house? We can exercise the horses and enjoy the change of season. I’ll cook something if you’re up to it.”
“I’d love that, but I don’t think I should.”
“Have you been outside? It’s a brisk morning.” He seemed delighted by the cooler temperatures. “I love this time of year. Can’t wait to experience fall with you.”
With me? You won’t be thinking that when I tell you what I know. Things in her life were changing. She’d never had anyone ask her to enjoy the change of season before. If only she could unknow what she knew about the accident.
“Please come. I bet you’ll feel better after being out in the fresh air.”
She couldn’t sit on this information. Each day she didn’t tell him was one more that she lied to him, and she wasn’t a liar. “I’ll be there. Give me an hour. Can I bring anything?”
“Just your smile. See you when you get here.”
Any other day that would have made her heart bubble. Today it only hurt to know that she was about to reopen old wounds that hadn’t yet healed.
Dressed in leggings under jeans and layers on top too, she pulled the tags off of a hip-length jacket she’d bought on sale while in Denver on business. It had been too cute and too good of a deal to pass up, but she’d never had the chance to wear it in the four years she’d owned it. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Her phone rang. “Pam? Hi.”
“I tried to call you earlier,” Pam said. “Did you get my message?”
“I did. Sorry.” Truth was she was distracted. “I was going to call you.”
“Did something happen? You sound strange.”
Lorri told Pam every gut-wrenching detail. How fond she was growing of Ryder. The way he made her feel. The hope in her heart about being a part of things with him, and then what she’d discovered about the accident. And that Jeff had been the one at the wheel of that other car that stole Ryder’s perfect family from him.
“Lorri, I can’t believe this.”
“I’m on my way to tell him.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should just keep it to yourself. I mean, would you want to know? Does it matter?”
“I don’t think I’d want to know, but I’d deserve to. Wouldn’t it be the ultimate betrayal to not tell him?” Lorri hated to think how bad that would hurt him.
“Look. You said so yourself it’s taken him seven years to begin to break out of that grief. Why drag him back under? Just relax and enjoy his company. Maybe it’s going to be nothing more than friends anyway.”
“That’s possible,” Lorri said.
“Then it wouldn’t matter anyway. I mean, if he doesn’t know you’re Jeff’s sister now, it’s highly unlikely he’d find out. And you like spending time with him. You’re both so happy and doing so well. Don’t ruin it.”
In exactly an hour Lorri pulled into Ryder’s driveway still considering everything Pam had said. Maybe she had a good point. She’d just be sure they were nothing more than friends and then everyone would be happy. I don’t know if I can do this.
She drove around to where Ryder had the horses tacked up at the hitching post, parked, and walked over to meet him.
“I think it’s even colder over here, where the land is open with nothing to break the wind.” She huddled into her jacket, running toward him to keep warm.
“Might be. Don’t you love fall?” he said as she got closer.
“I love pumpkin spiced lattes. Is that the same thing?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. And if you gourmet coffee gals stopped to consider it, you’d realize you could get a nice slice of pie with all the pumpkin spice you’d like and real coffee for less calories and a whole lot more satisfaction.” He tightened the cinch on Dottie. “If you ask me, there’s never a good reason to ruin a decent cup of coffee.”
“Well, I tell you what. If you serve me an honest-to-goodness slice of homemade pumpkin pie with my coffee, I promise to drink it straight. Deal?”
“Deal.” He walked over toward the barn. “Come here. I’ve got something for you.”
She followed him inside to the tack room. It smelled of leather. Saddles were stacked on individual racks four high along the short wall. On the outside wall, halters and reins and all sorts of equipment hung side by side, but instead of hooks, a thick tree branch with the bark still on it had been cut into two-inch-thick slices. The four-inch diameter of the branch was perfect for hanging the leads and leather neatly over them.
A wooden plaque with the word HEADQUARTERS hung over a Dutch door. He walked into that room.
“This is your office?” she asked.
“Yep.” He stepped around the heavy wooden desk and plopped into a red leather chair with cowhide accents on it. “You like it?”
“I do. It looks like you.” Rugged. Colorful. Quiet. Manly. Very much a cowboy style.
He turned and picked up a large box from the credenza behind him. “I hope you like this.”
Her heart fluttered much like a little girl on Christmas morning. She hadn’t expected a present. “For me?” Why? I shouldn’t accept this.
“It is.” He didn’t wait for her to open it. He lifted the top from the box, then took out a stunning cowboy hat. Cocoa brown, the leather was cut out under the brim letting turquoise felt show through. “Let’s see how it fits.”
She leaned forward.
“Pull your hair back from your face,” he said quietly.
She pushed her fingers through her hair, and he placed the hat on her head.
Ryder let out an approving sound. “Perfect fit. Oh, you look good.”
She pressed the guilt behind her, but his kindness made it even harder. How could she be falling in love with this man, after what happened?
“No mirror out here,” he said. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
The comment had been playful, but it hit home. “I trust you.” She hadn’t meant it to come out so serious, but there it was.
The left corner of his lip pulled. “I’m happy to hear that, because I trust you too, my friend Lorrie.” He came around the desk and grabbed a scarf and gloves from the coat tree next to the door. “Here.” He slung the wool scarf around her neck. “Get it up around your neck.”
She adjusted the scarf and slid on the gloves.
“I think we’re ready to roll.” He clapped his gloved hands together and led the way back out to the horses.
Lorri checked all the saddle riggings like he’d taught her, although it seemed a waste of time to do so behind him when he was clearly the expert. She put her foot in the stirrup and lifted herself. Ryder was right there spotting her, but she was able to get herself to the saddle this time.
They rode the perimeter fences, him telling her how he and Pop-Pop had used to do this together.
It was as if they’d drifted back in time, when things were simpler, and his grandfather could’ve been riding with them.
Ryder had a million stories. His life had been so full. Her life felt small in comparison. From the back of Dottie looking out across the landscape, where the trees were green before now, dry leaves were beginning to pile against the fence line. She was thankful to experience this side of nature’s artwork. The colors were richer. Her mind’s eye was mixing colors trying to match them.
“I’m so thankful you’re sharing all of this with me,” she said.
“Me too.” He loped off, and she let Dottie have the freedom to keep up.
The exhilaration of being on horseback running across a field side by side and trusting that her bottom wasn’t going to leave that saddle had to have been the bravest thing she’d done in her life.
That night as she was leaving, Ryder stood in the open door of her SUV as he said, “Lorri, thank you for coming. I enjoyed every minute with you.”
“Oh…” She stopped short of turning the key. “Ryder, I can’t leave without telling you something.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This has been a wonderful day. You are … a good man.”
Ryder pushed his hat back. “Then why do you look like you’re going to cry?”
“Ryder, I don’t know why I didn’t put this together sooner.” She lifted her hands to her face in an attempt to hide the tears that were beginning to fall.
“Hey now. It can’t be that bad. Slow down.”
She dropped her hands in her lap. “It’s worse than bad.”
“Here’s your hat back.” Lorri took it off and handed it to him through the window, sweeping at her tears.
“I bought that for you. Please, keep it.”
“I don’t deserve it.” She pushed it away. “Please. Ryder. Take it. You have to listen to me.”
He took the hat. “Fine. What’s going on, gal?”
“After I saw the article in your office…” She turned her back to him. “I…”
“It’s okay. I didn’t know it was a boundary. Well, it’s not. It was just a pinch. A little obstacle and we’re already over it.”
“No. It’s more than that. There were so many coincidences. I didn’t think it could be.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
She turned and looked at him. “Ryder. That drunk driver. That wreck. Everything that tore your life apart. It was Jeff.”
“Jeff Pike. Right. I know that.”
“My brother. Walker is my married name. My whole career has been under that name, so I didn’t change it in the divorce.”
“He was your brother?” He shook his head. “No. How can…? Did you track me down? Is this some kind of sick guilt trip you’re on?”
“No. I didn’t know before.” The words tumbled out in a rush. The situation was bad enough without something like that heaped on top. “Meeting you was purely random. I swear.”
Ryder stared, as though he was looking right through her.
“His name wasn’t in the article that I saw, but when I read the details and they were so similar to what had happened with Jeff, I looked up the report from his records.” She gasped for a breath. “It was him. I’m so sorry.” The last words came out in a sob. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“I think you’d better leave.”
She sucked in a stuttered breath and twisted the key in the ignition.
He backed away from the truck.
His lips pulled into a thin line, as if he might explode. She pulled off and drove straight home.
He kicked the dirt, then jumped in his truck and pressed his foot on the accelerator, sending the motor roaring like a hungry bear on a rampage in the opposite direction.
He drove for an hour, bleary-eyed and unable to even utter a prayer.
His jaw ached. Of all the things you could lay on me, Lord.
At mile marker 150 Ryder veered off to the side of the road. His headlights flooded over the grass and weeds there. The forged steel cross he’d made in his workshop rose from the bank. No one else would probably ever notice it, and nothing without some very specific effort could take it down. He’d planted it deep, and it was made of heavy metal.
It wasn’t fancy. It hadn’t been for anyone but him, and his family.
He stared at the homemade landmark. The promise that he’d never forget her or their son. The apology for not having made the time to drive them himself.
Why hadn’t I been driving? Either outcome was better, either they’d have all said their last goodbye to this life together, or the accident might never have happened.
He was a good driver. Not easily distracted. Ronnie Dwayne was a burst of energy in the mornings; he probably babbled nonstop the whole way. Maybe that was good. Maybe. There were a hundred maybes, and he’d never know what happened. How or why.
Oh, Valerie. Please help me.
He knelt in the damp grass.
He’d opened his heart a tiny bit, and who snuck in but someone connected to the fool who had taken every precious thing from him.
On one knee he pressed his fingers to his forehead, leaning forward, caring not one bit about the cars speeding past on the highway. He cried, deep painful sobs from within, until he huffed and panted, trying to catch his breath.
He opened his eyes and rested his hand on the arm of the cross.
A feather drifted, landing on the ground right next to his boot.
He looked up but didn’t see anything. He lifted the feather, holding it between his fingers.
“What are you trying to tell me, Valerie?”
He sat there for a long time not knowing what he expected, until he began to walk back to the truck. “I needed one more goodbye. I miss you both.”
He drove home in complete silence.