15

 

Monday morning found Sage restless. He wasn’t used to having people in the house, so he hadn’t slept much. Before he lumbered out of bed, he planned how he’d hook up the blade on his truck and clear the drive. Jax could help get the women’s vehicles out of the barn.

Women. One woman, rather, had weighed on his mind throughout the night. He hadn’t slept much. The sight of Lanae in the hallway had been ever present behind his eyelids. More accurate, his reactions to Lanae had kept him awake until two-thirty.

All sorts of emotions galloped through him upon rising. He valued Lanae’s friendship, but Sage refused to believe he could consider her as more than a friend. But she was at the forefront of his mind more and more as days passed. He was drawn to her outlook on life as well as the man-woman attraction.

The God issue played a part as well. He slung the heavy blanket off his chest. He punched the king-sized pillow at his side.

He might just as well acknowledge Him.

“God, I know you’re there for some people. How can I ever forget the way I prayed for You to spare Becca? I begged for You to perform a miracle in her cancer-swollen body. I bargained, and I lost. You took her, anyway.” Sage ground his teeth. He jerked his eyes open and kicked aside the bed covers.

It’d never work with Lanae. She had a child-like trust. She came across as though she lived in a black and white world. She wanted answers about Uncle Ted. She even believed Ted was out there somewhere, just the way Katherine had turned out to be Kate.

I need to keep what happened in the past secret.

And like a flash, ancient words from his past came to mind. He knows the secrets of the heart.

Sage recognized the words from Psalm 44, and a sharp pain pierced his heart. God knows. Then his eyes focused on Becca’s picture, where she looked out and greeted him each morning.

“I’d like to think of you at Lanae’s age, full of life and energy. But I only remember how you suffered with a disease that stole my life as much as it took yours, and how God let you suffer.” He turned his whole body to face the photo on his night table and stared into the brown eyes. He looked at the mouth that didn’t answer back, reached out to run his thumb over the inanimate object. A new concept shot through him as he waited in the quiet room.

Becca didn’t “talk” back like he usually imagined. Her voice was absent from his skull.

It hit him hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Sage couldn’t hear Becca’s voice any longer. What he heard instead, zinging through his head, was Lanae’s lilting laughter.

Actually, it’d been some time since he’d gone through the rooms in turn, telling Becca about his day.

By the time he readied himself, he realized he looked forward to saying good morning to everyone, especially a certain spunky woman.

He passed Jax snoring on the couch. He quietly ascended the stairs. He thought he heard one of the gals running water in the guest bathroom, but the house was silent again, so he went on to the great room. Sage cleared ashes from the grate in the fireplace and put on another log.

When he stood, Becca smiled from her mantle photo. He took the picture down, ran a finger over the top of the frame to remove any dust, then held her close to his heart.

Becca had looked back at him from within the frames of her various pictures since he’d moved into the ranch house, always with a trusting look in her brown eyes that said she thought he hung the moon.

But his moon had dropped right out of the sky when she died.

It was time to put her away.

His shoulders soon heaved with the magnitude of his tears.

 

****

 

Don’t save things for a special occasion. I’m alive today. It’s a special occasion right now.

Sleep hovered like a flowing black cape just beyond her reach. Throughout the night, Lanae opened her eyes and turned to the bedside clock, noting every hour. Always, she took care not to disturb Lezlie. As a result, she woke with a blinding headache.

When she ambled down the hall, she inhaled the fresh brewed coffee that must have been on a timer. She’d heard no one in the kitchen. She jolted at seeing Sage in the great room. The sight before her stabbed her heart.

Sage, body jerking with silent sobs, cradled Becca’s framed picture.

Lanae’s mind went blank. She stumbled, caught herself before she could make a sound, and retreated without turning around. She tiptoed backwards down the hall.

The vision of Sage in such obvious agony burned into her brain like a searing branding iron.

Lanae’s tears froze within her. Hopelessness slammed deep to the core of her being. She had to get out of there as soon as she could. She couldn’t face Sage alone yet. Lanae returned to the guestroom and feigned sleep. Her heart hurt too badly to form a prayer.

Through her numbness, she listened to Lezlie’s movements as she rose and finished in the bathroom.

She heard Jaxson tromp up the stairs and announce his usual hunger. Muffled laughter and the sounds of their voices came from far away as they shared breakfast.

She drifted off, and woke up to her own rudeness, cowardice even, when she heard Sage telling Lezlie and Jaxson good-bye.

Lanae yanked off the tufted blue coverlet and speedily dressed. She scurried through the great room and called out the front door, “Hey, Jax, thanks for bringing those letters in from the barn.” She rubbed her arms and stomped her stocking-clad feet to ward off the chill.

“No problem.” He stood on the porch with his mother.

“Well, they’re important.”

Lezlie nodded at her comment.

Sage glared.

“Those letters are so back-before-I-was-born.” Jaxson grinned when he made the remark.

“Well, you’re a thoughtful young man. The Christmas tree is special.” She turned to Lezlie. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“Hasn’t Dad told you? We always go somewhere warm. Florida this year, but Dad’s thinking it might be a good place to check out real estate.”

Hadn’t she had enough shocks for one morning? She froze in place.

The Diamond family walked out to the car together.

Lanae stood inside the door and listened.

“Love you, son,” Sage told Jaxson as he shut the passenger door of the SUV.

“And God loves you, Dad,” Lezlie told Sage when he went around to the driver’s side. Something secret was behind the words.

Lanae wished she was close enough to see their expressions.

When they hugged again, Lanae was able to pry up her feet. She spied her sedan parked behind Lezlie’s.

She’d stay long enough for coffee, which she needed for the drive back. “Dill-witted,” she told herself. Then she laughed without humor. “You do like dill pickles, but dull-witted, don’t you mean?” She needed coffee, and poured a cup before slipping into her shoes. Lanae drank it while leaning against the counter. She purposely ignored looking toward the fireplace and the picture on the mantle.

Had loving Sage ever been in God’s plan for her?

Sage must have gone out to the barn, because he didn’t return to the house. She was half finished with a second cup of coffee before she decided it might be best to leave without talking to him.

She dug a notepad out of her purse and scrawled a simple thank-you. She found her purse, shoved her arms into her coat, and left.

Traffic was close to nonexistent when she hit the road, and when vehicles moved, they crawled. She was glad, because her mind was everywhere but on her driving. When she came upon Western Row she decided to stop.

How crazy it all was. Lanae had used the excuse of looking at Sage’s new saddle to go see him, but the storm and then the letter business had intervened. She had yet to lay her eyes on the new saddle.

Now, after seeing him weep over Becca’s picture, she doubted she’d ever see the leather in question.

Sage was an enigma. What made him tick?

When she first met him, Lanae had considered him even-keeled, almost too peaceful, an unemotional observer.

After witnessing his weeping breakdown, he certainly contradicted that impression. So maybe Sage appeared easy going when it involved anyone else but Becca.

Lanae was impressed walking into Western Row. The shops were different, but connected. She wandered through the displays of local artists’ work, noticed the difference between a connection with nature and the froufrou fun decorative items of Frivolities. Instead of vanilla and spice, these shops smelled of leather. Necessary and unnecessary western apparel came next, where she was drawn to a pair of boots dyed in mauve and turquoise.

“Let me know if I can help you find your size.”

Lanae turned to greet the speaker. A lovely, statuesque woman with black hair and stunning amber eyes came to her direction from the farrier end of the row of shops. She brought with her the scent of leather.

“Are you the saddle maker?”

“Lorinda Watts.” She gave Lanae a closer look while extending her hand. “Sorry, my hands are so rough.”

“No problem. Mine were like that when I lived on the ranch. I’m Lanae Petersen from Platteville.”

“Oh! You bought Sage Diamond’s vanity?”

Should she be jealous of Lorinda? She tossed away the idea. She couldn’t help but wonder about his and another woman’s friendship. Sage was obviously self-sufficient, but had he ever turned to Lorinda Watts for more?

“Forgive me for being so forward, but after meeting you, Lanae, I think Sage might finally admit he can’t go on living in the past.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I doubt he’s ready to take a risk on me.”

“OK, change of subject. Is there anything I can help you find?”

“I’d like to see one of your saddles, or anything else you’ve made.”

Lanae kept her eyes peeled for the aesthetics of the displays as she followed Lorinda. Then she kind of let her mind wander while Lorinda explained her leather working tools and stains.

She tuned back in when Lorinda said, “Similar to the one I did for Sage...well, look who’s here...”

Lanae could count the number of times she’d been around Sage on her fingers, but each time she looked him in the face, or heard his voice, she reacted like it was the first. It wasn’t just the unique blue of his eyes, or his slow manner of speech, but the whole package of outdoor breadth and solidity.

Gooseflesh shivered over her skin as though he had caressed her with an invisible touch. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

His gaze locked on hers. “Fine way to say good-bye, by leaving a note.”

Lorinda turned from Sage to Lanae, wide-eyed and grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s not how it sounds,” Lanae attempted to explain. “I got snowed in—”

“Along with Lezlie and Jax,” Sage added.

“You left without seeing my saddle.”

“So you followed me?”

“Not really. Yeah. Kinda, I guess. The roads are still dangerous, so I wanted to make sure you got home with no problems. Then I saw your car here, and well, here we both are.”

He would have followed her to Platteville? After catching him weeping earlier that morning, she was more thrilled by his protective care than she wanted to admit.

Lanae decided they didn’t need a third person taking it all in. “Lorinda, it was great meeting you. Come on up to Frivolities, and I’ll treat you to some of my sister’s coffee.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to. Word’s out about your cheesecake, so you can count on a visit from me.”

Sage tipped his hat, not saying a word to Lorinda, and latched onto Lanae’s elbow as though he feared she’d take flight. Outside, he pulled his collar up to protect his neck against a blast of arctic air.

Lanae slunk down into the warmth of her crocheted scarf, looking at him expectantly.

“I haven’t been honest with you. There’s another letter, one separate from the ones you found. It’s time I showed it to someone.” He spoke gruffly.

She hesitated. The flashing image of him wrapped around Becca’s picture conflicted with his opening up to her now. But then she was here in the flesh, and his wife was gone.

“Would you mind coming back? Have lunch with me at the house?” He looked so vulnerable, needy even.

“Sure. Let me give Geneva a buzz so she knows where I am,” she said, as she dug for her cell phone. “Let’s go then. It’s freezing out here.”

Back at Sage’s home, the smell and warmth of burning firewood welcomed her.

Sage took her coat, hands lingering as though he wanted to warm her up with all his movements. “Let’s go in by the fire.”

She flashed him a smile. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“When I was packing up to move to the acreage...” Sage reached for a heavy blanket with a Native American design in primary colors, covered their legs where they nearly touched on the couch. “I found a letter folded up in the support board for the mirror.”

Lanae was glad he sat near but confused enough she couldn’t quite relax.

“It’s from my Uncle Ted, written to his mother.”

“That’d be your grandmother, Juanita?”

“Right. My grandmother must have finally given up, realized her son was never coming back, and hid the letters Katherine had written. My mom got the dresser after Grandma died. She may not have even known about the letters.”

“But you’ve known about this one?”

He gave her a shame-faced nod. “I had never heard of Katherine before you found the others, and to find out she loved my uncle and had met my grandmother, well, that was a lot to put together.”

He picked up an unfolded, hand-written sheet of paper with fragile fold creases. “I can’t remember if I told you my grandfather Earl was an unpleasant sort. To put it mildly. World War II changed the man, turned him into an angry, abusive drunk.”

“I thought we knew enough about one another that you could have trusted me with this letter earlier.”

“Didn’t you ever have a secret?”

Since he was confessing, she considered telling Sage more about her one-night stand.

Now wasn’t the time. Maybe she didn’t trust him enough.

“Uncle Ted had taken enough. He resolved to take no more beatings and at the same time protect the women in the family. In the heat of the moment, my uncle hit his own father four times with a broken ax handle. I tried to spare my daughter and grandson from the details of my grandfather’s cruelty. However, they need to know about their uncle, so I guess it’s time the whole story comes out in the open.”

“Katherine surfaced. There’s a chance your uncle is still out there somewhere.” Nerve endings skittered throughout her body as Lanae began to read.

 

Somewhere in Alaska

July 1975

 

My Dearest Mother,

 

It’s been fifteen years, and I don’t know where to begin. You are a wise woman. No doubt you figured out the connection between his death and my disappearance.

Like David in the Psalms, I can finally say I have discovered peace.

God forgives.

Now, I’m asking you to forgive me.

For reasons known only to you, you loved my father.

I hated him.

You told me more times than I can count how much he had changed, that he hadn’t always been the way he was with us.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’m a man. My body healed, but I’d had enough. And I wanted to free you all from his tyranny.

The blows he gave your heart, did they ever heal?

I caused you more hurt, I can only imagine. I so hope you can forgive me.

It was an ugly scene on that Fourth of July. My mind snapped the way the ax handle had snapped after he wrestled it from my hands and slung it against the Old Packard.

I got it away from him and pounded on him to get him to stop hurting us.

I could stop him, that’s all I wanted. I never intended to kill him. I didn’t know what else to do. So I ran.

 

My precious mother, I know that we will meet again in the great by and by.

 

Your only son,

 

Theodore

 

P.S. “My hope is in you all day long,” Psalm 25:5.

 

Lanae was thankful for the leather cushion beneath her. Her legs wouldn’t have held her had she been standing.