LAUREN LEANED AGAINST the fence post and stared at the ultrasound printout on the slick little paper. She’d managed to get in right away with Dalia’s ob-gyn after they’d had a last-minute cancellation for a Monday-morning appointment. She’d expected to see no more than a blurry little bean-type thing. She’d been completely unprepared for the reality: the rounded head, the sturdy abdomen, the arms and legs moving and kicking. The technician had even been able to tell the sex.
It was a girl.
A girl. An actual person. Not Lauren herself, and not Evan. Not even half of each, but a unique person with a genetic package all her own—a personality, an eye color, a future.
Lauren’s daughter.
And why had she been surprised by how much the ultrasound would show? Because she hadn’t bothered to do a simple Google search to find out. Oh, she’d known enough about pregnancy to knock off the alcohol, and she’d looked up what supplements to take. But that had been the full extent of her research.
Dalia knew every stage of fetal development, and every milestone of the baby’s first year of life. She could recite the symptoms of gestational diabetes and roseola, and she knew what to do for febrile convulsions. Lauren, meanwhile, had learned the exact angle of Alex’s jaw and the contour of his hairline. How many hours had she spent ogling pictures of him on her laptop—hours she could and should have spent researching babies and maternal health? At this point she knew more about the Siege of Béxar than about the first trimester of pregnancy.
And she wasn’t even in the first trimester anymore. She’d missed the whole thing.
The shameful truth was that there’d been lots of times when she’d straight-up forgotten she was even pregnant. That day in San Antonio with Alex, she hadn’t thought about the baby a single time—until that tiny flutter kick had brought her back to reality.
On the other side of the fence, the Angora goats browsed for food. Besides their hay, they still had plenty of grasses and roughage to nibble. They were fluffier now than when Lauren had first seen them, with thick coats of corkscrew curls. Occasionally one of the babies would get lost from its mother and let out a little bleat, and wherever the mother was, she would bleat right back and find her baby. None of the other mothers would so much as raise their heads. Each mother knew her own baby’s voice perfectly.
The goats were better mothers than Lauren. They didn’t forget their babies. They couldn’t.
But Lauren had been so caught up in her new romance—a romance that she’d started when she hadn’t even had the previous guy’s baby yet—that nothing else mattered to her. Even now, memories of her time on the River Walk with Alex kept rising up like champagne bubbles. The things he’d said, the way he looked. How it felt to be with him—talking, eating, doing duck dialogues, walking hand in hand. The solid strength and warmth of his body, the feel of his mouth against hers. She was half-drunk already on the mere thought of him.
All of which meant that she was a terrible mother.
But terrible or not, she was this baby’s mother, the only mother this little girl would ever have. So she’d better rise to the occasion and do the job.
And it wasn’t just a job, not anymore. The moment she’d felt that first kick, she’d felt something else besides: a powerful sense of possession and belonging, an overwhelming love for this person she’d never met but would do anything for. Anything.
“I won’t forget again, baby,” she whispered. “I won’t let you down.”
She remembered so little of her own mother—just a few fragments, bright as dewdrops, and a lingering impression of peace and longing that made her throat ache. Just like Lauren, this baby would grow up with only one parent. And just like her dad, Lauren would have to supply everything that was needed. She couldn’t let herself fall apart over failed romantic relationships. She couldn’t keep making the same mistakes, getting involved with random men.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t fair to put Evan and Alex in the same category. Alex was light-years out of Evan’s league. But that’s exactly what she would think now, in the heady days of infatuation. She’d thought Evan was rarefied perfection, until she’d found out he wasn’t. She couldn’t go through that again—not now, not ever. She couldn’t do that to the baby.
No. She had to stop being distracted by her own feelings and plan for the future, make a stable environment for her child. She had to break this cycle of heartbreak.
It was time to make some changes, no matter how painful.
It was time to grow up.
Rain had fallen overnight, sharpening the fall colors of the Texas Hill Country—the russets and bleached yellows of summer grasses, the dark brown of weed stalks and leafless trees, the patches of bright green. Lauren swallowed over a lump of soreness in her throat. She loved this place, this hard country with its thorns and stones and big skies, its harshness and its beauty, its history and its people. Of all the places she’d lived in over her years of travel, this was going to be the hardest to leave behind.
“There you are.”
Alex’s voice made her heart leap into her throat. She put the ultrasound picture in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie and turned around.
He was standing there in his jeans and work boots, and the familiar denim jacket, and a plaid shirt she’d never seen before, looking even more gorgeous in person than in her imagination.
“Hey!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Her voice sounded unnatural in her own ears.
He blinked. “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here?’ It’s Monday, isn’t it? I told you I’d come out today with the sample tiles for the American Clay. We’re gonna put them against the walls and decide on colors. Remember?”
Oh, right. He had told her that—but she’d forgotten, because she was an airhead. And now, in the midst of all her emotional turmoil, she had to cope with Alex’s actual physical presence, without any preparation whatsoever.
She’d texted him after she made it home from San Antonio, like he’d asked—just the word home, no more. He’d replied with a thumbs-up and a sleep well. All pretty neutral stuff. And that was it. No hearts, no kissy faces, no “I had a wonderful time” or “can’t wait to see you again”—nothing.
Which could mean absolutely anything.
Act natural, she thought. It was a pretty flimsy straw, but it was all she had, so she grasped it.
They walked to the bunkhouse, side by side. She kept her hands in her hoodie pocket, and he didn’t try to take her hand or touch her in any way.
So far, so good.
In the living room, he pulled out some colored tiles and lined them up across the fireplace bricks.
“Okay, so you got your Tuscan Gold, your Bryce Canyon, your French Quarter and your Sugarloaf White. I brought the Chesapeake Bay on my own. I know you didn’t ask for it, but I thought it might work well with the German smear.”
He took a step back. “Dang, that fireplace looks good! We did an amazing job. I can’t get over what a difference it makes. Our imaginary cowboy should be proud.”
“It’s gorgeous, all right. And I do like the Chesapeake Bay. But I don’t know. I’m leaning toward the Bryce Canyon for this room.”
“We should look at both of them against the mantel wood, too. I can’t wait until we get the walls done so we can get the mantel installed.”
They went through all the rooms with the samples, keeping up a steady stream of brisk, businesslike talk. Nothing the least bit romantic passed between them. Maybe Alex was as eager to forget what had happened on the River Walk as she was. Of course he was. No doubt he was relieved to find Lauren so matter-of-fact and unclingy.
Reality always set in sooner or later. If Lauren hadn’t already decided to end things with Alex, she’d be getting a stiff dose of disappointment right about now. As it was, all she felt was a sort of dull sensation in her stomach, and the cold, hard satisfaction of having things under control.
Well. This must be what growing up was like.
When they came full circle to the living room, Alex turned and faced her.
“So I was thinking. I want to take you someplace other than a historical reenactment or the hardware store. So how about if we go to my grandparents’ place, and then out to eat? I’d really like for you to see it. Assuming the weather is good, we can check out some of the main pastures and walk down to the creek. Strictly speaking, with the estate in probate, we might be trespassing, but I think it’s a pretty low-risk activity as far as actually getting arrested goes. It’s not like anyone stops me from going out there to feed cattle. Then afterward, dinner. We may not have high-class cuisine in Limestone Springs, but we do have access to some good plain food. What do you think? I’ve got my work schedule for two weeks out, and I’ve been looking at the ten-day weather forecast, and I have some days that ought to work.”
He was standing there all braced, with his head high and his chest out and his smile fixed, and Lauren understood. He hadn’t been trying to pretend like the River Walk had never happened, hadn’t been trying to weasel out of anything.
He was just nervous.
“I don’t want you to think I’m never going to take you on a real date,” he went on. “So far it’s been mostly construction work and historical reenactments and hanging out with family. Which is cool that you like that kind of thing. I like it, too. But I want you to know I’m not cheap. I’m frugal but I’m not cheap. And for sure it’s going to be challenging with my jobs, finding days when we can spend time together, but we’ve made it work so far, haven’t we? I think we have. Not that it’s enough! It’s not enough at all. It’s killing me that I can’t spend more time with you. I want to see you every day. But we have to work with what we have, and this is just the reality right now. But there are ways we could be more creative about it. Like you could maybe drive into town sometimes when I’m working and meet me for lunch. That’s just half an hour, but it’s better than nothing. But we can talk about all that over dinner. So what do you think?”
His smile was almost brittle now. She didn’t know what kind of signals she was giving off, but clearly they weren’t encouraging.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m not going to be available.”
The words sounded brusque and flat, like she was turning down a carpet-cleaning demonstration rather than a date. Her desperate hope was that if she played it that way, he’d catch on and match her tone, and they could get through this without a meltdown, and without the explanations that she was completely unprepared to give.
A little crease started between his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I haven’t even told you which days yet.”
“I know. But the thing is, I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? For where?”
“Arkansas. There’s a festival in the Ozarks I want to hit up.”
His smile faltered but didn’t go away. He looked like he was waiting for things to make sense.
“What, like a weekend trip, something for your blog?”
“No, it’s a long festival, it’ll go on for weeks.” And it was completely imaginary.
“So when are you coming back?”
“I don’t know,” she said brightly. “Someday, maybe.”
The smile died. “But—but I thought... I thought you were spending the winter here.”
“Yeah, I considered it. But I changed my mind.”
“Oh.”
She saw him swallow hard. He looked like he’d been gut-punched.
“When are you leaving?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, probably. It won’t take me long to pack. It never does.”
He stood there a moment like he didn’t know what to do.
“Well,” he said at last. “I guess I’d better go.”
He started to reach for her, like maybe a friendly goodbye hug was in order, but changed his mind, and rather than turn the hug into a handshake or even a wave, he made a few awkward movements with his arms and then put his hands in his pockets.
“Well, um, thanks,” Lauren said. “For everything.”
“You, too. All right, then. Have a good trip. Be safe.”
And he was gone.
The moment the door shut behind him, Lauren heard herself give a strangled gasp. She felt like she’d just carved out her own heart with a bowie knife.
She wanted to go after him, stop him, wrap her arms around him, bury her face in his denim jacket, but she didn’t move a muscle.
This was growing up, all right, and it really sucked.
ALEX MADE IT halfway down the cleared path from the bunkhouse to the driveway in a sort of stupor. Numbness gave way to hurt, then to anger. And then he turned around and walked right back to the bunkhouse.
He came in without knocking. Lauren was standing exactly where he’d left her, with her arms at her sides and a blank look on her face, like nothing was going on, like she hadn’t just shattered him into a million little pieces and ground the pieces underfoot.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “It wasn’t all me. You felt it, too. I know you did. When we—when we kissed—”
“You mean when you kissed me.”
“You kissed me back! I know you felt it, too. And now you expect me to believe...what? That you were just toying with me? That it didn’t matter to you? That you just changed your mind? Like Evan?”
In an instant her face was transformed, twisted with fury. “How dare you say that? I am nothing like Evan.”
“Well, you’re acting just like him.”
“Stop it, Alex. You’re being a spoiled child. You and I are not married, okay? Evan was my husband. He made a vow to me, and he broke it. He cheated on me and abandoned me. This thing, you and me, is not the same.”
“So you admit that there is a thing, a you and me.”
She sighed and shut her eyes. “Okay, we kissed. And we had some good times. You are a very attractive and intelligent man.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”
“What, how am I patronizing you?”
“Talking about me that way, like I’m a location or a food. Like something you’re going to blog about. Something to just enjoy in the moment and move on.”
“You have a lot of nerve, you know that? You have no right to act so injured. It’s not like we slept together, Alex.”
“No, we didn’t. And I took some flak for that. But I was careful not to compromise you at Béxar, because I care about your reputation and wanted to treat you with respect. What is wrong with you, Lauren? Do you really think love is just about sex?”
The word love went off like a dropped bomb. Lauren looked stunned, frozen. Alex could have kicked himself. Wow. Not holding anything back, are you? Throwing your dignity to the wind.
Then he saw the colored clay tiles he’d arranged so carefully along the walls. “I just realized, you’re abandoning the bunkhouse. You let me go through all that with the plaster samples, and then you tell me you’re leaving. You got this whole project started, got Dalia to sign off on it, got her excited about it, which is not an easy thing to do, got me excited about it, and now you’re just dropping the whole thing? How can you let people down that way? How can you do that to her? How can you do that to me?”
Lauren held her hands to her head. “Stop it! Stop putting all that on me. Stop trying to make me feel responsible for other people’s emotions.”
He laughed, a hard, rough sound. “Do you even hear yourself? You sound exactly like Evan.”
He saw the words hit home. She opened her mouth, then shut it hard.
“You know what?” Alex said. “Never mind. I don’t know why I’m trying to convince you. If you can’t see it for yourself then there’s no point. If you want to go, go. The road—your freedom or whatever—clearly means more to you than I do. There’s nothing more to say. I was wrong to ever think there was more to you than that.”
He walked out. He heard the door slam behind him, but didn’t know if he was the one who’d slammed it. Then he was in his truck, but he couldn’t remember getting in. His heart pounded, and his thoughts felt thick, like he’d had a blow to the head.
He started the ignition, then struck the steering wheel with his fists. A wave of nausea rose in his throat.
He forced himself to breathe, in and out, in and out. He counted to a hundred. Then he carefully backed his truck and headed down the driveway.
Idiot.
He’d known better than to fall for Lauren, and he’d done it, anyway. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a lifetime’s experience with flaky people; he’d suffered enough from his dad. And yet he’d offered himself up to have his heart trampled by a woman who couldn’t care less about him.
The road blurred. He took a furious dash at his eyes with the back of his hand.
He drove out to the ranch without really deciding to do it, got out, walked. In the distance, some hardwoods made a dark smudge against the sky, marking the course of the creek.
He missed his grandfather so much now. The most reliable person in his life—and even he had let Alex down in the end.
This place was all he had now—and he didn’t even have it, just the hope of it. He had to get it back—that’s what he had to focus on now. If he lost it, then he didn’t even know who he was anymore.
He was tired—tired to death of striving and hoping and waiting and losing. When would he ever catch a break?