CHAPTER EIGHT

GWEN MCCABE BEAMED at her daughter. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day,” she said. “I thought you’d never get over your disenchantment with men.”

“What makes you think I’m over it?” Twyla asked, checking the latch on her overnight bag. It was a wonder she even had an overnight bag—she never went anywhere.

“Well, of course you must be if you’re going to your reunion with that nice young doctor from Denver.”

Twyla decided not to burst her mother’s bubble. Gwen believed this weekend meant more than it did, and Twyla didn’t see the harm in letting her think this was something fun and pleasurable. She privately hoped that her return to Hell Creek would inspire Gwen. Perhaps seeing her daughter take this big step to face the past would help her take a step of her own.

Off the porch.

Twyla shut her eyes briefly. Her mother’s panic attacks had grown so severe that Gwen no longer left the house. She made it as far as the top step of the porch, then nearly collapsed from anxiety. Her mother’s condition had gone on so long that they seldom spoke of it anymore, because they got nowhere.

“You must be so excited,” Gwen continued, oblivious of Twyla’s thoughts. “Remember how you used to look forward to your dates when you were in high school?”

“That was high school, Mom.”

“Nevertheless, you must feel like you’re walking on air.”

“I feel like projectile vomiting.”

“Oh, Twyla—”

“He’s here!” Brian came charging through the house from the kitchen, Shep right behind him, toenails clattering on the scratched wood floor. Twyla had brought him home from school early today so that she could say goodbye. “Rob’s here!” Brian left the house at a run, pausing at the top of the porch steps to leap over them, landing on the battered earth in a cloud of dust and then running over to greet their visitor.

“Someone’s glad to see him, at least,” Gwen pointed out.

Brian bounced like a rubber ball, peppering Rob with questions as he led him up to the house. Twyla was, for a moment, entirely captivated by the picture of her small son walking beside a tall man, Brian’s worshipful face turned up and Rob’s dark head bent low as he listened intently to whatever the boy was saying.

Don’t do this, she warned herself. Don’t start thinking… But she was already thinking it. Already thinking that no matter how much she loved Brian, no matter how hard she worked to raise him, no matter what she taught him, there was one thing she had never given him—a father. And no matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself Brian was fine without one, she couldn’t help thinking that it was important.

Her own childhood was filled with memories of her father. There were certain things a mother couldn’t give a child—the bristly feel of a cheek rough with five-o’clock shadow. The belly-deep laughter set off by tasteless jokes that made a mother roll her eyes. The way to punch a baseball mitt down into the palm of your hand. The illicit joy of sneaking downstairs at midnight to eat sandwiches made with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. The big-shouldered protector who appeared in the doorway to ward off a nightmare.

Many boys had grown up with less, she told herself. Rob Carter was a perfect example. Raised at Lost Springs, he had been deprived of both parents—and look how he turned out.

Just look.

“Hi.” She could barely choke out a greeting when he came into the house. The prospect of throwing up was becoming progressively more real.

He gave her a dazzling prime-time TV smile. “All set for the big event?”

“As set as I’m ever going to be, I suppose.” She knew it was too late to chicken out, but Lord, she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

She introduced him to her mother, who regarded him with shining eyes. “Thank you for doing this, Rob. You’re going to make my daughter very happy.”

He looked startled by her words. “Okay, yeah. That’s the idea.”

“Don’t mind my mom,” Twyla said. “She’s a hopeless romantic.”

“And not ashamed to admit it,” her mother said. “The two of you are going to be the talk of the town.”

He picked up her overnight bag and zippered garment bag. “Is this everything?”

“Yes.” She clutched her purse in front of her like a shield, and went down on one knee in front of Brian. “Be good, sport. You do everything your grandma tells you, all right?” She looked deep into her son’s face, dreading his reaction. What if he got hysterical over the prospect of her leaving for the weekend?

Then again, what if he didn’t?

He didn’t. He gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and said, “’Bye, Mom. ’Bye, Rob.”

Gwen beamed like a chaperone on prom night. “Don’t give us a thought. The Wizard of Oz is queued up for tonight, and we’re making Yellow Dinner for supper.”

“Yellow Dinner?” Rob asked.

“A family tradition,” Twyla said, a little embarrassed.

“Everything yellow,” Brian explained. “Corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets—”

“Hey, that’s almost worth staying for,” Rob said.

Gwen laughed. “Don’t tease. Just have a Midori on the airplane. You know, that yellow melon liqueur.”

“Mom, I don’t think this airplane is going to have Midori on board.”

“Oh, heavens, I forgot the camera. Don’t move—I want a picture of you two flying off on your big adventure.”

Twyla stood up with a shudder. The last time—the only time—she had been in a plane, it had been with her father.

And they hadn’t been drinking Midori.

* * *

“I’VE GOT A line on a new crop-dusting formula,” her father had shouted over the clatter of the Stearman’s radial engine. “As soon as I close this deal to be the exclusive agent in the state, your mom and I’ll be on easy street.”

She had felt a momentary thrill for him, thinking that perhaps this time his luck would hold. It was pleasant, flying low across the valley scooped out between the Tetons, imagining her life shaping into something that remotely resembled her dreams. “It was nice of you to ask Jake to look over the legal contracts.”

“Hey, he’s family.”

“More than you know, Daddy,” she yelled, clutching the sides of the cockpit. “I suppose I should tell Jake first, but I can’t help myself—I’m pregnant.”

He had crowed with sheer delight, throwing back his head and laughing into the wind.

It was the last day she had seen her father alive.

* * *

“READY, TWYLA?” ROB ASKED. “Smile for the camera.” With smooth familiarity, he slid his arm around her.

Shaken by the memory, she took a deep breath, burying the old hurt as best she could. Then she lifted her chin and grinned broadly, blinking in the aftermath of the flash.

“All set,” she said, taking his proffered arm.

They walked out on the porch. At the last second, she spun around and opened her arms. “One more hug and kiss,” she insisted, and Brian plowed willingly into her. She felt the warmth of him, smelled the little-boy scent of earth and grass and dog, and a loving ache tugged at her heart. “See you, sport. I love you.”

“Love you, Mom. Gotta go help Grammy in the kitchen.”

When the screen door slammed behind him, she turned to Rob.

He was staring at her with a fascination that reminded her of a hungry wolf.

“What?” she asked.

He kept staring. “You’re a good mother, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea. I’m making it up as I go along. You think I’m a good mother?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. I guess.”

“That might be the best compliment ever.”

“Glad I spoke up, then.” He turned away, picked up her bags and walked to his rental car. She followed, feeling strangely guilty, wondering what his past had been like. He had been raised at Lost Springs, not by a mother. What did he feel, watching her with Brian? She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t know how.

She got into the rental car and looked over at him.

Lord, that profile.

“I guess we should stay away from touchy subjects, huh?” she asked.

He turned to her and propped an elbow on the back of her seat, his scowl melting beneath the charm of a boyish grin. “Not if we’re about to become engaged.”

“What?”

“Engaged. You know, to be married.” With a casual lack of haste, he turned on the car and backed down the rutted driveway.

“I know what engaged means,” she said, her fingertips suddenly cold as she folded her hands nervously in her lap. “I don’t see what it has to do with us.”

“It was Mrs. Spinelli and Mrs. Duckworth’s idea. They think we should tell people at your reunion that we’re engaged.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I know. That’s what I like about it.”

“We really don’t have to—”

“I know that, too.” He put on his sunglasses. “But we’re going to. If I show up as your date, people will think I’m just some Joe Schmo you picked up at random so you didn’t have to show up alone.”

“Or picked out of a catalog like a packet of burpless cucumber seeds.”

“Yep. Can’t have that, can we?”

“I don’t need a fiancé, real or fake. And I certainly don’t see why—” She broke off when he turned west off the Shoshone Highway. “This isn’t the way to the county airport.”

“We don’t leave for two hours.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just sit tight and you’ll see.”

She watched the landscape slip by, a blur of wildflowers and sage and low scrubby hills rising to the far-off Owl Creek peaks, topped with eternal snow. “This is the way to Lost Springs.”

“Uh-huh.”

He wasn’t much for explanations. Ever since the day of the auction, Twyla had felt strangely disoriented, and the present moment was no different. But there was something else she felt when she was in the presence of Rob Carter—alive. Her skin and scalp tingled with awareness in the breeze, and a sense of anticipation built in her chest. She felt almost reckless, ready to take chances again. Those were two things she had never felt in her life when it came to men.

Her father had been interesting, certainly. Fascinating, truth be told. But with his freewheeling ways and wild dreams, he had never, ever imparted a feeling of security. Jake, on the other hand, had been safe. Comfortable, predictable and—she should have known this from the start—dull. Perhaps that was why, after the pain of abandonment had dulled, she had never regretted his leaving, hadn’t considered contesting the divorce. The papers served to her by a stranger who represented Jake had seemed a fitting conclusion to their failed relationship.

She decided to explore the novelty of feeling interested and reckless all at once. It was a rare man who could inspire that. She relaxed in the passenger seat and watched out the window. Rob drove through the peeled-log gateway of Lost Springs, stopped briefly at the security booth, then continued on to the main campus. He drove slowly to the spreading oak tree where she had hung the raffle quilt. She flushed, remembering the way he had rescued her as she dangled from a branch.

“Now what?” she asked.

He stopped the car in the shade. “Now…it’s time you learned something about the man you’re about to marry.”