“Forget the meeting, we’ll do the movies.”
Kim looked at her, horrified. “I can’t miss a League meeting, Jillie.”
“You could if you wanted.”
“But I’ve never—”
“Then perhaps you should.”
A second bell sounded.
“Geez,” Kim moaned, “Eagle-eye Harper is watching. We’ll be on the list for the next few days. Better watch your P’s and Q’s.”
Kim scurried off, leaving Jillie to face Len Harper. She wasn’t in the mood to discuss any further what she sometimes wondered about. She was at work now, and her students depended on her to have a clear head.
Even if that was a near-impossible feat to attain these days.
****
Thad watched the Narrow Gauge pull away from the station at Elk Park for the last time this season. He’d thought that in time, it would get easier. He was wrong. Every time he watched that puff of steam chug into the mountains, he thought of Kim.
Of her leaving him in this very spot, and him doing nothing to stop her. If only he’d been thinking straight. If only he’d thought to convince her to stay, just a little longer, so they could think about what they were doing. Make a plan. It might have worked.
His chest drew tight. He’d also thought that by now he would be over her. Again, he was wrong. He didn’t know if he would ever be over her.
“Well, that’s finished until next summer,” Mack offered as they both stared at the disappearing train.
“Yup.”
“Now you’ve got the time to do what you need to do. So why don’t you go for it?”
Slowly, Thad rotated his gaze toward Mack. “And what is it that I need to do?”
“Go get her.”
“You’re so quick to give advice, why don’t you do the same?”
“Because it’s too late for us. I screwed that up royally. But you—I think you can patch things up in a heartbeat.”
Thad shook his head. “I wish I was as optimistic.”
Mack studied Thad’s face. “If I thought I had half a chance with Jillie, I’d be out of here on the first plane in the morning, Thad. But I don’t. Besides, I’ve got too many other problems to deal with at the moment. But you, that’s a whole different set of circumstances. There’s nothing keeping you from going to Kim.”
“Only the fact that we live two time-zones apart and that one of us would have to give up an entire lifestyle if we decided to stay together.”
“And that would be a difficult decision?”
“I don’t think she would be happy here.”
“Would you be happy there, with her?”
Thad contemplated the question. “Sometimes I think it wouldn’t matter where I was, as long as I was with her.”
Glancing away, Thad thought about his own words. Would he be happy anywhere, as long as he had Kim? Would he be willing to give up the ranch, the life he’d always known, for her?
“If I had Jillie back,” Mack added quietly, “I think I’d probably live on the moon, if that’s what she wanted.”
Thad knew Mack was missing Jillie something awful. He also knew that Mack’s problems had intensified ten-fold since Jillie had left, what with his son being diagnosed with a serious illness. He could understand not having the strength to deal with getting Jillie back at the moment. But Mack was wrong if he thought there was nothing keeping him from going to Kim. There was everything keeping him away.
“She said she would call when she got home. She didn’t. I think that sends a pretty loud message.”
“Thad, we’ve been over this a hundred times. You both are pig-headed fools, waiting for the other one to make a first move. You’re either going to have to take the risk or wallow in your own self pity for the rest of your life. You can do something about this situation now, or you can stay miserable. Believe me, if I could alter what I’ve done, I would. Why don’t you, for once, take the bull by the horns and make a damned decision about this.”
Thad pulled his gaze away from Mack’s face and perused the empty landscape in front of him. The pack season was over for the year. The last train out had taken the handful of hikers and tourists back to Durango. The barren mountains in front of him reflected the empty longing in his heart. And all that loomed in front of him for the next few months was a cold, empty ranch house on a cold, lonely mountain.
Unless, like Mack said, he decided to take the bull by the horns.
****
“Mom, for the last time, I’m not interested in dating Susan Elder’s son. I know she’s your best friend from college and you’ve explained numerous times that he’s a successful stock broker who just moved into the area, but I have to repeat, I’m not interested!”
Kim set her iced tea glass on the table with a little more force than she attended. A lone ice cube jumped up and splashed across her mother’s linen tablecloth.
“Kimberly!” her mother exclaimed, “there’s no need to take that tone with me.”
Kim closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. For weeks now it seemed a tiny, nagging headache always lay just behind her eyelids. Lack of sleep, she guessed. Maybe stress. She wasn’t sure exactly what to attribute it to.
She opened her eyes and glanced across the table. Both her parents were staring back at her.
“Something happened to you on that trip to Colorado, didn’t it, Kimberly? Do you want to talk about it?” Her mother’s urgent expression bothered her. Kim glanced to her father’s expectant gaze.
“Nothing happened to me in Colorado,” she whispered. Except that I fell in love. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress at school. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on the both of you.”
“You’re not yourself, Kim,” her father lamented. She searched his face, her gaze settling on the depth of his knowledgeable eyes. “Something’s bothering you. I hope that whatever it is, you will work it out. You realize we’re here for you.”
Kim sighed and glanced to the table. “I know that, Dad.”
“Kim,” he began again after a minute, “your mother and I need to talk to you about something else. Are you up to listening? It’s important.”
A moment of panic settled around Kim’s heart. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Then what’s so important?”
Her father embraced her mother’s gaze with a smile, then he turned back to look at her. “I’m retiring at the end of the month. We’ve bought a house in Florida.”
Kim sat in shock. “When did this all come about?”
“About a month ago. When you were in Colorado. Actually, we’ve been thinking about it for some time. You just seemed so preoccupied, we wanted to wait a bit until the plans were finalized to tell you.”
“And now they are?”
“Yes,” her mother answered. “We’ll be in our new house for Christmas.”
****
Catherine Hellman’s voice droned on and on in Kim’s ear. The first order of business was the charity auction. Second on the agenda was the League’s contribution to the new hospital wing. Then she went on even more about what kind of pasta salad to serve at the horse show luncheon. Katie McIntyre didn’t think they should have anything with black olives since so many people were allergic to them. Caroline DeVries liked black olives. Should we have lavender napkins, or spice it up with something bold, like neon green? Catherine queried the group.
Kim didn’t care if the napkins were pink with chartreuse polka-dots.
Then came the committee reports. Brette Bonner reported on the state of their treasury. Kirsten Vanlandingham reported on the invitations to the horse show. Cally Cooper lamented that the silver trophy trays they’d always used were discontinued by the trophy shop and she had no idea where to look to find a replica.
Kim huffed out a long, thorough breath. Who gives a flying leap?
Her entire life was in the toilet, she’d given up the only man she’d ever loved, nothing was going right at school, her parents were moving to Florida, and all these women could discuss was the color of napkins and whether to put black olives in the pasta salad? Give me a break! Doesn’t it ever get any deeper than this?
Someone called out her name.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your committee report, Kim,” Catherine replied with a hint of disgust. “For the charity auction. How many businesses have you contacted and which ones have you committed?”
Kim stood slowly, her committee report in hand, and glanced around the room from woman to woman. These people were barely acquaintances. She didn’t owe them diddly-squat. She owed herself a whole lot more.
She tossed her report on the lap of the woman sitting next to her. “The committee reports,” Kim began, throwing back her shoulders just a little squarer, “that the committee has nothing to report. And as of this moment, I officially resign from the League.”
****
Melissa Potter sat crying in the principal’s office. Her mother sat opposite her with the coldest look on her face that Kim had ever seen on a woman. Brady Johnson, the principal, sat behind his desk, a scowl over his face. And Kim crumbled and uncrumbled the wad of paper in her hands over and over again and tried to hold back the tears, herself.
“I’m tellin’ ya there’s no use in this girl goin’ to school anymore,” Melissa’s mother chided. “I need her at home and she’s gonna be big before long anyway, and what good’s it gonna do her to get a few more months of school in when she’s gonna have to quit after the baby gets here anyway.”
Brady Johnson cleared his throat. “Mrs. Potter—”
“It’s not Mrs. Potter, not anymore. Just call me Carol.”
“Carol,” Kim interjected, “Melissa is a brilliant student. She wants to go to school. Isn’t there some way we can work this out? I’ve contacted some local day care centers and one of them is willing to let Melissa’s baby stay all day for free if Melissa will volunteer to work there for half of her school day.”
“We don’t take no charity.”
“It’s not charity, Mrs., uh, Carol. She would be working off what she owes them. Melissa only needs a few credits to graduate, we’d work it out here at school and possibly could even provide her transportation to the center. Won’t you please reconsider.”
There was a momentary silence. Kim glanced at Melissa who was throwing her a look of thanks from her watery eyes.
Melissa’s mother stood and headed for the door. “I thank you for your time, but Melissa and I have a lot to do at home. I’ve got three others younger than her, one still in diapers. Melissa’s sixteen, she’s young, maybe later she can get her GED. or something.”
Kim stood, desperation aching in her heart for Melissa, whose eyes flashed in desperation back to her. “But Mrs. Potter. Please. Melissa needs an education in order to do right for the baby.”
Carol Potter swirled. “Melissa’s gotta do right by me. She made her bed and had her fun, now she’s got to lie in it. Ain’t no worryin’ about it, it’s done and over with. Ain’t no different than what I had to do myself. Now, we’re leaving. Melissa, get your things.”
As the pair walked out of the principal’s office, Melissa’s tear-filled face glanced back at Kim as she mouthed the words, “Thank you.” It was all Kim could do to hold back the tears. She waited a full thirty seconds, then gave Brady Johnson a good-bye wave and headed for her office.
Thankfully, it was after school hours and the halls were clear. Just a handful of kids were milling about the gym. Ball practice, her mind registered.
She pushed open the door to her office just as the tears began to fill her eyes. With blurred vision, she quickly entered the small room and briskly shut the door behind her, pushing in the lock on the doorknob simultaneously. With her back against the door, she finally let the sobs overcome her.
Bittersweet tears trailed down her face. For Melissa. For her parents. For Thad. Oh, God. For Thad.
Sucking in a cleansing breath, Kim pushed a palm over her eyes to rid them of tears and stared at an unusual mass of color on her desk.
Her heart jumped.
Scarlet primrose, lavender columbine, and bright red Indian Paintbrush wildflowers were bunched together in a beautiful crystal vase, centered in the middle of her messy desk. Kim gasped, then reached out to touch a tender petal. Did she dare hope?
“You have no idea what I had to go through to get those here.” His voice came soft and mellow and tentative from the corner of her office. Startled, Kim glanced to where Thad was now rising from a chair she kept there, looking ridiculously out of place with his Wranglers and Tony Lama’s and his Black Resistol.
Oh, but you do look so damn fine, Thaddeas Winchester.
“They’re beautiful,” she sniffed.
You’re beautiful
, she wanted to say.
“Looks like you’ve had a bad day.”
He walked slowly across the room and reached out to trail the tears of one eye with a forefinger. Kim peered into the pools of his eyes and felt her tears begin again.
“I’ve had a bad month,” she whispered.
“Seems to be going around,” he replied, studying her face. “I’ve missed you.”
Kim sighed deeply and smiled, her eyes never leaving his. “I’ve missed you like crazy.” His finger still traced her cheek.
“What are we going to do about it?”