The Rancher's Reunion. Tina Radcliffe
Two
Will sat in the rocking chair with one boot propped on the railing and the other on the porch.
Alone with the stars. The time of day he liked best. It was quiet enough to hear an occasional car out on the service road a mile away. The soft night breeze brought only a rustle from the trees and a whinny from the stable.
He used to come out here at night mad and frustrated, trying to make sense of life. Now, after years of tangling with his demons, he’d finally found an uncertain peace. He imagined his father sitting in the same beat-up rocker and coming to similar conclusions.
Seeing Annie again brought all the conflicting thoughts back. Vibrant and alive, she had a future that was hers to take.
For only brief seconds did he despair his own destiny. Then he pushed the negative thoughts away. He wouldn’t allow them to control his life ever again.
He’d gone to the wall and back with God on this.
Huntington’s.
There was a fifty-fifty chance he had the disease that slowly destroyed his father.
A mere toss of the coin.
Those odds were what had kept him awake at night when he was younger. He’d been haunted day and night after his father’s death. Every tremor, every stumbled step reminded Will of the deterioration that forced his father into a wheelchair and then to the bed that became his final prison.
Huntington’s was the Sullivan family secret. Only Rose knew, and she’d honored Will’s privacy.
The first time they’d discussed the subject she’d begged him to be tested.
He couldn’t do that, even for Rose.
If he was negative, sure, the anxiety would be over. But if he was positive, he’d spend every moment of every day anticipating symptoms, seeing even more demons around every corner.
There was no medical advantage to being tested. A positive test result couldn’t tell when he’d actually develop the disease or to what degree. It only meant he was positive for the gene. There would be even more unanswered questions. Another can of worms to deal with.
It was about the time Annie left he realized he had two choices: walk away from God or walk with Him. He’d chosen the latter, knowing there was no way he could make this journey alone.
Will planned to savor each day, appreciating what was set before him. He had the ranch and his friends. Life was pretty darn good. Yes, his was an uncertain peace. But peace, nonetheless.
On his terms.
Just the way he liked things.
He stared out at the land. Even in the darkness he recognized every landmark on the property, from the maple trees in front of the house to the horse barn rising to the right, to the silhouette of the peach orchard far to the north.
Sullivan Ranch. His legacy.
But could he hold on to that legacy?
Will’s ears perked at a sound from in the house. He stopped the easy motion of the chair and listened. The screen creaked and pushed open.
He tipped back his head to look.
Annie wore Rose’s plaid flannel robe, twisted, with the collar tucked in. Her hair stood up around her head, like some sort of wayward angel.
“Who’ve you been wrestling?”
“That silly bed, of course. It has more lumps than I remembered.”
“Hey, princess, Rose replaced that mattress as soon as she found out you were coming back.”
“Really? Then I guess I have more lumps than I remembered.” She rubbed her hip.
He chuckled and got to his feet. “Here, sit down.” As she limped past he pulled out the collar of her robe. “You look like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”
“Flatterer.” With nimble fingers she smoothed down her hair and pushed the strands away from her face.
“What are you doing up, Will?”
“A lot on my mind.”
“Me, too.” Easing into the chair, she glanced at him, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I guess it’s a bit early for breakfast.”
“A bit.” He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch, then gave her a wink. “But not too early for a midnight snack.”
“Blackberry pie.” They said the words together and laughed.
Will stood. “What do you want to drink?”
“Milk,” she said, using her good leg to gently rock the chair. “And thanks so much, Will.”
He returned moments later, their snacks on a tray, which he set on the rail of the porch. “You know, it’s getting mighty annoying the way you thank me for every single thing.”
“But.” She swallowed hard and blinked furiously. “I mean, it’s not like I live here anymore. I don’t want to mess up your schedule and be a bother.”
So that was what this was all about.
“Annie, we’re your family. This is your home.”
“No.” She reached out a hand to touch his arm and he stepped back.
Annie cleared her throat. “I’m—I’m grateful you and Rose took me in. You certainly didn’t need another mouth to feed, and I’m so appreciative that you put up with me all those years. But, Will, Sullivan Ranch is your home. Not mine.”
“I don’t want your gratitude.” He paused and stared at her. Understanding suddenly broke through the emotions crowding his mind. “Is that why you didn’t come back after college?”
“I did come back.”
“For less than a year.”
She clasped and unclasped her hands.
“Why did you go to Kenya?” He wanted to understand. Needed to understand.
“I had to find my own life, my own place in this world. I honestly felt called to medical missions. Besides, I was itching to get out and see the world.” She tightened the belt on the robe. “They needed me over there, and there wasn’t a good reason not to stay.”
“Even though the situation was tense?” He ran his fingers through his hair. The thought of Annie putting herself at risk chilled him through and through.
“It wasn’t really. Not at first. When they attacked the clinic—” She hitched in a breath. “For the first time in my life I was faced with my own mortality. I realized I might never see the ranch again. The next thing I knew, the embassy was pulling us out. I wasn’t sure where I would go.” She met his gaze. “The timing. Your phone call.”
“You wouldn’t have called?” He turned away and stared out into the night, frozen for a moment by the shock delivered by the truth.
“I know none of this makes any sense to you, Will.”
He shook his head and glanced down at her. “Sure it does. Finally everything is making sense. And I could wring your neck.”
“Good,” she interrupted. “Then nothing’s changed, because you’re always wanting to wring my neck.” She smiled sweetly.
He refused to give in to her humor. Instead, he demanded, “How could you question where you would go?”
She shrugged and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, but the longer I stayed away the harder it was to come back.”
Crouching down, he took her hands in his. They were small and soft, the skin chilled. “Tell me what happened.”
Taking a large breath, she stared ahead, her gaze a million miles away.