Wedding at Cardwell Ranch. B.J. Daniels
a wonderful time with Dana’s children.”
“Well, she can still—”
“Not only that, I also prefer to have Nat with me right now. It’s hard enough without Nick.” Another lie followed by the biggest truth of all, “I need my daughter right now.”
Mildred looked surprised. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention my Nicky in months.” She seemed about to cry. Sarah returned with her sweater, slipping it around her shoulders without even a thank-you from Mildred.
Nearby, Belinda was finishing up their bill.
“I really should get back to work.” Allie tried to step past her mother-in-law, but the older woman grabbed her arm. “I worry that you are ill-equipped to take care of yourself, let alone a child. I need Natalie more than you do. I—”
Allie jerked her arm free. “Natalie would be heartbroken if she was late to her horseback riding lesson.” She hurried to her daughter, picked up her purse off the table and, taking Nat’s hand, left the restaurant, trying hard not to run.
She told herself to calm down. Any sign of her being upset and her in-laws would view it as her being unable to take care of Nat. But all she wanted was to get away and as quickly as possible.
But as she and Nat reached her van and she dug in her purse for her keys, she realized they weren’t there. Her heart began to pound. Since Nick’s death, she was constantly losing her keys, her purse, her sunglasses...her mind.
“Forgetfulness is very common after a traumatic event,” the doctor had told her when she’d gotten an appointment at her in-laws’ insistence.
“It scares me. I try to remind myself where I put things so this doesn’t happen, but when I go back to get whatever it was...I’m always so positive that’s where I left it. Instead, I find it in some...strange place I could never imagine.”
The doctor had chuckled and pulled out his prescription pad. “How are you sleeping?” He didn’t even wait for her to answer. “I think once you start sleeping through the night, you’re going to find that these instances of forgetfulness will go away.”
The pills had only made it worse, though, she thought now as she frantically searched for her van keys. She could feel Nat watching her, looking worried. Sometimes it felt as if her five-year-old was taking care of her instead of the other way around.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama just misplaced her keys. I’m sure they’re in here....”
“Looking for these?” The young waitress from the café came out the door, holding up her keys.
“Where did you find them?” Allie asked, thinking they must have fallen out of her purse at the table and ended up on the floor. That could happen to anyone.
“In the bathroom sink.”
Allie stared at her.
“You must have dropped them while you were washing your hands,” the young woman said with a shrug as she handed them over.
As if that was likely. She hadn’t even taken her purse to the restroom, had she? But she had it now and she couldn’t remember. She’d been so upset to see Sarah and Mildred.
“Nat, what was Grandmother saying to you in the restaurant?”
“She wanted me to go to her house but I told her I couldn’t. I’m going horseback riding when we get to the ranch,” Nat announced. “Dana is taking me and the other kids.” Her lower lip came out for a moment. “Grandma said she was really sad I wasn’t going with her.”
“Yes,” Allie said as, with trembling fingers, she opened the van door. Tears stung her eyes. “But today is a happy day so we aren’t going to be sad, right? There are lots of other days that you can spend with your grandmother.” Nat brightened as she strapped her into her seat.
Just a few more minutes and she and Nat would be out of here. But as she started the van, she looked up to find Mother Taylor watching her from beside Sarah’s pearl-white SUV. It was clear from her expression that she’d witnessed the lost-key episode.
From the front steps of the restaurant, Belinda waved then made the universal sign to telephone.
Allie knew Belinda didn’t mean call her. Reaching in her pocket, she half expected the psychic’s business card to be missing. But it was still there, she realized with sagging relief. As crazy as the idea of reaching Nick beyond the grave was, she’d do anything to make this stop.
* * *
WHEN ALLIE AND her daughter returned, Jackson was watching her from inside his cousin’s two-story ranch house.
“She lost her husband some months back,” Dana said, joining him at the window.
“I wasn’t—”
“He went up into the mountains during hunting season,” she continued, ignoring his attempt to deny he’d been wondering about Allie. “They found his backpack and his rifle and grizzly tracks.”
“Tag mentioned it.” Tag had pointed out Allie’s small, old cabin by the river on their way back to the ranch. It looked as if it needed work. Hadn’t Tag mentioned that her husband was in construction? “Tag said they never found her husband’s body.”
Dana shook her head. “But Nick’s backpack was shredded and his rifle was half-buried in the dirt with grizzly tracks all around it. When he didn’t show up after a few days and they had no luck finding him...”
“His remains will probably turn up someday,” Hud said as he came in from the kitchen. Dana’s husband, Hud, was the marshal in the canyon—just as his father had been before him. “About thirty years ago now, a hiker found a human skeleton of a man. He still hasn’t been identified so who knows how long he’d been out there in the mountains.”
“That must make it even harder for her,” Jackson said.
“It was one reason I was so glad when she decided to take the job as wedding planner.”
He watched Allie reappear to get a box out of the van. She seemed nervous, even upset. He wondered if something had happened at lunch. Now at least he understood why she had overreacted with the black cat.
Hud kissed his wife, saying he had to get back to work, leaving Dana and Jackson alone.
“Our fathers are setting up their equipment on the bandstand in the barn,” Dana said. “Have you seen Harlan yet?”
“No,” Jackson admitted. “Guess there is no time like the present, huh?”
Jackson hadn’t seen his father in several years, and even then Harlan hadn’t seemed to know how to act around him—or his other sons, for that matter. As they entered the barn, Tag joining them, he saw his father and uncle standing on the makeshift stage, guitars in their hands, and was surprised when he remembered a song his father had once sung to him.
He didn’t know how old he’d been at the time, but he recalled Harlan coming into his bedroom one night in Texas and playing a song on his guitar for him. He remembered being touched by the music and his father’s voice.
On stage, the two brothers began playing their guitars in earnest. His father began singing. It was the voice Jackson remembered and it was like being transported back to his childhood. It rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He’d thought he and his father had no connection. But just hearing Harlan sing made him realize that he’d been lying to himself about not only the lack of connection, but also his need for it.
Harlan suddenly broke off at the sight of his sons. He stared through the dim barn for a moment, then put down his guitar to bound off the stage and come toward Jackson. He seemed young and very handsome, belying his age, Jackson thought. A man in his prime.
“Jackson,” he said, holding out his hand. His father’s hand was large and strong, the skin dry, callused and warm. “Glad