THIRTY-TWO
Exhaustion set in before Luke made it back to Pine River. Sitting vigil at a bedside for a couple of days was enough to exhaust the strongest person, but add to that, in the middle of it he had finally, at long last, told Julie to take a hike.
He felt a huge sense of relief now that he’d done it, now that he’d told her in no uncertain terms that he did not love her anymore, would not love her again, and to please stop coming around. He just wondered why it had taken him so long. He wondered why he’d never been able, until now, to let go.
He didn’t want to think it had anything to do with Madeline. He didn’t want to think about her at all.
He wasn’t exactly angry with Madeline—he guessed that if the shoe had been on the other foot, he might have said and done the same things she had. He would like to think he would have been more straightforward about it, but really, he didn’t know. It was all so screwed up to begin with.
Luke felt like he didn’t know anything anymore. The only thing he knew was that he needed to get back to his life, to filling the hours and days with work and school. To keep all thoughts and feelings at a numbing distance.
He drove through Pine River and out to Homecoming Ranch to check on things.
The place was a wreck. Trash cans were overflowing, which was an invitation to disaster when wild animals roamed nearby. The Johnsons had trampled paths in the grass between the bunkhouse and house, which were now muddy thanks to afternoon rains. They needed gravel or, at the very least, straw.
Luke pulled in behind a multicolored bus from the rafting company. It was disgorging Johnsons like red bouncing balls. Libby was standing at the fence, wearing a sun hat, checking off names as they came off the bus.
He walked up behind her. “Hey Libby, how are you doing?”
She looked up at him, her expression harried. “Hey, stranger! I’ve learned a lot, Luke. A lot! Next time, we need some controls. Hey, Albie!” she shouted, looking at something over Luke’s shoulder. He turned around, saw a boy who looked to be about ten trying to coax a barking Roscoe out beyond the fence. “What did I tell you about bugging the dogs? Leave them alone!”
“Like I was saying,” she said, glaring at the kid as he skipped by, “I have a pretty good idea what we need to do.”
Luke didn’t think now was a good time to say that he wouldn’t be part of any “next time.”
“Is Madeline around?” he asked.
Libby frowned. “Not this morning. I guess she had things to do in town.”
Just as well, Luke thought. He didn’t know what he would say to her at this point. Good-bye and good luck, he supposed. “What can I do to help?” he asked.
“That shower is acting up again,” Libby said. “No hot water this morning. And two of the cows came down and wandered into the campsite. You’ve never seen so many people scramble in your life. Like they were bears. Ernest drove them back up, but he hasn’t been here to help with the two tents that were knocked off their pads.”
“I’m on it,” he said.
The repair to the shower took him a good hour, an hour in which he had time to think. He would explain to Libby that if she and her sisters decided to keep the ranch, they would need to build a real shower facility. The temporary ones were not built for this kind of use. He would suggest that if they were going to keep on with these events, they invest in some cabins. He would tell them to make sure that they kept the trash locked up and to check the hot water heater about once a week. The thing was old, and sometimes the pilot went out.
There were so many things he could tell them. So many things. That there was a fort down by the campsite, hidden in the bushes. That there was a little trail up the mountain, about five hundred vertical feet, where they could see a waterfall. That his mother’s hummingbird mixture was the best for keeping hummingbirds around, that the rabbits would eat from the vegetable garden so to be sure and cage the plants. That they needed to oil the weather vane from time to time or the squeaking would drive them crazy.
So many things.
When Luke was ready to leave, he stopped in to see Libby once more. She was at the kitchen table, sorting over papers. “Hey!” she said brightly. “Do you want something to eat? They gave me a big tray of brisket and I can’t eat it all—”
“No, I’ve got to get to town. Libby, I’m not coming back.”
“What?” Libby studied him a minute, as if she was trying to make sense of those words. “You mean, ever?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got my work in Denver and I’ve left it long enough.”
“But I thought…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I hate to see you go, Luke. I hate how we came to know each other, too. I hate how this property came into our hands. I wish it could have been different for all of us.”
“I appreciate that, Libby, but it isn’t different, and I need to get on with my life. Ernest can help you with anything you need, you know.”
“I know. Most of the Johnsons are leaving tomorrow anyway.” She smiled wryly and stood up. Before Luke knew what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around him. “Thanks for everything, Luke. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”
He hugged her back. “Take care, Libby.”
He walked out to the garage and his Bronco. The Pontiac, he noticed, was gone. It seemed almost as if it was a sign from his mother—even her spirit had left the ranch. It wasn’t theirs any longer. This wasn’t where his family was anymore. His family was in Pine River. This was now just a place he’d once lived.
Luke drove back to town and the little green house on Elm Street to pick up a few things before heading back to Denver. He was grateful to find that Marisol had picked up after their panicked, heart-stopping flight to the hospital. Luke had a vague recollection of food on the floor, of Leo’s nutritional drink spilling everywhere. Even in the best of circumstances, three men in a tiny house led to some pretty disgusting piles of stuff.
He found most of his clothes in folded piles, scattered between the living room and Leo’s room. He stuffed them into his bag. In the living room, he searched for a pair of his shoes, and heard someone walking up the drive. He assumed it was Marisol.
“Luke?”
The sound of Madeline’s voice slipped in and wound tightly around his heart. He slowly turned his gaze to the door. She was standing on the other side of the screen, looking pretty in blue. Heartbreakingly pretty.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly.
“I need to talk to you.”
The last thing he wanted was another emotional discussion—he’d had enough in the last forty-eight hours to fill a lifetime. “Maddie… now is not a good time,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to Denver and I’ve had a long couple of days.”
“I know. I heard. I’m so sorry about Leo. Is he…?”
“He’s okay,” Luke said. “For now.”
They stood, staring at each other. There was so much unspoken between them, so much that didn’t really need to be said because it was palpable in that little living room.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Luke groaned softly to the ceiling. He didn’t want to do this, not now, not after everything he’d just been through. But he couldn’t find the strength to say no to her.
She took his silence for a yes and opened the screen door, stepped apprehensively over the threshold. “I need to explain something,” she said, before he had a chance to speak. “I didn’t know those men, or Stephen, were coming to Homecoming Ranch. I mean I knew the broker had a potential buyer, but I thought he would call me with some figures that I could present to all of you.”
Luke arched a dubious brow.
“I swear it, Luke. I was expecting a phone call. Not an entourage. Not a buyer.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were expecting anything? Or tell Libby for that matter? Why didn’t you just say that you had hired a lawyer?”
“Because I had this idea in my head that I would have it altogether in one neat little package, so that all your questions would be answered.”
“Sometimes, these things aren’t so neat,” Luke pointed out, and wondered how she could not know that.
“I know, I know,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing, but the only thing I did was hurt you, and hurt Libby.” She sighed, and he noticed that tears were pooling in her eyes. “It was stupid,” she said with a shrug. “I really had no idea that they would come, that Stephen would come. I’m not with him, you know,” she said. “That’s the other thing I need to say. I am not with him. There was nothing there to begin with, but now I have made that very clear to him. And to you.”
Luke believed that. But he had nothing to say to it. At this point, it just felt too late for this.
Madeline seemed to sense his apathy, because she said very earnestly, “And the last thing I want to tell you is that I told Chip I am not looking for a buyer right now. I told him that Emma and Libby and I have to decide what we are going to do, and that it was going to take a while, because we have just met one another.”
Luke arched a brow at that. “Do Libby and Emma know this?”
“Yes.” She smiled a little. “And we’re still arguing about what it is we want to do.”
“Well, I’ll make it easy for all of you. The Kendricks are not going to pursue Homecoming Ranch. We don’t have the money to buy it back, and honestly, I don’t think Dad and Leo want to go back.” It pained him to say it, but he had accepted the truth.
“But you do,” she said.
He did. God, he did. But Luke swallowed down his disappointment for the hundredth time and shrugged. “Yeah, well, some things are not meant to be.” He looked at her pointedly.
Madeline swallowed. “There’s time, Luke. Really. We’re not in any hurry to sell it. Libby really wants to do this wedding, and she is okay with me going back to Orlando and leaving her to do it. Like, really okay,” she said, sounding a little sad about it.
“Well, I wish her luck.” He looked at his wristwatch. He didn’t want to prolong this. It had been hard enough as it was.
“I was hoping that maybe you would come, too.”
Luke looked up.
“To Orlando.” Luke started to shake his head, but Madeline quickly stepped forward. “Just hear me out,” she said before he could speak. “Please just hear me out.”
God, but she looked so hopeful. “Maddie, baby—”
“Don’t talk, please don’t talk,” she said, and stepped even closer, her blue eyes locked on his. “I have to say this now or I will lose my nerve.”
“So say it.”
She took a deep breath and a rush of words came forth: “I love you.”
Those words knocked the wind right out of Luke. He had wanted to hear them, and yet had believed he’d never hear them.
“I love you, Luke. I do. I love you, I think I loved you the minute you saved me on Sometimes Pass.”
Her declaration slid right into his heart. But it did not make him feel all the things a man should feel when a woman professes love—they made him feel uncertain. Luke pushed his fingers through his hair and tried to process this. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to forget everything that had happened and sweep her up in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, because he knew, deep down, that nothing had really changed between them, except that her words now hung between them.
“That was not what I was expecting you to say,” he admitted. “I don’t even know what to say to that, Maddie. I’ll be honest, I have felt so disappointed the last couple of days.”
“I know. And you don’t have to respond,” she said quickly. “But I had to say it. Because, Luke, you opened up a whole world to me. You’ve shown me things I never knew—” She paused, like she wasn’t sure what else she should say. “You taught me how to let someone in and it feels so perfect and right. Do you know for the first time in my life, I know what love is? I am full of it, full of love for you.”
She looked so sincere, and Luke’s heart went out to her. He touched her face, and she turned her head, kissed his palm, and pressed her cheek against it, her eyes closed.
Luke felt the same way about her, of course he did. But he couldn’t say those words out loud, not now, not knowing she would go back to Orlando. He was afraid what those words opened him up to, afraid of what would happen if he actually said them a second time in his life. Especially to Madeline, especially her, because she meant more to him than anyone ever had. If he said I love you to Madeline, it should mean something more than good-bye. It should mean that this was it, they were going to be together forever, they were going to make it work. It should not mean good-bye.
And that was all it would be, because he was fairly certain that nothing would keep Madeline from leaving.
Madeline opened her eyes, big blue eyes gazing up at him, full of raw emotion like he’d never seen in her.
“If you feel that way, then stay,” he said, testing her. And he held his breath, a tiny pinprick of hope in him.
Madeline’s face fell. “I can’t,” she said softly, and all his hope evaporated. “I have to go back to Orlando. There’s my work, and my mom.”
He started to glance away, but she caught his arm. “Luke, I made a phone call to a guy I work with. He is willing to take you on.”
“Take me on for what?”
“To be an architect. He has a firm there, and he said he would love to talk to you. He builds these big office buildings.”
“I don’t design office buildings.”
“Right.” She nodded. “But you could.”
“And you could sell houses here,” he pointed out. “Or in Denver.”
She bit her lower lip.
He already knew her answer, he’d known it all along. At least she’d been honest about that. And he guessed that he’d known his answer, too. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his body and kissed the top of her head. “Madeline Pruett, you put the I in irony. For someone who fears being left… you sure do a lot of running.”
“It’s not that. You don’t understand my work or my mother—”
“I’m not talking about just Orlando,” he said. “I’m talking about your life. You run, Maddie. You ran from Stephen. You ran from me after we got together in Denver. You just told me you loved me, and yet you’re about to run again.”
“I’m not running, Luke! I’m trying to take you with me.”
“But, Maddie, you knew before you asked me that I wouldn’t come.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Here’s the thing, baby. You can’t live on your little island waiting for things to be perfect. Relationships, families—they come with lots of flaws and nothing is ever going to be perfect. And if you are going to stand around, hoping that all the kinks and hurt and messy stuff will go away, you’ll never know the joy of any of it. You’ll be waiting alone for a very long time.”
He suddenly realized that in his own way, he’d been doing that, too. He’d escaped from his less-than perfect family, from the issues that seemed to crop up like weeds, when in reality, he was needed here more than anywhere else. Maybe, Luke thought, he’d been searching for perfect when it had been right in front of him all along. He had a family who loved him and needed him, right here, in this ugly little green house.
That’s why he couldn’t go with her, Luke realized. Maybe he’d known it organically, understood it in his soul while his heart had longed for something else.
But whether he’d faced it or not, he’d always known that he loved his family too much to leave them behind again.
“Don’t misunderstand me. I am grateful you told me how you feel,” he said sincerely. “I know it took a lot of courage to say it. But I don’t think you understand that saying ‘I love you’ and loving someone are really two different things.” He was learning that himself. He let go of her, leaned down, and picked up his bag. “I’ve got to go. I’m going back to Durango to see about Leo, and then up to Denver.” He caught her by her braid and pulled her to him, then leaned down to kiss her. “You’re one of a kind, Maddie,” he said softly, and kissed her again. “I am going to miss you something fierce.” He kissed her one last time, dropped her braid, and stepped around her, walking out to his truck, leaving her standing in his family’s house.
Madeline stared out the screen door and watched Luke walk across the yard. She couldn’t catch her breath as she watched him get into the Bronco and leave. Her stomach roiled with disappointment and regret, and her vision blurred as his Bronco turned the corner onto Main Street.
She’d ruined it. She’d ruined the one true thing she’d ever known.
Madeline looked blindly around her, at the collage of photos on the wall, at Leo’s wheelchair and video game console. She tried to catch her breath as she walked outside and carefully shut the door behind her, then moved woodenly down the porch steps.
Everything that had happened to her here, everything she’d felt, that she’d become, was churning inside her. Every moment with Luke, every moment at Homecoming Ranch, with Libby, with Leo—it all churned. In the middle of the yard, the churning brought Madeline to a halt. She suddenly fell to all fours and vomited in the grass, as her body tried to purge the pain and disappointment of losing the only true love she’d ever known.
When her body could not expel anything else, she stood up, dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, and walked to the car.
She had lost everything, but the dull, bone-aching pain of her loss had only begun.