Good Together (24 page)

“That one was Sage and Savannah’s project.” Callan sounded like she wasn’t sure if she approved. “We have all the family decorations on the big tree in the living room.”

They walked through to the back of the house where the kitchen, dining and living areas sort of blended together. Dominating the space, and taking advantage of the open rafters in this part of the house, was a twelve-foot white pine, covered in golden lights and handmade ornaments.

Not having been home for Christmas since she was eighteen, Mattie had forgotten about all the decorations she and her sisters had made as little girls. Their mother had bought them craft kits every November so they would have something new to add to the tree. Four daughters, times eighteen Christmases, equaled a lot of hand-made ornaments, and Mattie felt her eyes fill with tears as she recalled the happy times they’d spent at the kitchen table, cutting, pasting, gluing, and painting.

“This is the most amazing tree ever.” And then her gaze was drawn to the fireplace, where Callan had hung the stockings their mother had made for them, as well as two new additions for Sage’s beau Dawson, and his daughter Savannah.

“I don’t have any for Portia and Wren. I was hoping you’d bring them with you.”

“I did.” They had both been cross-stitched by her mother, the year the twins were born.

“Good,” Callan said. “Are you okay to sit and eat now?”

The meal was basic—chili, cornbread, and salad—but delicious. Mattie asked how the ranch was doing, and Callan filled her in on the latest machinery breakdowns. Their dad didn’t believe in buying new when it was possible to fix something they already owned. The only problem was, after so many years of repairs, most of the equipment on the ranch was on its last legs.

Mattie waited for her dad to mention something about Wes, or to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t broach the subject of her impending divorce. When the meal was over, Hawksley made no apologies about retiring to his office to “watch his shows.” This autumn Callan had informed them that he spent more time snoozing than watching, but then, as Hawksley himself was quick to point out, he wasn’t getting any younger.

“Does he look like he’s aged to you?” Callan asked as they were washing up.

“Maybe a little.” The truth was, on her past few visits she
had
been surprised by how old her father looked. But she didn’t worry. Her dad was as tough as boot leather. His father had lived until his nineties, and Mattie was sure Hawksley would do the same.

“When do the girls arrive?” Callan asked. “I’ve made up Sage’s old room for them.”

“They’re coming tomorrow afternoon. Portia and Dani are on the same flight from Seattle and Wren arrives about thirty minutes later, so I’ll be able to pick all three up in one trip.”

“Great. I have a few things I need to get done in the barn. Hopefully I’ll finish in time to get dinner started before you get back.”

“Don’t worry about cooking. I’ll do the prep work before I head to the airport. And I can help in the barn, too. You already handle too much around here, without having to treat us like guests.”

“I like being busy.”

Her tone was defiant, but Mattie could see dark circles under her sister’s eyes. And she didn’t like it. “Have you thought of hiring a housekeeper? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and the laundry.”

“We have a cleaner come in twice a month. Dad thinks that’s enough.”

“Dad would. He doesn’t do the cooking or laundry, does he?”

Reluctantly Callan conceded that this was so.

Mattie hung her dish towel to dry. “Have you ever considered doing something different with your life? You know you don’t have to stay here, right?” Callan was twenty-six. Mattie was afraid she would one day regret that she’d spent so many of her best years toiling away on the family ranch, instead of starting a new life—and possibly a family—of her own.

“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“But living alone with Hawksley. It can’t be easy.”

“He doesn’t say much, but I know he cares. You can’t let his gruffness get under your skin.”

Mattie left that unchallenged. She knew she ought to be more generous toward her father. But she couldn’t seem to get over resenting him for their mother’s death. Even though it had happened so long ago now. And even if Mom hadn’t been entirely faithful...

Did Callan know about the affair with Bill Sheenan? She’d have to check with Sage. She sure didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

Almost never did Mattie and Callan get to spend time together, but that evening they made gingerbread cookies and chatted for hours. What they shared above all was a love of horses, and a talent for working with them. Callan’s eyes filled with tears when Mattie told her about saying goodbye to Copper and the twins’ horses, too.

And then, later, they both laughed as Callan shared tales about training a new three-year-old filly with a strange affinity for an old sheep that had come to live on the ranch ten years ago, abandoned by a family who’d moved on, and adopted by Callan.

Their father came into the kitchen around nine-thirty, sampled a cookie, pronounced it, “good,” then declared he was going to bed.

“Good night, Pops,” Callan said, and Mattie added, “Sleep well.” She waited for him to make eye contact. Once he did, she would round the counter and give him a hug.

But he didn’t even glance their way, just brushed the gingerbread crumbs off his fingers then shuffled off.

Mattie watched his exit feeling sad, disappointed... resigned. It was always this way with her father. Why had she expected any different this time? Lots of fathers might have expressed sadness or disappointment when one of their children was going through a divorce. They might offer counsel, or at least sympathy.

But Hawksley had always left every aspect of child-rearing to their mother. And that hadn’t changed after her death. At least Mattie had been twenty-one by then. But what about poor Callan?

“He’s something else.” Mattie’s gaze lingered over the empty space her father had left behind. “You were so young when Mom died. Only eight. However did you survive?”

“I had Sage and Dani. I was fine.”

Sage had been twelve and Dani sixteen. Mattie had no doubt that the three sisters had banded together and looked after one another during those hard years after Mom’s death. But it still must have been a lot more painful than Callan’s matter-of-fact words let on.

Mattie felt there must be softness at the core of her baby sister. She just wished Callan would let her close enough to see it.

As they cut out the last batch of wreath shapes from the dough, Mattie asked, “So what have you been doing for fun? Is there a guy in the picture these days?”

“There are always guys. Most Friday nights I head to Grey’s Saloon for a few drinks and some dancing.”

“But no guy in particular? What about Dillon Sheenan?”

“Dillon is just a buddy. He does a lot of traveling around, but when he’s in town, sure we get together for a few beers.”

“That’s it?”

“He’s a friend. I could never see him as anything else.”

“Must be some other contenders around town...?”

Callan shrugged her slight shoulders. “I’m only twenty-five. Too young to get serious about a guy.”

She’d had a husband and four-year-old twin daughters at Callan’s age. But everyone was different. Mattie slid the last cookie tray into the oven, then started washing up the dishes. She’d no sooner turned on the water, than her phone let out a chime.

“That’s Wren.” She hurried to the phone she’d left on the far corner of the counter. Then frowned as she read the message.

“What’s wrong?” Callan asked.

“Wes has been in touch with the girls. He wants them to spend a few days over the holidays with him in Billings.” Mattie had been expecting this and knew she should feel happy for her daughters. They’d missed their father. Needed to be reassured that he still loved them.

But she’d been so looking forward to having them home for two weeks. Now that time was being cut short. Worse, this made the whole divorce thing feel so real. Wes had a new life. A life that excluded her.

And she still hadn’t figured out what her new life would look like, excluding him.

T
hat night Mattie dreamed of Nat. She saw him at her bedroom door, wearing jeans but no shirt, the way she’d seen him many times on the ranch, working hard in the blazing summer sun. He was smiling at her in his usual warm and tender way. But there was a heat in his eyes. Desire.

She’d sensed it in him before. Tamped down and concealed, but still present.

He wanted her.

And she wanted him, too. Was so aroused, her entire body tingled. Ached.

Come to me.
In the way of dreams, he was instantly with her, naked, under the covers.

Kiss me, Nat. Touch me...

She hovered on the brink of orgasm as she tried to will him to do the things that she needed. Slowly though, the dream became lucid.

Why am I dreaming of Nat this way?

It wasn’t right. She wasn’t yet legally separated.

Her muscles slackened as the dream lost its hold on her. She opened her eyes to a room that was still dark. Her old room, from when she’d been a child. Pink and white striped wallpaper. An upholstered cushion in the window seat of the dormer window. She’d read so many books curled up there. Dreamed so many dreams.

Many of them, in her adolescence, as steamy as the one she’d just had.

Back then it had been Wes Bishop she’d longed for. She’d thought he was her true love, the man she was meant to spend her life with. So how was it she had managed to forget him so quickly? What did it say about her that two and half months after her husband left her, she was already lusting after another man?

Lusting?

No. Her feelings for Nat went much deeper than that.

Which was probably why she found them so frightening.

In the hall, she heard bedroom doors open, footsteps. The house gurgled as the plumbing was put to use. Faintly a radio announcer’s voice traveled from the kitchen, telling her to expect a sunny, but cool, winter day. By the time she’d dressed and made her bed, she could smell the coffee.

A new day on the Circle C Ranch had begun. Before it ended, her daughters would be here. And Dani. She would look forward to the days they would spend together.

And try not to worry about the ones when they’d be apart.

* * *

P
ortia had never been to her grandfather’s ranch in the winter. The fields looked alien covered in snow, the aspen naked, the outbuildings somehow grimy and run-down. She was in the backseat of her Mom’s SUV, with Wren, Tuff between them, nuzzling them in turns, demanding scratches and petting.

In the front her Mom and Dani hadn’t stopped talking since they’d left the airport. Actually Dani was doing most of the talking—about her work, about some paper that had been recently published and a planned trip to South Africa where she was going to present her findings.

Portia glanced at her sister. On the surface she looked like the same old Wren in her generic blue jeans, baggy sweater, and two-year-old gray wool coat, just slightly out of style this season. Of course Wren wouldn’t care about that. She’d never bothered about fashion and college didn’t seem to be changing that about her.

But Wren had evolved in other, more subtle ways. She had a calm, collected, sureness about her. As if she’d somehow figured out what it meant to be a grownup, and was cool with it. Portia had always admired her smart twin sister. But this new confidence made her almost daunting.

“We’re here!”

Her mother’s announcement as she drove through the wrought iron gate was unnecessary. Since their first hellos, her Mom had been almost forcefully merry, as if it was a good thing that she and Dad had split and they were spending their first Christmas away from home. Mom parked the SUV in a lineup of trucks, two of which Portia recognized as belonging to her grandfather and her Aunt Callan. The other, she’d never seen before.

“That isn’t Sage’s truck,” Dani said. “Must be her new honey’s.”

“Callan invited Dawson and Savannah for dinner,” Portia’s mom agreed. She turned off the ignition, then got out of the SUV to help Portia and Wren with their luggage. Once everything had been unloaded she put a hand on each of their shoulders, drawing them into a little circle.

“I hope you don’t mind spending Christmas here,” she said in a low tone so only the three of them could hear. “With the horses gone... and your father...” she sighed. “Well, I was afraid Christmas at home would have been too sad.”

“This will be fun,” Wren said. “Right Portia?”

There was Wren, being all adult-like and understanding, making Portia feel as if she had to pretend to like the situation, too. So she nodded. “It’ll be cool to spend Christmas here for a change.”

Mom smiled, then gave them each a huge hug that went on and on—for the first time Portia had the sense that their mother needed the comfort more than they did.

“It’s really good to see you, Mom.”

Portia could see the relief in her mother’s eyes when Wren said that.
She’s alone now. She needs us.
The realization was unsettling, a promotion to adulthood that Portia wasn’t sure she could handle.

“Take your bags to Sage’s old room, then wash up for dinner. I made a couple of pans of lasagna this morning. I hope you’re hungry.” Portia was relieved to hear her mom talking like her old self once more.

They hadn’t made it any farther than the porch, when the front door flung open and Callan and Sage rushed out to hug them. Callan was petite like their mother, with dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. Sage was tall and lean, with golden red hair that Portia had always coveted, and eyes that were changeably green and then brown.

“Come in, come in,” Callan said, “It’s freezing out here.”

In the foyer Grandpa and Sage’s smoking hot new cowboy boyfriend, Dawson O’Dell, were waiting to take their suitcases out of their hands. Mom disappeared with her sisters into the kitchen. And suddenly Portia and Wren were left facing a cute five-year-old girl in pigtails and a Christmas dress, the kind Portia remembered loving when she was little, with ruffles and a crinoline and a satin sash at the waist.