“We’ll have to see.” He considered his brother spoiled as it was. Letting Kevin spend the next nine months in the city, being coddled by relatives, wasn’t the way to prepare him for his life as a farmer. “You didn’t mention that to him, did you?”
“No.” But she hesitated, as if there was more and whatever it was, he wouldn’t want to hear.
“What else?”
“Kevin took the truck again without telling me where he was going.”
Despite his earlier decision, Gage gave in and sank down on the top porch step. “Should be fairly obvious where he went, don’t you think?”
“Jessica’s,” his mother sighed.
His teenage brother was in love for the first time. Knowing it was his duty, Gage had assumed the unenviable task of explaining a man’s responsibility when it came to protecting a woman from pregnancy—and these days, protecting both of them from disease. Their mother wasn’t likely to hand the teenager a condom. Gage had.
At the time, Kevin had been angry and belligerent, but he’d taken the condom. Gage wasn’t fooled. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d been seventeen himself.
All summer, whenever he could, Kevin slipped away in order to be with his true love. No doubt, Jessica’s parents were as concerned about the relationship as Gage was. And about the school situation.
If the high school closed for good, Gage suspected most families would ship their teens off to live with relatives. Some would end up being home-schooled, but Gage knew his mother was right. With Kevin, it wouldn’t work. The boy was still too undisciplined to learn without the structure of classes, exams and deadlines. He preferred to spend his time drawing—or with his girlfriend.
“Hassie’s going to contact the teacher’s union about getting a replacement,” Leta told him. “That’s what they decided at the meeting.” His mother had the utmost confidence in the pharmacy owner, her closest friend. Gage’s respect for Hassie was high, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. It was nearly July and school was scheduled to start again toward the end of August. He hated to be a pessimist, but it simply wasn’t going to happen. Not at this late date. No doubt a teacher would be found eventually, but in the meantime they had no choice but to close the school.
“You have to have faith,” Leta told him, as if simply believing would make everything turn out right.
Gage nodded.
“The good Lord knows what He’s doing.”
“If that’s the case, then I wonder if He’s been paying attention to the price of grain?”
“Gage!”
He wasn’t going to argue with his own mother, but if the good Lord had any intention of finding a high-school teacher for Buffalo Valley High School, He’d better start working fast. Besides, if Gage was going to indulge in a bit of wishful thinking, he might as well add his own requirements. Send a teacher, he mused, gazing at the heavens, but not just any teacher. He wanted someone young and pretty and single. Someone smart and loving. Someone who liked kids and animals. Send a woman just for me.
He nearly laughed out loud. Talk about an imagination. He attributed the prayer, if it could be called that, to weariness, and to the fact that his little brother had probably lost his virginity that summer. No, more than that—to the fact that his brother had found someone to love, and he hadn’t.
Two
Sarah Stern waited until her father had fallen asleep in front of the television set, snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. Calla, her teenage daughter, had shut herself in her room and was listening to music. Restless and worried, Sarah phoned Dennis, then paced the kitchen until she saw his headlights in the distance.
Hugging her arms about her waist, she slipped silently out of the house and ran through the open yard. When he saw her, Dennis leaned across the cab and opened the passenger door and Sarah climbed inside. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered.
“Thanks for calling.”
As soon as the door closed and the dome light went out, Sarah was in his arms. Despite everything she’d promised herself, she let her mouth meet his. Their lips were touching, twisting, turning, the kiss greedy. Intense. When they finished, Sarah’s shoulders were heaving.
Dennis leaned his head back and his chest expanded with a deep sigh. “I needed that.”
Sarah didn’t want to admit it, but she had, too.
“What happened at the meeting this afternoon?” she asked. Her father had barely said a word all evening, and Sarah didn’t know what to think. When she’d asked, he’d put her off, as if to suggest she shouldn’t worry about matters that weren’t her concern. Only she was concerned, and rightly so. If a teacher wasn’t hired soon, Sarah would be forced to home-school Calla. If that happened, it was unlikely either of them would survive the school year. At fourteen, her daughter was a handful, and she had a mouth on her that wouldn’t quit.
Like mother, like daughter. Sarah supposed this was what she got for giving her own parents so much grief as a teenager.
“We’re going to find another teacher,” Dennis assured her.
Those were the exact words her father had said. With no explanation, no details.
“Where?” Sarah asked point-blank. “You’re going to find a teacher where?”
Dennis shrugged as they drove away from the house.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“We aren’t going to close the school. I promise.” He pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He reached for her, weaving his fingers into her hair and dragging her mouth to his. It was like this when they’d been apart for any time, this explosive need that threatened to burst into spontaneous combustion with the first few kisses. His mouth was demanding and persuasive, and Sarah answered his need and echoed it with her own.
Burying her face in his shoulder, she struggled to keep her mind on the reason for her call. “It sounds as if all the council did was argue. Did anyone suggest a concrete plan?”
“No. Well…not exactly. Except Hassie’s going to make some calls.”
“That’s fine, but it’s no guarantee of anything.” Exactly what Sarah had feared. “There happen to be very few available and qualified teachers in this area. Is a teacher supposed to drop from the sky or something?”
Dennis said nothing, then murmured, “Honey, don’t worry.”
Sarah hated it when men, especially men she loved and trusted, placated her like this. It was bad enough that her father didn’t recognize the seriousness of her concerns, but Dennis didn’t seem to appreciate it, either. The future of the entire town was at stake, and for some reason both her father and Dennis seemed to think everything would take care of itself.
“Hassie’s talking to the teacher’s union about getting someone here before school starts.”
Sarah groaned; she couldn’t help it. All anyone seemed to be doing was talking. “Don’t any of you realize school is scheduled to start in six weeks?”
“A teacher will turn up before then.”
Sarah brushed her long hair away from her shoulder, and resisted the urge to bury her face in his shoulder again. “I wish to hell at least one person on the council would be realistic.”
“Your dad—”
“My dad thought everyone would want to play pinochle at my mother’s wake.” In a crisis, Joshua McKenna was useless. That he was president of the town council gave her no confidence whatsoever. “It’s as though this entire community wants to pretend there’s nothing wrong, and that somehow things will get fixed by themselves.”
Dennis said nothing, which wasn’t unusual. He sat with his hands clutching the steering wheel. They’d known each other so long, Sarah could tell what he was thinking. He hated arguments. And evenings when they met, fighting was the last thing either of them was interested in.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, and ran her palm down the length of his arm. She’d much rather kiss than argue, but she was justifiably worried about Calla’s future. And her own…She didn’t want to leave Buffalo Va
lley. This was home, and she felt safe here. Safe from the outside world, the doubts and fears. Safe from the mistakes she’d made the one and only time she’d ventured beyond this valley.
Dennis placed his arm around her shoulder and she rested her head against his side. It felt good to be with him, protected. Sheltered. She shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t allow herself the luxury of depending on Dennis, but she was afraid—for Calla and herself. Back when she was eighteen, Sarah couldn’t wait to leave Buffalo Valley and find her own way in the world. She’d moved to Minneapolis and found a job paying minimum wage in a fabric store. A second job as cashier in an all-night service station had helped pay the rent. It was there, late one night, that she’d met Willie Stern.
He was a crazy kind of guy—impulsive, unpredictable—and she’d fallen for him hard. Within a month, they were living together and not much after that Sarah was pregnant. The only person she’d told was her younger brother, and Jeb had driven to Minneapolis and insisted Willie marry her. If it hadn’t been for her brother, Sarah was convinced Willie would have left her high and dry. Perhaps that would have been for the best.
Later, after Calla was born, Willie didn’t want her working. Sarah had learned about quilting from her mother and from her experience in the fabric store. She’d started making quilts and selling them out of their apartment. Willie never did understand why anyone would pay her for them, but he didn’t complain about the extra money. In addition to his part-time job as a shoe salesman, he played back-up guitar in a couple of bar bands—initially part of his appeal for Sarah—and his earnings were erratic.
It didn’t take long for her marriage to fall apart—and for her husband to bring them to the edge of bankruptcy. Sarah saw an attorney when she learned Willie had gotten another woman pregnant. Beaten down, discouraged and with a four-year-old daughter in tow, Sarah had returned to Buffalo Valley, to her childhood home. She still lived with her father. She’d continued to make quilts and was passionate about the work she did. Her love for the creative process of blending textures and color, adapting traditional patterns and forming her own designs, had grown over the years. So had her talent, if not her income.
She rarely heard from Willie these days, and that was how she preferred it.
Dennis ran his index finger down the side of her face and coaxed her mouth open with his. “It’s been a while,” he whispered, his hand cupping her breast.
“I know.” She hadn’t called him in six weeks. It was cruel of her to rely on him, to reach out to him with her concerns, when she didn’t believe they had a future, but Dennis Urlacher was her greatest weakness. As often as she told herself it was necessary to break free, she couldn’t seem to do it.
“Why did you wait so long?” he asked.
Sarah didn’t want to answer and hung her head, wishing now that she’d resisted the urge to call him. He’d come without the least hesitation. Any time, night or day, she could phone and he’d drop whatever he was doing and come to her. It’d been that way for nearly two years.
She was no good for Dennis. There were things he didn’t know about her. Things she couldn’t tell him or anyone, not even her father or Jeb. Things not even Calla knew. She and Dennis should never have become involved, should never have crossed the physical barrier. He was five years younger, and her brother’s best friend.
She’d known for a long time how he felt about her, and discouraged him, rejected his efforts to date her. For a number of years she was able to ignore her own growing attraction to him. Then Jeb had nearly been killed in a farming accident and while her brother lay in a hospital fighting for his life, Dennis had joined the family in their vigil. He’d been there, so strong and confident, so reassuring.
That was when she’d lowered her guard and they’d become lovers. After that, it was impossible to go back. Impossible to pretend she had no feelings for him, and impossible to deny their physical need for each other.
And yet she insisted their relationship remain private. Not because she was ashamed of Dennis, but because she was ashamed of herself.
Sometimes Sarah suspected her father knew about her and Dennis, but if so, he never said a word. Calla was completely oblivious, and for that Sarah was grateful. Jeb had always known, but the subject of Dennis and her had never been discussed.
Dennis wove his hands into her thick, dark hair and angled her face to his. He kissed her again, slow and deep. “Come home with me.” His voice was slurred with longing.
“No…”
He didn’t argue with her, didn’t try to persuade her; instead, he kissed her until she moaned softly and turned more fully in his arms, wrapping herself in his embrace.
After a while Dennis lifted his head and held her gaze. His love shone on her, poured over her like sunshine. It’d been six weeks since they were last together. Six weeks filled with long, lonely nights in which she’d hungered for him and denied them both. Even now, if she insisted, he’d release her and drive away without a word.
Unable to refuse herself or him, she raised her fingertips to the pulse in his neck and smiled softly back. Dennis’s brown eyes darkened with desire.
Their kisses took on a renewed urgency then, and when his tongue found hers, she welcomed it; at the same time she wanted to weep in abject frustration.
It was going to happen, the way it always did, because she was too weak to tell him no. Too weak to deny herself his love. And too weak to tell him the truth.
“Are you going to sleep your life away?” Lindsay chided as she set a plastic cup of steaming coffee on Maddy’s nightstand.
Her friend rolled over and stared up at Lindsay through half-closed eyes. “What time is it?” she mumbled. She sat up slowly and reached for the coffee.
“It’s eight o’clock,” Lindsay told her. Sitting on the bed opposite Maddy’s, she crossed her legs and sipped her own coffee. They’d arrived in Minneapolis the day before, and after finding a motel, had gone straight to the Mall of America. Savannah had its share of shopping malls, but nothing that compared to the four-hundred plus stores and amusement park inside this one. After they’d checked out the stores, they’d screamed their way through a couple of the more spectacular rides, visited Camp Snoopy and bought souvenirs for their nieces and nephews. Their excursion had ended with dinner and a movie, and all without leaving the massive mall.
“It’s eight already? Can’t be,” Maddy protested.
“Sure is.” Lindsay had always liked mornings—even as a teenager. It was a trait she didn’t share with her best friend. Maddy woke up one brain cell at a time, as her mother always said. But she had far more energy in the evenings than Lindsay did. Maybe it was in their genes, she thought, since she was descended from farmers—on her dad’s side, anyway—and Maddy from city folk.
“Will we make Buffalo Valley today?” Maddy asked, finally tossing aside the bedspread and heading toward the bathroom.
“We will if you get a move on.” Her own bags were not only packed but loaded in the car. She’d awakened at six and sat out in the morning sunshine by the motel pool, drinking a first cup of coffee and mulling over the things her grandfather had told her about North Dakota and Buffalo Valley. When he’d arrived in Savannah, he’d been confused and unhappy. In time, he’d adjusted somewhat but it seemed to help to talk about home, and Lindsay had been a willing listener.
Her grandfather had spoken endlessly of fertile land and abundant crops, showed her photographs of a land with a huge expanse of sky above it and fields that stretched to the far horizon. What Lindsay remembered most were his stories of blizzards and his descriptions of the wind. He’d told her more than once that nowhere else in the lower forty-eight states did the wind blow as strong or as fierce as it did in the Dakotas.
He’d said it wasn’t uncommon for the wind to roar at forty miles an hour for a day or longer, and that it could turn soggy ground into dust in a matter of hours. Lindsay didn’t understand what could make a person stay in such a place, but her gr
andfather had loved his home as intensely as he had his family.
While Maddy dressed, Lindsay studied the maps. By her calculations, they should arrive in Buffalo Valley by late afternoon. From Minneapolis they’d drive toward Fargo, and take Highway 29 to Grand Forks, get onto Highway 2 and go as far as Devils Lake, then head north from there.
As she refolded the maps, she glanced at the telephone.
“Don’t you dare!” Maddy said, framed in the bathroom doorway, the handle of her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.
“What?”
“You were thinking of calling Monte.”
Lindsay didn’t admit or deny it, but that was exactly what she’d had in mind. Cutting him out of her life was a hundred times more difficult than she’d imagined it would be. He’d been an important part of her everyday life, and she felt lost without him. If it was this difficult now, she could only imagine how much harder it would be once she returned to Savannah.
“You ready to leave?” Maddy asked, as if Lindsay had been the one holding them up.
“Ready.” While Lindsay wore leggings and an oversized T-shirt, Maddy had dressed in a bright yellow shorts outfit that emphasized her long legs and sleek build. They’d often been mistaken for sisters because Lindsay was tall and blond, too.
By eight-thirty they were on the road, music blaring. They sang along—to Janis Joplin, the Stones, early Dylan. Old songs but good ones. And good traveling music.
They ate a late lunch outside Grand Forks, then made their way west to Devils Lake. As far as Lindsay could tell, they were about an hour from Buffalo Valley. The minute they drove north toward her father’s boyhood home, Lindsay grew quiet. All she could see from the road, in either direction, was field after field of wheat, moving with the wind, rippling like waves on the sea.
The temperature had soared; it was close to a hundred degrees, and the Bronco’s air-conditioning system blowing at full speed couldn’t keep the heat completely at bay. Lindsay didn’t mind; in fact, she loved it. Loved the bright intensity of the sun. Loved the sight of wheat fields and this land where her grandparents had forged a good life. She was conscious of gazing upon her own heritage, and with it came a keen sense—an intuition, almost—that North Dakota would help her discover the woman she really was.