“No…it’s just that I’m very close to my brother.”
“I happen to think the world of him myself.”
That bit of information appeared to brighten her. “You do?”
“Yes…” Maddy couldn’t keep the wistful tone from her voice.
Sarah’s delight was obvious. “Then you’ll be seeing him again, right?”
“Next week.”
“Really?” It was a rare thing to receive such an easy, unrestrained smile from Sarah Stern. “I’m glad,” was all she said.
Maddy felt slightly guilty as Sarah left, knowing she’d given the other woman the impression that she was seeing Jeb, as in dating him. She’d purposely taken the question at face value. In the coming week she would be seeing him—when she made her usual rounds and delivered his grocery order.
It was two hours past closing when Maddy was finally ready to turn off the store lights, eager to retire to her living quarters. She felt exhausted and at the same time exhilarated. She was just finishing the last of her record-keeping when the phone rang yet again. In the past ten hours, she must have talked to a dozen people. Most of the calls were business-related conversations, but there were the others—from her friends, from Lindsay and Hassie and the rest—and those were the ones that drained her emotionally.
“It’s Margaret Clemens.”
“Hello, Margaret.”
“Oh, Maddy, guess what? I talked to Matt Eilers today,” she announced triumphantly. “Just the two of us. That’s the first time it’s just been him and me.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“I thought so, and you know what else? He commented on my hair.”
Maddy was touched by her excitement. “Did he say it looked nice?”
She hesitated. “No…but he did say he noticed I was letting it grow. I wanted to tell him I was doing it for him, but the cat got my tongue and I couldn’t think of a damn thing to add.”
Maddy could just picture the scene. “Don’t worry, it’s only normal to get a little tongue-tied around someone we like.”
“It is?” Margaret sounded vastly relieved.
“Yes. Sometimes it’s difficult to talk to a man.”
“I’ve never had any trouble before. Fact is, I usually find it harder talking to women.” She laughed then, so loudly that Maddy had to hold the phone away from her ear. “I’ve been talking to men my entire life. They’re the same as you and me, only they’ve got less sense than most women.”
“So I noticed.”
“Then I did the right thing not telling Matt why I’m letting my hair grow?”
“Yes, I think so,” Maddy assured her solemnly.
“I need to ask you something.”
Maddy heard the hesitation in her friend’s voice. “Fire away.”
“Just how long is this going to take? I don’t mean to be impatient, but I was hoping things would progress faster.”
“Take?”
“For me to be woman enough for Matt to notice. I don’t want to lose him to anyone else, you know.”
Maddy realized, if Margaret didn’t, that the transformation wasn’t going to be smooth or easy. She hemmed, then stated, “A while.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“June,” Maddy elaborated, pulling a month out of thin air.
“June?” Margaret echoed. “He could find himself a wife before then. I need an accelerated program.”
Maddy laughed. “All in due course, Margaret.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t in love. I want Matt to know how I feel.”
“Just give it time,” Maddy said.
“I wish I’d been stuck with Matt for three days the way you were with Jeb McKenna.”
Maddy felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. “How’d…how’d you know that?” she finally managed. The entire town seemed to know even the most intimate details of her life. In fact, she’d been a little offended that Margaret hadn’t even asked what had happened to her during the storm.
“Jeb phoned and told us that same afternoon,” Margaret explained. “You know what? I got the feeling he might be a little sweet on you. What do you think of that?”
“I think that would make me very happy,” Maddy told her.
Margaret sighed deeply. “You have all the luck, you know. Yessir, I wish I could get trapped in a snowstorm with Matt. Three days alone with him and I promise you he’d know I was a woman.”
Eight
By Wednesday of the following week, the blizzard was old news. The major topic of conversation at Buffalo Bob’s place was now Thanksgiving.
Bob continued to do a booming business and it seemed most people in the community had something they wanted to talk about. As always Bob listened. He’d learned he was a good listener. Another thing he noticed—people liked to talk. He used to assume women were the real talkers, but since he started tending bar, he’d discovered that all a man needed was a willing ear. Bob had come to think of listening to his customers as part of the service he provided them, right along with pouring a drink or serving dinner.
Steve Baylor, a local farmer, Matt Eilers and Chuck Loomis—now those three were born talkers. Men like Gage Sinclair and Brandon Wyatt, they needed a beer or two before they opened up. Then there were the silent types. Dennis Urlacher, for example. Getting him to chat was like prying the lid off a rusty pickle jar. He’d come into the bar more often in the past few weeks than ever before. Generally he sat at the table in the corner, in the shadows, not welcoming anyone’s company. He drank a beer, sometimes two, then set his money on the table and left, looking as troubled as when he’d walked in.
Buffalo Bob didn’t have a degree in psychology, but he’d learned quite a lot about human nature in the time he’d been at 3 OF A KIND. He’d discovered a man had a certain look when he had troubles at home, another look when his problems involved a woman, and an entirely different look when it came to money worries.
Dennis had woman problems. Only recently Buffalo Bob had advised Dennis to talk things out with Calla, thinking that would smooth the way with Sarah. Apparently it hadn’t worked. Bob knew not to offer advice unless he was asked, and lately, Dennis wasn’t asking.
“You want a refill on that beer?” he asked at about eleven that evening.
“No, thanks,” Dennis told him.
3 OF A KIND was empty except for Dennis, and Buffalo Bob was tired. It’d been a long, grueling day.
“You staying in town for Thanksgiving?” Bob asked. If Dennis wasn’t in the mood to chat, then he might leave. When he did, Bob was closing down for the night.
“I’ll probably go to my parents’,” he murmured without much enthusiasm.
“They live in Devils Lake, right?”
Dennis nodded.
“You’ve got a sister, too?” Bob asked.
Again a nod. “Lives in Nebraska. Married a farmer there,” he said. “She’s got three youngsters.”
“That’s nice,” Buffalo Bob said. People would probably be surprised to know he often thought about marriage and starting a family. Didn’t fit his image. The truth was, he would like to marry one day—except that the only woman he’d ever consider marrying had a bad habit of disappearing in the middle of the night.
“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding?” he muttered.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Nothing,” Buffalo Bob said quickly, embarrassed to realize he’d been talking to himself. He loved Merrily. Missed her like crazy every time she left and was only half-alive until she returned. It was a hell of a way to live.
Dennis stood and shoved a couple of bills onto the table. “See you around,” he said as he walked out the door.
“See ya,” Buffalo Bob called after him. He followed Dennis to the door and turned the lock. Next he flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and switched off the neon light.
He must have left the radio on in the kitchen because he heard singing. Hesitating, he tried to decide
if it was worth the effort to turn it off or wait until morning. He seemed to be getting more forgetful by the day. With a sigh of irritation, he headed toward the kitchen, surprised to find the lights on.
“Howdy.” Merrily leaped into the center of the room from her hiding place.
“Merrily!” His joy was so great he thought his heart would burst wide open. He held out his arms for her, and she raced toward him.
Bob caught her about the waist, and she leaped up and wrapped her legs around his hips as their mouths met for a wild openmouthed kiss. He felt its impact all the way to the bottom of his feet. That woman knew how to do things with her tongue that made a man feel downright sinful. He leaned against the big refrigerator door and drew in several deep breaths.
“When…” He didn’t have the breath to finish his sentence.
“Just now.” Apparently she understood that he was asking when she’d arrived. “I heard about the blizzard and thought I’d better check on my Buffalo Man.”
“You staying this time?” he asked, already worried about when she’d leave him again.
“Maybe,” came her coy reply. Her feet were on the floor now, and she gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
He kissed her, gently now, holding her sweet face between his big hands. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” As if to prove it, she hugged him fiercely. After a while, she released a long shuddering sigh and she dropped her arms. “Business good?”
“Real good.”
“Hired yourself any new Buffalo Gals?”
So she was concerned about that. Good. Maybe she wouldn’t be so eager to leave him. But with Merrily he couldn’t be anything but honest. “One Buffalo Gal is all I need.”
“Then you have a job for me?”
He nodded, but her words hurt. She was his entire world and he feared all he was to her was a job and a place to stay. A man to sleep with…Still she came back, time after time, and that had to mean something.
“Well?” she said, glancing at her watch. “It’s been five minutes.”
He looked at his own watch, wondering what she meant. “So?”
“Don’t you intend to have your way with me?” she asked.
She laughed softly, and the sound aroused him as much as her kisses did. Bob swore it was the sexiest laugh he’d ever heard.
“Come on, Buffalo Man,” she said, claiming his hand and leading him from the kitchen. “I’ll show you the way.” Turning off the lights, Merrily guided him up the stairs to their room.
The blizzard had been especially hard on Joanie, since Brandon was stuck on the farm and she was trapped in town with the three children. They talked every day until he lost his phone service. Unable to keep in touch with her husband, she’d been miserable.
Buffalo Valley was without power for a day and a half, and she’d relied on the fireplace, the woodstove and a couple of battery-operated lanterns; Brandon had seen to it that she had a supply of firewood. Joanie had tried to make the whole experience an adventure for Stevie and Sage, but found she had limited energy and enthusiasm. In the beginning, the kids had been good, but they’d soon grown bored and listless. It wasn’t long before their boredom escalated into bickering, followed by almost constant arguing. The baby reacted to their cantankerous mood and fussed, refusing to sleep. By the end of the second day, Joanie didn’t know how many more games of CANDY LAND she could play and maintain her sanity.
Things changed for the better when the power came back on. Hoping to keep her children occupied, she baked cookies with them and then they kneaded homemade bread together. At least with power the electric stove was working again and they had television and videos to entertain them.
Joanie missed Brandon terribly and wondered if this living-apart arrangement really was the right thing to do. It didn’t help that they’d been forced to cancel their first appointment with the new counselor because of the storm. No session was scheduled the following week, either, because of Thanksgiving.
As soon as the roads were passable, Brandon had driven into town, but by then Joanie had had enough of the kids. When he finally arrived, she’d been cranky and out of sorts. Despite her joy and relief at seeing him, she’d snapped at her husband. She would’ve been grateful if he’d looked after the kids for an hour, and she knew he would have if she’d asked. Instead she’d started in with a shrewish list of complaints and he’d left within half an hour.
She owed him an apology, but she’d needed three days to work up the courage to phone.
He answered right away.
“I called to tell you I’m sorry,” she whispered, surprised at the emotion in her voice. She pressed the receiver hard against her ear, hoping her bad mood hadn’t destroyed their fragile reconciliation.
“I’m sorry, too,” he told her.
“But you didn’t do anything. I was the one who said those nasty things.”
“Baby, you were stuck in the house twenty-four hours a day with three little kids. I understand.”
“But you left and you didn’t phone,” she reminded him. “I didn’t know what to think.”
“Baby, I understand how you felt, why you were so irritable, but it took me a while to figure it out.”
Joanie had always liked it when he called her baby. Some women might consider it silly, even demeaning, but that wasn’t her reaction. The way Brandon said it made the word a term of deep affection and private intimacy.
“There’s another reason I phoned,” she said, grateful the kids were all asleep. “Thanksgiving’s next week.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’ve invited my parents.” She hadn’t discussed it with him and probably should have, but her family was coming to the house in Buffalo Valley, not the farm.
His lack of response told her he wasn’t thrilled with her news.
“Your relationship with them is much better now and I thought…” She let the rest fade, unnerved by his silence.
“It is better,” he agreed. “It’s just that I was hoping it could just be you and me and the kids this year.”
Joanie wished more than ever that she’d talked to Brandon first. “You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you?”
“Do you want me there?”
“Of course I do! More than you realize. After spending last Thanksgiving apart, I think it’s important that we make an effort to be together this year.”
He hesitated.
“This isn’t about my parents, is it? They’ve been supportive and wonderful this last year—we both owe them a debt of thanks—and I was hoping…” Her voice faltered again and she paused to regain her composure, to force back the waiting tears.
“Joanie,” Brandon said with a hint of resignation, “if it means so much to you, I’ll be there.”
She refused to make light of her feelings. “It means a great deal to me.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll be with you, the kids and your parents for Thanksgiving.”
Joanie really did feel like weeping now. “Thank you,” she whispered, afraid that if she said anything more, she’d embarrass herself.
“Joanie,” Brandon said, his voice strong and sure, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Maddy didn’t hear from Jeb all week. She tried not to be disappointed, and made up excuses for his lack of communication. By Thursday, when she was due to deliver groceries, she’d even managed to talk herself into believing it was a good sign. He was giving them both some space, some time to think.
Still, when she hadn’t received his weekly supply order, she was completely out of excuses—and completely out of patience. He might think she’d go away if he ignored her; in that case, he didn’t know her as well as he thought.
By the time Larry arrived at the store, the groceries were packed and she was ready to leave. She made the normal rounds, taking far less time with her customers than she usually did, impatient to reach Jeb’s. Margaret was disappointed she couldn’t stay, bu
t Maddy promised they’d spend time together after Thanksgiving.
As always, she left Jeb’s ranch for last. When she turned off the highway and down his driveway, she had a strong feeling he’d be waiting for her at the house. He must have guessed she’d stop by, with or without an order.
As she came down the long dirt drive, she saw that the snow had drifted and now reached almost to the bottom of the front windows. The yard was pure white and glistened in the slanting afternoon light.
No one came out to greet her, and he hadn’t left her a note on the door, either. A numbness went through her as she stood on the top porch step, her heart pounding. Intuition told her the smartest move would be to turn around and drive away now, before she got hurt.
She tried but couldn’t make herself do it. Instead, she opened the door and walked inside. “Anyone home?” she called.
Only silence greeted her.
“All right,” she said to herself. So that was the game Jeb wanted to play. Well, fine. She could wait him out. Jeb probably thought that if she did come by, she’d simply leave him a note. A short, sweet note he’d read and then destroy. But that was too easy. Anything she had to say would be done face-to-face, regardless of his preference.
By four that afternoon, it was completely dark. Being so familiar with his house, Maddy made herself at home. At five, she checked out the contents of his freezer and found everything she needed for a taco casserole. Occupying herself helped pass the time.
At six she heard a sound in the yard. She looked out the kitchen window to discover that the light in the barn was on. Jeb was back.
Maddy removed the apron, a tattered one that had obviously belonged to his mother or sister, and prepared herself for the confrontation. Shoulders squared, she stood in the middle of his kitchen.
A moment later, the door opened and Jeb warily entered the house, his limp more pronounced than the last time she’d seen him. His eyes were unfriendly, disapproving. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I came to see you.”
“I didn’t order any supplies.”
“Yes. I know…. But you said you’d phone, and you haven’t. We said we’d see each other—remember?”