“Be safe,” I breathe as we pull away.
They announce that his flight has begun boarding, inviting all military personnel to be seated with the business class. He bends and picks up his bag, and holds my hand and my eyes for another long moment.
He bends in for one last kiss, brief, but full of everything.
Then he takes a step away, holding my hand for one moment longer, before his touch is gone, and he has to turn and get on that plane.
“Lake,” I call to him just before he disappears. He looks back at me, his eyes wide, his expression full of longing. “Oorah,” I say.
A smile forms on his face and he blinks, slow, just once. “Oorah,” he calls back.
He looks over his shoulder, one last time, before he disappears down toward the plane.
“Be safe,” I say quietly one more time to the universe.
I feel someone’s arms wrap around my shoulders and turn my head to see Sage hugging me. A moment later, she’s joined by Kaylee. Robin wraps her arms around us all, just as one single tear slips down my cheek.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I throw myself into work for the first weeks after Lake leaves. Because otherwise, I will turn into a dysfunctional ball of worry and fear. So Dale, Katrina, and I, we work our tails off. Dale moved into Lake’s apartment after he left. Katrina takes care of the phones and bookwork. And I ride my heart out. I teach lessons. I help with the events.
At the end of the day, I collapse into bed so hard I don’t have the opportunity to lie awake and wonder how Lake is doing.
On the fifth of September, I study my pictures of Cal. Today would have been our wedding day. The day is beautiful and warm. It would have been perfect.
But each day has led to the next, and maybe one event has led me to right where I belong.
So that night, I take Cal’s pictures, put them in a box with his ring, and I set them on a shelf in my closet.
I have moved on. I will not ever let him go, because Cal will forever be a part of my heart. But I can move on and live my life.
I can be happy.
September is busy. Just an extension of summer.
But come the beginning of October, the clouds move in. The rain comes, and things start to slow down for the first time in months.
We see a big rotation in our horses. Trooper and Trapper are ready for their owners. I deliver them the first weekend in October. Lady is indeed the perfect little lady now. The little girls who are meant to ride her are beyond ecstatic when I drop her off the second weekend.
And the last weekend in October, I take Sir Devil back to his owners.
He’s a brilliant horse. He listens, he obeys, he feels his rider. He’ll be a moneymaker for them. I even get a brilliant bonus from his owners, they are so pleased with the work I’ve done with him.
On Halloween, I get a call from Sheriff Akins. Everything has finally settled with Travis’ sentencing. He’ll be serving the next two to three years in prison, and I will have a permanent restraining order against him. It’s an incredible relief to know that I will never have to worry about him again. I hope no other woman ever has to worry about him in the future.
It’s November before the months start to feel unbearably long. We cut our days down to four days a week. Dale still feeds the animals every day except Sunday and most Saturdays. I still teach lessons twice a week, but I only train on Mondays and Wednesdays now. It’s nice to have a bit of a break, but it does leave me with more time to miss Lake.
I write him emails every Sunday and Wednesday night. He can usually only reply once a week. Sometimes it’s less frequent than that. But that tight ball of fear loosens just a bit every time I see an email from him in my inbox.
He’s doing well. He’s a platoon sergeant now. He’s hardly ever out in the field. He’s away from most of the danger.
He misses me.
And how I miss him too.
Toward the end of November, just two days before Thanksgiving, he sends an email that he will be able to video call for a few minutes the next day.
My heart leaps into my throat and my pulse skyrockets.
I don’t sleep that night. I lie awake, imagining what we’ll talk about, how he’ll look, where he’ll be. In the morning, I rush through my chores. I shower, do my hair nice, get dressed, and sit in front of my laptop, eagerly waiting.
He misses the time he was supposed to call me. Which doesn’t surprise me. This happened all the time with Cal, and sometimes he was never able to actually call.
So for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes I wait nervous and scared that he won’t actually be able to talk.
But twenty-five minutes after he said he’d be calling, my computer rings out with the call.
I click accept to the video call, and the screen goes black for a moment while the connection is made.
And suddenly, there his face is.
“Hi,” I say as my eyes instantly well.
“Hey, Baby,” he says, a brilliant smile breaking on his face. Lopsided as ever.
“How are you?” I ask. I reach forward, touching my fingers to his cheek on the screen. He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt, his dog tags under it. His hair is close cropped, his face completely clean shaven. But he looks good. He looks alive.
“I’m fine,” he says through his grin. “Great now.”
I laugh, a breathy, emotional thing. “It’s really good to see you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he says, his eyes reflecting his words. For a second, my heart panics as the screen freezes and goes fuzzy. But a moment later it rights itself.
“Sorry,” he says, adjusting the screen on his own computer. “The connection here sucks.”
“It’s okay,” I say, smiling once again. “I’m just glad to see your face.”
“How is everything at home?”
And everything in me melts at him calling this, and me, home.
He knows right where he belongs.
“Things are good,” I say. “Getting slower, like they should. Sir Devil finally went home.”
“I bet you’re glad to be rid of him,” Lake laughs.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think I might kind of miss him. He was a challenge, but in the end, he’s a good animal.”
“You’re not working yourself too hard, are you?” he says as he leans forward. He seems so close, like I could just lean forward and press my lips to his. And yet so far away.
“I’m down to forty hours a week,” I tease. “I’m not sure what to do with myself. I have way too much free time.”
Lake’s eyes suddenly shift up, like he’s listening to someone behind the screen. And my stomach sinks, because I know what that means.
A few seconds later, Lake’s eyes meet mine again. “They’re saying I need to get off in a second. Lots of guys are waiting to talk to their families.”
“Okay,” I say, once again filling with emotion at the word family. Because I realize that this was probably his one video call home, and he chose to call me. “I will tell your family you said hi.”
“Are you going for Thanksgiving tomorrow?” he asks.
I nod. “Your mom didn’t give me much choice. But I’m happy to go.”
Lake laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like Mom.”
“Will I get to see you again before you come home?” I ask. Once again, I touch my fingers to the screen. I wish I could reach right through and touch him in real life. To feel his skin against mine.
“I don’t think so,” he says, a regretful look on his face as he shakes his head. “Only thirty-eight more days though.”
“Thirty-eight more days,” I repeat. It feels so long. But I remind myself that we’ve already made it through eighty-four.
“I’ve got to go now, Baby,” he says. I see him reach forward, like he’s touching his screen too. “I’m coming home soon.”
“Come home to me,” I say as emotion pricks at the back of my eyes once again.
And our connection goes o
ut.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
On December eighteenth, I get a surprise I never, ever expected.
I walk out of the barn when I hear a deep rumbling coming up the driveway. I tuck my gloves into my back pocket and wipe a trail of dirt from my brow. When I step outside, I see Sage’s BMW rolling up to the house.
Immediately followed by Dad’s Shelby. Driven by Julian.
The two of them park next to the house and both of them step out. Sage wears these fantastic boots, leather pants, and a pea coat. Julian looks sophisticated as well in his button up coat and polished shoes.
I can just stand there and stare at my dad’s car though.
It’s beautiful. It’s been repainted, a shiny, slick black. And I can see through the windows, it’s been fully restored. Gorgeous white leather seats, new everything.
“You’re the one who bought my dad’s Shelby?” I breathe, my eyes shifting from the car to Julian.
His eyes are bright when he smiles. “I have specific tastes when it comes to cars, and I’ve always wanted to get my hands on one of these. Lake had no idea when he asked us if we’d be interested in buying it. Needless to say, I had no hesitations in giving you top dollar for such a rare gem.”
The back of my eyes sting. I bite my lower lip and nod.
“It’s all fully restored, with a few extra bells and whistles,” Sage says. She wears a soft smile. She always seems so intimidating and powerful. But right now, she looks open. Like a big sister. “Merry Christmas, Riley.”
My eyes jump up to her once again. “What?” I ask, completely confused. “What do you mean?”
“That car, it’s a piece of your dad,” Sage continues. “That means it’s a part of your family. It should always be yours. I know I don’t know you that well yet, but I know you well enough to know you have about as much pride as I do. But we want you to have it back. It belongs to you.”
Tears threaten to well in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I just about lost this place. We were one day away from it. But we kept it, because of you.”
Sage shrugs. “It’s just money,” she says. And the way she says it, it isn’t her bragging about how much of it the two of them have. “It’s still Lake who brought you back.”
I give them a little smile, fighting back my emotions. I cross to the both of them and wrap an arm around each of them.
“I would like to steal it back every so often, just for a drive,” Julian adds in. “All the girls want me when they see me in it.”
Sage smacks him on the back of head as all of us laugh.
I’ve never had a brother or a sister before. But having these two here, that’s what they feel like.
And family always looks out for family.
____
Two days before Christmas, I head to the airport to pick up Mom. I wait for her down at the baggage claim, and the second I see her coming down the escalator, a huge grin plasters on my face. I rush forward, engulfing her in my arms. We both laugh, Mom cries, and in general, we make a bit of a scene.
“I missed you so much,” Mom says, still squeezing me tight.
“Missed you, too,” I say when she finally releases me. We collect her bag and head out for the Shelby. Mom is completely shocked to see it, and can’t stop talking about how generous the Dohrings are as we head home.
I smile as I watch the road. I pat Mom’s leg and leave my hand there. She laces her fingers through mine. For the first time in weeks, I feel peaceful.
We spend most of the night talking. About the ranch and all the changes. About Virginia and Aunt Lynda. About what we want to do for the holidays coming up. About my relationship with the McCains.
And finally, Mom brings up the man himself.
“How’s Lake doing?” she asks.
“He’s good,” I say, feeling my face warm. “He’s staying safe.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says with a smile. “You two are so good for each other.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, Honey, I think you know,” she chuckles. “That boy, when he came to this ranch that first day, was drowning in guilt over the fact that Cal saved his life. He was buried in a debt that wasn’t his fault. And he carried it around for a while, but being with you? You freed him. And he freed you.” She studies me, just as I study her. Her eyes are bright and hopeful. “You weren’t living before, Sweetie. You were existing, you were going through life. But you weren’t really living. But he brought you back to life.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah, he did. You know, I was thinking about something. That first day when he showed up, if you had been two minutes later, and hadn’t invited him to stay for dinner, our lives would have been much different.”
We would have lost the ranch. Who knows where I’d be living now. And I would have still been drowning.
“I do know what I’m doing sometimes.” Mom squeezes my hand, and excitement builds in her eyes. “We need to make some changes around this house, baby girl,” she says. “It’s yours now, and this is your life. Let’s make it you.”
It feels a little silly to me, but Mom insists, and it has been my house for nearly six months. Maybe I shouldn’t still be living in the same bedroom I’ve had since high school.
We move all my things down to the master bedroom. We convert my old room to a guest bedroom, that for the next week and a half, Mom will occupy. All this on Christmas Eve. That evening, we head into the trees on the property, find one that isn’t a hundred feet tall, and I chop it down. We tie it to the back of the four-wheeler and drag it to the house. After setting it up in the living room, we decorate it with all the ornaments we’ve accumulated over the past few decades.
Mom makes cookies after and sets out a plate and a glass of milk next to the fire place, which has a roaring fire in it. I know Santa won’t be coming down to get burned that night and bring me presents and eat his cookies, but I appreciate her stirring my childhood memories anyway.
Christmas day is quiet but joyful. Dale went back to Montana for a few days to be with his family. Mom and I open our few presents to each other. She makes her traditional cinnamon rolls for breakfast. We listen to Christmas music, and just like a miracle, snow starts to fall outside.
It’s simple, and it’s nearly perfect.
If only one person weren’t missing.
Six more days. From Christmas to when Lake comes home. Six days.
Over those days, while work is on break for the holidays, Mom and I work on the house. It’s getting old, and it’s outdated. So we put some effort into it. On the first day, we paint my new bedroom and the bathroom. Over the next two days, we paint the old wooden cabinets a brilliant white and give them some new rubbed bronze fixtures. We then paint the walls in the kitchen a Nantucket blue. Next comes the living room, with new paint and new drapes.
I’m at a bit of a loss with it all, but Mom pulls up the internet and starts showing me pictures until I find things I like. We shop, we work. I’m impressed with the changes.
I can still see the bones of my childhood home. A lot of it is the same, from the worn out carpet, to the wood floors that have hints of track marks between rooms. But the facelift is nice. Like this really is my home now.
Like I’m really on my own two feet by myself. Like this is the life I’ve chosen.
I can feel something big and important building up inside of me as the end of the day New Year’s Eve draws. This feels like a new beginning. A beginning that doesn’t have a stumbling block right out the start. A beginning that has happiness in it.
Because tomorrow, Lake will come home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I wake early that morning. It’s still strange, walking up in what was always Mom and Dad’s bedroom, but it’s different. The walls are no longer white. They’re burnt orange and cream. The pictures on the wall are different. My things are scattered about. And on the bedside table, is a picture of a soldier with badges on his chest.
I pull his picture into my hand and look him over. I can’t help but smile as I do.
And just then, my phone dings with a text message.
About to get on another plane, but I’m in Dallas. Be home in a few hours.
Lake.
I press my lips to my phone, a smile pulling at my lips.
“That must be a certain soldier,” Mom says from the doorway of the bedroom. “No one else can make you smile like that.”
I cover my face with the picture frame in embarrassment. “He’s in Dallas.”
“You’d better go get ready to greet your man,” she smiles.
I raise the flag after I get dressed. For just a few minutes, I stand there. I think of Dad. Think of Cal. And think of the soldier I’ll be seeing in just a few hours.
The red, white, and blue runs through my veins. It may have broken my heart a few times, but it’s a part of who I am. And I’m proud to be an American.
I feed the animals. Bear and Chico run around my feet like they can feel the excitement and know Lake is coming home. I shower and dry my hair. Dab on a bit of make-up. Pull on skinny jeans and some nice boots. Put on a sweater and wrap a scarf around my neck. Top it off with a knit cap.
Mom makes me lunch, though my nerves are too high to eat much. She kisses me on the side of the head as I head out the door.
My heart flutters hard and fast as the miles between us close. The traffic is intense at the airport on such a heavy travel day. It’s hard to find parking, making anger and frustration rise in my blood. Finally, I find a spot.
I wait by the baggage claim with a few other families. I wonder if there will be any other soldiers coming home with Lake. Probably. They seem to deploy in waves.
I check my phone again as I wait. Nothing.
Any minute now.