In the end he figured out her wage and doubled it, then ripped it out of the book and put it in an envelope, licking and sealing the flap.
He’d check her car’s oil and fluids before she left, too. He realized that he’d never made good on his promise to teach her how to do those things for herself. But he’d do them this time. Just to be sure she got to Regina okay.
And maybe one day she’d realize that letting her go was the kindest thing he could have done.
It was still raining the next morning when Emily put Sam’s suitcase in the trunk. Sam wore a sullen look. “I don’t want to leave the fun kids. I don’t even know Grandma and Grandpa. They’re old and I won’t have anyone to play with. And I was teaching Homer to roll over!”
“Sam!” Emily felt her patience thin. “Your grandparents love you. And you will make new friends.”
Sam got into the car without another word and Emily sighed, regretting the sharp tone. Inside her purse was the envelope Luke had given her with her pay inside. She couldn’t bear to open it and see the last glorious weeks reduced to a number sign. Luke stood nearby, straight and uncompromising. But when Emily slammed the trunk shut Sam opened his door and scrambled out again, running to Luke and throwing his arms around Luke’s legs.
Luke lifted him as if he weighed nothing and closed his eyes as Sam put his arms around his neck.
Emily couldn’t watch. She wasn’t the only one who had come to care for Luke. Sam idolized him, and would have followed him around as faithfully as Homer if Emily had allowed it. Luke had patiently taught Sam how to sit on a horse and the difference between garden plants, the taste of hay ready for cutting and how the cattle could tell a man when bad weather was imminent. He had so much to give and refused to give it.
“Bye, squirt. Be good for your mom, okay?”
“Okay, Luke. Bye.”
Emily vowed not to cry, but it was a struggle. She finally met Luke’s gaze and nearly crumpled at the pain in the blue depths. All he had to do was say the word and she’d stay. One word. The moment hung between them until she was sure she would break. “Goodbye, Emily.”
She hadn’t truly realized what the term stiff upper lip meant until she forced herself to keep her own from trembling. She swallowed twice before she trusted herself to say the words, “Goodbye, Luke.”
She turned to go to the driver’s-side door but he spoke again. “I checked your oil and everything last night. You should be fine now.”
Stop talking, she wanted to say. Didn’t he know each word was like the lash of a whip? “Thank you,” she murmured, her hand on the door handle. “Emily…”
His hand closed over hers on the handle. She slowly turned and his arms cinched around her.
The light rain soaked into the cotton of his shirt, releasing the scent of his morning shower and fabric softener as he cradled her against his wide chest. She clung to him, her arms looping around his ribs, holding him close. Did this mean he’d changed his mind?
All too soon he let her go and opened her door. She stepped back, her lip quivering despite her determinations. She had to face the truth. Luke’s resolve that he’d raised his family—that he didn’t want the responsibility—was stronger than any feelings he had for her. Numbly she got into the car and dropped her purse on the passenger seat while Sam sat, silent, in the back.
“Be happy,” Luke said, and shut her door.
She turned the key and the engine roared to life. She put it in gear and started down the driveway.
At the bottom she glanced in the rearview mirror. He was still standing in the same spot, his jeans and flannel shirt a contrast to the gray, dismal day. She snapped her gaze to the front and to the wipers that rhythmically swiped the rain from the windshield.
She had to stop looking back. From now on it was straight ahead.
Luke went back into the house once her car had disappeared from sight. He closed the door and the sound echoed through the hall. His footsteps seemed inordinately loud in the empty kitchen. He should go to the barn and tackle a few of the tasks he’d been saving for a rainy day. Instead he found himself wandering aimlessly from room to room, ending in the living room. A white square caught his eye and he went to the old stereo, picked up the piece of paper and stared at her elegant handwriting.
If he’d ever wondered if she could do everything, here was his answer. After all these years of the record player not working, she’d fixed it.
He carefully moved the picture frames from the top, stacking them to one side as he lifted the hinged cover. Memories hit him from all sides: being at his grandparents’ house and hearing the old albums, then his mom and dad bringing it home and putting on the Beatles and Elvis. Those LPs were still there, but Luke flipped the switch and sent the turntable spinning, placing the needle on the album already in place.
The mellow voice of Jim Reeves singing “I Love You Because” filled the room. Oh, how he’d complained as a boy when his parents had put on the old-fashioned tunes. Now he was hit with a wave of nostalgia so stron
g it almost stole his breath.
And as he listened to the lyrics, he wished he could take back the words that had sent her away.
What was done was done. He’d stayed strong despite it all, loving her too much to sentence her to a life of pain and indecision. But damn, it hurt.
It hurt more than he’d ever imagined possible.
Sam held a bouquet of black-eyed Susans, daisies and corn-flowers in his hand as Emily cut more stems for the bouquet. Her mother’s wildflower garden was a rainbow of blooms right now, and Emily snipped a few pinky-purple cosmos blossoms to add to the mix. Sam waited patiently, but as Emily handed over the last flowers, she knew. He wasn’t happy. And she knew why. Nothing had been the same since they’d left Luke’s.