A Family for the Rugged Rancher

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” She forced a cheerful smile. “Aren’t the flowers pretty for Grandma?”

“I guess,” he muttered, looking at his feet rather than the profusion of flowers in his hand. Emily sighed. One of them pouting was enough.

“Grandma made cookies today. Why don’t we have some once these are in water?”

He shrugged. “They’re not as good as yours.”

Emily knelt beside him. “I know there have been a lot of changes lately. And I know it’s been tough, Sam. But Grandma and Grandpa are very nice to let us stay with them.”

More than nice. They’d welcomed Emily and Sam with open arms and without the criticism Emily had expected. She’d come to realize their lack of contact over the years had been partly her fault. She’d always seemed too busy to visit and hadn’t been as welcoming as she should have been. It was good to mend those fences, but it wasn’t enough. Sam wasn’t the only one discontented. Emily compared everything to Luke’s house. Not as modern or updated as her parents’ home but with far more character and redolent with decades of happy memories. The garden here was pretty, but she found herself wondering if the peas and beans were ready and if Luke was finding time to pick them. The wheat was ripening in the fields and she pictured Luke with the Orrick boys, high on a tractor amid the waving golden heads. August was waning and Labor Day approaching, and she wondered if he’d celebrate with Liz and Cait and the children. Remembering Canada Day caused such a chasm of loneliness that she caught her breath.

She thought about his father, and if he was still hanging on or if the family was grieving.

She had thought it would take time to forget about him, but forgetting had proved an impossible endeavor.

“Mom?” Sam’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she forced a smile. “What, pumpkin?”

He scowled. “You aren’t supposed to call me pumpkin anymore.”

“What should I call you?” She smiled. Sam was her one bright spot. She’d begun working part-time for a local agency and he met her at the door every single time she came home. He brought her books every night, first learning to read his own and then settling in for a bedtime story. He would start school soon and she was determined to sign up for her courses and find them their own place. But there were some days, like today, when she missed when he’d been a toddler, and names like pumpkin had been okay. What would she do when he was older and didn’t need her anymore?

“I don’t know. No baby names.”

“I’ll try. No promises.” She grinned and ruffled his hair.

“I miss Luke. And Homer. And the horses. And the kids.”

Oh, honey. She missed all those things, too, and more. Mostly Luke. She wanted to promise Sam everything would be better soon, but it seemed unfair. He was entitled to his feelings. He shouldn’t be made to feel as if they were insignificant.

“Me, too, sweet…Sam,” she amended, gratified when he smiled. “But we knew all along that it was temporary, remember?”

“I thought…maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“That Luke was going to be my new dad. When he kissed you and stuff.”

She felt her cheeks color. “How do you know about that?”

He shrugged again—a new favorite five-year-old gesture since his birthday. “I saw you. At the fireworks. Everyone did.”

Emily stood up and took his hand, starting towards the house. “Luke and I liked each other for a while,” she said, not sure what to tell him that would explain things without getting complicated. “But it wasn’t like that,” she finished awkwardly.

“I wish it was. I liked it there. Even better than Calgary.”

They’d reached the back steps when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. “Go inside and give these to Grandma. Bet she’ll give you an extra cookie.” Emily took the phone out of her pocket and her heart took a leap as she saw Luke’s name on the call display.

It vibrated in her palm, and before she could reconsider she flipped it open and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Emily?”

Oh, his voice sounded just as rough and sexy over the phone. Her spine straightened and her fingers toyed with the hem of her top. He could still cause that nest of nerves simply from saying her name.

“Luke. Is everything okay?” She knew he’d never call unless something was wrong. He’d said all that he’d needed to say.

“Dad’s gone, Emily.”