Brant's Return

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Even though we’d both driven to my parents’ homestead, Brant insisted we drive back in one car. Together. He’d send two of the men to pick up the truck tomorrow. Truth be told, I didn’t want to spend another minute apart, and so I agreed wholeheartedly.

We spent the two-hour ride home talking about all that had happened while we’d been apart: Brant’s father’s explanation about the truth of that tragic day, Brant’s realization about the things he’d been unwilling to admit about his mother, my visit with my parents and the discovery that I was pregnant. We went through it all, piece by piece together, and though I could tell Brant was still struggling with some of his own memories and his father’s confession, there was a relieved set to his shoulders as he discussed the deep-seated fears he’d carried his whole adult life. We both had scars, emotional and physical, that we would always, always carry, but as he took my hand in his, I felt such profound relief at the knowledge that neither one of us had to bear them alone.

We spoke of the tiny, beloved life that grew within me, my fears and my hopes, and I knew that the next eight months would bring emotions to the surface that I’d have to experience and sort through one by one. But again, I wouldn’t have to do it by myself. I had someone to turn to in the dark of night when everything might feel too big—too dark and vast—to face alone.

As we pulled onto the road leading to home, the tears I’d shed—both happy and sorrowful—as we’d spoken and planned had dried on my face, and hope soared in my heart. Brant and I turned to each other and smiled, his hand finding mine again, squeezing, reassuring.

The lights of the stable were still on. It might just be a few of the men working late, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Bess, a pregnant mare, was foaling early. “Brant,” I said as we shut the doors to his car. “I’m going to make a quick stop at the stable. Bess is due to foal soon and still has weeks but you never know. It’ll only take a minute or two.”

His gaze paused on my face for a moment and something in the way he looked at me told me he understood the strength I drew from caring for another mother, especially now. “I’ll meet you inside.” He glanced toward his dad’s dark window. “Looks like Dad is asleep. We’ll have to tell him about the baby in the morning.”

I grinned at him, nodding, knowing how happy it would make him.

I walked quickly to the stable and though the lights were on, no one seemed to

be there, and when I looked in on Bess, she was casually munching on some hay, still as pregnant as she’d been earlier that day, exhibiting no signs of labor. I sighed, reaching up and stroking her mane. She let out a warm breath through her nose, a horse sigh that seemed to say, it’s been a long ten months. I laughed softly. “I bet,” I murmured.

“Hi, Isabelle.”

I whirled around, surprise causing me to let out a high-pitched gasp. I brought my hand to my chest, releasing a small nervous laugh when I saw who it was standing in the stable doorway.

“Hank, you scared me to death. What are you doing here?”

He narrowed his eyes, and moved toward me. “You should have told me about the money.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Brant

Belle was taking too long. I stood on the porch, watching for her to return, the moon a sliver of lemon in the cobalt sky. When she’d turned toward the stable, I’d started to go inside the dark house, and then stood there at the front door, feeling her absence press on me. It’d only been a minute. At first I’d talked myself out of jogging to the stable like I wanted to, finally leaning on the porch railing where I could watch for her return so we could enter the house together. “You’re a love struck-fool, you know that?” I muttered to myself. But I wasn’t in the least bit sorry for it.

As I stood there, a cloud moved away from the crescent moon and the light glinted on a car parked in the lot behind the stable. I frowned. It wasn’t completely abnormal that someone would be here this time of night, but . . . maybe it was a vet? Damn, that’s probably what was taking Belle so long. The mare was foaling after all.

I stepped off the porch, jogging toward the stable, a strange buzzing under my skin causing me to pick up speed.

I heard voices as I approached the building and slowed to a walk. “Goddammit, Belle, I needed to know that.”

“I’m sorry, Hank, I—” Belle turned her head as I entered the wide-open space. She smiled. “Brant.”

I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Hank,” I said, approaching and holding out my hand. “What brings you here?”

“He found out about the money and I told him about the storage unit.”

Hank let out a breath. “It would have helped out if I’d heard about it from you first.”

“I explained—”

Hank waved his hand. “I know, I know. That’s not the main reason I’m here.”

He pursed his lips, looking from Isabelle to me and then to Isabelle. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Brant, Hank. I’d tell him later anyway. It’ll save me the breath if he hears it straight from you.”

Hank gave a curt nod, pausing for a moment as he looked at Belle. “I’ve never quite been able to get your case out of my head.” He sighed. “I guess you know that, seeing how often I check in on you.” There was sympathy in his gaze, a compassion that I didn’t imagine he could possibly have the emotional energy to give to all his cases. Belle had woven her way into his heart. She had a way of doing that.

Belle smiled tenderly. “I know, Hank. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

He looked slightly embarrassed as he glanced away, putting his hands in his pockets and jangling what sounded like change. “Anyway, I’ve never been able to put it to rest. These last few years I’ve been looking into anything and everything in my spare time.”