“We’re practically walking now,” Gloria said. “Why don’t we talk—that’ll distract you.”

“What do you want to talk about? Chad?” Linnette asked.

Once again, Gloria ignored the mention of his name. “What do you hear from Cal?”

“Not much. I talked to him this weekend. He was in a honky-tonk bar, if the background music was any indication.” Linnette frowned at the memory. She might not know much about mustangs, but even as a greenhorn she was bright enough to recognize that there weren’t a lot of wild horses hanging around in bars. Rethinking the conversation, she recalled a number of other things that had bothered her. “While we were talking, Cal began to stutter again. That tells me he’s tense or nervous about something.”

“Maybe he just needs to get back to the speech therapist.”

“Maybe.” Still, Linnette didn’t think that was the problem. There was something on his mind he wasn’t telling her. They hardly talked anymore. When he phoned, it felt more like the fulfilling of an obligation than any desire to talk to her. A recent article in the Cedar Cove Chronicle stated that local veterinarian Vicki Newman had joined Cal. She remembered their meeting at the ranch earlier and the odd sensation that had come over her when she saw Cal talking to Vicki. She’d felt threatened, and she couldn’t figure out exactly why. Vicki was so…ordinary. Linnette hated to say it, but the veterinarian, with her sharp facial features, lank hair and mannish build, was downright unattractive. She seemed nice enough, Linnette supposed. But Cal hadn’t told her Vicki was going to Wyoming, too, and that worried her.

During their last call, Linnette had told him how much it dismayed her, but Cal hadn’t responded. Instead, he’d changed the subject.

They never argued. Cal would walk away from a disagreement rather than talk about it rationally. It didn’t help, she told herself, that he had a difficult time controlling his speech when he was upset, which only made him more disinclined to discuss problems.

“What about you and Chad?” Linnette asked again, rather than focus on her own relationship. “You talk about Chad and I’ll discuss Cal.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Why aren’t you going out with him?” Linnette didn’t understand it.

Gloria shrugged. “Should I be?”

“No, I guess not,” Linnette said reluctantly. And yet the two of them looked at no one else whenever they were together.

“If anyone isn’t interested in Chad, it’s me,” Linnette said on the off-chance Gloria was denying her feelings out of misplaced loyalty to her.

“Then why are we discussing him?”

“Because I know how he feels about you.”

Gloria increased her pace, and Linnette had to struggle to keep up. “Hey, slow down, would you?”

“Not if you want to talk about Chad.”

Linnette frowned, blinking as the sweat slid down her face. “Am I missing something here?”

“No.” Gloria’s response was much too quick.

Linnette was nearly panting in her effort to keep pace with her sister, who seemed to be trying to break a world speed record. “Maybe it’d be best if we didn’t talk,” she suggested, breathing heavily.

“Maybe,” Gloria agreed and immediately slowed to a kinder pace.

“This was supposed to be a lazy mile,” Linnette reminded her.

Round two was completed, and two more remained. It would be a miracle if she managed four full laps.

“A lazy mile doesn’t mean we’re going to crawl,” Gloria snapped.

“You’ve had more practice at this than I have.” Linnette tried not to sound apologetic.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk.”

“I have to talk.” Linnette couldn’t stop, much as she’d prefer to. If she did, then all she’d think about was how much her body didn’t want to do this. Her calf muscles were about to spasm. Her face burned, her stomach had begun to churn with nausea. “How often do you come out here?” she asked.

“Every day. I run between three and five miles.”

Linnette groaned. “You just said that to make me feel bad, didn’t you?”

Gloria laughed, raced ahead, then spun around and ran backward, facing Linnette. “Hey, are we having our first sisterly disagreement?”

If she’d had the energy, Linnette would’ve laughed, too. “Yeah, I think we are.” Seeing that she was holding Gloria up, she gestured for her to run on. “Leave me,” she panted. “I’ll walk these last two laps.”

“You sure?”

“Go, before I require resuscitation.”

Gloria grinned and took off at a speed that would’ve caused Linnette to have a cardiac arrest. As she’d promised, she continued walking, astonished at Gloria who literally ran circles around her. Actually, now that she was moving at a relaxed speed, Linnette found she didn’t object to exercising.

Without Gloria there to distract her, though, her mind was free to roam. But the subject in the forefront of her thoughts was an uncomfortable one.

Cal.

While his mission was undeniably noble, he’d seemed too eager to get away from Cedar Cove—away from her. Her brother, Mack, had warned her that she was suffocating him. At the time, Linnette hadn’t been willing to listen, but now she felt she had to give his words some heed.

When she rounded the last curve, Linnette was surprised to see Chad standing outside the fence, watching them. When he looked in her direction, she waved. He returned her greeting, but his gaze immediately went to Gloria. In that brief moment, Linnette saw such longing in his eyes that it took her aback.

She didn’t know what to think. Was it possible they were already involved? Yet that didn’t make sense. Chad would’ve mentioned it, she was sure, since they worked together every day.

Gloria was certainly closemouthed, but Linnette resolved to mind her own business from now on. She couldn’t figure out what was happening in her own relationship, so she hardly felt qualified to diagnose the problems between Gloria and Chad.

After the evening meal at Lonny Ellison’s Wyoming ranch, where they were staying as guests, Cal found Vicki outside, standing at the corral. He hesitated before joining her. They’d been working together twelve and fifteen hours a day for two weeks now. His new feelings had crept up on him unawares. She’d been around Cliff’s ranch from the time he’d hired on, and they’d always been friendly but nothing more. He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but Vicki had become someone who mattered to him. Maybe it had started the week he left, when they’d met to make plans for this trip….

Vicki ignored him and rested her arms on the top rung. She stared straight ahead as several of the mustangs dashed around inside the pen, snorting at their unaccustomed boundaries, kicking up dust and generally letting their displeasure be known.

“It was a mistake for me to come to Wyoming,” she said without looking at him.

Cal couldn’t let her think that. “No. You’ve been a real asset.” He began to remind her of everything she’d done for the mustangs, but she stopped him.

“It was a mistake for other reasons,” she said. “I’m sorry, Cal.”

She still hadn’t looked at him.

He swallowed hard. He refused to believe that she shouldn’t be there—or that she was sorry. Although he’d been careful to avoid touching her, he couldn’t keep from doing so now. He placed his hand on her shoulder and watched as her eyes drifted shut, as if she, too, was fighting their strong physical attraction. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispered.

“I’m going to turn in for the night,” she said.

“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Not yet.” He moved closer, stroking her hair with his other hand.

“You don’t understand!” she said, breaking free.

“Understand what?” Despite the desire to pull her back into his arms, he let her step out of his embrace.

“What?” he pressed.

She held his gaze until her own eyes filled with tears. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He frowned. “Know what?”

“Oh, Cal, how could you be so blind? I’ve been in love with you for two years!”

She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d poked him with a cattle prod. His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t speak for at least a minute. He just gawked at her.

“You never let on,” he said numbly.

“How could I?” she asked, jerking her hand across her face, smearing the tears. “I…I didn’t know how, and then you started seeing Linnette and she’s so lovely and I’m—well, I’m not. Why do you think I didn’t want to go on this trip at first?”

Cal hated to appear dense, but apparently he was exactly that. “I—thought it had s-something to do with your office.”

“I only said that because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hide my feelings, and now look what’s happened.”

“What’s happened,” Cal said, exhaling sharply, “is that I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”

He had no idea how Vicki would accept this news; however, he didn’t expect her to lash out with her fist and clobber him in the chest. “Don’t you dare say that to me, Cal Washburn! Don’t you dare!” She punctuated each word with another solid punch.

“Ouch.” Cal backed away and rubbed his chest, confounded by the vehemence of her attack. “Ow, dammit. What did you do that for?”

“Don’t you touch me again, either.”

“I thought—I hoped you shared my f-feelings.”

“I do,” she muttered, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Linnette’s in Cedar Cove patiently waiting for your return. What about her? She loves you, too.”

Cal felt the color drain from his face. Vicki was right. He had no business declaring his feelings or kissing her until he’d resolved the situation with Linnette. The problem was, he had no idea how to do that.

Twenty-Seven

Memorial Day, Cecilia got up early, even before Aaron woke her for his feeding. Not wanting to disturb Ian, she got quietly out of bed and pulled on her robe. Then she tiptoed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. The clock on the microwave told her it was barely five. Nevertheless she was wide awake.

A quick check on the baby assured her that Aaron was sound asleep. Taking these few moments to herself, savoring the silence, Cecilia poured a mug of coffee and sat in her favorite chair in the living room. She was happy, she realized, truly content with her life. Memorial Day was a little less sad this year, mostly because she had Aaron. For the past six years she’d dreaded this day because it reminded her of the most profound loss she’d ever experienced—the death of her daughter, Allison. For six years, her arms and her heart had ached for the baby she’d held so briefly. Her son would never replace Allison, but she loved him just as much. Her grief no longer seemed as raw, as overwhelming.