Just then someone she hadn’t noticed rose from the porch swing. The next second, a tall silhouette blocked her view of the wreath. She would have recognized Sam’s outline anywhere. Broad shoulders topped by a Stetson and underpinned with long, lean legs sheathed by denim. She grinned and opened the car door.
“Sam! You should be inside. Why on earth did you wait for me out here in the cold?”
His voice hit her like a well-aimed Frisbee. “I need to speak to you in the barn.”
She could tell by the edge in his deep voice that he was furious about something. She wondered if he’d had a run-in with Cam, or if Caleb, who was sometimes a little outrageous at sixteen, had done or said something that Sam couldn’t countenance. If so, he had proven himself to be a reasonable man with kids, and she’d take her grandson to task. This was Sam’s house, after all, even though she had been forgetting that lately.
Trying to keep it light, she said, “Oh, in the barn? Be still my heart. Are we going to crawl into the hayloft and hide from everyone?”
He pivoted on his heel without responding and strode toward the huge building. Maddie thought that was rude. Yes, there were yard lights, but a man with good manners would have guided her over the illuminated but shadowy ground to make sure she didn’t stumble. Slightly upset by his behavior, she trailed behind him. Sam was Sam, though. She loved the whole package, including his rough spots. Maybe he just wanted the barrier of walls around him before he started ranting about whatever had upset him.
Maddie had been in the barn on a daily basis, with the exception of when she’d been so sick from chemo that she couldn’t come. Her cats lived in here now, and she fed them every day, along with Sam’s. They slept in the hayloft, cozy and warm. They wouldn’t emerge from their hiding places until morning.
As she stepped inside, her eyes had to adjust to the darkness, and she strained to see Sam. She finally picked him out, as his tan jacket seemed to glow in the dim light that slanted in behind her, and when she stepped closer, his eyes shimmered even in the shadow cast by the charred brim of his hat.
She needed to fix that hat for him. Maddie had found a Western milliner in Missoula and spoken with him on the phone. She’d sent him a picture of the Stetson from her cell, and he’d had some fabulous ideas—her favorite: a matching soft overlay of leather at the front to hide the burned edge of the brim, with another overlay at the back to match. To bring it all together, the milliner had suggested a hatband fashioned from the same leather. She just couldn’t think how to sneak away the hat without Sam tearing the house apart looking for it.
This time, his voice rammed into her like the dull edge of a machete, almost knocking the breath out of her. “Goddamn you, Maddie. I asked you, again and again, if you were sick, and you looked me straight in the eye and lied to me.”
She flinched. Her first thought was How did you find out? And then she felt so ashamed. She had lied to him, only she wasn’t sick. She’d gotten her last treatment today. There was no sign of returning cancer, and during her consultation with the oncologist this afternoon, he’d stressed that her surgery was considered to be a complete success. Surrounding tissue had been biopsied. No traces of cancerous cells had been found in any of the samples. Either the different approach to chemo had killed anything dangerous left around her colon, or she’d been in no danger in the first place. Maddie would never know, and neither would the oncologist unless her cancer returned someday. And it didn’t appear that was likely to occur.
“Sam, please don’t freak out on me.”
His tone remained as flat and lethal as it had been when he first spoke. “Freak out. That’s interesting. Is that what you call it when you realize someone allowed you to fall in love with her when she was possibly dying?”
Maddie clenched her fists. “I’m not dying, Sam. I’m not even sick.”
He walked toward her, and for a moment she thought he meant to gather her up in his arms. Only he kept on going and strode right past her toward the doors. “Tell it to someone who hasn’t experienced the cancer routine. If you make it through the next five years, you’ll have a good chance of beating it, but as it stands right now, the odds aren’t good.”
She whirled around. “Sam!” she cried. “For once, just once, will you listen to someone before you react?”
He spun to face her. Now he was silhouetted against the glow of the yard lights and the shimmer of Christmas cheer. Maddie had come to love every inch of his rangy body. She couldn’t see his face, but she had memorized every plane, every imperfection, and every expression that crossed it.
“Spit it out fast,” he told her. “I don’t tolerate liars.”
Maddie bunched her fists at her sides. “I went in for a routine colonoscopy last January. They found a tumor and took a biopsy. It was cancer. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Cam and Caleb. It hadn’t been that long since we’d lost Graham to the same disease, and I knew they’d be terrified. I chose to keep it a secret and go through it alone. I flew back to Missouri to stay with my sister while I had the surgery. I found a fabulous oncologist. He got all of the cancer, but to be safe, he recommended chemo. Even though the oncologist here in Missoula feels that my cancer is completely gone, I still haven’t told the boys. They have endured enough. Can you understand that?”
“Yes. So have I. Endured enough, I mean.”
Maddie flinched again. He spoke the unvarnished truth. He was a man who’d been to hell and back because of cancer. He had every right to be terrified, because now he loved her, another victim of the disease. Maddie didn’t question the depth of his feelings for her. What she questioned now was her own wisdom. When she’d realized that he was falling in love with her, why hadn’t she trusted him with her secret? Sam wasn’t a blabbermouth. He was a man who analyzed practically every word he said. When he waged verbal war, he took shots that lacerated his enemies. When he wasn’t, he spoke judiciously, never, so far as she knew, saying anything that he didn’t mean or believe was the truth. “Sam, please, just hear me out. My son and grandson went through hell during Graham’s illness, and his death nearly destroyed them.” She held up her hands in supplication. “I never lied to them. I just didn’t tell them. It was a nightmare I decided that I had to live through by myself. When I first met you, I couldn’t trust you with my secret. And later, I knew I had a ninety-five percent chance of surviving. You were a mess over Annie. At first we were only friends. Remember? Just friends. And when it became something more, I had almost finished my course of chemo. I was in perfect health. I saw no reason, absolutely none, to upset you and possibly ruin the holidays for everyone I love by revealing my secret when it no longer mattered.”
“The truth.” His tone remained lifeless. “It always matters, Maddie. I looked you straight in the eye and asked if anything bad was going on with you. You met my gaze, never so much as blinked, and flat-out lied to me. I don’t like liars. I’m sure as hell not going to love one, especially when she didn’t give a shit if she died on me and broke my heart.” She could see him working his big hands. He straightened his fingers, and then he bunched them into fists. She could also see his body shaking. “I rolled the dice. I fell in love with you, and you let me. Of all the people I know, you understand me the best. You know how close I came to putting a bullet in my brain after I lost Annie. How could you let me fall in love with you when you knew your cancer could come back? How could you set me up to go through that again?”
Maddie had no answer. She’d been wrong, and now she knew it. “Sam, I do love you, and I’m so sorry. All of this hasn’t been easy.” Her throat tightened, and she gulped. “When I met you, I was just trying to make it through one of the most difficult times of my life. I was all alone with my secret in a strange place, and I’d watched Graham die. I was scared to death for myself and even more terrified for Cam and Caleb. In the beginning you and I hated each other. Remember? By the time we became friends and then sta
rted to care for each other, I had already . . .” She heard her voice drift away, echoing softly against the hay and plank walls.
“Lied to me?” he inserted. “Just say it, Maddie. You’d already lied to me.”
“Please forgive me. I should have trusted you not to let it slip out. I should have trusted you enough to share all my fears with you. But what’s between us now was new to me then, Sam. I told you then that I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. Remember? I felt as if I was betraying Graham at first. How could I still love him and love another man, too? I was confused and struggling to make sense of my feelings. Besides, what I said that morning when you asked if something bad was going on with me is absolutely true. None of us has any guarantees. You could have cancer right now and not know it. Tomorrow you could fall off a horse and break your neck. You can’t live a full and satisfying life without taking chances, Sam. You can’t love someone without risking your heart.”
“I deserved to have an opportunity to decide for myself if I wanted to take that risk. By lying, you took the choice away from me.”
“In all fairness, Sam, I didn’t really lie except to say I was receiving physical therapy treatments instead of chemo. The other falsehoods were lies by omission. I truly was in perfect health. I did see a doctor. I’d had complete physicals and blood panels done. My heart is fine. And there is absolutely no sign that my cancer has returned or any indication that it might. I had my last treatment today. I wanted to come home tonight and celebrate.”
“With who? Me? How could I celebrate something I didn’t even know about?”
Maddie winced. “I wish now that I had told you.”
“I wish you had, too. But you didn’t, and we can’t turn back the clock. I kept looking for a huge flaw in you, and now I’ve found it. I’m not perfect, Maddie, but when I say something, I give it to you straight. You’ll never pin lying on me, straight out or by omission.” He fell silent, kicking at the dirt with one boot and looking down as if he might unearth the mysteries of the universe. Finally, he spoke again. “We’re finished. You and your family are welcome to stay until your houses are done. It won’t be that long now. We’re civilized adults. Right? I’ll go in to eat, and then I’ll come out to my shop and do my winter thing. When it’s bedtime, I’ll come back in. It shouldn’t be that uncomfortable.”
Maddie’s throat was washed in scalding heat and tears, and she couldn’t speak. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. If she’d only been honest with him.
He spun on his heel and left the barn. Then he came back, giving her reason to hope. He stood there in the yawning illumination of the open doorway, looking like a silhouetted stock photo of a cowboy that would melt the hearts of many women. She could barely hold herself upright. Either her infusion was kicking in, or Sam had just obliterated every bone in her body.
“I just need to say one more thing. We should go out of our way to act friendly to each other. There’s no point in upsetting the kids right before Christmas, especially not this year, with the wedding and all.”
When he walked away, Maddie’s knees gave out. She crumpled to the ground.
• • •
Caleb stood in the pasture with his horse, Latigo. He’d taken him for a long ride around their property, and after getting back, he’d spent nearly an hour rubbing the gelding down and grooming him. Now it was pitch-dark. The trees and bushes in the riparian area seemed to press in around Caleb, and if he allowed his imagination to run wild, the bushes could take on the shapes of dangerous animals like bears, cougars, and moose. Caleb figured most kids would hurry back to Sam’s ranch, where everything was all bright and pretty for the holidays, but he wasn’t afraid to be alone. He had texted his dad to let him know where he was, and he still liked it here a lot even if their camp did feel like a ghost town now.
Trojan, his dad’s favorite gelding, nosed his way in and bumped Latigo aside. Caleb grinned. His dad had a philosophy about horses that he’d told Caleb a dozen times. Even when we don’t have time to exercise each of them every day, giving them some attention goes a long way. Trojan was trying to say that he wanted to be brushed, too.
“Come here, boy,” he said to Trojan. “I’ll curry you down.”
Caleb couldn’t stay long enough to give each horse an hour of attention, but he did manage to brush the other three. As he worked, he listened to the night sounds and smiled when he heard the great horned owl call to its mate. He’d seen the female earlier and couldn’t wait to tell Gram. She’d get all excited and talk about watching for baby owls this coming spring. This place, a vast expanse of land in Montana along a river or stream, had been his father’s dream for as long as Caleb could remember, and now it had come true.
Caleb carried his saddle and tack over to the storage shed. He prided himself on the fact that he didn’t need a flashlight. Sam griped about losing his night vision, but so far as Caleb could tell, he still saw pretty good after the sun went down. So did Caleb’s dad.
After putting away all his riding gear, he set off for his truck, which was parked by the river near Gram’s funny little trailer. After turning the key in the ignition, he listened to the engine sputter and wished for about the thousandth time that he could get a job and save to buy a new rig. His father wouldn’t hear of it, though. He was weird about high schoolers working, probably because he’d had to bring in an income when he was only a year older than Caleb was right now.
Looking on the bright side, Caleb reminded himself that he at least had a good stereo, a Christmas present from his dad last year. He could listen to music as he drove back to the ranch. He knew the road well now, but he still drove slowly, watching for wildlife in the yellow glare of the headlights. Elk or deer could get spooked and dash out in front of a vehicle with no warning.
As he pulled in at the ranch, he saw Gram climbing the front steps. In the glow of the Christmas lights, she looked old and tired. His heart caught.
“Hi, Gram!” he yelled as he climbed out of the Ford. “Have you been in Missoula for your physical therapy?”
She paused on the porch and turned to look at him. “Yes,” she said in a lifeless voice.
Caleb saw that the front of her coat was covered with dirt, and there was a smudge on her cheek, too. “What happened, Gram? Did you fall down?”
“Something like that. I’m not hurt, though.”
Caleb didn’t get it. Either she’d fallen down or she hadn’t. He hurried up the stairs and took hold of her arm. The wool sleeve of her coat felt icy beneath his fingertips, telling him that she’d been outside for a while. Her face looked almost as white as Sam’s hair. “Gram, are you sick?”
“I had a rough day,” she told him. “I think I’ll go in and lie down for a while.”
“Where’s your purse?”
At his question, she got an odd look on her face. “I must have left it in the car.”
“I’ll run and get it and put it outside your bedroom door.”
She nodded and turned to go inside. Caleb ran back down the steps, thinking as he did that he needed to get rid of the wheelchair ramp now that his dad no longer needed it. When he reached the Audi, he noticed that the interior was cold. So was Gram’s purse. He had no idea where she’d gone outside, but she hadn’t just gotten home.
He saw nobody inside the house. As he took the handbag down the hall to his grandmother’s room, he noticed that the den door was closed. Maybe Sam was in there doing paperwork. He guessed his dad might be at Kirstin’s. He only knew it felt weird with the house so quiet. Just like back at camp, it felt suddenly like a ghost town.
• • •
Sam had taken refuge in the den until he finally heard Maddie go to her room. Shortly after that, Caleb, with his distinctive stride, entered the house and left again just as quickly. When all was quiet, Sam couldn’t stand to remain inside. The damned place even smelled like Christmas, with ever
green boughs draped in so many rooms. He decided he’d be happier in the barn, where the scents of hay, horses, and cows would surround him. He could shut the doors to block out the sight of twinkling lights and feel as miserable as he wanted without anybody watching him.
The barn was dark, and he hadn’t thought to bring a light, so he didn’t shut the doors after all. He sat on what he’d come to think of as his hay bale, and as the silence settled in around him, an onslaught of emotions swept through him. He couldn’t stamp out his feelings for Maddie, and that terrified him. Losing her. He didn’t think he could live through it.
Unreleased sobs built pressure in his chest. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He imagined sitting by her bed and spooning broth into her mouth, seeing her wasted body, listening to the death rattle in her chest at the very end, and then pressing a kiss to a cheek gone cold and waxen. He’d done all that once, and no one should have to do it twice.
• • •
Maddie lay awake, images flashing through her mind like pictures on a television screen, all of them reruns of her times with Sam. He’d come to mean so much to her, and she had blown any chance she had to be with him. She thought back to that moment when she’d first been diagnosed and wondered if she had made good decisions. Had keeping her cancer a secret been the right thing for her to do? It had seemed smart to her at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Cam would have been supportive and dealt with the stress. He was a strong and responsible man, not a child who needed protection.
She sighed and rolled over to press her face against the pillow. It didn’t matter anymore whether she’d been right or wrong. What was done was done. She couldn’t change a single thing now, and she had to live with the consequences. She didn’t blame Sam for his anger or his sense of betrayal. She had looked him straight in the eye and lied to him, whether she’d done it with words or by omission. Even worse, he had deserved a chance to decide for himself whether loving her was worth the risk. It was all well and fine for her to spout platitudes about there being no guarantees in life, but that didn’t excuse her for failing to tell Sam that she was a poorer bet than most women.