5. Arabella

5

ARABELLA

T he wine and the tension of the day had worn me down. Or maybe it was the way Rafferty Moon was gazing at me as if I hung the moon. Regardless, I had no barriers left. He’d asked me earlier if I’d thought about what I wanted for my life after my father passed away. I hated to admit how many times I’d thought about when that day came over the last few months.

“You asked me earlier if I have plans after my dad passes. If I were free of him, I’d sell everything but five acres, which I’d keep for myself, and use the proceeds to build a house of my own. Nothing fancy, just a cozy place where I could have a few dogs and cats and live in peace.”

He gaped at me as if I’d said something outlandish.

“What?” I asked. “It’s what I want.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want then?” I asked, unreasonably chafed at his response.

“I’d like a family. A marriage like my mom and pop have. To be a member of the community, not only a doctor but someone who helps others.”

“Well, no tall order there, huh?”

“Are you serious?” Rafferty asked. “You think that’s too much to ask for? To expect?”

“You don’t?”

“No, in fact, I don’t. I’d love to build a house too,” Rafferty said. “The rental’s okay for now, but I want my own home. If money were no object, right?”

“At this rate, it’ll take me ten years to pay off my loans.”

“That’s about the same for me, plus I took out a loan to buy the practice. But I’m not worried about it. I have enough to live comfortably despite the debts.”

“You’d build, not buy?”

“There’s not a lot of inventory out there unless you want to do extensive remodels. So, we’ll see. The right thing will come along when it’s supposed to.”

We chatted about our dreams for the future a bit more. I confessed to having a dream board with ideas for my cottage I someday hoped to build. Expecting him to tease me, I was pleasantly surprised when he said he said what a good idea it was to envision what you want. “That’s the first step in getting it, right?”

“Who would have thought the two of us would be back here?” Rafferty asked.

“Not me,” I said. “Not in a million years. Time has a way of changing people, I guess. Softens us up.”

Rafferty nudged my foot with his. “I still remember your valedictorian speech.”

“You do? I thought you were too bitter about coming in second to listen to a word?”

“I was bitter, but I couldn’t help but be impressed.”

“Which part?” I asked, surprised. My recollection of the speech consisted mostly of how nervous I’d been. “I was focusing on not vomiting all over the lectern.”

“You talked about what it’s like to be an outsider and having the courage to be yourself even if it means you don’t fit in. What were your closing words? Be loud. Be bold. Don’t shrink yourself just to fit in.”

“You remember that?”

“It touched me, honestly. Made me mad, too, because your speech was way better than mine.”

I shook my head, smiling. “No, yours was good too.” In fact, I could still see eighteen-year-old Rafferty standing behind the lectern, the spring breeze ruffling his thick brown hair as he spoke into the microphone. “For one thing, you sounded like a professional speaker. You had the class in the palm of your hand.”

“I was on the debate team. That helped.”

I drank a bit more of my wine, reflecting on the message he’d shared that day and how it had nearly driven me insane with envy. His words had been all about his family and their support, particularly his mother and stepfather. He’d spoken so movingly about the sacrifices of his stepfather, a single man marrying a woman with five young sons, that I’d felt the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes. Not that I would have allowed myself to cry. Not for Rafferty Moon. But now, all these years later, my pettiness embarrassed me. Yes, I’d been young, but I should have been better than that. “I was jealous of your family. All the support they gave you. The story about your stepfather nearly brought me to tears. I can guarantee you that people remembered your speech for a lot longer than they would have mine.”

“No way,” Rafferty said, completely unconvincingly.

I laughed and poked my foot into his ankle. “Don’t look so pleased.”

“Sorry. But really, tell me more about my wonderful speech.”

We both laughed. I liked this side of Rafferty. Fun-loving and full of self-deprecating humor. Was this the real man? The one he’d kept hidden from the likes of me?

“You told the story about Jasper when he asked your mom to marry him.”

“Right. Yeah. Slurfpig.”

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard a man doing.”

“Not to sound totally cheesy, but he’s the best man I’ve ever known. And he doesn’t even realize how special he is. He’d just describe himself as a normal guy. A boring banker who likes to remodel houses and make pies. But he’s so much more than that. He was a hero to us boys. Still is.”

“Did he do all the things he promised?” I asked.

“That and more. To love another person’s children as your own—that’s a hero. It couldn’t have always been easy, but he sure made it look that way.”

“That’s another part I remember from your speech. You said life was certain to throw us curveballs and hardships, and the measure of character was in our reaction to whatever came our way.”

“I still believe that,” Rafferty said. “My mama taught me that by the way she’s lived every day of her life. No self-pity or wallowing. Just put your boots on and get back to it.”

“What other choice do we have, really?”

“Giving up,” Rafferty said.

“Not an option.”

He held out his mason jar to clink with mine. “Amen,” he said. “Like I said earlier, Jasper Moon picked up the broken pieces and put us back together. Without him, we’d still be broken, flailing around, looking for where we belonged.”

“Like me.”

He peered at me, his eyes full of curiosity and sympathy. “Is that how you feel?”

I changed positions, taking my feet off the floor and sitting cross-legged and facing him. “I’m not sure exactly how to describe it. I’ll just say that when a father does nothing but criticize his child, no matter how well they do, it leaves a person feeling like a failure. Insecure. Chip on my shoulder. You know, all of that.”

“It also made you tough and determined to prove him wrong.”

I nodded, smiling. “That too.”

“It’s remarkable, really, what you’ve done with your life.”

“You mean, considering my father?” I asked.

“That and the other difficulties you faced.”

“I suppose you could say that about most people. I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways.”

“Attitude is everything, right?” Rafferty asked. “That’s what my mother always says, anyway. You do the best with what you have.”

He looked handsome in the dim light, with his hair all disheveled and a five-o’clock shadow. Since high school, he seemed to have found the thirty pounds I’d lost in the form of sheer muscle. His shoulders and back were broad, much more so than most men who had a distinctly white-collar job. How did he stay in such good shape now that he no longer did ranch work?

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Rafferty asked. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No.” I flushed, mortified that he’d caught me staring. “You look good. That’s all.”

“Wait a minute, are you giving me a compliment?”

“You’re in good shape. Bigger than in high school. That’s all I meant.”

“I have a home gym. And the internet. That’s all I need,” he said. “But it’s nice to know you’ve noticed.”

I’d noticed all right. Alarmingly so.

He yawned, which caused me to yawn.

“Should we get some sleep?” I asked. “Who knows what tomorrow might bring.”

“Good call.”

We put away the wine and rinsed the jars, and then took turns using the bathroom and brushing our teeth. By the time I returned to the main room, Rafferty was lying on his back with his head on his jacket. He looked completely uncomfortable. Not to mention how cold he would get.

“Don’t read too much into this,” I said as I unzipped the sleeping bag. “But I think you should sleep up here with me. We can put the sleeping bag over both of us.”

“That’s a small cot.”

“We can spoon it up. Isn’t that what you said?”

A glint came to his eyes, but he only grinned and shrugged. “If you insist.”

“You lie down first, and I’ll get in next to you.”

He did as I asked, pulling one side of the sleeping bag over him and lifting the other side for me to slide in next to him.

I closed my eyes, comforted by the warmth of his muscular frame. He had one arm around my shoulder and the other draped around my waist. A girl could get used to this.

“You okay?” Rafferty asked, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m afraid my arm may fall asleep. The one under you.”

“What can we do about that?”

“I could roll onto my back, and you could sleep on top of me,” he said. “I think that would be more comfortable for both of us.”

“Yeah, okay.” The idea of sleeping on Rafferty’s chest made my eyes sting with unshed tears. Why? I had no idea.

He rolled to his back, and I shifted, splaying myself over his large frame. Instinctually, one leg wrapped around his as I nestled into his chest.

“Can you hear my heart beating?” Rafferty asked softly.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m afraid it’ll give me away.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m holding a beautiful woman in my arms, and I’m only a human. You feel way too good.”

“You feel pretty good too.”

“All right, then. We have that established. Let’s go to sleep before we get into further trouble.”

Trouble sounded good right then. Very good. But like the good girl I’d always been, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

I blinked awake slowly, dawn light filtering pale and soft through the frosted cabin window, aware of the warmth of someone’s body next to me. Rafferty. We’d made it through the night. Why had it felt like the best sleep I’d ever had?

Rafferty’s arm rested around my waist, his breathing a gentle rhythm. I shifted just slightly, careful not to wake him, as I escaped from the cot and strode to the window. The frigid morning air seeped immediately into my bones. I glanced back at him, taking in the sheer beauty of the man. Those thick eyelashes and angular cheekbones. Locks of dark hair mussed.

How had I kept my wits about me last night? I turned back to look out the window.

A layer of snow lay pristine under the gray sky. Two feet at least. The storm had finally passed, leaving a silent stillness behind.

I hugged my arms around myself. Dad, where are you?

I heard Rafferty waking and his feet hitting the floor. “How bad is it?”

“Two feet. At least. But it’s stopped snowing, and I don’t hear any wind.”

He came to stand behind me. “We should eat a little something and head out right away. In case the snow starts up again.”

I nodded in agreement and excused myself to use the bathroom. When I returned, Rafferty handed me a granola bar. “Eat one and put one in your pocket, just in case it takes us a while to get back.”

“Good idea. Everyone’s probably worried about you. They’ll have no idea why they can’t reach you.”

“Yeah. I’m sure Mama’s been calling my phone every five minutes. We’ll get a team together to find your dad the minute we get cell service.”

“Okay, yes.” Even as I said it, I had a crushing dread wrap around me. If he had been out here, he was gone.

We ate breakfast quickly and drank full glasses of water. After Rafferty used the bathroom, we stepped outside. The trail we’d followed to the cabin was completely hidden now, buried beneath the thick snow.

“Do you have any idea where the trail was?” Rafferty asked.

“Yes, between those trees. I’ll recognize trees as we go along. And we know to head down, which will take us to the foothills one way or another.”

Beside me, Rafferty exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “We can do this.”

I tugged my hood tighter around my face. “Let’s do it.”

He gave a single nod, and we took our first steps into the snow. Immediately, my boots sank deep, the cold wetness reaching nearly to my knees. It was slow going; each step meant lifting my leg high enough to pull it free of the drift before plunging it back down. But soon, I fell into a rhythm, the crunch and lift, crunch and lift, with Rafferty’s steady presence right next to me.

The silence was absolute. The snow muffled everything, even our footsteps. Only our breaths, rising in puffs of white mist, broke the quiet as we trudged onward. Up ahead, the branches of a tall pine, heavy with snow, arched over the path like a natural gateway, its boughs drooping under the weight. “This is the right way,” I said.

Rafferty grunted in agreement. “You okay, or do you need a rest?”

“I’m good for now.”

The exertion kept me warm, other than my exposed face. But if we kept moving, we’d be fine.

My feet sank with each step, sometimes plunging deeper than I’d expected. At one point, I stumbled, nearly tumbling forward. But Rafferty’s hand shot out, steadying me, his grip firm.

A few minutes later, I slipped for the third time, nearly disappearing into a hidden snowbank. He came charging toward me, holding out his hand and yanking me to my feet.

“That was scary,” I said.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re tough.” When I looked up, his face was close to mine, his eyes warm and reassuring.

They anchored me. Gave me the courage to keep going. I nodded. “I’m ready.”

We continued down the hill, one foot at a time. Finally, as we rounded a bend, I caught sight of my father’s ranch down below, the roof and the outline of the barn barely visible beneath thick piles of snow. I stopped and bent over my knees, breathing heavily, frightened of what awaited me.

Rafferty paused beside me, and when I glanced at him, he was looking down at me with tenderness. “We’ll find him. One way or another. I’ll stay with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” I felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of gratitude for this man who had been my companion for almost twenty-four hours. He’d never complained or wavered. Steady as they come.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a quick, grateful hug. “I couldn’t have made it without you,” I whispered, near tears.

His arms hesitated, then wrapped around me, our puffy coats a barrier between us. “Whatever you need. Whenever you need, I’ll be here. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

Together, we turned toward the ranch, each step bringing us closer to home and the truth of what had happened to my father in the worst storm we’d ever witnessed.

As we reached the edge of the property, something caught my eye. Near the barn—something dark and out of place against the blinding white.

A flash of red-and-black flannel.

I stopped, my breath freezing in my throat. Rafferty followed my gaze, and he sighed and cursed under his breath. There was no doubt. It was my father half-buried in snow, his form slumped, still, almost swallowed by the drifts around him.

“No, no, no,” I whispered. Somehow, my legs carried me forward, yet stumbling as I tried to run. I fell, then got back up. One foot in front of the other , I told myself. Stay calm. Rafferty reached him first. He fell to his knees beside my father, feeling for a pulse we both knew would not beat.

I finally got to them, plunging into the snow to kneel by my father’s body. I pressed my hands to his cold, unmoving shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes closed, the faintest shadow of a peaceful expression frozen there.

“Why was he here?” I asked. “How did we not see him?”

I pressed my hands to his chest and then his grizzled face, unable to tear my gaze away. He was gone. There was no life left to witness in his corpse. How he’d ended up here, so close to the barn and yard we’d combed over, I couldn’t begin to understand. And yet here he was, lying in the snow as if he’d simply sat down and fallen asleep.

Sobs racked my body, tears hot against my frozen cheeks. “Dad, what did you do? What did you do?”