Читать книгу The Cowboy's Homecoming - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 9
ОглавлениеAll he needed was a few more minutes. A slice of time to make the shift from Lee Bannister, ex-con, to Lee Bannister—wayward son coming home.
And he knew exactly where to get it.
Lee feathered the brakes of his pickup as his eyes scanned the ditch to his right. It had been years since he was in this part of Montana, but when he rounded another curve, he saw the grass-covered approach he’d been looking for. Coming to a full stop, he could just make out the twin tracks of a road heading through a break in the trees. He parked his truck, two wheels well into the ditch so that any motorist cresting the hill could easily pass it.
Once he stepped out, he took a moment to appreciate the warm summer sun beating down on his head, the melody of the blackbirds twittering in the aspen trees.
The air held the tang of pine and warm grass and he let it seep through him as he walked the overgrown trail. Every muffled fall of his boots on the grass eased away the clang and clamor of rig work that surrounded him every waking hour.
He ducked, brushing aside a branch that almost slapped him in the face, looking forward to the solitude and the view at the end of the trail. Few people knew about the lookout point he was headed to. Only his sisters and his parents and a couple of the guys Lee had partied with in high school.
Lee pushed the thought back. Though he knew other bits of history would crowd in on his consciousness during this trip back to the ranch, he intended not to jog too many memories of the past while he was here. He had come to help his sister celebrate her wedding and his parents commemorate the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the ranch. And that was it. He had no desire to reminisce about the good old days with any of his friends.
He stepped over a fallen tree and skirted another tangle of small brush. A few more steps and he stopped, breathing deeply.
It was as if the world had fallen away below his feet.
Granite mountains, solid and stately, their jagged peaks still etched with winter snow, cradled the basin below him, simultaneously creating a majesty and a sense of security.
The Saddle River unspooled below him, a winding ribbon of silver meandering through the valley as poplar and spruce trees crowded its banks. To his left lay the town of Saddlebank, its streets dotted with trees and paralleling the railroad that followed the river. From here he could make out Main Street with its brick buildings and, in the dead center of town, Mercy Park with its requisite memorial and gazebo. Past the park and above the trees, he could see the steeple of Saddle Community Church to one side, the cross and bell of the Catholic church on the other. Beyond Saddlebank and to his right, the rest of the valley was taken up with ranches—one of which, Refuge Ranch, was his final destination.
But not yet.
Lee drew another long, slow breath, letting the utter peace and splendor of the view feed his wounded and weary soul.
“Then sings my soul,” he whispered, lowering himself to a large rock worn smooth by the winds that could bluster through the valley.
The words of an old hymn that his father would sing when they were outside, working on the ranch, returned. He let his mind sift back, let the recollections he struggled so hard to keep at bay wash over him.
In prison, the memories had hurt too much. The contrast between the confines of a drab cell and the mind-numbing routine, to this space and emptiness and peace hurt too much, so he kept the disparate parts of his life compartmentalized in order to survive.
Now he’d been out for five years and he still never took for granted the ability to go to bed when he wanted. Get up when he wanted. Eat what he wanted and do what he wanted when work was over.
Lee sighed. He knew coming back here would be bittersweet. It would be both a reminder of what he’d lost because of his irresponsibility, but also a reminder of what had always been available to him. Family, community and the unconditional love of his parents and, most important, his sustaining relationship with God.
He let his eyes drift over a view that he had, for so many years, considered home. His soul grew still as the view filled an emptiness that had haunted him for so long.
Then a rustle in the branches of the large pine tree behind him caught his attention. He cocked his head, listening as he slowly turned. Something large was hiding in the branches above him. Black bear, or worse, a cougar?
Heart pounding, he thumbed his cowboy hat back on his head, scanning the tree, planning what to do. Run? Stay and stand down whatever wild animal was perched in the tree?
Then he heard a cough just as a backpack fell with a thump to the ground in front of him, followed by an angry exclamation.
“Who’s there?” he called out, still feeling that intense jolt of adrenaline surging through his veins.
“Just me,” a female voice returned.
The branches rustled again and Lee caught sight of a pair of feet in sandals searching for a branch. Then he saw legs scrabbling for purchase, hands flailing.
A cry of dismay pierced the air and Lee ran closer just as a woman plummeted out of the tree.
He caught her, but they were a tangle of legs and arms as they tumbled to the ground, breaking her fall. A camera, hanging around her neck, swung around and cracked him on the head.
They lay like that a moment as Lee’s ears rang and his head throbbed from the impact of the camera.
Finally the woman pushed herself away from him and scrambled to her feet.
Lee blinked as he tried to orient himself. He slowly stood frowning at the woman in front of him, who seemed more concerned about her camera than herself, or him, for that matter.
Her hair was tucked up in a ball cap, and a large pair of sunglasses was perched on a nose sprinkled with freckles. She wore khaki shorts, a white tank top now smeared with dirt and a brown vest with numerous zipped and buttoned pockets. She pulled a cloth out of one of them and was wiping down the body of her camera.
The woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place her.
“Everything okay?” he asked, gingerly touching his forehead. His hand came away tinged with blood, so he pulled a handkerchief out of the back pocket of his blue jeans and dabbed at it.
“I think so,” she murmured, tucking the cloth in her chest pocket. “The body looks good, but I’ll have to check the inside later.”
“I meant with you.”
She finally looked up at him and lifted her chin in a defensive move. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “You didn’t need to catch me, you know. I would have been okay. Are you okay?”
“You might have broken a leg,” he returned, the sharp pain in his head settling in to a dull ache as he ignored her question. He gestured toward a long red scrape on the inside of her wrist. “You might want to get that looked at, as well. You don’t want it to get infected.”
She lifted her arm and gave it a cursory glance. “It’s fine.” She looked back at him. “Looks like you got a nasty cut on your head, though.”
“It’s fine too.”
“Awesome. Blood’s streaming down your face, I’ve got a scrape that is just starting to hurt...but we’re both okay.” She waggled her fingers as if to make sure they were still functioning, and then she gave him a self-deprecating smile. “Again, sorry about that. I should have been more careful—and I wasn’t very grateful for your help.”
“Apology accepted.” Lee returned her look for look, his own brain trying to place her familiarly beautiful features, or what he could see of her face, half-hidden by the sunglasses. “And at least you’re not the bear or cougar I thought you were.”
She angled him a mischievous smile as she bent over to pick up the knapsack that had been the first victim. “Didn’t think I was old enough to be a cougar.”
Too late Lee caught the implied insult he had given her. “No. Sorry, I meant the cat. Mountain lion might have been a better designation.”
She smiled again and Lee couldn’t stop a twinge of attraction. She was an intriguing combination of pretty and striking.
“Do we know each other?” he asked, trying to tweak out a memory that seemed to elude him.
“I can’t believe a good-looking guy like you doesn’t have better lines,” she quipped as she slipped her camera in her bag.
“Chalk it up to being out of practice,” he returned.
“So you decided to practice on me?”
He laughed, surprised at how easy she was to be around for someone he just met. “Sorry. My dad always said clichés are the tool of the lazy mind.”
Her answering chuckle as she put her camera back in the knapsack created a tremor of awareness and behind that a flutter of familiarity. Not too many people knew about this place.
Why was she up in the tree and how had she gotten here? No vehicle was parked at the end of the trail.
She stood, slinging the bag over her shoulder, and it seemed she was looking at him, as if she was trying to figure out who he was.
Which was precisely what he was doing.
Then, as she pulled her sunglasses off, she knocked her hat off her head and her auburn hair tumbled to her shoulders, her amber eyes fringed with thick lashes were revealed, and reality followed like a Montana snowstorm as things clicked into place.
He knew exactly who she was.
Abby Newton. Daughter of Cornell Newton, the man Lee had run down with his truck after a party that had gotten out of hand. The accident had put Cornell in the hospital and Lee in jail. The shame of what he had done had kept Lee away from home for almost nine years.
Until now.
He knew the precise moment her own recognition of him clicked. She took a step back, her eyes narrowed and her impudent grin morphed into a scowl.
“Well, well,” she said, the ice in her voice making him shiver. “Lee Bannister, back from exile. I’m going to blame my slow recollection to the fall out of the tree. Didn’t think I’d ever forget your face, but then, you’ve changed since I last saw you.”
“Hey, Abby.” He tried to sound casual. Tried to ignore the mockery in her voice.
Lee hadn’t seen her since her father was awarded damages of two hundred thousand dollars and he’d been sentenced to three and a half years in prison for reckless driving under the influence. The accident he’d caused had put her father in the hospital and had created injuries that, as far as he knew, Cornell was still dealing with.
That had been over nine years ago. Lee had paid his debt to society and was still working on repaying his parents for the money they had to dole out for the settlement. His father had to downsize his cattle herd as a consequence. When Lee was released from prison, he took on a job working offshore rigs. And he sent his folks every penny he could. He hadn’t been home since.
Though Abby was a Saddlebank native as well, he had heard she was working overseas. Seeing her now was a shock and an unwelcome surprise. She reminded him of a past he’d spent years trying to atone for.
“I’m guessing you’re back for Keira’s wedding,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact, settling her hat back on her head and pulling the bill down as if to hide the anger in her gaze.
“And the anniversary celebration,” he added gruffly.
The anniversary was a big deal. Refuge Ranch was one of the few family-owned ranches that could trace their ownership back to when settlers first started in the basin. A reporter was even coming to spend time at the ranch and planned to cover the celebrations and do a feature story on it for Near and Far.
His father had warned him that he would be the one to help the guy out.
More penance, he thought. Babysitting a reporter and showing him around the ranch.
“Right,” she said, tucking her sunglasses in the pocket of her vest. “I heard about that. One hundred and fifty years of Bannisters at Refuge Ranch. Quite the heritage.”
Was she mocking him? Though he couldn’t blame her if she did. He knew he wasn’t her favorite person.
He looked back over his shoulder at the view he had hoped would give him some peace and ease him into a difficult homecoming. He didn’t think the past would be dredged up quite so quickly, however.
Help me through this, Lord, he prayed, clinging to the faith he’d returned to during those years in prison. Help me to accept what I can’t change.
He turned back to Abby, knowing he had to face reality. Trouble was, he wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it.
“I know it’s too late and I know that words are easy, but I want to tell you that I’m so sorry for what I did to your father,” he said. “I wish...I wish I could turn back time. Do it over again.”
“You’re not the only one who wishes that by any stretch.”
The bitterness in her voice made him wait a beat to give the moment some weight.
“My father spent a lot of time struggling with pain,” she continued. “He was a broken man after that accident. My parents’ marriage couldn’t hold together. What you did to my family...me and my brother—” She stopped there, holding up her hand as if trying to halt the memories. “Never mind. Neither of us can change anything. It’s done. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Lee knew he deserved every bit of her derision, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt by it. At one time Abby had been important to him. Her poor opinion of him had been almost as agonizing as the loss of his freedom.
“I better go,” she said quietly. “I need to get back to town.”
“How?” he asked, shifting to another topic. “I didn’t see a car.”
“My friend Louisa has it. Remember her?”
“Of course. You two were joined at the hip in high school.”
“Still are, apparently. We live together in Seattle. She’s back in Saddlebank visiting her parents and she’ll be back soon.” Her words were terse and Lee guessed this conversation was over.
“Well, I hope you have a good visit with your mom,” he said. “And if I don’t see you again, take care.”
Her only reply was a curt nod. She gave him a humorless smile, then turned and walked away.
Lee dragged his hand over his face. Well, that awkward meeting was done with.
If he played his cards right, he might not have to see her again, which was fine with him.
She was a reminder of the past he had spent a lot of years trying to atone for.
* * *
“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” Abby Newton muttered as she strode through the underbrush toward the road, yanking her cell phone out of her pocket. Of all the clumsy, stupid and just plain humiliating things to happen, she had to end up falling out of a tree right on top of Lee Bannister. And then she flirted with him.
She didn’t know why her brain had been firing so slowly that it took so long for her to recognize him.
Abby swallowed hard. She blamed it on her own prejudicial memories. This guy looked nothing like the Lee Bannister she had seen swaggering out of the lawyer’s office on his way to prison, as if he couldn’t care less about destroying her family. That Lee Bannister was a slender young man with shortly cropped hair who wore a perpetual smirk and acted as if the world owed him a favor. He had always been a too-large personality in her life, but for a few months just before graduation, they had dated. She had naively thought she had tamed the wild man. Until she found out about the bet his delinquent friends had made with him about going out with her.
The shame of that could still catch her off guard from time to time.
Now it seemed that Lee’s rebellious attitude had morphed into a hardness that seemed bred into his very bones. His shoulders and chest had filled out. His hair was long, dark and framed a face with a strong chin, pronounced cheekbones and eyes enhanced by slashing dark eyebrows. In short, his features held a rugged maturity she suspected came from his time in prison and his years of manual labor after that.
For a heartbeat she felt a glimmer of sympathy.
But all it took was the memory of her father, a broken and hurting man, lying in a hospital bed to remind her that Lee could never pay enough for what he’d done to their family. Her father was a changed man after Lee hit him with his truck, drunk, on his way back from a party. The alcohol that had impaired Lee’s driving had also taken over her father’s life. He became an alcoholic, stopped working and spent days in physical pain.
Abby’s family was sundered in two when her parents divorced a year after the accident. Cornell left town and she only heard sporadically from him after that, the most recent time being a few weeks ago.
She shook off the dark memories as she strode to the road, punching in her friend’s number on her cell phone.
Abby had made her own way in the world in spite of what had happened to her family. She had put Lee and the heartbreak he had caused behind her. As if determined to prove that her life’s tragic circumstances were not going to define her, she had graduated from high school and college with honors, and then worked tirelessly to pave a thriving career for herself.
A shiny black pickup truck was parked, askew, just off the highway when she came out of the lane. She suspected it was Lee’s. Though it wasn’t the candy-apple-red truck his parents had given him in high school—the vehicle that had mowed her father down—it still looked expensive and new.
She shook her head. Some things didn’t change, she thought as she lifted her phone to her ear.
“Can you come and get me?” Abby asked when Louisa answered. She tucked her cell phone between her chin and shoulder as she dug in her backpack for her water bottle. Her mouth was dry, but she suspected that had more to do with the meeting she’d just had than the warmth of the afternoon.
“Did you get some good pictures?” her friend asked.
Abby thought of the breathtaking view, but somehow the satisfaction she had with the photos was tempered by seeing Lee Bannister. Not that she should be totally surprised. She knew she would be crossing paths with him at some time during her visit. Saddlebank was a small town after all.
Truth was, for many years she had imagined her first face-to-face meeting with Lee. But, in her thoughts, that reunion was one where she was aloof, calm and in charge of the situation.
Not falling on top of him and then flirting with him.
She had climbed the tree to get a better panorama shot of the river valley through a break she saw in the pine branches. Though it did net her some great images, in retrospect it might not have been the best decision.
“What’s your ETA?” she asked her friend.
Louisa’s sigh didn’t sound encouraging. “I’m about ten miles out yet. Jaden needed some groceries, so I said I would help him. I was on my way back to you when I got a flat tire. I’m so sorry.”
Abby suppressed an angry sigh. When she had pulled over to take some pictures, Louisa asked if she could borrow the car to drop off some things at a friend’s place only a mile down the road. Abby wanted to take her time snapping the pictures, so she had agreed. However, Louisa’s going all the way to town with her car had not been discussed.
“How did you get a flat? I just put new tires on.”
“I think I might have run over a nail at Jaden’s place. The yard is a junk heap. I just called roadside service,” Louisa said. “They can’t come for half an hour, though.”
“You can’t change it yourself?” Abby bit her lip, trying to think what to do. She had told her mother she would be there by four. It was quarter to the hour now.
“Not everyone is as self-sufficient as you, girl.”
Abby didn’t want to remind her that same self-sufficiency was a by-product of being the oldest child of a family whose father had withdrawn into alcohol. Whose mother’s bitterness over their circumstances had caused her to retreat well within herself. The day after her father’s accident, much of the responsibility of running the house, taking care of her brother, had fallen on Abby’s slender shoulders.
It had eventually taken a toll.
“Okay. I’ll see you when I see you. Maybe I can hitch a ride.” Abby tried not to get riled up at the idea that Louisa had her car and she had to hitchhike.
Skyline Trail, the name of the road she was heading down, wasn’t that busy, but it was a Friday afternoon. Surely someone would be headed to town.
“Again, I’m so sorry,” Louisa said.
She seemed to be on the receiving end of a lot of apologies today, Abby thought crossly as she ended the call.
She dropped her phone into one of the pockets of her vest and then pulled her camera out again to check it better. She frowned when she saw the tiny flecks of blood she had missed cleaning off one corner of the camera’s body.
Lee’s blood.
She stuffed the camera back in her bag. Later. She would deal with that later.
She strode to the road, then stopped, tapping her fingers on her arm trying to figure out what to do. She couldn’t sit here and wait, knowing Lee would be coming back out any moment. She’d have to hitch a ride after all. So she slipped the other strap of her backpack over her other arm and started walking, wishing she’d put on her hiking boots.
A light breeze sifted up the road, easing the heat of the sun now beating down on her. The road took a gentle turn and she was once again looking over the basin that cradled Saddlebank and the ranches surrounding it. She stopped and pulled her knapsack off, the photographer in her constantly looking for another angle, the right light as she quickly pulled her camera out. She withdrew her telephoto lens out of her bag just as she heard the growl of a truck starting up.
Lee’s truck.
There was no way she was getting a ride from him.
Her history with Lee was even older than the accident. Though that traumatic event had been the lowest point, there had been others. She had been attracted to Lee Bannister most of her life, harboring her secret crush. But Lee was part of a very wild, very cool group. He, David Fortier, son of a neighboring rancher, and Mitch Albon, son of a lawyer in town, ran around together, partying and living recklessly, flirting and teasing girls.
Lee had never paid the slightest attention to her. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, he seemed to notice her. He would chat her up, leaning against the locker beside hers, smiling that slightly mocking smile that always made her weak at the knees. When Lee had, unexpectedly, asked her to the prom, she could hardly believe her luck. Of course she had said yes. He was a senior, she a lowly sophomore. To her surprise, they had a wonderful time. And, even better, they dated a few more times after that.
It seemed too good to believe. Lee Bannister, one of the most eligible guys in the valley, was going out with her. And then it all fell apart. At a party she had attended with Lee, Mitch drew her aside and laughingly told her the truth. David Fortier had made a bet with Lee to take Abby out. It had nothing to do with any kind of attraction—it was a simple joke.
She was crushed and felt degraded. She pulled back from Lee after that, turning down his invitation to come with him to another party knowing David and Mitch would be there. Facing them would be too humiliating. Lee, angry with her, went anyway. And on the way back from that party, her father was struck down by Lee, and her life changed forever. Abby shook off the memories and quickly spun the lens on as she glanced around, looking for a place to hide, the noise from Lee’s truck growing louder. The ditch was a broad expanse of grass; the trees on the edge could offer her a hiding place. She snatched up her knapsack and started running.
But the sandals that were unsuitable for a long trek were even more unsuitable for running.
The toe of the sandal caught on a bottle hidden by the grass. She faltered, windmilling her arms, trying to maintain her balance, but gravity and momentum won out over will. Her knapsack flew in one direction, her hat another, and then her foot twisted under her, hit something sharp and she fell, chest down, on the grassy verge. Right on top of her sunglasses.
Of course. Why not?
Abby wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Two clumsy mishaps in the space of twenty minutes and both in front of the man she wanted to avoid as long as possible.
She lay there a moment, hoping that Lee wouldn’t see her sprawled out on the grass. But then his truck slowed and stopped, and when he turned off the ignition, she couldn’t hide. So she slowly rose to her feet and then stumbled as pain shot through her leg.
She looked down, dismayed to see blood pouring out of a cut in her ankle. She shifted and saw the culprit. The broken bottle.
Good thing her tetanus shots were up to date.
She reached out for her knapsack, more concerned about the well-being of her camera than her injury.
“You okay?” she heard Lee call out as he came down the ditch toward her.
“I just fell,” she said, sucking in a quick breath through her clenched teeth as she dug through her bag to find something to stop the bleeding.
“You’re not okay,” he muttered, clutching her ankle. “You got anything for this?”
“In my bag. A lens-cleaning cloth.”
He was too close. The vague scent of woodsy aftershave and the touch of his hand made her want to pull away. Then Lee bent down beside her and lifted her foot, cradling it in one hand while wrapping the cloth she had given him around it.
His head was inches from hers. His thick brown hair had a slight wave and curled around the collar of his striped shirt. His hands were gentle, but to Abby each touch felt like a brand.
Then he looked up at her, his gaze holding hers, his eyes narrowed. His eyes weren’t brown, she thought absently, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. She saw a hint of bronze in the lines around his iris. His lashes were dark; his eyebrows darker still, meeting like a slash across a narrow nose.
If anything he was even more handsome than she remembered.
“I have a first-aid kit in my truck,” he said, turning his attention back to her ankle. “We need to take care of this. Don’t move.”
“Okay. Sure.” She felt angry at her sudden breathlessness, frustrated with her reaction to him. She blamed it on the old, high school emotions he too easily reawakened in her.
As he left she shook her head, the pain in her ankle battling for attention with the humiliation of falling not once, but twice in front of the one man she had hoped to face with some measure of dignity.
With a light sigh she leaned back, closing her eyes against another wave of pain, once again resenting Lee Bannister. If it weren’t for meeting him again, she wouldn’t have tried to run away.
It’s your own fault, her more rational voice reminded her. You didn’t need to act so silly. Like you always acted around him.
Her cheeks burned as hotly as her hurting ankle as older memories assailed her. Times in high school that she would sit on the sidelines of his football game, pretending she was snapping action pictures of the team for the school yearbook when, in fact, she was trying to get the perfect shot of him to keep for herself.
He destroyed your father’s life.
She shook her head as if to put her memories in their proper place and order. Her foolish feelings for her high school crush should have been swept away by his actions both in high school and shortly after graduation.
And yet they hadn’t been completely. It was that irony that created an ongoing struggle in her soul. He was the enemy and the first boy she had ever truly cared for all wrapped in one far too appealing package.
Help me, Lord, she prayed. Help me to put this all in perspective. Help me to keep my head clear until he’s gone. He’s taken up too much of my thoughts already.
She winced as she shifted her leg and another shard of pain shot through her ankle, but she reminded herself that she only had to get through the next half hour. Then she would be back with Louisa, and Lee could go back to being a footnote in her life.
He returned with a first-aid kit that he set down on the grass as he knelt down at her feet. Then he opened the tin and looked up at her again.
And her crazy heart did another silly flip.
“You should probably take your sandal off,” he advised, his deep voice quiet as he rummaged through the first-aid kit.
She nodded, bracing herself as she leaned forward to unbuckle her sandal.
“This will probably hurt,” he said, ripping open an antiseptic cloth and dabbing it on the cut once her sandal was removed.
She grimaced and he muttered an apology, but soon the cut was cleaned out. It wasn’t deep.
“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he murmured. “But you might want to have it looked at anyway.” He pulled a bandage out of the first-aid kit.
“I can put that on,” she said, reaching for the bandage, but she dropped it when he handed it to her and then it took her a few moments to get the packaging off.
Relax. Settle down, she told herself. But she was all thumbs and managed to paste the bandage to itself.
“Can I?” Lee asked, taking another bandage out of the tin.
Abby wanted to say no, but she was tired of looking clumsy in front of him, so she just nodded.
His hands were large, but his movements were confident and sure. He gently pressed the edges of the bandage down, then lifted his gaze to look at her.
“I hope this doesn’t handicap you, he said, sitting back on his heels. “You were in quite a rush to photograph whatever it was you wanted.”
She could have pounced on the out he had given her, but for some reason she couldn’t lie. “Actually I wasn’t running to get a picture. I was trying to hide from you. I thought you would probably stop and offer me a ride...and I didn’t want to take you up on it.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Well, guess you’re stuck with getting a ride from me after all,” he said as he helped her to her feet.
Abby leaned over to pick up her backpack and her sandal, not bothering to reply. But he grabbed both before she could. Then he held out his arm to help her, but she hesitated to take it.
“You’ll fall again if you don’t let me help you,” he warned.
Abby saw the wisdom in this, then hooked her arm through his and let him lead her up the hill to his truck, the grass prickling her one bare foot.
She was far too aware of his arm holding her up, him walking alongside her. At one time this would have been a dream come true for her. At another it would have been her worst nightmare and a complete betrayal of everything that had happened to her family.
She closed her eyes, praying once again.
Just get through this, she reminded herself as he helped her into his truck. Get through this and you won’t have to see him again until it’s time for you to leave.
