Hideaway Read online

  “You can do that all by yourself.”

  “I flunked four weeks ago.”

  “You’re not the only person who’s ever flunked an exam. Just try it again. I thought I saw a computer over at the ranch the other day. Can’t you e-mail me?”

  “You mean you expect me to learn how to type?”

  “Absolutely. A veterinarian needs to know those things.”

  “No way I’ll get into college.”

  “Get on into the house and start your work. I have it laid out on the kitchen table for you, along with some of Bertie’s gooseberry pie.”

  For once, he did as he was told. Cheyenne stayed on the porch steps, staring across the lake, savoring the intensity of colors, the rich smell of earth and blooming flowers, cherishing the peace that surrounded her here.

  Even if she did come back in August for a visit, she knew there would never be another interlude like this one.

  Dane knocked on Cheyenne’s door less than twenty minutes after Blaze arrived home with the news that she was considering a trip back down to Hideaway in August. He might as well push the advantage for all it was worth. Funny, the closer her time came to leave, the more he realized how much he had come to enjoy her company, and her presence across the lake.

  She came to the screen door, and he saw her gaze drop immediately to his bare legs. “Why, Dane Gideon, I didn’t realize you even owned a pair of short pants.”

  He felt suddenly self-conscious—a sure sign of adolescent attraction. He’d seen it in his boys lots of times.

  “You haven’t gotten out much this year, have you?” she teased, gesturing to his pale legs.

  “I guess not. Long pants are handier for ranch work. Blaze told me you were planning to come back down in August. I just wanted to know for sure, and since you don’t have a telephone, I can’t call you.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You came all the way over just to put my name on a roster?”

  “No, actually, I wanted to see how you were doing and ask if you needed any help packing.” He paused and glanced down toward the dock, where his Mystique was moored. “If you want, I can take the rowboat back over to Bertie’s for you.”

  “I don’t mind the walk, really.”

  “Oh.” Say it, dummy. Just tell her you’d like to spend some time with her.

  “But now’s fine,” she said quickly. “We can do it now. Oh, and you’ve got great legs. You should let them out more.”

  “Thanks.” Amazing what an inconsequential compliment could do for the ego.

  She pulled on her shoes and walked down to the dock with him. “I know Blaze is afraid he’s going to have trouble when I’m gone, but judging by the work I’ve seen him do lately, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  Dane tied the rowboat’s mooring rope to his boat and helped Cheyenne on board. “It’s as if something has clicked in his head. All he wants to do is study now. Or talk about the pig races. Or talk about you. He’s going to miss you.” So am I.

  “Well, there’s no reason he can’t race his pig, is there?

  “Not unless Austin finds something else to get mad about and takes Blaze’s name off the sign-up sheet. He’s got a crush on you, you know.”

  “Austin?”

  “Blaze. A lot of people are going to miss you.”

  “I’m going to miss this place, too, but a girl’s got to make a living.”

  “Make it in Hideaway.”

  She sank into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

  He silently berated himself for nagging her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I must sound like a broken CD player.”

  “No, actually, I was just thinking it’s nice to feel wanted.”

  Dane Gideon was not a man to allow himself false hope. “You’ll always have a place where you’re wanted, Cheyenne. And you’ll always be welcome here as long as I’m here. Or Bertie. Or Cook or the boys or—”

  “Got it.” She slanted a grin at him that made his breathing quicken just a little. “You’d make a great salesman.”

  “You mean it’s working?”

  “I didn’t say that, I said—”

  “Here’s another angle—if you want to work in an ER, Branson has an emergency department.”

  “Too big.”

  “Dogwood Springs, then. It’s even closer if you’re driving there from our side of the lake.” He was pushing, he knew, but he was hooked.

  She turned to him and put a hand on the back of his seat. “Dane, I’m not exactly trying to change the subject, but I want to thank you for not giving up on me last week. And thank you for the things you said at Red’s funeral.” All of a sudden, the tone of the conversation had changed. There was no teasing thread of laughter in her voice or in her dark eyes.

  “You mean you listened?” Yes!

  “I did. My sister was one of those special people who belonged to God. So was Red.”

  “We all belong to Him.”

  “But they had that special dimension that tied them to God forever.”

  “Yes, Cheyenne, they did.” He realized where his heart was going, and he couldn’t stop it. This was the kind of woman he could love, who could be his best friend and whose heart he knew he could trust. Sure, he’d made wrong choices before, but it was almost as if God had brought her here to prove to him that not all women were like Etta, who had claimed a love she hadn’t known…and who might have even shared more than friendship with Austin Barlow. Austin hadn’t become a Christian until some time after his wife’s death.

  Stop it. Thinking that way solved nothing, and he was being selfish. This wasn’t about him, it was about God’s will in Cheyenne’s life. He should be celebrating the fact that she was at least acknowledging His presence in her sister’s life, and Red’s.

  “I can tell you from personal experience that God wants that special relationship with you, too,” he said, before he could stop himself.

  She withdrew her hand and sat back in her seat, facing forward. He knew he’d pushed too hard. “I don’t think you have any idea what God wants for me,” she said. “For your information, He isn’t interested in me or my prayers.”

  “What gives you that—”

  “I’m going back to Columbia on Thursday, Dane. End of story.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dane listened to the sounds of hammers, nails, saws behind him as he took a break down at the dock. After three weeks of hard work during some of the hottest days of the year, the barn was almost finished, and Dane was proud of his boys. He was proud of the whole town of Hideaway. They knew the meaning of community as men and women volunteered their days off and evening hours to help with the rebuilding.

  For some reason, since the fire, and especially since Red’s funeral, the community had seemed to embrace Dane’s boys as their own. Finally. After all these years of struggle. It was as if they had chosen to honor Red’s memory by recognizing the primary focus of the man’s affection. To Red, Dane’s boys were the grandchildren he’d never had because of the death of their only child. In effect, the premature death of the Meyers’ son all those years ago had triggered a chain reaction that had led to this community outpouring.

  Unfortunately, Austin Barlow’s short demonstration of a thaw when he delivered Courage last month had dissipated as the weeks passed. He seldom came this way. He was busy with his mayoral campaign.

  Dane hadn’t even considered campaigning. He figured everyone already knew him, knew his work and experience, and if they wanted to vote for him, they could do it. He would have enough exposure to the crowd during the tournament and the festival, when he and Austin had their friendly debate. If he didn’t win, he would be greatly relieved.

  He gazed across the water at the empty house on the hill. He’d missed Cheyenne these past three and a half weeks more than he’d dreamed possible, and he found himself struggling with hurt feelings over her departure, over the things they had said, and over the things he had left unsaid.

  He had no rig
ht to be hurt. It wasn’t as if he’d appealed to her on a personal level to stay. Sure, he’d urged her to consider a solo practice. Big deal. Austin Barlow had done the same thing, but he’d also asked her to a show, and he hadn’t bashed her over the head about her need for God in her life.

  Dane knew that must have made her feel as if he were classifying her as a second-rate citizen.

  After the divorce, Dane had been convinced he was meant to be alone, and until now he’d been at peace with it. If Cheyenne had never come, he still would be. Now, so many things had changed.

  “Dane?”

  He turned to see Blaze stepping onto the dock. “Sorry, Blaze, I need to be nailing on that south wall.”

  “Willy’s taking care of it. That load of aluminum’s in the drive. Where do you want it?”

  Dane got up and gazed at the new barn. “Where they are is good. We’ll start nailing it up in an hour or so. Has anybody mentioned anything about that new doctor Austin has coming for a visit?”

  “Cecil says he’s coming tomorrow. Says he’s a young guy, just out of residency.”

  Dane couldn’t explain his disappointment. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “Okay, but staring at that house isn’t going to bring her back, you know,” Blaze said.

  “Didn’t she say she was coming for the tournament?”

  “Last I heard, but it wouldn’t hurt you to ask her yourself.”

  Before Dane could reply, Blaze went back up the hill, where seven men worked alongside the boys on the building. By the end of the day it would be nearly complete.

  Dane had never felt less complete in his life.

  “Cheyenne, have you missed me?” The exquisite lines of Susan’s face glowed with life as she walked beside Cheyenne along a tunnel of green that was the Katy Trail.

  The Missouri River whispered past them, about a hundred yards away. It was the same stretch of trail they had biked together so often. No one else was in sight.

  “Where have you been?” Cheyenne asked.

  “I told you where I was going. Why didn’t you listen?” Susan laughed and ran ahead, the way she had done all their lives.

  Cheyenne ran after her, cherishing the sight of her, the sound of her voice, but it was impossible to catch up. Susan remained a few steps ahead.

  “Why won’t you wait?” Cheyenne cried.

  “Because then you won’t follow.”

  “But I am! Please, Susan, come back.”

  “I can’t. You’ve got to follow me. Please follow, Cheyenne.”

  Though Cheyenne ran as fast as she could, her sister disappeared into the haze.

  Cheyenne was left in the darkness.

  It was into that same darkness she awakened. Her eyes flew open, and tears trickled down the sides of her cheeks.

  “Susan,” she whispered.

  She saw the clock on the desk beside the bed and realized she was in the darkened sleep room at work. It was six-fifteen in the evening, only forty-five minutes away from quitting time. She needed to get to work on her charts.

  She turned on the desk lamp and checked the time again. Amazing that she’d been able to sleep for two solid hours at this part of her shift. She should have done her charts before she took a nap, but she’d just been too tired.

  She shuffled into the bathroom and splashed cold water in her face, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want another glimpse at the dark circles that had reinstated themselves beneath her eyes, like a constant reminder of the insomnia that had plagued her since returning here three and a half weeks ago.

  The nightmares had grown less intrusive recently, segueing into dreams of Susan that were so vivid Cheyenne never wanted to wake up. But she always did.

  The fatigue weighed her down. She knew it was depression, but what was she supposed to do about it? Even though she had brought Blue with her, the apartment still felt haunted. Her whole life felt haunted.

  Maybe that was what Susan had been trying to tell her in the dream—or what Cheyenne was trying to tell herself. She’d tried to pray a few times recently but always felt foolish. She had no sense of anyone listening.

  Columbia had lost its appeal with Susan gone, and though Cheyenne knew she could reach out to her friends here at work, spend more time with Ardis, or with Jim and Louise Brillhart, or with her old college friends she also knew that their kindness to her came from the goodness of their hearts, and not from any need they felt to have her in their lives.

  She’d never before realized there was a difference. The only time she felt encouraged was when she was talking with Bertie on the telephone or e-mailing Blaze, or even when Austin had called her to invite her down to attend the festival in September. She looked forward to the fishing tournament in Hideaway the week after next. Maybe all she needed to do was return for a couple of days in the heat of the summer and realize it wasn’t where she belonged, after all.

  But what if she discovered it was?

  Dane had been conspicuously silent, and that hurt. She knew he was busy with the boys and rebuilding the barn, but would it have been so difficult to pick up the telephone and call her? Why had she been so abrupt with him just before she left to come back? Had it been her imagination that he’d seemed to care about her? Not necessarily in a romantic way, but as a friend.

  But friends would keep in touch with friends, wouldn’t they? Even when she’d called the ranch to talk to Blaze, Dane was never the one to answer the phone. She’d asked Blaze about him, but had received unsatisfactory replies.

  If even Austin Barlow could call her and invite her to a town function, why couldn’t Dane?

  She sat down at the desk and flipped through the stack of letters, lab reports and advertisements for medical education conferences all over the world—the kind she never attended because of the expense. She usually obtained her required yearly credits locally or via courses offered by mail or online.

  She glanced at several lab reports for patients from recent shifts, then came to an envelope marked Personal and Confidential from the office of Larry Strong, Director, Department of Risk Management.

  “Oh, brother,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Couldn’t he have just called her on the phone if he wanted another meeting? Why did he have to summon her so formally? Unless…

  She opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of embossed, typewritten paper, and skimmed the message. The hospital was agreeing to settle with Kirk Warden for a quarter of a million dollars. They needed her input.

  With numb fingers, she refolded the letter and stuck it into the pocket of her lab coat, pulled on the coat and wrapped her stethoscope around her neck. Later. She could deal with it later. Right now she had charts to complete, and she wanted to think about anything but lawsuits.

  Dane placed the final sheet of corrugated aluminum in a stack on the new concrete floor in the new barn and glanced up at the sky. It was clear, with no rain in the forecast for several days. For him, that was a good thing. Maybe they would get the barn completed and the animals moved back without being impeded by bad weather. However, the heat was oppressive.

  He was closing the door, prepared to go check on the boys at the borrowed milking facilities, when Blaze came strolling out through the lot, hands in the pockets of his jeans, head bowed as if he was deep in thought.

  “What’s up, Blaze?”

  “Nothing new,” Blaze said without looking up. “Some guy called about renting that back counter down at the store and opening a pharmacy, and I’ve got to fix dinner tonight because—”

  “What’s wrong with Cook?”

  “Hemorrhoids again.”

  Dane sighed. Cook had been told he needed surgery, but he refused to go “under the knife.” Instead, he suffered a lot, complained a lot, and had earned himself the title of Hideaway’s favorite hypochondriac. Dane had tried to convince Cook to take a vacation and get his mind off the daily stress of keeping up with all the boys. He refused. This was his life. To the crusty old b
achelor, this was his family. It was Dane’s, as well.

  “Did you take a number so I can call the pharmacist back?” Dane asked.

  “It’s by the telephone, though you’d never notice since you never talk on the phone, and you’re hardly ever even in the house lately, because you’re out here working on the barn.”

  “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been preoccupied lately. The Marions have been more than generous to loan us the use of their barn, but this juggling act is a tough one. I want to get all our cattle back here and everything back into operation.”

  Blaze leaned against the doorjamb and looked up at Dane. “Cheyenne asked about you in her last e-mail.”

  “She did? What did she say?”

  “Just asked how you were doing, and if you were still freaking over the barn not being done yet.”

  “Who said I was freaking?”

  “I did.”

  “And you’re learning to type that well after just a few weeks?”

  “Pretty well. I don’t type all the time. Sometimes she calls to talk to you, and I just happen to answer the phone.”

  “She asks for me?” Dane’s spirits lifted with incredible swiftness.

  “No, but I know she’s hoping to hear your voice.”

  Those same spirits plummeted just as swiftly. “You should write fiction, Blaze. Come on, let’s go to the house and get dinner.”

  “Cheyenne doesn’t sound happy,” Blaze said as they walked toward the house in the heavy, hot evening air. “I don’t know why you aren’t keeping in touch. She’s asked about you a couple of times—you know the way people do when they’re trying hard not to show how interested they are. It wouldn’t hurt to just call and ask her how she’s doing, maybe let her know about that doctor Austin’s trying to lure here to set up practice—which I think’s a big mistake.”

  “You think getting a doctor here is a mistake?”

  “I think getting someone who doesn’t belong here is a mistake.”

  Dane glanced at Blaze from the corner of his eye. The kid was definitely smitten with Cheyenne, but Dane couldn’t blame him. “I don’t want to twist Cheyenne’s arm. She knows what’s here, and she’s obviously not interested. Her life is in Columbia, and we have to get on with things.”