I Don't Believe in Happily Ever After - Parts 1 through 7 by L. A. Keller

In case you missed the past installments, I'm giving you the full sequence up to the current one.  If you're read the earlier posts, you can scroll down to Part 7. There are only 3 parts left to Clare's story.

“I gave up on happily ever after. Maybe I'm not cut out for a relationship. Maybe, I just don't like being committed to one person for longer than two weeks.”

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Clare hadn't been to her grandfather's farm since his death six months prior. She pulled over on the dirt road just before the driveway which meandered up to the dilapidated ranch-style house. Even with her windows up, the smell of hay made her hold her nose to suppress a sneeze.  The incessant clucking of the chickens, as they roamed the yard pecking at insects set her teeth on edge.  She wondered for the hundredth time that day why her granny remained so far from town.  She took a deep breath, sneezed and put the car in drive.

The rental car bumped over the ruts in the driveway. Clare shook her head.  It was another thing to be fixed if she was going to sell the property. No doubt Granny would give her some pushback but Clare had to work for a living and Granny would have to adapt.  Life was all about change and everyone had to suck it up.

Dust swirled around her car as she opened the door and popped the trunk. She grabbed her small carryon bag and the sack of groceries she purchased on her way through town.  A few apples, eggs and salad mix would help keep her on the low carb diet she started two days ago. It was the third time this month and this time she was determined to stick to the plan. A bottle of wine would have tasted lovely but she couldn’t afford the empty calories if she was going to fit into her wedding dress. The front door opened before Clare reached it.  Granny Mae wobbled out with her cane and the toothless old hound, Bubba who was creeping up on ninety in dog years.  He lifted his nose to her scent, decided she was harmless and plopped down under Mae’s feet.

“Honey, I’m so happy you came.”  Mae held out her arms.

Clare dropped her bags and pulled her last living relative into a long hug. “I’m happy to be here. We have so much to do."

Mae released Clare from the hug but held her at arm’s length, her grip strong despite the arthritis which partially crippled her hands.  “Now, don’t go making up busy work. There’s already plenty to do on a farm and we need some girl time. “

“Of course Granny but we will have lots of time for that too.”

“Come on in the house honey and we can have a glass of sweet tea. I just pulled your favorite cookies out of the oven.”

Clare felt her mouth water and her resolve waiver at the thought of warm Mississippi Mud Cookies. This trip was going to be harder than she expected.

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Part 2

Clare rolled her small suitcase down the narrow hallway to the bedroom that had once been her mother’s. Not much had changed over the years. The twin-sized iron bed was covered in a faded quilt handmade by her grandmother. The blue ribbons, Clare’s mother, Sunny won in the county fair for her prized hogs, hung from yellowed clothesline strung between the windows.

She tugged open the closet door, warped from years of humidity without air conditioning and stashed her suitcase inside.  Already she knew this trip would be more difficult than she wanted. It was only months since her grandfather had passed and she could tell Granny was not ready for what she had in mind. Her hopes of convincing Granny to sell the farm and move to the city faded as quickly as sunlight over the meadow.

Mae stood in the doorway. “Come on sweetie. Let’s eat these cookies before they’re cool. Nothing is better with a cold glass of iced tea than warm from the oven cookies.”

“Okay, Granny, but I’m on a diet so I can have only one.”

Clare knew the words fell on deaf ears. Granny enjoyed nothing better than seeing someone clean her plate.  Salad wasn’t something that was eaten on a farm as a meal. The work started at sunup and the only breaks were for hearty, stick-to-your-bones (and rear end) meals—fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and homemade biscuits. Her mouth watered at the memory and her stomach growled.

She followed Mae and the smell of freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies into the 1950’s kitchen. Mae poured them each a glass of iced tea and they sat at the ancient Formica topped table.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Child, you’re getting skinny. I’m glad you came so I can put some weight on those bones. No man likes a girl who doesn’t know how to eat.” Mae shook her finger at Clare and pushed the plate of cookies closer.

Clare chewed her bottom lip, her fingers twitched with the desire to take another cookie. She knew, from hours with her personal trainer, that food wouldn’t fill the emptiness she felt inside, but so far, no man had accomplished that feat either. She pushed the plate away and stood abruptly.  Clare wondered if marriage was the answer or not.

“Why don’t we take a walk and you can show me what’s been happening around here.”  Clare took Mae’s arm and they strolled down the dirt path from the kitchen door to the barn. A tractor engine rumbled through the distant field and the dust of fresh cut hay tickled her nose.

Unconsciously she patted the tire swing as they walked under the massive oak that marked the end of the area designated as yard. She smiled at the memory of herself at age seven swinging Tarzan style with her childhood crush, Wyatt McClintock, who lived on the neighboring farm. On a dare from Wyatt she let go and when she landed in the dirt some twenty feet away, her arm was broken in two places. That boy was trouble from the first time they met. She wondered what ever happened to him. He hadn’t come to her granddad’s funeral, although she was sure his family still lived in the area. 

Chickens skittered out of the way as they approached the barn. Clare smiled at the thought of how her friends would be shocked to see the country girl who ran all summer long with dirty bare feet, jeans and long hair in pigtails. They knew her as she was now -x sleek, short hair with highlights, stilettos and business suits. That other girl was long gone.

Part 3

Clare was surprised to see just how much had changed inside the barn.  Gone was the rusted red International tractor, replaced by a shiny monstrosity that appeared ready to crush anything in its path.  The aisle was swept clean and, even though she could see particles dancing in the slight breeze like fairy dust, the smell didn’t make her want to cover her nose.

“Wow, Granny this place looks different.”

“When your Gramps passed I decided to get some help. You know how he hated change more than he hated those Dallas Cowboys.”

Clare chuckled at the memory. Gramps hollered at the television throughout every football game and rooted for anyone who played against Dallas.  She felt a chill run down her arms and instinctively glanced over her shoulder sensing his presence and disapproval. If Gramps hated these changes she could imagine the volume of his protest if he knew she wanted Granny to sell the farm.

Mae pointed out renovations to the interior of the barn, and outside the new chicken coop and a sizeable greenhouse. The old corn silo, which had threatened to topple when Clare visited six months prior for Gramp’s funeral, was gone. In its place stood multiple paddocks where miniature horses, goats and sheep meandered. 

“What’s all this?” Clare resisted the urge to climb the fence and run her fingers through the mane of a Palomino mare whose withers would barely reach waist high.

“I’ve always wanted a different way to use the farm. Wyatt suggested we bring in tourists for a petting zoo. We sell fresh produce, eggs and have this section for the children. It’s all farm to table these days.”

Clare laughed and wondered just when her grandmother had become so current in her lingo. She bit her lip to avoid asking where the money came from.  As far as she knew her grandparents barely avoided the tax man, let alone have funds to do so much so quickly. There were no obvious renovations to the house, which would have been the first place she would start in order to make it sell as quickly as possible.

“Wow,” she said as she tried to absorb it all.

“It’s been so exciting. I was sure when I lost your grandfather I would follow him out of this world soon. Then Wyatt came up with these plans and there hasn’t been a moment to be sad.”

There was his name again. Wyatt! Clare’s stomach did a flip flop. If he thought she would stand aside and let him take advantage of her grandmother, he was the fool. She might have been a naïve little farm girl once but she didn’t submit her will to any man now, not even her soon to be husband. She let out a slow breath and tried to unclench her jaw muscles.

“Why didn’t I hear about any of this?”

“Oh sweetie you’re so busy with that important job of yours and planning your wedding, I didn’t want to bother you. Besides it’s all happened faster than I expected and, to be honest, I hoped to see you sooner than this.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get back here before now but we’ve spoken on the phone and you never brought it up.”

“I’ve been on my own for six months and I figured out real fast I had a choice. To give up and die sitting in my rocker on the porch or get my life together. You know what they say, this is my new normal.”

“Oh my God!  Who is telling you to say these things and where is my Granny?  If Wyatt has been filling your head with nonsense about get rich quick schemes with a petting zoo, he will find out fast that he’s mistaken.”

“Thank goodness for Wyatt. He’s been here taking care of the farm and me, even though he’s got his hands full over there at his home place with that little girl of his and his dad taking sick.”

Guilt flamed Clare’s face. Not only had she been completely self-absorbed with her new account but she let someone else be responsible for her last living relative.

“I didn’t know Mr. McClintock was sick.”

“He has cancer.  Sheila always tried to get him to get checked but he wouldn’t have any part of it.”

“I’m so sorry. Can anything be done?”

“He doesn’t want anything. Says if it’s his time so be it.”

“That must be terrible for his family.”

Clare decided a visit to their neighbors was in order. First to see if there was anything she could do to help and, while she was there, she could have a chat with Wyatt. Yes, she and Wyatt had a lot of catching up to do and he would hear exactly what she thought of his plans for her family farm.

Part 4

As Clare and Mae meandered back to the house, after checking that all of the animals had fresh water and hay, Clare remembered something else Mae said.

“Granny, did you say Wyatt had a little girl to take care of?”

“Yes, that child is about as sweet as you were back in the day.”

“I didn’t know he was married.”

“You seem awfully interested in what’s going on with Wyatt. I seem to remember thinking you two were perfect for each other. It was as if I wouldn’t see one of you without the other trailing behind.”

“Me and Wyatt?  No way. He was always a thorn in my side. Trouble with a capital T. I’m surprised he could find someone crazy enough to marry him.”

“I didn’t say he was married.”

“So he’s not?”

“I suppose you’ll have to ask him that question. Here he comes now.”

Clare’s focus changed abruptly from Mae to the driveway and the jacked up four wheel drive pickup truck headed their way. No surprise to her that Wyatt would have the loudest truck in the county. He reminded her of the kind of prize you won after investing your week’s allowance throwing softballs at the at the fair only to find the ring you craved with all your heat was cubic zirconia—lots of sparkle but nothing genuine. Subconsciously, she touched the engagement ring on her finger. She hated that her heart skipped a beat when he stepped out with his worn blue jeans that molded to his rear end perfectly and that dusty cowboy hat cocked slightly to the side. When had he become so good looking and such a man, she wondered.

Clare swallowed and thoughts rushed through her mind. His appearance meant she would need to get him alone to voice her opinion of his influence over Mae but she was determined to put an end to whatever nefarious plots he had going. The seconds it took her to make a plan were shot down as soon as he lifted a pink frilly princess from the back seat and placed her gently on the ground.

“Granny Mae! Granny Mae!  Look at the new Cinderella dress Daddy got me,” she squealed.

Clare took an unconscious step back as the child rocketed towards them at breakneck speed. Mae laughed and bent down to receive her, arms open wide and a glow on her face.

“Oh girl, you look better than any princess I’ve ever seen.”

Wyatt sauntered over barely glancing in Clare’s direction. “Sorry Mae, all Charlotte talked about was showing her dress to you.”

“Honey, you know this girl brings the sunshine wherever she goes.” Mae directed her attention at the pint-size hurricane, “Come on Charlotte, Granny Mae has some fresh baked cookies with your name on them.”

“Charlotte don’t spoil the dinner your grandmother is making. One cookie here and you can take one home.”

“Okay, Daddy. I promise only three.”

“Two cookies and not one more, Charlotte.”

The child held tight to Mae’s gnarled fingers and they headed to the house. Clare was struck again by how much her grandmother had aged in the last year of Gramps life. Her tread slow but light as the child danced around her creating a mini dust storm in her white patent leather shoes.

“I’m sorry we’re closed today. If you could come back tomorrow we’re offering an end of summer special on fresh corn, okra and homemade pickles.”

Clare’s first instinct was to hit him and her second was a snarky reply. Instead she decided to play along to see how long before he recognized her.

“You know that sounds good but I’ve come all this way.  Can’t you make an exception for me this one time?” She batted her eyes and tugged at her top to show off more cleavage.

Wyatt cleared this throat. “Uh, I’m sorry but I can’t change the hours. The farm is closed today due to a family situation.”

Clare wondered if she was the family situation he meant. She could feel her anger bubble and simmer just below the boiling point. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she relished the fact that he didn’t know this new and improved version of herself. She had worked hard to lose her Virginia accent and mannerisms. She rarely slipped a ‘ya’ll’ into her speech and that only happened after one too many martinis at happy hour with the girls.

She stepped closer to him, heaved a sigh and tried to pout. “I promised not to return to the city without some real southern greens. I would do just about anything to get my hands on something special like what you have.” She batted her eyelashes, convinced he would see right through her ruse.

He stepped back and put his hands up. “I guess you’ll have to go back empty handed. I can’t help you.”

Clare stepped closer, purposefully heaving her chest and biting her bottom lip.  “Are you absolutely positively sure you can’t help me?” She could barely contain her laughter when he looked around in desperation for someone to come to his rescue.  Men were such suckers, she thought.

“Look lady, the farm is closed today. We’ll be open tomorrow at nine o’clock and the owner will be more than happy to sell you the very best greens you’ve ever tasted but not today.” He turned and stomped toward the house without a backward glance.

Clare hid her smile behind her hand and waited until the screen door slammed behind him. She sashayed toward the front of the house where her rental car was parked. She was sure she could feel his glare but she also felt something else she couldn’t identify.

As soon as she was out of sight, she doubled in laughter. She would teach that jerk how to treat a customer. She wouldn’t be the top account manager at her firm if she ignored special requests from her clients. Moreover she took immense pleasure in, not just his discomfit at her obvious flirtation, but also his complete lack of recognition.   He would be putty in her hands.

She slipped quietly in the front door and crept towards the kitchen as Mae asked, “Where’s Clare?”

There was a slurping sound as the child sucked the last of her chocolate milk through a straw and a chair scraped across the worn oak flooring.

“Daddy can’t I have one more cookie?”

“Hush Charlotte, I already told you two was the limit before dinner. I don’t know where Clare is Mae. When is she expected to arrive?”

“Honey you were just talking to her in the yard.”

Clare picked that moment to stroll into the kitchen, head held high.

“Did I hear someone mention my name?”

Wyatt looked at her in surprise. “I call foul,” he said using their childhood saying whenever one of them, usually him, took an unfair advantage over the other.

The bitterness at being played the fool was absent from his voice. Instead she heard something akin to admiration.

Part 5

“I thought I’d hang around and wait for the owner to sell me some of those delicious greens,” she said with a chuckle.

Wyatt let his eyes roam over her from head to toes and back again. “I supposed it isn’t necessary to say you look different.”

“A lot has changed since I’ve seen you.” She nodded in Charlotte’s direction. “It seems like you’ve had a few changes as well.”

“Charlotte, this is Daddy’s best friend, Clare. I knew her when I was a boy younger than you are now.”

Charlotte considered this for moment and then held out a chocolate smeared hand.

Clare hesitated before accepting a delicate handshake. “Nice to meet you Charlotte.”

“Are you mommy’s friend too?”

“No, she never met mommy,” Wyatt responded quickly. “Now go wash your hands. We’ve taken up enough of Mae’s time and made a mess of her kitchen in record time.”

“Nonsense, there’s nothing that warms my heart more than seeing someone enjoy my baking.”

“All the same, we only stopped by to show you the dress. Charlotte and I both have chores to get done at home.”

Mae took a pot out of the refrigerator. “I made up some extra chicken and dumplings for you to take home. All you need to do is put these on the stove for a bit to heat through.  I know your momma has her hands full caring for your daddy and they both need some extra nourishment.”

“That’s very kind of you Mae. You don’t have to cook for us. I know it’s hard to believe but I learned a few things and I can follow a recipe.”

“Considering all you do around here, it’s the least I can do. Besides I was cooking for us and it’s easy to throw in a few more pieces of chicken and add extra dumplings.”

“Thank you. Momma was planning to make up something special for Charlotte tonight but somedays it’s more than she can manage.”

“Not to mention you love my dumplings even better than your momma’s, but that can stay our little secret.” Mae laughed and handed the pot to Wyatt.  “Make sure to bring this little angel by while Clare is here so they can get to know each other.”

“How long do you plan to visit?” Wyatt asked.

“I’m not sure. Granny and I have a lot of catching up to do based on what I can see around here.”  Clare thought she saw his chest puff out slightly.

“The old place is shaping up and Mae’s green thumb brings people back time after time.”

Clare bit her lip to avoid saying what was on her mind. She wondered if it was wrong to be angry about the farm actually bringing in money. It would be all that much harder to get Mae to sell. She wanted her grandmother to be happy and safe. This rambling patch of grass and weeds could be converted into a subdivision and Mae would be set for the rest of her years. 

“Granny, I hope Wyatt isn’t working you too hard. This, er, business, will require hours of effort to get off the ground.” Clare directed her gaze from her grandmother to Wyatt. “I think my grandmother should be enjoying her golden years and not working from dawn to dusk.”

“Nonsense. This is exactly what I need to be doing. I’ve always kept busy taking care of others but this farm is where my heart is. Your granddad and I lived here for sixty years. I raised your momma here. What would my life be without this little plot of land?”

“Now that Gramps is gone, I hoped you would consider moving in with me in the city. We have so little time together.”

Mae didn’t respond, instead she stood and took Clare’s hand.  “I think it’s time you and I had a long talk.”

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Part 6

Wyatt took his cue to leave, tossing Charlotte over his shoulder against her squeals of protest.

            “I hope to see you before you leave,” he called out to Clare as the screen door slammed behind him.

            Mae led Clare into the living room and pointed at the plaid reclining rocker indicating she should take a seat.  Mae walked to the mantle and picked up a black and white photo in a tarnished silver frame.

            “Child, I’ve weathered many storms and so has this old place. I was born here, as were your momma and you. My great granddaddy plowed this farm behind two mules and his daddy before him. Your ancestors are buried in that cemetery on the hillside. Your grandpop planted that tree which you swung on when you were younger than Charlotte.

            “I know all that Granny. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay here. People move on, have better lives. I hoped you would be ready to sell this old eyesore and move to the city with me.”

            Mae’s hands shook but Clare wasn’t sure if it was from the anger she could see brewing in her eyes or from age.

            “I’m a God fearing woman but right now I’m sorely tempted to take his name in vain. Instead, I’m going to let you sit here with this photo and think about how wrong your words are. You have no right to judge my life as not good enough. You have no right to decide I should leave my home.”

            “But Granny.”

            “I’m disappointed in you, Clare. I’m very, very disappointed.” With those words Mae dropped the photo in her lap and stomped down the hall. Clare flinched as the bedroom door slammed.

            Mae looked at the faded image in the frame. It was taken the day her great grandparents married.  It was a grainy black and white image of a grim woman with a white high-necked blouse and billowing skirts. She stood behind a man seated in a hard backed chair, his hair slicked to the side and a neatly trimmed moustache barely covering a slight smile.

            It didn’t appear as if either party was overly joyed at the prospect of married life. Clare imagined they anticipated a hard life of laboring on the farm, with little time for pleasure. She recalled Mae telling her the story of how Ian McGlennie had requested, Clare’s namesake, Clara McNaughton’s hand. He had promised her father he would never beat her, would make sure both she and any future children would be fed and always have shoes. Not exactly the most romantic gesture but they were steadfast in their love for sixty years and Clara was devoted to him. Ian had been a good, hardworking man and a devoted father to nine children. Mae’s father was the one of the second set of twins. Mae and Clare were all that remained of their legacy.

            The sun was starting to set and Clare regretted not purchasing wine when she drove through the small town. She wandered to the dining room and turned the key in the antique china cabinet. Why it remained locked when there was no one to sneak into the liquor was a mystery to her but she was happy to find there was still a dusty bottle of whiskey.  Grabbing a jelly glass from the kitchen, Clare dropped two ice cubes into the bottom and filled it with the potent drink.

            Unconscious that she still held the picture, she wandered to the front porch and sat in a rocker. She bit her lip and wished she would have had more patience instead of blurting out her wish to sell the farm. On the long drive here, she had rehearsed how she would present the plan to Mae.  She would start by remarking casually how much work the old place needed and then talk about her upcoming wedding and finish with how many fun things there were to do in the city. She wanted to take Mae to the theatre and to hear the symphony. She would describe how easy it was to dial for dinner delivery from any number of restaurants rather than slaving in a hot kitchen for hours.

            This was all Wyatt’s fault! He stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong and filled Mae’s head with false hope and big dreams. Clare swallowed the whiskey in one gulp and decided she had wasted enough time. She was going to give him a piece of her mind right now.

            She left the photo on the rocking chair and dashed inside to grab her keys. Mae remained locked in her room. Clare contemplated leaving a note but decided it was easier to explain after the fact.

            Wyatt’s family farm was only two miles down the road. Clare stomped on the gas and left a hurricane of dust in her wake as the rental car bumped over the ruts in the washed out gravel road.

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Part 7     

The McClintock family farm looked much the same as Clare remembered with the exception of a child’s toys scattered around the front porch.  The flower beds were weeded, the yard mowed and the paint fresh.  Wyatt’s father had always taken great pride in their home, in stark contrast to her own grandfather.  But then again, Clare considered that Wyatt’s father was much younger than her grandfather. If only her own parents had lived longer maybe her life would have turned out differently.

She drained the last of the whiskey from her glass and parked on the side of the house. No one in these parts ever entered through the front door unless you were a salesman or a stranger. She stepped out of the car and slammed the door just to vent more of her anger. 

She expected to see Wyatt but instead it was his burst of sunshine daughter, Charlotte who flew out of the kitchen door. The rainbow colored butterfly wings fluttered and the last rays of the sun caught in her plastic tiara, temporarily blinding Clare.

“You came to my party. Hurry, grandma is bringing out my cake right now.”

“I, ah….” Clare didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before she was dragged by the hand into the kitchen. Wyatt’s parents sat at the oak pedestal table, barely visible behind a mountain of presents.

Sheila McClintock sprang from her seat when she saw Clare. “Heavens, we weren’t expecting you.” Sheila pulled Clare in for a long hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude. I was hoping to speak with Wyatt for a few minutes.” Clare’s anger dissolved like the hand-churned ice cream that melted beside the princess cake.

“Nonsense. We are so happy you came for Charlotte’s party.  Son, get Clare a chair.” Sheila pointed at Wyatt seated next to his father.

Clare tried to hide the shock of seeing Wyatt’s father, John for the first time since her grandfather’s funeral. Cancer had taken its toll on his body, shrinking him from the giant of a man she remembered to a mere shell of his former self.

“Mae told us you were coming for a visit. It’s been way too long.”  John moved as if to stand as Wyatt rushed to his side.

Clare skirted the table and bent down to kiss John’s sunken cheek. There was a time when she wouldn’t have been able to get her arms around him and now he was too weak to stand on his own. She swallowed the lump which rose to her throat and tried to hide her emotions with a cough.            

Charlotte tugged at Clare’s hand again. “Come sit by me. Since mommy isn’t here you can help me blow out my candles.”

Clare didn’t miss the glance exchanged between Deni and Wyatt. She wondered where Charlotte’s mother was and how she could possibly miss her daughter’s birthday. She felt the sting of not having her own mother around for so many birthdays.  No matter that years had passed since her parent’s deaths, the pain was as sharp as a chef’s blade.

For the briefest moment Clare’s never present fiancé flickered through her head. In the six months since they met, landed a major new client together and became engaged, she had never talked to him about the accident. As the party moved into full swing, she absorbed the McClintock family, so close despite the changes in their lives, or maybe because of them.

Charlotte made a wish with her eyes squeezed tightly and, with a little help from her father, blew out the five candles on her cake. She squealed with delight as she opened each present, as thrilled with the books as she was with the new pajamas. It was hard not to smile around her exuberance and as the night drew later, Clare realized she had completely forgotten her mission.

Wyatt hustled Charlotte off to bed despite her obvious sugar high while Sheila helped her husband of twenty-six years back to his hospital bed in the living room. Clare washed the plates and swept up the wrapping paper remains which had fluttered to the floor like a ticker tape parade. 

She had just reached her rental car unable to define the feelings tumbling inside when she heard Wyatt call her name. Letting out a deep breath she paused a moment before turning to face him.

He walked slowly, silhouetted by the back porch light. She was keenly aware of the sound his dusty cowboy boots made on the gravel drive, the distant hoot of an owl and of her own breathing.

“You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Look you came over here, guns loaded for a fight. You may as well tell me what the problem is.”

“How do you know why I came here?” Clare couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.

He laughed and her anger flared. She had no patience for men who decided they knew what she wanted or needed better than she did herself.

“Where’s your wife?” She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her mouth.

Wyatt took a step back, his eyes flared, “That topic isn’t open for discussion.”

“But it’s fine for you to show up and put ideas in my granny’s head about my family farm. She is old and frail and I don’t want her out here all by herself. Stop sticking your head in where it doesn’t belong.”

Wyatt shook his head slowly. Hands on his hips he looked over her shoulder in the direction of Mae’s homestead. Minutes ticked by in silence but Clare could see the tension in his jaw and the set of his shoulders in the semi-darkness. She felt the heat from his body, a fury she hadn’t seen since she threw his autographed baseball into the pond to get back at him for pulling the head off her favorite doll. This time, instead of tackling her he turned abruptly and stomped back into the house.

Happy Trails,

Leslie

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