Whenever You Come Around (18 page)

“That’s all right. It’s more fun to watch you.”

Charity baited her hook, then waded into the river, the water only mid-calf deep where she stood. It was a few moments before she realized she’d walked into the water to get farther away from Nathan. Not a positive sign.

H
OT AND SWEATY
, B
UCK STOOD AT THE KITCHEN
sink and guzzled a third glass of water. He was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. He’d accomplished a lot this afternoon. But it was time for him to get his right leg elevated. He hadn’t been on his feet for this long of a stretch since before Cocoa knocked him flat, and the ache in his ankle told him he was going to regret it. His wrist had a few complaints of its own.

His stomach growled, reminding him it had been a long
time since lunch. But he wanted to clean up more than he wanted food. He set the empty glass next to the sink and headed for the bathroom. It didn’t take him long to shed his dirty clothes, shower, and get dressed again in clean Levis and a black T-shirt. Barefooted, he was on his way back to the kitchen when he heard Cocoa’s bark. The sound drew him to the living room window.

Charity’s Lexus was back in the Anderson driveway, parked not too far from the convertible. Charity stood near the back of her vehicle while Nathan carried fishing poles and a tackle box into the garage. While she watched Nathan, Buck watched her. Did she look wistful? Sorry the day at the river was over? Happy to have been with that guy? What?

Buck’s telephone rang. A welcome interruption. He went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hi, Buck. It’s Chet.”

“Hey, Chet.”

“We’ve had a last-minute trail ride request from some guests for tomorrow morning. You up for it?”

“Sure. I’m up for it.”

“It’s a good-sized group. Two families. Four adults and five kids. Youngest of the kids is ten. The rest are teens. They’d like about a four-hour ride, round trip. I figured the best trail would take them up near McHenry’s Sluice and down again.”

At the mention of McHenry, Buck’s thoughts tried to wander to Charity again. He brought them back into focus. “Any riding experience among them?”

“Some, apparently, but not much. I’d go with you, but I’ve got an appointment I can’t put off.”

“No need. I’ve taken larger groups on harder trails all by myself.”

They went over a few details, including what time Buck should arrive at the ranch the next morning, horse trailer in tow. He was dropping the handset into its cradle when a knock sounded on his back door. When he looked through the window, he saw a baseball cap and blond ponytail.

He grinned. He didn’t know what had brought Charity over, but he was glad she’d come. As long as that Nathan guy wasn’t still with her. That thought wiped the smile from his mouth as he went to open the door. But it returned quickly enough when he found her alone, except for her dog and a string of rainbow trout.

“Have you had dinner?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Would you like to share my catch?”

“Sure.” He opened the door wider. “Nathan joining us?” The words almost choked him on the way out of his mouth.

“No. He had to get back to Boise. Some big meeting he has to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Come on in.” Buck took a step back and motioned for her to come through.

“Oh, I didn’t bring the fish so we could eat at your place. I just wanted to tempt you with what’s for dinner.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind if you use my kitchen. You’re more familiar with it than I am by now.”

“No. Please. Come over to the house in forty-five minutes.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“No.” She shook her head. “See you soon.” She turned away and hurried toward her parents’ home.

Buck forgot to be tired, achy, or even hungry. All he knew was he was having dinner with Charity.

And Nathan Gilbert wasn’t.

C
HARITY TOOK THE FASTEST SHOWER ON RECORD
and was in the kitchen well before Buck was due to arrive. She cut up red potatoes, baby carrots, scallions, and turnips. By the time the vegetables were sautéed and put into the oven to roast and caramelize, the forty-five minutes she’d asked for were gone. Buck knocked on the back door right on time.

“Come in,” she called as she laid one of the fish in the hot skillet, then a second beside the first. From the corner of her eye, she saw Buck stop in the kitchen doorway. “Dinner will be ready in about ten more minutes.”

“Want me to set the table?”

“Sure.” She directed him with her eyes. “The plates are in that cupboard there. Silverware in that drawer.”

They didn’t try to talk above the loud sizzling coming from the stove, and that was fine with Charity. She needed to concentrate on the fish. She wanted them to be perfect when they came out of the pan. Silly that it mattered so much to her. She’d cooked for Buck before. The only thing different this time was the location. Her mom’s kitchen instead of Buck’s.

It wasn’t long before they were seated across from each other at the dining room table. Charity bowed her head as Buck prayed over the meal, and she couldn’t help noticing how good it felt, listening to him talk to God. After he said, “Amen,” she handed him the platter of fish, followed by the bowl of vegetables.

When Buck took his first bite, he made a sound of appreciation and grinned at her. “Your mom would be proud.”

Charity felt a blush rise in her cheeks.

He changed the subject. Perhaps he took pity on her. “I’m taking some Ultimate Adventures guests on a trail ride tomorrow.”

“You’ll be back to work so soon?”

He nodded. “It’ll be a repeat of the ride you and I did on Friday. Hey, you wouldn’t care to join us, would you?”

She almost said yes. She wanted to. Really wanted to. “Sorry. I can’t.” Before she could stop herself, she added, “Perhaps some other time.”

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” The warm look in his eyes promised he meant it.

It was nice to have Buck Malone for a friend. He’d said that’s what they were. And a girl couldn’t have too many friends. Right?

Chapter 18

A
LEC
C
ONNORS SHOOK
B
UCK
’
S HAND
. “T
HANKS FOR
a great day. I’m a history lover, so I’ve got to say this ride topped even the whitewater rafting. Will I be able to find books about the gold rush and McHenry in the bookstore I saw in town?”

“I’m sure Heather—she’s the owner of Heather Books—has a good selection on the history of these mountains and the Boise Basin gold rush,” Buck answered. “Zeb McHenry gets a mention in some of the history books, but I don’t think anybody’s ever written a whole book about him.”

“You ought to do it. You’re a natural storyteller.”

Buck laughed. “I’ve got a neighbor who’s a writer, but I doubt I’ll ever be one. I like horses more than words.” He patted the side of the horse trailer for emphasis. “If you go to the bookstore, tell Heather I sent you.”

“I will. In fact, I think I’ll drive into Kings Meadow today and check it out.”

Other members of the party came over to thank Buck for the trip before walking away from the trailers.

“Well,” Chet said when it was just the two of them, “you were a hit.”

Buck turned to face him. “More like the horses and scenery were a hit. Didn’t hurt that Mr. Connors is a school teacher and loved learning something new.”

Chet opened the back of one of the trailers and unloaded the first horse. “Hope you like telling your stories, because I’m sure you and the trail rides are going to get rave reviews on the Web site. All of the guests will be wanting the same experience from here on out.”

“Wouldn’t mind it.” Buck led a second horse away from the trailer. “Enjoyed myself, more than I thought I would.”

Chet’s youngest son, Pete, showed up to help, and it didn’t take long for the three of them to unload the remainder of the Leonard stock from the two trailers. When only Buck’s gelding remained, he closed the back of his four-horse trailer and got into his truck.

Chet came to the door of the cab. “We’ve got more guests arriving tomorrow. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know when we’ll need you next.”

“Okay.”

Buck turned the key in the ignition as Chet took a step back. With a wave, Buck pulled on out. He left the windows down, the hot summer air blowing in as the truck rolled along the two-lane highway toward home. It felt good to be working again. And if Chet’s ideas panned out, the work would keep Buck busy almost full-time.

“Thanks, Lord,” he said softly.

His thoughts veered to Charity. Not a surprise. He’d thought of her often during the ride today. As he’d pointed things out to the guests or shared a bit of history, he’d pictured Charity on the day of their ride to the same location, along that same trail. He’d heard her voice, pictured her smile. He’d remembered her reaction to the Riverton estate, and he’d felt again the desire to take care of her, to shelter her, to be there for her when she needed him.

He wanted her to need him.

Am
I
falling in love with her?

He tested the words in his heart, rolled them around in his mind.

Have I
already
fallen?

He couldn’t be sure. He’d never been in love with a woman before. For years he’d been too busy caring for his dad and then his mom, working overtime, working more than one job. Later, when it was just himself to look out for, he hadn’t wanted a serious relationship. He’d never let himself consider something more.

Now he was considering it.

It wasn’t in Buck’s nature to quit without giving his all. He owed it to himself—maybe he owed it to Charity too—to see where his feelings might lead.

“I have to find out,” he whispered, the words whisked away by the wind.

C
HARITY PUT DOWN THE PEN AND CLOSED THE JOURNAL
. Then she reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes.

Soul searching was an exhausting endeavor. Self-analysis
seemed never ending. She’d done so much of it over the past year. But the events and emotions of recent weeks had finally convinced her that she needed to dig ever deeper. That’s what she’d tried to do today. She’d tried to bare her soul in the pages of the journal.

It had surprised her when she began writing about the day she’d realized she was pregnant. It was shocking to see those words upon the page, black ink on off-white paper, detailing the emotions that had overtaken her on that cold February afternoon. The same emotions overwhelmed her now.

There was a quote she’d seen on the Internet that said, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” If that was true, Charity was sicker than she wanted to be, sicker than she was willing to remain. And that was a step in the right direction.

After sitting a moment, thinking it through, she reached for the telephone. She needed to make a call now before she lost her nerve. Drawing a deep breath, she punched in her sister’s number.

Terri answered before the second ring. “Hey, Charity.”

“Hi, Terri.”

“I’m glad you called. We haven’t talked since we were there for the weekend.”

“I know. I’ve been writing a lot.”

Terri sighed. “Aren’t you ever going to listen to me? You need to get out more often. It isn’t good for you to shut yourself up the way you do.”

“I have to shut myself away. I’ve got a deadline.”

“But you aren’t dead yet.”

This wasn’t going the direction Charity had planned. “Terri, I need a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“I called because I need to tell you something. I need you to listen until I’m all done talking. No comments. No gasps. Nothing but silence. Do you think you can do that for me?”

There was a long pause, then, “I’ll promise to do my best.”

“Thank you.”
But how do I begin?
She searched for the right words. “Something happened to me when I was at BSU. In the winter, just before I turned twenty. I know that seems a long time ago, but sometimes, to me, it’s like it’s happened again and again.”

She drew a quick breath and continued. The words came slowly at first. She stumbled a few times and had to go back and fill in the gaps. But the more she talked, the faster the words came until they were pouring out of her, like water over a spillway.

Until now, no one but Charity and Jon Riverton had known what happened that night in his bedroom in the mansion. Only she had known how her alcohol haze had made the room spin, how she’d had no strength to resist his forceful seduction. She’d been a naïve, inexperienced virgin, unprepared for what was about to happen, too gullible for words, too eager to please. She told her sister everything—her failure to scream, to refuse, the copious tears she’d wept when it was over, how violated she’d felt, the guilt that took hold, the callous way Jon had put her in a chauffeured automobile and had her driven back to Boise. Already discarded.

And then she told Terri about the pregnancy, about Jon’s threats—frightening and detailed—of what he would do if she told anyone. Particularly if she told his father. The pressure he’d exerted to force her to have an abortion. The hatred
she’d felt—for him, for herself, even for the baby inside of her—as she counted down the months, waiting for the ordeal to be over. She admitted it all—her deepest, darkest sins, her unending shame.

She held nothing back.

Her sister never made a sound.

At last, Charity’s words dried up. She closed her eyes and waited for a response.

“Oh, Pipsqueak.” Terri’s voice broke over a sob.

Charity had made it through the confession without breaking down, but once she knew her sister wept, her own tears began to flow.

“Finally,” Terri said, “it begins to make sense. Why you didn’t like to come home. You didn’t want to run into him. You didn’t want to be reminded.”

A lump formed in Charity’s throat.

“What I wouldn’t do if I could get my hands on him. I’m glad his life caught up with him. I hope he’s miserable, wherever he is now.”

She almost smiled at the big-sister response.

Terri was silent for a few moments. Then, in a more determined tone than before, she said, “I’m not going to give you a sermon or a pep talk, sis. But I think you need to do a couple of things. First, you need to find a counselor.”