Apparently, the gossips had been working Gwyneth, too. Her eyes flashed with an impatience and anger that was new to Tanner. “I’m flattered that you’re interested in my life, Gwynnie.”
“Do not call me ‘Gwynnie.’ I’m not six anymore and I don’t have a crush on you any longer. I’m not interested in anything about you. I just want you out of town. You came back a week ago, and the gossip is already flying. I can’t walk down the street without someone mentioning that you’re back in town and looking at me as if they expect—well, never mind. This is my town. I’ve stayed. I haven’t been heading off for college, or teaching in Kansas City, or traveling around the world in the merchant marine. I’ve stayed right here and took care of Pop and now that he’s gone, I’m running the ranch. It won’t work with the both of us here, not with what everybody knows about—”
“Our marriage? The one that never actually took place?” Tanner fought the stirring of old frustration and anger—a young bridegroom set on his wedding night and a frightened runaway bride made for lasting and ugly memories. He’d never hurt her, never gave her reason to fear—He’d tried for three years while he was teaching in Kansas City to disarm Gwyneth’s fear of him, to make her see how much he loved her. But distance, time and her coldness eventually made him agree to a divorce. At the time, Gwyneth wanted a divorce, rather than an annulment—she couldn’t bear for the town gossips to know that they’d never consummated their marriage, that she was too terrified at the sight of him to—
His stomach clenched as he remembered young Gwyneth’s horrified expression, the way she’d run out of the hotel and home to her father.
Old “Leather” Smith had reveled in proof that he was right, that Tanner wasn’t suitable for his only daughter. Leather hadn’t wanted to give up his daughter, who was also his ranch hand, cook and cleaning woman; the bully had wanted to own Gwyneth, not to free her to a life of her own, and had blocked Tanner’s attempts to win back his wife.
She tensed, then swept her hand aside, dismissing his taunt. “You are going to stay up on that roof until I make you see sense.”
“Oh, really?” Tanner asked before he reached over to an upstairs window and jerked it open. After baring his teeth in a cold smile, Tanner entered the window. With every step down the stairs and out on the porch and around the house, he thought about the woman demanding that he leave Freedom.
When he stood facing Gwyneth—so close he noted that she barely reached his shoulder—he asked the question that had been burning him. “Why did you keep my name, Gwyneth?”
Color rose in her cheeks and her hazel eyes darkened into green as she looked up those inches to meet his gaze. Tanner tensed as her eyes ripped down his six-foot-three body, heated a path across his shoulders and blinked several times at his bare chest. For a heartbeat, her eyes widened in fear, quickly shielded. The shiver that ran down her body was enough to make Tanner clench his fists, slapped by the nightmare of their wedding night. Then she stepped back from him, lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “You know why I kept the Bennett name. I loved Anna, and it kept her close, as though she was the mother I never had. I liked having her name. And an annulment would have…would have created even more gossip.”
“It’s my name, and you took it.” A dark ridge of anger leaped upon Tanner, and he shoved it down, just as he had all those years ago. “Old Leather created plenty of gossip all by himself. My mother didn’t like hearing that I’d mistreated you that night and that you ran back to him to be safe.”
Gwyneth had remained his wife, in his heart, for years, and now that same tearing away of his heart began, just looking at her.
“Your mother called him out one night and stuck a berry pie in his hand. Whatever she said to him made him angry and made him stop those rumors. He ate the pie, but he wasn’t happy. He respected her…everyone did. She came to see him as he was dying and helped me with the funeral six years ago.” Her gaze shifted to the lily of the valley bed that would soon bloom. “I’m sorry about Pop’s stories. I tried to stop him. Anna knew the truth and she was a good woman. She had a peace that gentled everyone around her.”
“She did at that. She raised Kylie and Miranda and myself without help and was never bitter or afraid. She loved this valley and she brought a good deal of the babies here into the world.” Why had his mother loved the town so deeply? Why had she clung to the traditions begun by those frontier women? What was Anna Bennett’s secret of life, always seeing the good in people where none could be found? Where was the peace she had found? Where was his own?
He had to kill whatever ran through him for his ex-wife. He had to start a new life; he wanted a home and children and peace. Tanner frowned down at Gwyneth, his memories running like scars across his heart because of this woman. She’d colored relationships with other women, ruining them, for he could never find the right taste, or the same fascination.
Gwyneth ran her hand through her cropped hair, spiking it and sunlight danced across the tips. “I saw Kylie and Miranda at the funeral. I was hoping one of them—”
Tanner propped the ladder against the house again. He traced the path of white-rumped antelope leaping from the cattle fields off into the woods. His sisters couldn’t bear to dismantle the house, to take one doily from Anna’s home, and the job was left to him. Tanner had repaired the house since he was twelve, taking the place of his carpenter father in more ways than one. His steadfast, loving mother had been a miracle and a source of strength to those she touched, but not for Anna or anyone else was he moving to Gwyneth’s wishes. “Take your hopes somewhere else,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m ready.”
“You’re not small town makings. You’ve been all over the world. You don’t belong here. I do—” she began firmly.
He noted the tiny gold studs in her ears. She must have defied old Leather; he wouldn’t have liked the “silly beautifications.” A bitter taste of memory tightened Tanner’s mouth. She hadn’t stepped out from Leather’s care years ago, when Tanner had been desperate to reason with her. “You wanted a divorce and not an annulment. I agreed to that farce and that’s the last agreeing I do with you.”
“It is hard, Tanner Bennett, to believe that you are sweet Anna’s son. I’ll be glad when you sell this place and—”
“Don’t count on it,” Tanner said slowly, feeling the burn of old wounds and the need to cut at the woman who had stolen his life, his dreams. He could have tried to fill himself with other dreams, another woman, but life hadn’t turned that way for Tanner Bennett. Within himself, in the deep dark certain truth of his life, he knew that he’d have to find peace as his mother had.
Her eyes widened, sunlight glistening on her lashes. “But at the hardware store, they said that you and your sisters would probably sell. It’s a wonderful house with a few acres. I’d buy it myself, if I could afford it—just because I want to hold Anna close—”
“You think I don’t want to hold my mother close?” he demanded curtly. Tanner didn’t like thinking about another family in Anna’s home, or on her land. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet, the house still filled with her scent and memories squeezing him too hard to move on. He’d come to the funeral and with his sisters sat in Anna’s house later, a part of their lives torn away by death, each feeling guilty for not visiting more. Agreeing to temporarily leave Anna’s home as it was, they each went back to their lives far away.
Now Tanner had come back, needing to find peace with his mother’s passing, and with his life. He remembered all they didn’t have, all that they did have because of Anna’s hard work and her endless patience and love. “She should have had more. Life was too hard for her.”
Gwyneth’s hazel eyes softened, drifting over Anna’s house snuggled into shady trees, herbs and flower beds. “You were there for her, and Kylie and Miranda. Her children were her life.”