“You’ve never slept with her?” She barked her question.
“No.” He answered immediately with fierceness in his eyes that made Trish rethink her certainty.
“Have you kissed her?”
He stared at her, sucked in a breath and then looked away.
“You have!” There was no way to hide her accusation.
He snapped his attention back to her. “Damn it, Trish. You ran off and left me.”
“No one’s ever done that to you before.” His ego couldn’t take the blow. Or maybe he’d realized he didn’t love her anymore. Whatever the reason, Clay hadn’t tried to mend their marriage. He’d just accepted her decision and let her go.
“No, not really, but that’s not the point. You ran.”
“And you didn’t do a damn thing about it.”
Old feelings of rejection and abandonment had nearly destroyed her. All she’d wanted from him was some sort of halfway valiant effort to get her back. He’d made two phone calls. Two, that hadn’t gotten them anywhere. The sum total of their marriage hadn’t amounted to much. “You couldn’t wait to file for divorce.”
“You played a part in our breakup, in case you’re forgetting.” He sighed. “Either you believe me or you don’t about Suzy. But I wanted a fresh slate before we started working together.”
Trish couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not with this new information that Clay had never admitted to before. “Why did you invite Suzy over that night?”
Clay scrubbed his jaw, his way of stalling for time. “I needed her opinion about something.”
“That’s all?” She would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so darn serious. “That’s what you’re giving me?”
A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “It’s something I wanted to give you—having to do with the Worth family heirloom.”
“The ruby necklace?” Astonished, Trish’s eyes widened. She’d heard tales about the necklace that had been in the family for generations. The ranch had been in the throes of ruination and would have crumbled if not for Chance Worth, Clay’s great-great-great-grandfather. Legend had it the necklace played a vital role in the ranch’s salvation and had brought Lizzie and Chance Worth together over one hundred years ago. Trish had never laid eyes on it. Clay had it locked away in a bank vault for safekeeping.
But none of this made any sense. She and Clay hadn’t been getting along. The last thing he’d do would be to gift a precious piece of family jewelry to a wife he wasn’t sure he wanted, a wife who refused to just have children whenever he snapped his fingers.
“Not the necklace, but a ring I was having made for you that would have matched.”
“Oh.” The confusion rushing through her was powerful and tipped her well-placed conviction on end. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Clay leveled a gaze at her, making sure she understood. “I was royally pissed. Your accusations burned me. You should have known I wouldn’t—”
“How? How would I know that?” Trish wouldn’t back down.
“With you, it was different. I never wanted to marry any of those other women I dated. I married you and I thought you knew what that meant. Trust is trust. Either you have it or you don’t.”
He made it seem so easy, so uncomplicated, yet Trish knew it wasn’t. Having complete faith was something Trish had never been able to master in life. She’d been disappointed too many times to count. Hope did not spring eternal with her. “It’s not always that simple, Clay.”
He squared his shoulders, his voice low, filled with recrimination. “Sometimes it is, Trish.”
Meggie fussed in her crib and began to squirm around. Her baby’s patience was at its limit. She wanted out. Trish went to her. She needed the time to think, to let Clay’s revelation sink in. Not that it mattered anymore. She wasn’t sure she could believe him. And what did that say about their marriage?
She lifted Meggie out of the crib and nestled her to her chest. Meggie settled down, yet Trish had been the one comforted. Just by holding her. Drinking in her sweetness and listening to her little cooing sounds. The chaotic peace the baby lent her was unqualified. “I think we should go.”
Clay looked fit to be tied and unwilling to concede the point. “Let’s get out of here.”
Three
It was nothing short of a miracle.
Clay stopped his truck on a low rise that overlooked Penny’s Song. Trish squinted against the morning glare as they got out of the truck and focused on the little ranch below. A hum of accomplishment and intense pride prickled her senses. She felt the humming clear down to her toes as she leaned on the hood of the car. This had been their dream, together. It wasn’t a facade from an old Western movie set, but the real deal. Their vision had come alive right before her eyes. “Oh, Clay.”
“I know,” he said quietly. Nothing had been resolved between them, not that she expected it, but at least they had this. And it was something. She would have been by his side to see Penny’s Song come to fruition if she’d still been living here. If their marriage hadn’t fallen apart. But that wasn’t what mattered the most to her.
What mattered were the children who would benefit from Penny’s Song. In a small way or maybe even in larger ways, their lives would be forever changed by coming here. They’d have chores and jobs to do. They’d make friends from different parts of the country. They’d feel worthy of good health, working and building their bodies in ways that were natural and God-given.
She thought of her brother and how hard it had been for him after his recovery. When he went back to school, he’d been a fish out of water. He felt out of touch, unable to relate to his friends any longer. His normalcy wasn’t theirs and it had showed. A place like Penny’s Song would have helped him. He would have been with other children who were experiencing the same adjustment in their lives.
“It’s a work in progress,” Clay stated, his voice a deep rasp. “This being the first week and all.”
From this distance, the children looked like miniatures. She saw a few of them near the barn, a few by the corrals, and one little girl chasing a chicken. The buildings were colorful and brightly decorated, yet with an air of authenticity. She made out the general store and the saloon, a place designated for mealtimes. Kids would help set up the dining area, eat there and have KP duty afterward. The bunkhouse was a building set a ways apart, where the children and the counselors, otherwise known as the ranch foremen, would spend their evenings.
“How many are here this week?”
“Eight, so far. Ranging from seven to fourteen years old. Next week, we’ll have a dozen kids.”
Absently, she laid a hand on his forearm, overcome with emotion. Tears welled in her eyes and she fought them valiantly, but she couldn’t shake the notion that the creation of Penny’s Song had been the baby that she and Clay never had, the one thing that they’d both loved from conception. “It’s amazing, Clay.”
His gaze slid to the hand that touched him. She’d overstepped a boundary and was ready to pull her hand away. But he placed his palm over hers and held it there. “Yeah, I can’t deny it’s a good thing.”
“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a second. Comfort seeped in and her heart swelled. There was an overriding sense of peace that crossed between them, much like two parents watching their child take their first steps. They stood together on the hill, looking out at the charitable dude ranch they’d conceived together. For the moment, it felt right.
Meggie grumbled from the car seat, breaking the sacred moment, and Trish left