Page 93 of The Wedding Ranch
“Yeah. I like it. A lot.”
“Thanks. Who knows, maybe there’s a little cowgirl in me?” She playfully shrugged.
“Oh, I think there is. I saw you sit that horse.”
“It’s so interesting to me that a manly man with rough edges—well, not rough, but you know what I mean. An outdoorsman. An expert of land and livestock. Cooking the old-fashioned way even. This collection, the artistry of the jewelry and feathers is nice. You’re a multifaceted man.”
She closed her eyes for a second.
“Ryder, I saw the look on your face when you came into the room. We can’t ignore that. I’m talking a mile a minute because I’m uncomfortable. I know you were too.”
“I was.”
“I’m sorry. You’re upset. I didn’t realize…” She stepped back. “I—it just caught my eye. I should’ve asked before I came in here. I can see it’s personal.”
“No. I told you to make yourself at home. How could you have known? I didn’t.” He walked over and put the article in a drawer. “Some things are still so present.”
“I’m sure.” She ran her hand along the top of the glass-topped desk. “How long were you two married?” She hitched a breath. “No. You don’t have to answer that.”
“That’s a fair question. We were married for six years. Doesn’t sound that long, but we dated forever. Local girl. It was hard on the whole town when I lost her.”
Lorri’s lips parted, but she remained silent.
“Our son, Ronnie Dwayne, was the spitting image of her. He was four. They’d gone up to Raleigh to visit a friend. I wasgoing to drive them, but rain had messed up my schedule. She didn’t want to reschedule. It was one night away. They’d planned to be home early on Sunday so we could go to church together.”
He watched her swallow, her eyes glistening.
“They didn’t know what hit them. The man who broadsided them had been drinking all night, and who knows what else. He didn’t even realize what he’d done. He was staggering in the street screaming because my wife wouldn’t get out of the car and talk to him when the police arrested him.”
Lorri stood there shaking her head.
“She was already gone.” He walked a step or two. “These were her things. Most of them. The feathers, the rocks, those are mine, but everything else in here was Valerie’s with the exception of Diane’s old butterfly collections.” His throat tightened. “This room is full of things I loved. Everyone loved Valerie.”
“You must miss them so deeply.”
“I do.”
“It’s yours to hold close.”
He turned his back to her, trying to keep his emotion in check.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light, but so soothing. “If there’s something I can do, or just listen… please let me. I can just be here and not talk at all.”
She would. He believed that. He turned to her. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? Battle scars and all.”
“Yes. We kind of are. Emotional baggage,” she said.
“Whatever name you put to it. It hurts.”
“Right. Why we both just wanted to be friends, for example, and maybe why it seems like so much more already.”
“Doesn’t make much sense from the outside looking in. Might even look downright stupid, but a person has their reasons.”
“I’m so sorry I touched a nerve being in here. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable, much less hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“Should I leave?”
