A Rancher To Remember. Patricia Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ They whispered when she walked by. It didn’t matter that the rumors weren’t true—they were juicy, so they had spread like wildfire. They had affected the way Olivia saw herself, eroding her sense of self-worth. Just as soon as she and her mother had scraped up enough money for college, she’d left for Montana State University and never looked back.

      The problem was, she felt guilty. She’d had good reason to leave Beaut, but she’d left Brian behind, and she’d always been a little extra protective of him. From where Brian stood, Olivia had abandoned both him and their mom. They hadn’t known she was sick yet, and when Olivia left town she’d thought she had decades left with her mother in her life. And now that she wanted to make up with her brother, he wasn’t interested.

      Still, Brian didn’t know that she might have a solution to their mutual money problem...

      As if on cue, her cell phone rang, and she looked down, hoping to see Brian’s number. It wasn’t—it was the Whites. She sighed and picked up the call.

      “Hello?”

      “Olivia.” It was Irene. “You must have arrived in Beaut by now.”

      “Yes, I’m here,” she said. “I arrived this afternoon.”

      “Have you spoken with Sawyer yet? I mean, I hate to hound you, but Wyatt and I are just sitting here waiting, and the wait is worse than when Wyatt was running for office!” Irene laughed at her own little joke.

      “Right.” Olivia sighed. “Well, I’m going to need a bit of time. As you know, I haven’t been back to town in years, and I cut a lot of ties when I left, so...”

      “Will Sawyer not talk to you?” Irene asked.

      “No, it isn’t that, it’s just... I appreciate that you’re willing to help Brian and me with the hospital debt, and believe me, I don’t want to jeopardize that. But I need to be able to do this in my own way.”

      “We don’t mean to be demanding, but we are offering you a rather large recompense for your time,” Irene said.

      “But it is my time,” Olivia replied, then tried to soften her tone. “I want to help you reconcile with Sawyer—you know that. But this can’t be rushed.”

      “We’d just like a general timeline, so we aren’t jumping at every phone call,” Irene said.

      Was that a reasonable request? Probably, but the situation here in Beaut was not what any of them had anticipated, and Olivia suddenly felt tight-lipped about the details.

      Sawyer was incredibly vulnerable right now, and he’d asked her to help him remember...not to complicate his life further with his late wife’s parents. If they knew he didn’t remember them, they might seize the moment to press him when he had no ammunition to fight back. She couldn’t let that happen. When his memory returned, she could present their case, but until then, she couldn’t take advantage of his weakness for her own gain—or for the Whites’.

      “I’m not playing games. I don’t know how long this will be, but I will call you the second I have news.”

      Irene sighed, then there was the muffled sound of her covering the phone and the murmur of voices. Then she came back on the line. “We appreciate anything you can do on our behalf, Olivia. You’re like a daughter to us.”

      A daughter who had to do them favors to get one in return...but still. They’d kept Olivia close after Mia’s passing, and in a way, it seemed to keep Mia’s memory alive for all of them.

      “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can,” Olivia said. “I promise.”

      After saying goodbye, she hung up the phone, and stared at it in her palm for a moment.

      The Whites wanted results, and they were used to getting them. Wyatt White was a senator, and his wife had been the financial engine behind his political career. They were used to having to wait on results for things like elections, but not being forced to wait by people like Olivia.

      She was putting off the very people who could lift the burden for her and Brian, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do any less.

      Father, guide me, she prayed. She needed God’s blessing more than she needed the Whites’ money.

      * * *

      Coffee had been something familiar—making it, waiting for it, listening to the sound of the burbling coffee maker... And Sawyer had so little that was familiar. Olivia said he used to like his coffee sweet and creamy, so he was giving it a try. He took a sip, and made a face. Too sweet, a bit filmy on his tongue.

      The screen door clattered shut behind Olivia as she came back into the kitchen.

      “Don’t like it?” she asked. “Which one is that?”

      “This is cream and sugar,” he replied, and turned to dump the mugful of coffee down the drain. He poured a fresh mug and took a sip of the black coffee. It tasted fresh, bitter, smooth. “Mmm. Yeah. This is good.”

      Olivia pulled out her phone, glanced down at the screen, and then pocketed it again. She looked distracted, and he felt a wave of misgiving.

      “Are you putting off plans for me?” Sawyer asked.

      “Hmm?”

      “You’re checking your phone,” he said. “If you have stuff to do, I don’t want to keep you here. I know my uncle is worried about me, but I can handle the girls for a while—”

      “No, no,” she said quickly. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

      He didn’t believe that. He might not remember Olivia, but he knew what tension looked like, and she had tension written all over her. It was brought out by baseball and phone calls, apparently.

      “I’m not as helpless as I look,” he said, and he made a point of not touching the bandage on his head.

      “I don’t think you’re helpless,” she said.

      “Sure, you do.” He fixed her with a direct look. “And I might not have my memory, but I’m okay. I don’t want to be your obligation here.”

      “Sawyer, you have a brain injury. You might have all the best of intentions, but you need a little looking after. Sorry to break it to you.”

      A faint smile tickled at the corners of her lips, and he thought he saw some friendly teasing in that gaze. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be spending a few days with this woman. They’d been friends once, apparently, and he could tell what he must have seen in her before. She was likeable.

      When she looked at him like that, he was reminded again of that fragment of memory—the woman in the black coat, how he had put his hand out to touch her. She turned...and he couldn’t remember more than that. Except this time, he recalled snow on the ground—mucky, wet, dirty snow on the edge of a sidewalk. Nothing else. It was frustrating having these little shards of memory that didn’t connect. He needed to find where they fit in.

      And he had already tried doing that sitting inside.

      “Okay, so even if I am recovering here, it doesn’t mean we have to sit in СКАЧАТЬ