The sound of rushing water and the smell of the river found his senses. Reining the bay to the right, he followed the riverbank. The one place he hadn’t visited in too long was his mom’s cottage. Heaven help Wade or Cole if anything had happened to it. It was a small house in the trees, sitting back from the river enough to ensure it never flooded. It was where she’d finally found some peace and maybe a small bit of happiness. It was where, when she’d given up on her husband ever coming home and simply loving her, she had spent the last six or seven years of her life. It was where Chance had found her, her thin body still in the rocking chair, a picture of his father clutched against her breast.
Chance had to wonder if Wade—or Cole—had ever seen their mother break down and openly weep because the man she loved never seemed to have time for her. Never gave her the same consideration he gave to a business associate. Chance damn sure had seen it. He’d sat with her while she’d wiped her tears on more than one occasion. Wade and Cole had been away at school. One time he’d sneaked a phone out of the house and called Wade, telling him their mother was not doing well. He didn’t know what else to say. When Wade finally did return home, his mother had hid her grief well and his eldest brother had looked at him as if he was crazy.
Did Wade never wonder why the little house had been built out here? Had he asked their mother why she’d moved out of the mansion to spend her remaining days on the earth in that cabin? A blanket of panic and misery had fallen over Chance when he’d realized his mother had finally given up. She’d given up on their father. She’d given up on life. She’d never confided in him, but he’d known. Somehow, he’d known. He actually couldn’t remember if their father had come to her funeral. Surely he had. But Chance didn’t recall seeing him there. Or in the house before or after the services. But then, Chance hadn’t looked very hard.
Holly sat by the pool, keeping an eye on Emma as she alternately played and begged to get out of her playpen. She wanted to shred the plants and Holly was having no part of it. She was glad to see Amanda’s car come up the long drive.
“Well, don’t you two ladies look like the privileged elite,” Amanda said as she climbed out of her vehicle. She entered the gate and joined Holly, pulling up a padded lawn chair. “So what happened with the clinic?”
“We don’t know anything yet. The replacement equipment has been ordered and should be delivered today or tomorrow. Kevin is overseeing that. I know how to read a slide under a microscope, but how to connect a microscope to the computer is beyond me.”
“Well, look at it this way. You weren’t going to get any time off for a couple of years. You should make the best of it.”
Holly nodded. “You’re right.”
“And this—” Amanda held out her arms to indicate where they sat “—is not a bad way to start.”
Amanda was right. There was only one main ingredient missing.
“Hi, Emma.” Amanda stood and walked to the playpen, picking up the baby when she raised her arms.
“Don’t let her near the plants. She likes to pick them, which means she will shred every one of them.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you, sweetie?”
“Do at.”
“Where’s the hunk this morning?” Amanda settled back with the baby perched on her lap. “I’ve been dying to ask how it’s been going.”
Before Holly could formulate an answer, one of the Masterses’ housekeeping staff called to her. “Ms. Anderson?” A tall, elderly man accompanied by a postal employee walked toward where they sat.
“Hey, Holly,” Joe Green said. “Chance has a certified letter from the US Department of Defense. Can you sign for it? Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“I don’t even know where he went.” Chance had already been gone when she’d woken up around eight o’clock. She hadn’t knocked on his door, but she felt relatively certain he would have made an appearance by now if he was still around the house. She’d assumed he was down at the barn.
“Commander Masters rode his horse out to see his mother’s house,” the butler said. “I will find someone to take the letter to him. It might be important.”
Holly sent a quick glance to Amanda and received a nod. She held her hand out for the electronic confirmation of receipt. “I’ll take it to him. I know about where his mother’s house is.”
“Sections of the road have flooded in the past. As I understand, even a Jeep can’t travel the old road that Mrs. Masters used to use.”
She nodded and looked at the white envelope in her hands. This was it. This had to be what Chance had been waiting for. A decision had been made as to whether he could return to active duty. She just knew it. Holly was suddenly bombarded with emotions that hit her from every direction. She’d known this was coming. She thought she’d steeled herself from feeling anything other than happy for Chance, but that tiny hole in her heart began to emerge.
She rose from the chair, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. Emma was still contentedly sitting on Amanda’s lap. She gave Emma a big hug and kiss.
“Thanks, Mandy.”
“This is it? He’s leaving?”
Holly glanced at the letter in her hand. “I have no way of knowing for sure, but that would be my guess.”
She ran into the house and changed into jeans and a clean shirt. Her heart was beating as though she’d run a marathon. She grabbed the letter and forced herself to smile as she passed through the flagstone courtyard and waved goodbye to Amanda and Emma. In the barn she went straight for Sin. She wanted a mount she could absolutely trust. Positioning the blanket on his strong back, she threw a Western saddle on top, quickly adjusting it before tightening the cinch. Rather than his eggbutt snaffle bit, she chose a Western headstall from the tack room. The sky was becoming dark and thunder rolled across the sky in the distance. She had no way of knowing what she would face. It was a long ride.
Swinging into the saddle, she headed to the gate that opened to the northern acres. Leaning forward, Sin took the cue and immediately set off in a canter, his dark gray mane and tail flying out behind him.
Chance sat on the front porch of the small cabin as the memories continued to wash over him. It had been so many years ago that he’d stood next to his mother watching as the house was built. He’d sensed something was wrong, but being just a kid he probably wouldn’t have understood it if she’d taken the time to explain it to him. His mother hadn’t lived for riches and social status. She’d lived for the love of her husband. And after waiting for years for him to return that love, she’d finally given up. Who was she to compete with the elation in his face when he had again succeeded in buying out yet another company, increasing both his reputation as a highly successful businessman and his wealth? In Chance’s father’s eyes, nothing could compare with that.
She’d brought to her new house only the things she’d brought into the marriage and not a lot else, other than pictures of her children and a few souvenirs of happier times. She’d loved art. Drawing and painting had been her passion and she was good. Sadly no one had ever seen her talent. Except Chance. He’d asked her once why she didn’t sell her paintings or display them in a gallery. He remembered her sad smile when she’d shrugged and said they were worth something only to those who appreciated art. “I paint them because I enjoy it, not to sell for money,” she’d said. It was years later he’d realized what she meant. They were not Rembrandts or painted by Michelangelo or da Vinci. So in his father’s eyes they had been worthless. The hours she’d spent painting was time forever lost.
The thunder rumbled overhead and Chance noticed the darkening sky. He’d better get back to the ranch. Maybe his commanding officer had returned his phone call. Hell, maybe he’d even called to give Chance some good news. And maybe pigs would start flying tomorrow.
He rose from the small chair and headed around to the back of the house where a small barn and corral had been built. The big bay nickered at him, a clear indication it was ready to go home.
Quickly saddling the horse, he mounted and headed south. He hadn’t gone far when the first drops of rain made a light tapping sound on the brim of his hat. Before he’d gone a mile the rain increased to a steady downpour. He took the gelding into a canter. Rain had never bothered him but the ground was beginning to move—a sure sign of flooding. Just ahead was the river. The water was running fast and rising. He considered the best place to cross and in that moment he saw something at the river’s edge some distance ahead. A gray horse was standing with its front feet in the river, pawing at something in front of him on the ground. As Chance got closer he saw it was a person.
He urged the bay into a flat-out run. The closer he got the more he felt fear. It was a feeling he’d not previously experienced, but there was no shaking it. And the closer he got the worse it grew. It was Holly. He was certain of it. She lay on her stomach, her head toward the rising water. What had happened? Was she alive?