Only Yours

Simon reached back and patted the dog. “You’ve earned a romp.”

She pulled off the road and into a makeshift dirt parking lot. After letting Buddy out, she grabbed a blanket from the back and led the way to a meadow.

The sun was warm, the grassy area dotted with small flowers. The hum of insects mingled with birdsongs and the soft breeze. It was a perfect kind of morning in a perfect kind of place. She spread out the blanket and motioned for Simon to sit.

“Tell me about Freddie,” she said when he settled. “How did he get hurt?”

“His father. He cut him. This wasn’t the first time.”

Montana stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Not all parents are like yours. Some have mental or emotional problems. Some are just cruel. Freddie’s father would tie him up and then cut him with a hunting knife. His back, his chest. This is the first time he went to work on his face.”

Her chest was tight and she found it difficult to breathe. Her eyes burned. Rather than give in, she looked past Simon to where Buddy chased a butterfly—for once having fun rather than worrying.

“Why wasn’t Freddie taken away from him before now?”

Simon shrugged. “The kid didn’t say how it happened and he slipped through the cracks.”

“What kind of parent does that?”

“The bad kind. It happens more than you would think.”

Her gaze shifted to his scars as an impossible thought formed. Had one of Simon’s parents been responsible for his burns?

“I can’t believe something like that would happen in Fool’s Gold,” she whispered, because she was too afraid to ask.

“It happens everywhere, but if it makes you feel better, Freddie and his father have only been in town a few months. The E.R. staff figured it out immediately and called social services. Freddie was taken away from his father that day.”

“I’m glad. I hope he’s locked up for a long time.”

“Me, too.”

“I guess you see a lot of awful things.”

“How the wounds happened is sometimes worse than the injury itself.”

“Can you ever forget it? Does the reality haunt you?”

“I’m used to it.”

She was sure that someone in his position would have to find a way to disconnect. To compartmentalize. Still, when he was alone, there must be ghosts.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He sipped his latte, then looked at her over the lid. “You don’t need to know.”

Simon should have looked out of place in his suit slacks and shirt and tie. Instead he was as relaxed as he’d ever appeared. The only place she’d seen him completely comfortable before was the hospital.

“I’m not as innocent as you think,” she told him.

He smiled. “Sure you are. You’re the kind of girl who wants to fall in love.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No.”

Meaning not him. “You’ve never been in love?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why? I’m content.”

“Don’t you want to be happy?”

“Happiness is elusive. My work is enough.”

She knew he was wrong, but didn’t think there was any point in telling him that.

“Why aren’t you married?” he asked.

She took a moment to adjust from interviewer to interviewee. “No one has ever asked. I’ve had a couple of serious boyfriends, but they both left. They weren’t in love with me. I wasn’t…” She shrugged. “I wasn’t enough for them. One cheated and one just broke it off. The last one kept saying I would be ‘perfect’ if I changed my clothing style, or hair cut, or makeup. It was starting to seem like a never ending list of how I could be better.”

She did her best to speak the words as if the truth didn’t hurt her.

“They were fools.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not being polite, Montana. You are the kind of woman men dream about having.”

His statement left her breathless.

“Even you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Especially me.” His gray-green eyes darkened. “If I was looking for something permanent.”

“Right.”

“And you’re the kind of woman who is looking for forever.”

She didn’t want to agree, but couldn’t seem to keep herself from nodding.

“I go to Peru in a few weeks. Then on to somewhere else.” He looked at his coffee, then at her. “I could come back, to visit.”

“But not to stay.”

“No,” he said with finality. “Not to stay.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MONTANA DIDN’T USUALLY attend city council meetings. Her job had never been political. Before working for Max, she’d been a part-time librarian. But Mayor Marsha had asked, so here she was.

The agenda was much as she had expected. Information about road construction—in this case a project funded by the state. A few permit issues. An update on the Summer Festival, only two days away.

Gladys, the city treasurer, turned to Mayor Marsha. “I assume Montana is here to talk about the Dr. Bradley issue.”

“She is.” The mayor smiled at Montana. “How is our project going?”

Montana realized she shouldn’t have been surprised by the shift in topic. If she’d thought about it for even a second, she would have known why she’d been asked to attend. Unfortunately, she went completely blank.

“I, ah, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Is he enjoying Fool’s Gold?” Marsha asked.

“Yes. Everyone has been very welcoming and I think he appreciates that. He’s not much of a joiner, though. I haven’t found that he has any hobbies.”

“He went golfing with Josh and Ethan,” another council member said. “Raoul Moreno joined them for the last nine holes.”

“Do you think he would be impressed by sports celebrities?” Marsha asked earnestly. “Should I suggest Josh and Raoul spend more time with him?”

Montana felt everyone staring at her. She did her best not to squirm. “Not really. He’s not that kind of man. He’s quiet and thoughtful. He only seems comfortable opening up to his patients.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve had sex yet?” Gladys asked.

Heat flared on Montana’s cheeks.

“That is not our business,” Marsha announced firmly. “I asked Montana to be his friend, to show him around town and talk about the benefits of living here. She’s not expected to give her, ahem, all for the sake of the town.”

“In my day we understood a good sacrifice,” Gladys mumbled.

Marsha ignored her. “Montana, do you feel you’re making progress?”

“I don’t know. I’m never sure what he’s thinking.”

The mayor nodded, then the meeting moved on to other topics. When it was over, Mayor Marsha asked her to stay behind.

“Do you know how he got his scars?” the older woman asked when it was just the two of them.

She asked the question in such a way that Montana realized the mayor knew the answer.

Montana shifted in her seat. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Do you want to know?”

The tone was gentle, the expression caring. Mayor Marsha wouldn’t tell her if she didn’t want to know.

Montana nodded.

Marsha slipped on her reading glasses and opened a slim folder in front of her.

“From what I’ve been able to find out, his mother was largely a disinterested parent. There’s no word on Simon’s father. He seems to have disappeared fairly early on. Possibly while she was pregnant. According to the police reports, her boyfriend left because he found Simon…disconcerting.”

Marsha glanced at Montana, looking over her half-glasses. “He was very intelligent, even when he was young. He’d skipped a couple of grades by the time he was eleven and was expected to skip even more.”

Montana gripped the edge of the large conference table. She sensed she was going to need the support.

“When the boyfriend took off, Simon’s mother blamed her son. She pushed him into the fireplace.” Marsha looked up again and removed her glasses. “Obviously we’ve all seen his scars. When he tried to climb out, she pushed him back in. It’s something of a miracle he didn’t die.”

Don’t throw up, Montana told herself as her stomach turned over and over. Don’t think about it and don’t throw up.

Horror swept through her. Her brain flashed to Freddie, whose father had cut him on purpose.

“The neighbors called an ambulance, who in turn called the police. When Simon was taken away, the mother confessed all. She didn’t care if she went to jail. She never wanted to see her son again. As far as she was concerned, Simon had ruined her life.”

The mayor slipped on her glasses and continued to read. “He spent nearly four years in the hospital. There were countless surgeries. Amazingly, he was able to study on his own, without the benefit of much more than a part-time volunteer teacher. He achieved nearly perfect scores on the SAT and ACT tests and was given a full scholarship to Stanford at the age of sixteen. From there he went to UCLA medical school.”

Montana couldn’t listen anymore. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table. “I have to go.”

She grabbed her purse and hurried out of the room. The door to the outside seemed miles away, but finally she made it and was able to breathe again.

This wasn’t happening, she thought, bent over slightly, sucking in air. She didn’t want to know.

But the knowledge couldn’t be unlearned. The reality of Simon’s past horrified her. She’d seen Kalinda’s burns. Simon’s would have been as bad. Maybe worse. She knew they were on his face and went down his neck. They were also on his body, she remembered. He’d told her that.

His mother hadn’t just pushed him into a fire, she’d tried to keep him there. She’d tried to punish or even kill him in one of the worst, most hideously painful ways possible. All the while, Simon would have been screaming, fighting to get out. The one person who was supposed to love him had nearly destroyed him.

She straightened, only to find she was crying. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Tears for the boy who had been brutally disfigured and tears for the man who insisted on living in emotional solitary confinement.

As she brushed her face with her fingers, she drew in a breath. Mayor Marsha had known all this when she’d first approached Montana about helping convince Simon to stay in Fool’s Gold. She’d wisely kept the truth quiet until Montana was ready to handle it.

Whatever her personal feelings for Simon, there was more at stake than her fragile heart. Simon needed to see there were good people in the world, people who cared about each other. She had to find a way to make him want to stay in Fool’s Gold. No matter what.

“TELL ME WHAT YOU LOVE about this,” Nevada said as she pulled weeds from between the roses. “It’s hot and sweaty. You’re digging in the dirt and the roses are attack plants.” She sat back on her heels and studied a new scratch on the side of her arm.

Denise laughed. “You make it sound so unpleasant. I happen to like gardening.”

“I get that. What isn’t clear is why.”

“It relaxes me. And I have something to show for my labor. I can stand back and look at what I’ve accomplished. I don’t get the same satisfaction from things like doing laundry. There will just be more tomorrow.”

“There’ll be more weeds tomorrow, too.”

“You’re missing the spirit of the work,” Denise scolded her.

Denise had been surprised when Nevada had shown up a few minutes ago, claiming to want to spend a little time with her. While she had close relationships with all her children, they seldom stopped by just to catch up. Usually they invited her out to lunch and dinner for that. When one of her children came home, it usually meant there was a problem.

What Denise didn’t know was what Nevada wanted to talk about, but many years of being a mother had taught her patience. Her daughter would tell her when she was ready. Which turned out to be sooner than she had expected.

“I’ve been thinking about my job,” Nevada said a few minutes later. “Ethan’s doing more with his windmills and less construction.”

Ethan had inherited the family business when his father had died. Although the company had focused entirely on home construction and renovation, he’d branched out into wind energy, building windmills in a facility outside of town.

“Are you interested in taking over the building part of the company?” Denise asked. Nevada had studied engineering in college and, when she’d finished her degree, she’d gone to work for her brother.

“Not exactly.” Nevada shifted until she was sitting on the grass. “I need to tell you something, Mom, and I don’t want you to get upset.”

Not words designed to make her relax, Denise thought, also sitting on the grass and taking off her gardening gloves.

“I can’t promise what I’ll feel, but I will do my best not to shriek so loud the neighbors hear.”

Nevada smiled. “I’ll take that.” She drew in a breath. “I’m thinking of changing jobs.”

“You want to do something else at the company?”

Her daughter stared at the grass, then back at her. “No. I want to go work somewhere else.”