It was funny how she’d taken to walking in the mornings, going a little farther each day. This morning, like most mornings, the four dogs were quickly behind her, settled into her new routine, their snouts to the trail, their tails high. Although she couldn’t keep their names straight, she had warmed to them, too. They were good companions on chilly spring nights.
Madeline listened to the chatter of birds as she walked. She realized, about halfway up, that she didn’t feel so out of breath as she had when she’d first come to Colorado. It was remarkable, that over the course of a little more than two weeks, she had been transformed. She felt the mountains in her now, felt the pull of them in the mornings, the desire to climb up, to see what nature had to offer. When she’d first arrived, Dani had suggested she would feel that way, and Madeline thought she was crazy. Turns out, she was the crazy one. Who could not feel the allure of this patch of paradise?
But this morning, Madeline felt so empty, too. She truly missed Luke. She missed him standing at the bottom of the trail when she came down, missed him building showers and latrines in tight T-shirts and jeans. She missed the way he smiled at her and the way he made her feel when they made love.
Where was he?
The despair she felt for him was so much more powerful than the despair she’d felt when other people had disappeared from her life. Before, she’d felt lonely and undeserving. This despair was something altogether different; it was abrading, chipping away at her soul. She debated driving by his house and actually inquiring, but then she thought of the conversation between Patti and Marisol, and the talk of Julie Daugherty coming around.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Luke had reconciled with Julie. She would hope that he would mention it, but then again, why would he? Madeline had made it clear—too clear—that this would end. She’d been so fearful of it she had done what she always did and backed too far away. She hadn’t even found the courage to tell him. He must believe she didn’t care.
Madeline was lost in thought when she heard the sound of heavy footfall. She stopped on the trail. The dogs stopped behind her, their snouts in the air. One of them, the big one, turned and ran down the trail.
How interesting, Madeline thought, that she didn’t fear a bear. She felt for her whistle around her neck, but she didn’t lift it to her mouth. She stood on the trail, waiting, listening to the sounds of the thing moving closer. And then, just ahead of her, an elk emerged from the woods. The animal was huge, standing as tall as she. The spread of its horns had to be five feet across. It snorted, lifting its head, and eyed Madeline. The smaller dogs began to bark, but the elk didn’t notice or didn’t care. It dipped its head, sniffed at the ground, then slowly, laboriously, moved on, stepping into the woods on the other side of the trail and disappearing into them.
It felt almost like a dream. A majestic, magnificent creature drifting through her morning, appearing from nowhere, disappearing into nothing.
Just like Luke.
She had the strange urge to run after the beast, to catch it. But she was frozen, looking at the point she’d last seen it, wishing she had done something different, had moved to touch it before it disappeared.
Madeline was so lost in the image of that elk, in missing Luke, that she didn’t at first register the sounds from below. Several moments passed before she recognized her name. Libby was calling her.
The first wave of Johnsons had arrived.
TWENTY-NINE
The first thing Luke noticed was the sign hanging over the entry: WELCOME JOHNSON FAMILY REUNION. He couldn’t miss it—it covered up the HOMECOMING RANCH sign that had hung over the gate for decades. He took a deep breath and drove up the road, over the little bridge and into Tent City, where pads, spaced precisely apart in the meadow, housed tents that looked like red alien pods. There were two RVs parked in the far end of the meadow, too, their awnings already extended. This wasn’t camping. This was pretend camping.
Wandering in and out of the big circus tent erected for their meeting place, were Johnsons in matching red T-shirts that said JOHNSON FAMILY REUNION, THE ROCKIES.
Luke tried not to look at the invasion of tomatoes. It made him feel helpless, and he didn’t need any help in that department—Dan Broadstreet had done a pretty good job of telling him just how helpless he was. “Why are you even here?” Dan Broadstreet had rumbled as he sat with him in his office. “Just this checking in with me is costing you money.”
“Because I need to talk,” Luke said.