Libby’s volunteering for the committee hadn’t been at all like that. “She’s known him a long time,” Sam said, unwilling to discuss Libby in front of Max.
“Hey!” Gwen said. “You should join our committee! We’re going to have a couple of single members.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.
Joining a fundraising committee to meet women was about as enticing as a root canal. “I’m all booked up,” Sam said.
“Oh, sure you are.”
“Mom, let’s go,” Max said, tugging on her hand.
“Yes, we don’t want to be late again,” Gwen said to the boy, and to Sam she said, “Jerry Baylor is the coach, and he does not like tardiness. Think about the committee!” she called over her shoulder as Max dragged her out to her car.
Sam watched Gwen strap Max into his booster seat, and then pull away, headed for the city’s municipal park and soccer fields.
He looked the other way up Main Street, to the UPS store. The red car was gone.
He had a funny feeling. He debated following his instincts, but then again, he had meant what he said—no more hand-holding. He would not be her keeper. He’d done that enough in his life, and it never worked out for anyone.
Sam drove down the road to the turnoff to Homecoming Ranch. But as the clouds seemed to sink lower over the mountains, obliterating the view of the tops, Sam’s resolve seemed to sink, too.
He turned his truck around and headed back to Pine River, cussing at himself the whole way.
SEVENTEEN
Fat, heavy snowflakes were beginning to fall on the soccer field, creating a thin veil between Libby and the little boys running around chasing a soccer ball. Libby tightened her sweater and drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, annoyed with such an early snow.
She could see Ryan from her perch on a bench at the far end of the field. The only reason she knew it was Ryan was because she had seen him drive up in his truck. He was standing behind the fence that served as a backstop when the kids played baseball. His fingers looped into the chain links, just above his head, and he leaned against the fence, watching Max, calling out to him, encouraging him to run or to kick.
Libby tried to spot Gwen or Alice, but couldn’t see them. Generally, Alice was beside the bleachers, practicing her dance steps. Sometimes, she managed to rope in a couple of friends to be her backup dancers, but this afternoon, Libby couldn’t see any girls playing beside the bleachers.
She’d been sitting on the bench for about ten minutes, watching Ryan, watching the big flakes come down, and debating whether or not she should approach him. She didn’t want Gwen to suddenly show up and call the police again. She could just picture Sam’s dark expression that she was even contemplating it, but this was the opportunity Libby had been waiting for, the chance to speak to Ryan alone, to ask him where exactly they stood and if she could see Max and Alice.
Libby stood. She nervously pulled her braid over her shoulder and pulled her sweater together, folding her arms over it. She began to walk around the field toward Ryan.
He didn’t notice her at first. He backed away from the fence, stuffed his hands into his pockets. But then he happened to turn his head, and he smiled.
A ribbon of anticipation ran through Libby. She believed in that moment that it was true—Ryan regretted what he’d done, and she felt an almost euphoric sense of vindication.
And then Ryan’s expression changed. He looked back over his shoulder, and then pointed to the parking lot across the street, gesturing and directing her there. Libby hesitated, but Ryan’s gestures grew urgent.
She changed direction, headed for the parking lot, darting across the street and between two parked trucks. She stepped out from between them and saw Ryan striding toward her.
He looked furious.
“What the hell, Libby?” he demanded, throwing his arms out as he strode closer. “Gwen and Alice are over there,” he said angrily, jabbing at some point over his shoulder. “What if they saw you?”
“I’m sorry, I thought about calling, but I—”
“Calling?” he almost shouted at her.
Libby’s gut turned sour. “I wasn’t going to call you,” she quickly amended. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. But I need to speak to you,” she said, taking a step backward.
Ryan gaped at her incredulously. “Speak to me? You’re not supposed to speak to me!”
A snowflake plopped down on her eye, and Libby brushed it away. The sour feeling was turning nauseous. “I know, but I thought that—”
“You thought what, Libby?” he demanded angrily. “What crazy-ass thing did you think now?”
“Daddy!”
The sound of Alice’s voice startled them both. She was skipping down the parking lot toward them, kicking up snow. Far behind her was Gwen, who was engaged in conversation with two women, and had not, apparently, noticed Libby. Libby reflexively stepped back in between the trucks before Gwen could see her.