“Montrose?”
“You weren’t the only one to get rip-roaring drunk,” she said. “Tony, too, apparently. After Sam got you upstairs, he went down to the bunkhouse and found Tony, several empty beer bottles, and an empty pill container.”
Libby gasped. “Is he all right?”
“He lived,” Madeline said. “I don’t know what he took, but it wasn’t lethal. Sam rushed him to the hospital in Montrose. Irony of ironies, they are sending him to Mountain View today.”
“Ohmigod.” Libby sank onto a barstool and buried her face in her hands. Tony had seemed so upbeat last week after Justin’s visit. “What happened?”
“Who knows?”
“I should go,” Libby said, her mind racing ahead. She could help Sam, could talk to Tony. “I can help.”
“I don’t think you can, Libby,” Madeline said. “You want my advice?”
“No. No, wait,” Libby said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes. Yes, I want your advice, Madeline. I do.”
Madeline frowned dubiously.
“Look, I’ve managed to screw up maybe the best thing to ever happen to me. I need every piece of advice I can get, if I like it or not.”
Madeline slid off her seat at the bar and picked up her papers. “Okay. If I were you, I’d lay low a couple of days. And then I’d think about getting some help for you, Libby. Remember when you came back from Mountain View, after you’d had all those talks with Dr. Huber? That really seemed to help you to be able to talk about things. I would do that.”
“You’re right,” Libby said. “Good idea.”
“But I would not go and find Sam. Not now.”
Libby could feel her heart begin to split open, a soft tear, spreading like a spiderweb down the center. “Why not?” she asked.
“Because . . .” Madeline glanced heavenward a moment, then at Libby. “You know, I really disappointed Luke one time. Like . . . really let him down. And he told me—Well, he said a lot of things. But basically he said he was in our relationship for the long haul, but he wasn’t in it to be jerked around. I’m guessing the same is true for Sam. I know he is crazy about you. He’s been crazy about you for a long time. But he’s not crazy, if you know what I mean.”
Libby knew exactly what she meant. Sam could be the one for her, but not if she kept stirring up the dust. Even if she didn’t intend to stir the dust, she’d still done it, and the only way to keep that from happening was to stay away from all the Spanglers. “I know what you’re saying is right, Madeline. It’s what I have to do. But I love Alice and Max so much,” she muttered.
“I know,” Madeline said. “Seriously, I know how much you care for them, and how difficult it must have been for you to lose them. I can’t imagine how hard. But Libby . . . if you really love them, you really have to let them go. It must cause them heartache, too. Do you think they want you and their mother and father to be at odds? They will always care about you, but at the rate you’re going, they will end up resenting you. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No,” Libby said wearily. “Of course I don’t.”
Madeline came around the bar and surprised Libby with a sisterly arm around her shoulders. “I’ve been there,” she said to Libby. “I’ve lost people from my life that I loved, and I know how it hurts. Just don’t lose Sam. He’s one of the good guys. Chill out, work on yourself, and my guess is he’ll come around.”
Libby didn’t know if that was true or not.
As the day passed, she waited to hear from him. She kept thinking she’d see his truck driving up the road to the house.
He didn’t come.
So Libby tried to reach Sam by phone. It rolled into voice mail.
That afternoon, Madeline gave Libby a ride into town to get her car, left at the Grizzly Lodge. Libby went inside to speak to Dani.
Dani was busy behind the counter, but in spite of everything that had happened, she still had a smile for Libby.
“How did it go last night?” Libby asked.
“It was great,” Dani said. “We’re halfway to our goal. Leo was very happy. I think it tired him out something awful, but he left with a smile on his face.” She looked slyly at Libby. “Where were you?”
Libby shook her head. “You don’t want to know. Dani . . . I am sorry about yesterday. I thought I was being helpful—”
“Well of course you did, hon. I’m sorry, too. I want to tell Sam that the more I thought about it, the more it seemed it was my idea, but he hasn’t been in.”
Libby could picture him in his work shed, making birdhouses. “It wasn’t your idea, Dani. It was mine. But thanks for trying to help.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll see you.”
The next afternoon, Libby drove to Mountain View to see Tony.
He was sitting on a bed, staring vacantly out the window. “Wow,” Libby said. “You look like hell.”