Funny how these things worked out, Libby thought. At night, she could see the lights on in the bunkhouse and could imagine the three men under Ernest’s watchful eye, who, surprisingly, had taken a liking to his role as a sort of den mother. The three men liked to keep busy during the day, and Ernest put them to work finishing a third cabin.
The rhythm returned to their days, and while Libby kept busy working on her plan and the race, Sam never left her thoughts. He consumed her, filling her up with worry and regret. She missed him, missed his smile, his easy manner. She missed the way he made her feel—attractive, special . . . like he’d never let her go. She mourned the bond they’d shared, that deep connection to someone in this life who understood the private hell she’d suffered. Libby’s disappointment in herself sickened her—with one single lapse of judgment she had jeopardized the best thing to happen to her. It was real this time, and she’d blown it. She had let him down in the worst way, and in doing so, had let herself down.
Had it not been for Linda Walker, she might have submerged herself in her disappointment and lost herself again. But it was worse than that, so much worse—she couldn’t imagine the depth of Sam’s disappointment. He had been the one to believe in her when no one else would. He had been there for her, propping her up, loving her, and she had let him down. She would never forgive herself if she had somehow compromised his recovery. She wanted to apologize to him, to make him understand how much he meant to her, if that was even possible.
She debated going to see him, but honestly, Libby didn’t know if she could bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. Or worse, that dark, cold look he’d given her the night of the auction. And then again, she feared she would never see him again if she didn’t.
With no clear solution, she just kept working and brooding, and seeing Dr. Walker, looking and hoping for the right answer.
One afternoon, Libby was in the dining room reviewing the information the Veteran’s Administration had sent her about potential grant opportunities when the sound of a vehicle drew her attention. Libby’s heart leapt with hope as it did every time she heard an unfamiliar vehicle on the road: Sam.
She jumped up and hurried to the door. Madeline appeared from the kitchen. “Who’s that?” she asked.
The car that pulled into the drive was not Sam. It was not a car Libby recognized. The driver’s door opened and from it emerged a very thin woman with long, sleek, blond hair. She stepped out of the car and tossed a leather tote bag over her shoulder, and marched around the car and up the stairs. She opened the door to the house and walked in.
“I’m back, bitches,” she said, and moved past a stunned Libby and Madeline into the living room.
Madeline shot an accusing look at Libby. “Am I hallucinating? Or is that Emma?”
“It’s Emma,” Libby said, and followed Emma into the living room. “Emma?”
“What?” Emma said, and flopped down on the couch.
“Don’t you call?” Libby asked. “You just show up without a word of warning?”
Emma’s green-eyed gaze flicked over Libby. “You look like hell. They still calling you crazy in town?”
“How do you know that?” Madeline asked.
“Libby told me,” Emma said, and shifted her gaze to Madeline, giving her the once-over. “For someone who couldn’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge, you’re still hanging around, I see.”
Madeline folded her arms. “I think you mean I’m still being responsible.”
“Nope. That’s not what I meant,” Emma said.
“Wait,” Libby said, throwing up her hands before Emma and Madeline could begin to argue. “Emma, why are you here?”
“Why? I told you I’d come help you.”
“But that was more than a month ago!”
Emma shrugged. “I had some things to do. So when am I going to meet the guy who needs all this fundraising?”
“Who, Leo?” Madeline asked, looking a little horrified.
“Yes, Leo.” Something wasn’t quite right with Emma. She seemed far too casual, and yet, she kept glancing past Libby and out the front windows as if she expected to see someone coming up the drive. “Is he around?”
“No,” Libby said. “He lives in Pine River.”
Emma looked around the room. “Well then, do you have anything to eat?” she asked, and pressed a hand against her concave belly. “It’s a long drive from Los Angeles.”
“You drove from Los Angeles without eating,” Madeline said, her voice full of disbelief.
“I’ll make you something,” Libby said.
“Libby!” Madeline cried. “Emma just waltzes in here without a word and you’re going to cook for her?”
“I didn’t waltz in without a word,” Emma said. “I told Libby I was going to come and help her. So I’m here to help. Try not to get your panties in a wad because, apparently, we’re going to be stuck here together for a little while.”
“Oh no,” Madeline said.
“Oh yes,” Emma said.