Cash sighed. “We all have our crosses to bear. See the tall, dignified gentleman standing with Hayes Carson and his wife, Minette?”
Merrie and Ren glanced at the sheriff and his wife.
“He’s known far and wide as El Jefe,” Cash whispered. “He runs the biggest drug cartel in the Northern Hemisphere.”
“What?” Ren exclaimed on a laugh. “And you haven’t arrested him?”
“He hasn’t broken the law in Jacobs County,” Cash assured him. “He has a brand-new granddaughter. He’s not risking that for business. Not on this side of the border, at least,” he added, tongue in cheek.
“You never know about people,” Tippy commented. “You look beautiful, Merrie,” she added. “Congratulations. I hope you’ll be as happy as we are.”
“Thanks,” Merrie said softly.
Ren agreed, squeezing Merrie’s hand. “I hope we have fifty years,” he told Merrie. “Maybe more, if we’re lucky.”
She sighed and looked up at him with pure adoration, just as the photographer snapped a photo. It would go into the wedding album as her favorite of them all.
*
REN AND MERRIE stopped by his mother’s house on the way to New York, where they’d catch the plane to Belgium. From there, they’d fly to Casablanca, and then on to Tangier. It would be a long trip, but Merrie and Ren had wanted someplace exotic and memorable. North Africa seemed to be it, for both of them.
Ren’s mother, Retha, was small and delicate, with blond hair and brown eyes. She was so overcome with emotion to find Ren standing in her living room that she almost passed out. Tears formed in her eyes as she approached him.
“It will be all right,” Ren said haltingly, going to take her cold hands in his. “I’ve been doing some research. If it’s confined to that one area,” he said delicately, “it’s almost one hundred percent certain that you’ll recover.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Retha said huskily. She studied his hard, lean face. “You look...different, Ren. It’s been so long.”
“Too long,” Ren replied quietly. “I should have stayed, that Christmas. I did the wrong thing by taking off.”
She managed a smile. “Sometimes God tests us. Everything happens for a reason. I’m just very happy that you came to see me.”
He drew in a long breath. “So am I.”
Retha’s eyes went past him to the pretty blonde woman on her sofa. “And who’s this?” she asked.
“Meredith Grayling Colter. My wife,” he added gently. “We were married this morning in Jacobsville, Texas. That’s where she’s from. She’s an artist.”
“Like me,” Retha said, beaming. She went over to Meredith and hugged her. “I wish you joy and happiness with my son.”
“Thank you,” Merrie said softly. “I’ll take good care of him.”
Retha’s eyes brightened a little too much. She forced a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Merrie pulled her close and hugged her, rocked her while Retha cried. “There, there,” she said softly. “Everything will be all right. I’m so looking forward to having a mother again. I lost mine when I was a child. And you paint, too! I’ve been using your studio at Ren’s ranch.”
Retha pulled back, wiping away tears as she laughed. “Randall told me you have genius in your fingers. He said you paint people as they really are.”
“I guess I do. I love my work.”
Retha touched her soft blond hair. “After raising two boys, I’ll love having a daughter,” she said gently.
Merrie grinned at her.
“When are they doing the surgery?” Ren asked.
Retha winced. “In two weeks. I’m a nervous wreck already. They’ll be doing reconstructive surgery at the same time. I’ll take a long time to recuperate.”
“We’ll be here for the surgery,” he said, glancing at Merrie, who nodded. “You can stay with us at Skyhorn, if you like,” Ren said a little stiffly. “We’ll take care of you.”
Retha was conspicuously surprised. “You...would let me come there?”
“You’re my mother. Of course you can come there. It’s your home, too.”
“It was, once. I’ve made a hash of my life,” Retha said quietly. “I did things the wrong way. But if you can forgive me for hurting you...”
“It’s my place to ask forgiveness,” Ren interrupted. “I hurt you more.”
Retha stared up at his face. “It’s time we both left the past behind us. We have a much happier future to look forward to.”
He smiled gently. “Yes, we do.” He drew her against him and rocked her, quietly, while she wept.
*
IT WAS A long and tiring trip to Tangier. They arrived in the wee hours of the morning. It seemed to take forever to get through passport control and customs. It had been fortunate that Merrie had applied for, and been given, a passport before her father died. Her father had arranged it, because he’d planned to marry her to a cousin of the Middle Eastern prince he’d picked out for Sari.
“We’ll have to walk to Tangier from here,” Merrie said wearily. “There won’t be a cab in sight at this hour of the morning.”
“Yes, there will,” Ren assured her. “Don’t worry.”