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“The same for you, Dr. McGuire?” Joe asked.
She nodded, eager to hear what Vince had to say. In spite of herself she was curious about where he’d been and what he’d done over the past twenty years. Not that he would go into all of that publicly. But she might get a hint.
She was always all nerves before she gave a presentation. She was much better one-on-one, or in a small group. But she did it as a challenge, as she did everything. If she was afraid of something, she knew she had to walk straight toward it and face it. Was that how Vince ran his life, too?
She sensed a confidence about him that had been lacking when he was a teenager. At eighteen he’d stood tall and said what he thought more because of defiance than confidence.
Now, however, he walked up to the podium and gave the group a relaxed smile. After he swiped off his Stetson, he laid it on the counter behind him and ran a hand through his thick black hair.
“I’m Vince Rossi, chief of police of the Sagebrush P.D.” He nodded to the group. “It’s good to see all of you here. I know you’re wondering what I can tell you about your sons and daughters. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Maybe my experience in law enforcement will tell you the pitfalls available to teenagers in a small town, especially when drugs, alcohol and vehicles are involved. If you listen to what I have to say, I promise to answer each and every one of your questions, even if I’m here all night.”
Whether Vince had had psychological training in the method he used to approach the group, Tessa didn’t know. But what he’d said had worked. All gazes were on him. They were attentive, thanks to the promise of individual attention if they needed it. Vince already held them in the palm of his hand.
Unbidden, she thought about his palm. How it had touched her in pleasure and gentleness and teasing. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the portfolio on her lap rather than at Vince. She’d be better off concentrating on his words than on him.
Tessa’s approach, when it was her turn, was altogether different from Vince’s. She spoke as a friend of the family, warning of signs of changes in their children’s personalities, explaining that no child was immune from peer pressure and the need for friends’ approval. After she finished, she assured them she’d also be available to speak to any parent who had concerns.
During the next hour both she and Vince answered questions, gave advice, but mostly listened.
When only a dozen or so parents remained, talking among themselves in small groups, Vince crossed to her. “I’m going to have to face their concerns in another thirteen or fourteen years.” He shook his head. “That makes me want to bury my head in the sand.”
When they’d separated, Vince had buried his head in the sand where she was concerned…where their marriage was concerned. He hadn’t wanted to see how much she loved him…how much she wanted their marriage to work…how sad she was because of the loss of their child. It had been easier for him to walk away.
All these years she’d put the past in a compartment that she’d shut tight. She couldn’t seem to do that tonight, but she was giving it her best shot. She reminded herself just to treat this evening as a professional, not as Vince’s ex-wife. “Drugs and alcohol don’t have to be a rite of passage.”
After their gazes met for a few long moments, Vince remarked, “It’s a shame you’re a pediatrician.”
“Why?”
“Because these parents would all put their kids in your care if you didn’t just treat babies. How long have you been back here?”
“Two years. Since Family Tree opened.”
Suddenly, one of the men who appeared to be a few years older than Vince broke away from another couple and approached Tessa. “Dr. McGuire, I’m Tim Daltry. I know your dad pretty well. He’s letting my son, Ray, work at the ranch after school and weekends to make money for college. Just wanted to let you know how grateful I am for that. He’s paying Ray real good and it’s going to make a difference.”
Tessa had always admired her father’s generosity. He wasn’t public about it, but he did things like this when he could. “If Dad hired your son, I’m sure Ray’s giving him a good day’s work for what he’s getting.”
Always aware of Vince even when she didn’t want to be, she noticed his mouth had gone tight at the mention of her father. She wondered just how deep his resentment ran. She’d had to let go of hers. Everything her father had done had stemmed from his love for her. And although at the time she hadn’t agreed with any of it, her father in essence had proved himself right—because Vince had left. He’d abandoned her to find a life that suited him better.
“Well, I just wanted to introduce myself,” Daltry said. “Give your dad my regards.” His gaze went to Vince. “You gave us a lot to think about. I can’t quite see Chief Farmer ever speaking to a group like this.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Vince replied casually. “But Chief Farmer is planning to come back as soon as he’s recovered. If you want to do more programs like this, you could make the suggestion.”
“Maybe I will. Rumor has it you were a homicide detective in Albuquerque. Is that true?”
“Sure is.”
“What made you come to a town like Sagebrush?”
Tessa could see Daltry was wondering if Vince had gotten into trouble somehow, or been demoted, or been kicked off the force. Everyone liked meaty gossip. She and Vince had been the butt of it twenty years ago. But that had been a long time ago. Some people might remember, others might not. Since she’d returned to Sagebrush, residents here had respected her privacy. But now that Vince was back…
To her surprise, Vince didn’t clam up but was completely forthright with Daltry. “My life changed. I’m a father now, and a homicide detective’s life wasn’t conducive to bringing up a child.”
“But if you’re only here for a few months…” Daltry trailed off.
“I’m just concentrating on what I have to do here, then I’ll look past that.”
It was a smooth answer and one that didn’t tell Tessa anything. Would Vince consider staying in the area? Would he go back to Albuquerque or on to somewhere new? She could easily see that happening.
Mr. Daltry bid them both good-night and followed a few other parents out of the library.
Vince looked over at the principal, who was talking to one lingering parent. Then he checked his watch. “I know it’s getting late and we’ll both be up early, but how would you like to grab a cup of coffee at the diner?”
She couldn’t read his expression or tell anything from his eyes, so she decided to just honestly ask, “Why?”
After studying her for a long moment, he replied, “Because there’s ice between us and I’d like to chip at it a little.”
He was right. She’d thought she’d put the past in the past. But seeing Vince again stirred up old feelings—feelings she’d thought she’d dealt with, feelings that had no place in her life now. If he was going to be in Sagebrush and she was going to run into him, she didn’t want those feelings disrupting her existence. Sure, she had walls up. She’d admit that. But a tête-à-tête with Vince? Sitting across the table from him, gazing into those steel-gray eyes…
Would that make matters better or worse?
For better or worse, for richer or poorer…
Those vows had meant nothing to him. But she didn’t want to hate him. She didn’t want to resent him. She didn’t want to be bitter about what had happened back then. She didn’t want a squall of memories to assault her just from standing close to him.
Closure was what she needed. Facing what she didn’t want to face might do the trick.
“I have time for a cup of…tea,” she substituted. They both used to like rich, dark coffee—decaf for her after she was pregnant—no sugar, no cream. Especially in the morning after making love…
She had shut down memories for years. But tonight she might have to let them rise to the surface so she could move on…so she could prove to herself she was over Vince Rossi for good.
The end-of-May night was wonderfully clear with a bright half-moon and thousands of stars twinkling as Tessa walked beside Vince to the diner. So many stars, so many wishes. She’d stopped wishing on stars when she was eighteen and her dreams had crashed.
Awkward silence wrapped around them with neither of them knowing what to say.
“So much for ice breaking,” Vince said wryly as they approached the diner with its flashing neon sign announcing to the world that the Yellow Rose Diner was open.
“We used to know each other, Vince. We don’t anymore. That’s why it’s hard to talk.”
He stopped before the glass door and didn’t attempt to pull it open. “Are you telling me a former homicide detective and a doctor have nothing in common? We’re people, Tessa. If you pretend I’m a stranger you met at a party, I’ll bet then you’d have something to say.”
“Meaning?” She could feel herself bristling and knew they were off to a difficult start.
Vince blew out a breath. “Meaning you handled that crowd—most of them strangers—tonight like a pro. You didn’t have difficulty speaking to anyone who approached you. So why is it so hard to have a conversation with me?”
There were a thousand answers in her head, beginning with because you left, because you abandoned me, because you didn’t stand up to my father, because you thought I wasn’t worth a fight. But silence seemed to be her best recourse and she stuck to it.
If he’d continued to challenge her, they might have walked away from each other right then and there. But instead of being oppositional, he murmured gently, “Tessa.”
The sound of her name in just that way twisted her heart. She confided, “I guess maybe there’s too much to say and I’m afraid the wrong thing will spill out. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret. And let’s face it, we never just talked about the weather.”
Now when she gazed into his eyes, his were conflicted with memories of everything they’d shared years ago—from dreams and plans to marriage and hopes for their baby.
Breaking eye contact, he opened the door to the diner.
The restaurant was empty but Tessa recognized the waitress wiping down the red counter. “Hi, Mindy.”
“Dr. McGuire! I haven’t seen you for a while.” She cast an assessing glance at Vince, then screwed up her face into an I-think-I-know-you look. “Aren’t you the new chief of police? Rossi, isn’t it? Aren’t you originally from Sagebrush?” She glanced quickly at Tessa and Tessa wondered if Mindy knew their story. But Mindy went on, addressing Vince again. “Dusty was telling me the guys were all nervous when they heard you were coming back, being a homicide detective and all. But he said you weren’t trying to make a whole bunch of changes and you seemed like a right nice guy.”
Vince’s complexion grew a little ruddier. Instead of commenting on what the waitress had said, he motioned to the glass-covered cake dish with its three doughnuts. “So this is where Dusty buys the doughnuts. They’re always gone ten minutes after he brings them in.”
Mindy smiled. “We’ve got the best baked goods in town. I’ve got half an apple pie left and you and Doc McGuire deserve a piece.”
She whispered in an aside to Vince, throwing her chin at Tessa, “The doc gives me samples for my boy when he’s sick, so I can stretch my tips a little further.” Motioning to the table back in the corner, she suggested, “If you two want some privacy, you can have the best table in the house. Tea for you, Doc?”
Tessa nodded.
“Black coffee for you, Chief?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a guess. You look like the type. Just made a new pot.”
Vince waited until Tessa was seated, then pulled out his own chair. After he sat across from her, he shook his head ruefully. “I’d forgotten everyone in this town knows everything about everyone else.”
“You’re a public figure.”
“Not for long.”
He was leaving. She had to remember that.
Swiping off his Stetson, he settled it on one of the chairs. “When I brought Sean in to see you, I forgot to ask for a recommendation for a physical therapist. It’s another two weeks until we see Dr. Rafferty and I want to make sure the exercises I’m doing with him are enough.”
“Unfortunately there aren’t any physical therapy practices in Sagebrush. You’ll have to go to Lubbock.”
“I’ll go wherever I need to go.”
She saw that he would. “I know several good therapists, but let me ask around and I’ll find out who’s best with a child Sean’s age.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Mindy brought their drinks and pie.
Tessa picked up her fork and took a bite, rolling her eyes in obvious pleasure. “This makes up for not eating supper.”
“Did you work late?”
“I always work late. It depends on how long rounds at the hospital take, if I have an emergency, if there’s a problem patient who runs overtime. There are never enough hours in a day.”
They ate in silence for a few moments until Vince asked, “So your dad still raises cutting horses?”
She hadn’t expected the subject of her father to come up again so soon. “He does. He has a manager and a trainer, so he doesn’t do as much of the training as he used to. But he pushes himself to stay moving so his arthritis doesn’t get the best of him.” She took another bite of her pie, though her stomach was churning. “But that isn’t really what you wanted to know, is it? If you want to ask me about him, go ahead.”
He eyed her assessingly. “Does he still control your life?”
Was that what Vince had always thought?
He’d never really understood her relationship with her father. But she wasn’t going to be able to explain it to him over a ten-minute cup of tea. He’d never gotten to know her dad and that had always been part of the problem.
Her father had been protective of her when she was a teenager, afraid Vince would ruin her life. That’s why he’d been opposed to them dating. When they’d married, he’d disowned her, hoping that would bring her to her senses. Instead she’d held on to Vince and the life they could have. Until she’d lost the baby.
A protective urge rose up in her—the urge to protect her dad and to protect herself. It was close to anger, close to rebelliousness, close to all the words she’d never been able to say to Vince because he’d left and hadn’t wanted to hear them. “You said you wanted to chip at the ice walls between us. I don’t think this is the way to do it.”
He leaned away from the table in obvious frustration. “I don’t know how else to say it, Tessa.”
She saw he was being sincere. She matched that sincerity with the truth. “My dad and I are close, but we have separate lives. He respects the decisions I make.”
“Did he ask you to come back to Sagebrush?”
She’d never had a short fuse. In fact, she’d always thought she’d been blessed with an overabundance of the gift of patience. But Vince had always made her question herself and her feelings, what she thought and what she believed. She reacted more strongly whenever she was around him, to him and to everyone else.
She tried to keep her voice steady. “Actually, he didn’t want me to come home. He didn’t think that was good for my career. But he got tossed by a two-year-old horse he was trying to gentle and broke his arm. He could manage. He had help. But when I came home to visit, I could see how he was slowing down. I’d been so focused on med school and residency, my visits had been brief. I took a good look at my life in California and didn’t feel particularly attached. When I heard about the Family Tree Health Center opening, I decided to take the opportunity to come back. Does that answer your question?”
“Not exactly.”
She laid her fork down, most of her pie uneaten. “Well, it’s going to have to do.” She picked up her purse and portfolio. “I’d better be going.”
Vince stood, too.
“You can finish.”
“I’m not letting you walk back to your car alone.”
“This is Sagebrush, Vince.”
“Yes, and I’m the chief of police. I know what goes on here.” He took some bills from his wallet and laid them on the table.
She was going to protest, say she’d pay her half, but the look on his face told her just to head for the door. After a wave at Mindy, she pushed outside. A second later Vince was beside her, silent, not brooding, but definitely pensive.
After half a block he asked, “Did you miss anything about Sagebrush when you were gone?”
A glance at him told her that was a serious question. “I missed the ranch—the horses and cats, and particularly the smells. You know, old wood, saddle leather, sage, brush, the sun heating the damp grass. Mostly I missed riding.”
“You couldn’t find a stable in California?”
“Oh, sure. I went riding a few times. But it wasn’t the same and I simply didn’t have the time. After my shifts, I was dead on my feet. I snatched sleep when I could, studied, and didn’t have much of a life outside of work.”
“Were you in a pediatrics practice out there?”
