Danielle Steel - Palomino

The judge arrived half an hour later with the file he had collected from his office on the way, signed several papers, had Sam sign them, the matron witness them; Josh cried, Norm cried, she cried, the judge grinned, and Timmie waved his teddy bear at the judge with a broad grin as they wheeled into the elevator. “So long!” he shouted, and when the doors closed, the judge was laughing and crying too.

“And then I'm going to ride Daisy… and play with my train and my fire engine and-”

“Take a bath,” Sam filled in for him with a grin on the drive back. My God, what a gift they had just given her. She was laughing and giggling almost hysterically, she was so happy, and for the first time since the accident that had killed Jeff and broken Mary Jo's arms and legs, Sam saw Josh laugh. They had already told Timmie about Jeff when he had asked for him, and he had cried for a minute and then nodded.

“Just like Mom…” But he said nothing else about her, and Sam didn't want to press him. She knew from the little that Norm had told her that it had been rough. But now that part of Timmie's life was over, and whatever he remembered in years to come would be counterbalanced by the love she would lavish on him in the time ahead.

She told him about the new children coming in and the garden they were going to plant in the spring, and then she looked at him with a big grin. “And guess what you're going to do in a few weeks.”

“What?” He looked excited, despite the dark circles under his eyes.

“You're going to school.”

“Why?” He looked less than pleased at the thought.

“I just decided.”

“But I didn't before.” It was a whine just like that of any child and she and Josh exchanged a smile.

“That's because before you were special, now you're regular.”

“Can't I be special again?” He looked at her hopefully and she laughed and tucked him under her arm. They were sitting three abreast in the front seat of the big station wagon, with Timmie in the middle.

“You'll always be special, sweetheart. But now we can just live a regular old life. We don't have to worry about you going away, or being taken away, or anything. You can just go to school like the rest of the kids.”

“But I want to stay home with you.”

“You can for a while, but then you've got to go to school. Don't you want to get smart like me and Josh?” She was giggling again, and suddenly Timmie was laughing too, and he groaned at what she had just said.

“You're not smart… you're just my mom now!”

“Thanks a lot!” But it was obvious that the love affair between them was far from over. That afternoon they baked cookies and visited the rest of the kids, and she read him a story before he went to sleep in the room next to hers, and before she had finished it, he was snoring softly. She stayed like that for a long time, just watching him sleep, and touching his hair, and thanking God for bringing him back to her.

It was two weeks later, when he had finally started school and the new arrivals had been admitted and had started to settle down, before Sam got to spend almost a full day in her office. She had worked her way through three stacks of mail, much of it from doctors, and some of it from the East, which was new for her. So far they had only had referrals from western cities.

It was then, as she was putting down the last letter, that she saw him. She happened to glance out her window, and there he was, as he always had been, as tall and as lovely, with his raven-black hair and his broad shoulders and his sharply etched face, and his cowboy hat and his boots… only now she saw that there was a little more salt mixed in with the pepper at his temples, but if anything, it improved his looks, and she caught her breath as she watched him stop and talk to some of the kids. As she watched him she remembered how well he had played Santa. But suddenly she shrank from her office window, pulled down the shade, and called her secretary to her. Her face was flushed and she looked terribly nervous, and she glanced around the room as though she might hide. “Find Josh!” was all she told her. And five minutes later he was in the room. By then, outwardly, she had regained her composure. “Josh, I just saw Tate Jordan.”

“Where?” He looked startled. “Are you sure?” Hell, it had been three years, he must have changed, maybe she had dreamed it.

“I'm sure. He was out in the big yard, talking to some of the kids. I want you to go find him, find out what he wants, and get rid of him. If he wants to see me, tell him I'm not here.”

“Do you think that's fair?” Josh looked at her reproachfully. “His boy just died on the ranch, Sam. It ain't been five weeks, and he's buried out there.” He waved toward the hills. “Don't we at least owe him some time here?”

Sam closed her eyes for an instant and then opened them to look at her old friend. “All right, you're right. Show him Jeff's grave and then please, Josh, get him out of here. There's nothing to see. We sent him all of Jeff's things. There's no reason for him to be here.”

“Maybe he wants to see you, Sam.”

“I don't want to see him.” And then as she saw the look in his eyes she grew fierce and turned her wheelchair to face him. “And don't tell me about fair, dammit. It wasn't fair to walk out on me three years ago. That wasn't fair. Now I don't owe him a damn thing.”

Josh stopped in the doorway for a moment with a look of regret on his face. “The one you owe, Sam, is yourself.” She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she didn't. She sat in her office and waited, she didn't even know for what, but she just sat there, thinking. She wanted him to leave the ranch, to go away again, to leave her alone. It was her life now, he had no right to come back and haunt her. Except that she knew that there was some truth in what Josh had just said. He had a right to see where his son was buried.

Josh came back half an hour later. “I let him ride Sundance to go out and see the boy.”

“Good. Has he left the barn?” Josh nodded. “Then I'll go home. When you see Timmie, tell him I'm there.” But when he got back, he had a riding lesson with some of his friends, and she sat in her house alone, wondering if Tate had left yet. It was so strange knowing that he was so nearby, that if she had wanted to she could have gone out and touched him, or seen him, or talked to him, and she wasn't even sure of what she was afraid of. Her own feelings? What he might say? Maybe she wouldn't feel anything at all if she had a chance to spend some time with him, maybe what had left the wound open for so long was the fact that he had left her without any real explanation and no chance to fight back. It had been like sudden death, with no reprisal, and now, three years later, he was back and there was nothing left to say. Or at least nothing that seemed worth saying, nothing that she would let herself say.