Do you take this rebel - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,41

the sight of Jake sitting side by side with his father could take away the relief she’d felt when the doctor had given his report.

Her mother was going to survive. She had said the words, had tried not to let her faith waver for a single second, but until the surgeon had spoken with such optimism, she hadn’t really dared to believe it.

“You okay?” Cole asked, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

“I am now,” she said. “Thank you for arranging for her to come here.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“But you didn’t have to do it.”

“Yes, I did,” he insisted. “For a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that she’s your mother.”

Cassie refused to let herself read anything at all into that. She was just grateful that everything had turned out as well as it had so far.

“I need to call Stella. If she doesn’t object, I’d like to stay tonight, then Jake and I can go back tomorrow with my mother. If you need to get home, I’m sure Lauren will take the three of us back. She chartered a plane.”

“I’m staying,” Cole said flatly. “I’ve already made arrangements to keep the suite another night. And if the doctor says your mother should have her chemo and radiation here, when the time comes we’ll reserve the suite for as long as necessary.”

Cassie hadn’t even considered what arrangements might have to be made for the follow-up treatments. “Cole, we can’t keep imposing on you like that. I’m sure whatever she needs can be done in Laramie.”

“She’s going to have the best,” he insisted. “We’ll let the doctor decide.”

Because there was no way she could knowingly accept less than the best for her mother, she reluctantly nodded her agreement. She was already in Cole’s debt. It would be foolish to turn down his offer out of stubborn pride.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

“Like I said, I owe you.”

But for what, she wondered. For betraying her? He claimed he hadn’t done that, or hadn’t meant to, at any rate. Even though he knew his father had likely had some hand in it, he still didn’t know the whole truth, that it was his father and her mother who had done the conniving. Would he be so eager to help her mother if he knew that?

She pushed all of that aside when Karen raised a glass in a toast. “To long, healthy lives for all of us and for those we love,” she said.

It was a toast that would come back to haunt them. Three hours later, just as Karen, Lauren, Emma and Gina were about to return to Winding River, a call came that Caleb had collapsed at the ranch. By the time they reached the hospital in Laramie, Karen’s husband was dead of a massive heart attack at thirty-eight.

The next few days passed in a blur. Cassie alternated between caring for her mother and sitting with her friend, whose pale complexion and glassy, dazed eyes were frightening to behold. None of them were able to reach Karen, no matter how they tried.

Karen got through Caleb’s funeral without shedding a single tear. She politely thanked everyone who attended the services, served food to the mourners who visited the ranch, then went about the ranch chores with sporadic surges of frenzied activity, refusing all offers of help. She’d reacted only once—to the arrival of Grady Blackhawk, a man who’d made no secret of the fact he wanted to buy their ranch. Caleb had hated him. Karen had almost lost it when she’d seen him. Cole had escorted him away from the house.

“She can’t go on like this,” Lauren said, watching her worriedly after most of the guests had left.

“She needs to cry, to let it out,” Gina added. Gina had always been the one most in touch with her emotions—the quickest to cry but also the fastest to laugh.

“I think she’s afraid to start,” Cassie said. “I think she’s terrified that once the tears come, she won’t be able to stop. To be honest, I feel that way myself. How could this happen to Caleb? He was so young. A thirty-eight-year-old isn’t supposed to be having a heart attack, much less dying from it. There were so many things they planned to do together. They wanted to start a family. It’s not fair.”

“I feel as if that boy traded his life for mine,” her mother said, her expression gloomy. She had insisted on attending the funeral, then stopping by