daily basis, even if Cain had barely grunted when spoken to. He’d never love horses as his father did, but he’d be forever grateful that working at McHuid’s had given him a sense of stability and purpose that those years had otherwise lacked.
As for his mother, while it was possible that she had known Jim Johnson during her marriage to Klaus Wolfram, she’d stayed in Apple Valley throughout Cain’s years in high school, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the upheaval of splitting his time between Frankfort and Apple Valley. She’d quietly made that decision for him. In return, he’d worried her sick half the time and humiliated her with his shenanigans the rest.
He knew it would take a little time, but the way he’d managed to mend his familial relationship with Woodman made Cain long to make things right with his parents too, and maybe even to prove to them that they could be proud of him now.
His father cleared his throat. “You are staying? A little while?”
“For a few weeks, if that’s okay, Pop.”
“And you’ll help? On the farm?” His father’s hopeful smile wasn’t about relief in having help to cover the work—it was about spending time with Cain. He could see it. He knew it was true, and he felt another warm rush of affection for his dad.
“Course, Pop. Whatever you need.”
His father smiled, nodding once, pleased. “I go make the extra bed.” He patted Cain on the shoulder once more before heading back to the second bedroom.
Feeling unusually emotional and not altogether comfortable, he placed the mug on the table beside his father’s reading chair and called, “I’m goin’ for a short walk, Pop. Back soon. Don’t wait up, okay?”
“Ja, Sohn. Lauf herum.”
Go wandering.
Cain left quietly as his father finished making up the spare room, closing the tack room door quietly behind him.
Ten minutes later, he stood with his elbows propped up on one of the many paddock fences, staring off into the night, picturing exactly what lay before him in the darkness, as he’d pictured it a million times from the hull of a ship: the brilliant green of the pastures, Heath and Bit-O-Honey grazing, blue skies, bright sun, and fresh air. He knew the valleys and vales of McHuid’s like the back of his hand and realized how much this farm, which he thought he’d hated, had come to represent home.
Bright lights coming up the driveway disturbed the dark palette of his memories and made him turn. He saw a white SUV moving slowly toward him, and though he didn’t recognize the car, he knew who it was, and every cell in his body braced itself to be in her presence once again.
Cain raised his hand in greeting, and she rumbled to a stop. Praying she wouldn’t mow him down as he crossed in front of her car, he approached her window cautiously, peering inside, and making out her shadowed face.
She lowered the window, and suddenly, after three long years, her face was mere inches from his, and the subtle hint of lemons wafted from the warmth of her car as she raised her eyes to his.
“God,” he hissed as the window finished its descent. He didn’t know how he had expected to feel, but a sucker punch to the lungs about summed it up. He wanted to catch his breath, but he couldn’t, and he wasn’t accustomed to feeling so discomposed around a woman.
Her pink lips were plump and glossy, and her cheekbones high. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore glasses. But behind them her eyes were as deep and dark as they’d ever been, trained, with wariness, on Cain.
“Welcome home,” she said softly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her voice trembled lightly, and it was slightly deeper than it had been three years ago, but otherwise familiar to his ears.
He placed his hands on the windowsill. “Hey, princess.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips tilted up just a hair as she stared back at him, but he would have missed the small smile if he wasn’t watching carefully. Her face adjusted into a scowl a moment later. “Ginger’s good.”
“Yes, she is,” he agreed, smirking at her.
She shook her head, scoffing with annoyance as she broke eye contact with him. “Some things never change.”
Her words bothered him because Cain felt that he’d changed materially in the years he’d been away. “How d’you mean?”