because they were so far out in the country and maybe Mexico didn’t have the network of physicians and hospitals that America had. In fact, nothing was as he expected it to be. Not even the entrance to the ranch was normal. It looked more like the exterior of a prison, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the fence was electrified and topped with barbed wire. “What the hell? What kind of place is this?”
Brock laughed. “You have no idea what kind of mess you’re embroiled in, do you?”
“Apparently not.” He rolled the window down to get a little breeze in his face. “Care to enlighten me?”
Looking him in the eye, then back to the road, Brock looked dead serious. “You really have no idea?”
“No.”
“Well, let’s wait till we’re in the bar. You’re going to need a drink before you hear what I have to say.”
***
Tebow Ranch
Libby’s hands shook as she carried the packet of photographs. Almost running, she headed up the stairs, going straight for her and Aron’s room. Throwing open the door, she escaped inside, closing it and leaning against it out of breath.
Running her hand over the slick cardboard, she had to decide if she was strong enough to do this. Would it be easier to stick them in a drawer and not look at all, or could she steel herself to gaze at his face? God, she couldn’t not do it. This was Aron on their wedding day.
“I love you so much,” she whispered. Going to the bed where they’d slept, where they’d made love, she crawled up in the middle of it. Then she changed her mind and moved over on his side of the bed, scooting back up to lean on his pillow. Silly her, she hadn’t changed his pillowcase from the last time he’d slept on it. When she’d come back from the Caymans, Libby had been grateful no one had changed the sheets. Oh, she’d washed them since then, switched them out, but not his pillow case. It still smelled like him, his own unique scent of soap, leather and the sweet scent of grass and hay. Burying her head in the soft cotton, she rubbed her cheek against it, pretending it was his shirt and he had his arms wrapped tightly around her body.
A deep, sharp pang of grief dug a gash in her heart. Where was he? The family hadn’t quit looking, but she could tell their faith was starting to falter. How could it not? There had been no trace of him. Oh, plenty of leads, but none of them concrete. None of them had panned out.
A bolt of thunder outside made her jump. The sky had darkened, she could hear the wind blowing. Libby leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. A storm was coming.
Taking a deep breath, she took the package in hand and began to open it. Tugging at the edges, she finally broke the seal. With trembling fingers, she slid the photographs out.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. There they were. Swirls of happiness collided with piercing thorns of regret. There were photos of their rehearsal dinner and the rehearsal itself. Everyone looked so happy. She touched Aron’s face as he handed her the sculpture he’d made for her. She had given him pictures of their unborn babies. And here was one of them dancing. Libby swayed, remembering the sound of the music and how it had felt to be held close to him. He was so big and strong. She knew she was safe with Aron. When she’d been sick, it always seemed to her that if she could just hold on to him, nothing could ever hurt her again.
One by one, she picked up the portraits. They were so wonderful. The photographer had performed miracles with her. She was actually beautiful. But Aron…he looked so incredible. With one finger, she touched his face. They were standing in front of the preacher and he was looking at her with such love in his eyes. She could recall exactly how she felt as she gazed up at him. He had whispered ‘I love you, Libby-mine.’ How lucky she was. And the kiss they shared on their wedding day, she almost swooned at the memory. He had literally picked her up. Her feet
Brock laughed. “You have no idea what kind of mess you’re embroiled in, do you?”
“Apparently not.” He rolled the window down to get a little breeze in his face. “Care to enlighten me?”
Looking him in the eye, then back to the road, Brock looked dead serious. “You really have no idea?”
“No.”
“Well, let’s wait till we’re in the bar. You’re going to need a drink before you hear what I have to say.”
***
Tebow Ranch
Libby’s hands shook as she carried the packet of photographs. Almost running, she headed up the stairs, going straight for her and Aron’s room. Throwing open the door, she escaped inside, closing it and leaning against it out of breath.
Running her hand over the slick cardboard, she had to decide if she was strong enough to do this. Would it be easier to stick them in a drawer and not look at all, or could she steel herself to gaze at his face? God, she couldn’t not do it. This was Aron on their wedding day.
“I love you so much,” she whispered. Going to the bed where they’d slept, where they’d made love, she crawled up in the middle of it. Then she changed her mind and moved over on his side of the bed, scooting back up to lean on his pillow. Silly her, she hadn’t changed his pillowcase from the last time he’d slept on it. When she’d come back from the Caymans, Libby had been grateful no one had changed the sheets. Oh, she’d washed them since then, switched them out, but not his pillow case. It still smelled like him, his own unique scent of soap, leather and the sweet scent of grass and hay. Burying her head in the soft cotton, she rubbed her cheek against it, pretending it was his shirt and he had his arms wrapped tightly around her body.
A deep, sharp pang of grief dug a gash in her heart. Where was he? The family hadn’t quit looking, but she could tell their faith was starting to falter. How could it not? There had been no trace of him. Oh, plenty of leads, but none of them concrete. None of them had panned out.
A bolt of thunder outside made her jump. The sky had darkened, she could hear the wind blowing. Libby leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. A storm was coming.
Taking a deep breath, she took the package in hand and began to open it. Tugging at the edges, she finally broke the seal. With trembling fingers, she slid the photographs out.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. There they were. Swirls of happiness collided with piercing thorns of regret. There were photos of their rehearsal dinner and the rehearsal itself. Everyone looked so happy. She touched Aron’s face as he handed her the sculpture he’d made for her. She had given him pictures of their unborn babies. And here was one of them dancing. Libby swayed, remembering the sound of the music and how it had felt to be held close to him. He was so big and strong. She knew she was safe with Aron. When she’d been sick, it always seemed to her that if she could just hold on to him, nothing could ever hurt her again.
One by one, she picked up the portraits. They were so wonderful. The photographer had performed miracles with her. She was actually beautiful. But Aron…he looked so incredible. With one finger, she touched his face. They were standing in front of the preacher and he was looking at her with such love in his eyes. She could recall exactly how she felt as she gazed up at him. He had whispered ‘I love you, Libby-mine.’ How lucky she was. And the kiss they shared on their wedding day, she almost swooned at the memory. He had literally picked her up. Her feet
Similar Books
