slight flush touched her cheekbones and she looked a little sheepish. “Of course not. I’m a little touchy, okay? Everyone is treating me like I’m going to break at any moment. It’s a bit suffocating.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
She raised an eyebrow and he knew she was right. It had been, from the moment he had said she shouldn’t be mucking out stalls. He’d taken a heavy hand from the start. Well, sue him for being worried about her. “If people are concerned, it’s only because they care about you and don’t want you to do too much, too fast.”
“I know that.”
“You’ve just come home. I’m sure once everyone sees you’re back to your old self, they’ll move on to another topic.” He made his voice sound far more confident than he felt.
Clay knew very well how the gossip in the town worked. There was a flavor of the week and then something newer and juicier came along. Hell, at his age he could hardly go out on a date without the grapevine marrying him off by the next morning. Even his aunt Stacy had gotten in on the needling a bit lately, asking if there was any particular young lady he was interested in. The answer was always an unequivocal no. Not that he would have admitted otherwise if there was someone who caught his eye.
He shut the stall door and latched it. “You were gone the better part of a year,” he said. “You’re still a bit of a mystery to a lot of the people of Larch Valley. It’ll blow over.”
When he turned back, there were tears glimmering in Meg’s eyes. His stomach clenched. He didn’t know how to handle a woman’s tears. Not even a woman like Megan, who he’d known most of his life and who, for the most part, had been just one of the gang. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her cry in his life. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head, and he noticed she bit down on her lip when it started to quiver. Was there something else going on? Worry slid coldly down his spine. He was so not good with this sort of thing. Tears, sickness … these were the kinds of things he normally wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Not even for Meg.
But just as soon as the emotion had bubbled to the surface, she locked it away. “I thought going away and coming back would be easier, but …” The word caught a bit and she took a breath, regaining control. The next sentence came out stronger. “But it’s been more stressful than I expected. I feel like I can’t do anything without being watched and examined, and that’s just by Mom, Dad and Dawson.”
“And now me.”
“I appreciate that you care, Clay …”
But he got the picture. He was in the way. She might have accepted his apology but he suspected what he’d said still stung. Maybe it always would—he hadn’t been kind. He should be relieved. After all, facing a friend with cancer hit a little too close to home for Clay’s comfort. It brought back way too many bad memories. And yet, her veiled dismissal left him with a hollow feeling of disappointment.
“Hint taken.” He pasted on what he figured was a polite enough smile and dusted off his hands, thumping his leather gloves together. “And your stalls are done.”
“Thanks for your help.”
He wasn’t entirely sure if she was sincere. But he knew one thing—she was struggling. She needed her friends to rally around her. “Look, tomorrow night is our regular wing night at the Spur. Why don’t you come out? Have you seen the girls yet?”
She shook her head. Something lit in her eyes that was gratifying to see, instantly followed by indecision. He pressed on. “You know Jen and Lily will be thrilled to see you. And Lucy’s bound to be there with Brody if they can get a sitter.” The circle of friends was tight, and he knew they’d show the support he was reluctant to give, paltry as it was. “Surely a few drinks and hot wings is a good way to start, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know …”
Clay’s worry increased. Meg had never been a party girl, but she wasn’t usually this withdrawn. She’d always sort of been there. Steady as a rock. Ready with a laugh and a smile. He set his shoulders. No disease should be allowed to take that effervescence away from her.
“You think about it,” he said, in a voice that really left no room for refusal. “And if you want a drive, call me. I’ll pick you up on the way by.”
“I’ll think about it,” she replied, but in a small voice that he didn’t like the sound of at all.
He nodded before spinning on his heel.
“Clay?”
He turned back at the sound of her voice. She was standing in the middle of the corridor, her gloved hands resting once again on the top of the shovel. The mishmash of work clothes should have made her unattractive, but she wasn’t. Her skin was glowing in the cold air and her eyes had always been particularly pretty, dark brown and glittering with mischief.
“What about your aunt Stacy?” she called, and Clay finally grinned. The good news about his aunt never failed to bring a smile to his face.
“She’s getting married,” he replied, and with a wave headed out of the barn, back to his truck. “Think about it, huh,” he muttered to himself as he started the engine. He was well aware that Meg’s social life wasn’t any of his business. She was a grown woman, certainly able to take care of herself.
But then he thought about how pale her skin looked and how she seemed to shrink at the idea of going out with friends. She needed a nudge, that was all. Tomorrow night he was stopping to get her whether she liked it or not. It was for her own good.
Yesterday had not been a good day for Clay. The calf had been delivered by cesarean and even then it had not been enough. Clay had held high hopes for this breeding pair and had paid good money for the privilege. Having the calf deliver stillborn put him in a rotten mood. By the time he’d handled things at the barn and showered, wing night was well under way when he’d arrived at the Spur and Saddle. Megan hadn’t shown, either, and by the end of the night he’d been downright grouchy. He’d returned home in an even worse mood and spent a restless night tossing and turning in his bed.
Clay turned into the Briggs farmyard early the next morning with a scowl still on his face. He hadn’t really expected her to come out but he’d hoped the idea of Jen and Lily being there would entice her. She couldn’t stay hidden away forever. She might be back in town but she was still running away from all the people who would support her. Not that it mattered to him personally, he told himself, but the behaviour got his back up. It was weak and selfish to his mind. It reminded him of his mother and that always left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Well, he wasn’t about to confront her today. He had too much weighing on his mind, including talking to Dawson about the upcoming meeting of local ranchers. He was relieved to see her car wasn’t in the driveway. After bungling his apology yesterday he wasn’t in any mood to cross swords. He had enough on his plate.
The barn was empty when he checked so he made his way to the house, his boots crunching on the brittle snow.
He knocked at the back porch, and when there was no answer, tried the knob. He and Dawson had been dashing in and out of each other’s houses since they were old enough to run between farms, and going in to leave a note was common practice. The door was unlocked as usual and he entered the mudroom, removing his boots before
