three-piece suit was from a battered cowboy hat pushed down low over all-seeing green eyes.
River had always been strong, definitely stronger than her. Because he had stayed, he had taken the good with the bad, raised himself above a truly tragic childhood. Stayed to give back for all he’d been given.
She watched as he lifted his head and saw her sitting on the bench. His step faltered for a moment, and then he walked toward her with his lazy, rolling gait, sat down beside her in the space she’d left for him—on her right, so that he couldn’t see her scar. Not that he could see much more than form and shadow in this spot just out of the reach of any of the vapor lights, but she just felt more comfortable with her left cheek hidden.
“Evening, Sophie. Welcome home,” he said, the sound of his voice soft, smooth. It was a voice that could soothe a frightened horse, spin a young girl wonderful stories of Native American life as it had been before the white man came. A voice that could whisper, “I want you. God, Sophie, how I want you.”
Sophie just nodded, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her suddenly dry mouth. He smelled of soap and shaving cream and something else, something undefinable, but definitely male. All male, all man.
“They were waiting for you up at the house,” he said, leaning back against the side of the stables, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head still bent forward, so that he didn’t bang the rim of his hat against the wall. “Dinner’s up.”
“I know, Riv,” she said, wondering if he could condense his sentences anymore, make them shorter, more clipped. It was as if he didn’t want to talk to her at all. “I asked Inez to save me something in the refrigerator, in case I get hungry later. Riv, why did you tell me to leave?”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Had she gone mad? How could she have asked that?
He didn’t react, didn’t flinch. It was if he’d been expecting the question, maybe waiting for it. Waiting ten years for her to ask.
“It was time for you to go,” he said, taking off his hat and placing it beside him on the bench. “Time for you to grow up, see the world, find out who Sophie Colton was.” He turned toward her and tipped his head as he looked at her in the darkness. “Did you find her, Sophie? Did you like her?”
“I thought I did,” she answered truthfully. “As long as I hated you, I liked myself.”
River chuckled low in his throat. “That’s my Sophie. Give her a good mad, and she can bring the world to its knees.”
She smiled, in spite of herself. “You remember that? You remember how I wanted to conquer the world?”
“Rule the world, I think it was, actually,” River corrected her. “Right after you flew to Mars, cured cancer and invented a pimple cream that really worked—which would have been just before you won the Pulitzer Prize. Yes, I remember. You had big-time dreams, Sophie. Dreams that were a lot bigger than this ranch.”
“I was a kid, Riv,” she shot back angrily. “What the hell did I know about life?”
“Well, Sophie, that’s just it. You didn’t know about life, did you? But you deserved a chance to find out what was out there.”
Sophie sniffed, shook her head. “What’s out there, Riv, is doing homey, tearjerker ads for health insurance companies who withhold treatment to their customers, writing jingles for pimple creams that don’t work…and a world that’s a lot bigger, and stronger, and meaner than I ever could have imagined.” Her voice broke slightly. “It knocked me down, Riv. The world out there knocked me down.”
“And so now you’re home again. Damn, Sophie. How do you sit there looking so comfortable, with your tail tucked between your legs like that?”
She turned sideways on the bench and glared at him. “You son of a— Damn it, Riv, shut up!” How did he do it? How could he make her so mad?
He reached up and scratched at a spot just below his left ear. “Hasn’t worked any miracles for you yet, has it, Soph? Coming home, that is. Joe told me about Meredith’s version of welcoming the prodigal back into the fold this afternoon. Nice. Very nice. Very Meredith.”
“I’m not going to let her get to me,” Sophie declared, trying to believe what she said, trying to tell herself that her mother’s words hadn’t hurt, didn’t still hurt. “She’s sick. Dad says so. The car accident did something—she banged her head, jiggled her brains, shook up her personality. Or maybe it’s…well, maybe it’s the changes. Some women have real problems as they go through menopause.”
“Wrote up a hormone replacement ad for that company of yours, did you?” River said, his even white teeth visible in the soft glow of light as he grinned at her. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could all talk in advertising slogans and actually believe all the promises? A thirty-second fix for everything from bad hair days to world peace, if only you used the right product, picked the right party, whatever. Do you do political ads, Sophie? I’ll bet you do. Making silk purses out of sows’ ears, and then ramming it all down the public’s throat. Very commendable.”
Sophie clenched her hands into fists. “If you’re all done making fun of what I chose to do with my career…?”
“All done? Nope. I’ve got a few more stored away somewhere, but I guess I’ll leave them there for now. But admit it, Sophie, I got your mind off that cheek you were keeping turned away from me until a few moments ago.”
She quickly lifted a hand to her cheek, turned her head. “You never did play fair, did you, Riv?” she asked, staring out into the night, blinking back tears. “I—I didn’t know you were so disappointed in the career I chose.”
“You were going to do the internship at Joe’s place in Texas, then major in Communications at college. Graduate, work at one of the television stations, or do investigative reporting for one of the Colton family newspapers. Be like your dad, one of the few men who have used public office, public responsibility, to really help people. Next thing I heard, you were making up slogans for tartar-reducing toothpaste, earning the big bucks, but selling out all your dreams. Hey, now that’s really making a contribution, isn’t it?”
“You don’t understand,” Sophie told him, once more forgetting about her scar, forgetting to hide that scar from River. “Those were dreams, Riv. Young girl dreams.”
“So you really enjoy your work?”
“Of course I enjoy my work!” Sophie exploded, grabbing at her cane and rising to her feet. “I love what I do!”
“Funny. That’s not what Rand told me.”
Sophie sat down again. “Rand? I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Really? You know, Sophie, you didn’t use to lie to me.”
She bit her bottom lip for a moment, then asked, “What did Rand say?”
“He said that you contacted him just after you and Wallace got engaged, because Wallace wanted the two of you to leave the advertising agency and set up one of your own. He said that you sounded less than enthused, partly because Wallace was talking his expertise and your capital, but also partly because you’d been thinking about getting out of the business.”
“And
