he’d be rich. If he had a nickel for every time he wished she’d wanted more than friendship, he’d be filthy rich. And if Landon had one day to do over, it’d be that day he found her alone in the church and spilled his heart.
He shook his head, tried to stop thinking about the past and instead thought about the lyrics to a contemporary Christian song he’d heard on the radio today when John picked him up from the airport. “You are more than the sum of your past mistakes.” Landon did his best not to show any emotions to the song, but John didn’t miss a beat and wasted no time asking Landon if he was okay after the music ended.
Trademark answer. “I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t. He was still sick about the way he’d left Claremont before, about the way he’d left Georgiana before. But leave it to his brother to give him plenty to keep his mind off the past.
“Listen, I should tell you that the economy has taken its toll on the farm,” John said. “The demand and the price for beef has plummeted the past few years, and I haven’t been able to figure out how to make everything work.”
His brother’s words shocked Landon. The farm was in trouble?
“I didn’t want you to worry about it while you were serving,” John continued, “and I thought I’d get the loans caught up before you got back. But—” he shrugged “—things only got worse.”
“How bad is it?” Landon asked.
“Six months. That’s how long we have. The bank has given us till the spring to turn a profit and bring the mortgage current.”
John’s words still echoed through Landon’s mind as he and Sam made their way through the trails. They couldn’t lose the farm. With their parents gone, the farm was all they had of the past, all they had of the Cutter property, land their family had owned for generations. And this property was amazing. Beautiful and pristine.
Sighing, he focused on enjoying Sam’s smooth gait, the cool afternoon breeze against his face and the scents of hay, sweet feed, alfalfa and leather that blended around the farm, then the equally invigorating smells of cool crisp pine and damp earth as he made his way through the trails. The North Alabama surroundings were vastly different from the dry, dusty air and rancid odors from his time overseas.
But the tangible differences weren’t the biggest contrast to his life overseas and his life at home. His disposition created the biggest difference of all. There he’d felt a continual sense of duty, but here he felt something totally opposite. Freedom, what he’d worked so hard to help maintain over the past eight years. In spite of the financial problems with the farm, he felt free now in the open fields, towering mountains and natural trails, and the beauty of it touched his heart. However, the splendor also reminded him of how he’d hoped to experience this countryside again one day, with Georgiana by his side.
After her wreck way back then, he’d vowed that he would never hurt her again.
He’d enlisted the next day.
Landon shook his head and attempted to shake those thoughts away. “The past is the past,” he muttered. “I need to keep it there.” But that wouldn’t be easy now that he was back home, where memories filled his thoughts with every sight, every sound, every smell.
Sam seemed excited as she deftly maneuvered through the narrow trail, her hooves creating faint crushing sounds against the leaves and pine straw. “You like this as much as you used to, don’t you, girl?” Landon guided her between towering purple rhododendrons and white mountain laurel. Georgiana had loved it when the mountain foliage bloomed. She’d said it was God’s way of reminding you that He created these mountains.
Landon had told himself he would merely ride the Cutter acreage, take in the fields, check out the Charolais cattle and then maybe enjoy a little time by the pond. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t sticking to the family land. Just like Sam, he realized exactly where they were headed, to the same place they always went before life got so complicated. No, Georgiana wasn’t there any longer, and no, they hadn’t even spoken since that awful night so many years ago, but he simply had to see the ridge where they had often sat and talked, where Landon often dreamed he’d kiss the girl he loved.
The flat rock that overlooked the Sanders property showcased the picturesque scene of Georgiana’s family home. It looked exactly the same as it did back then, an almost exact replica of the Cutter farm, with a big two-story log home in the center surrounded by fields and ponds, cattle and horses, and a large Mennonite barn. The only difference, where the Cutter barn was red, the Sanders barn was forest green.
Landon searched the horses in the field for Fallon but didn’t spot Georgiana’s palomino. He wondered if Pete might have bought a horse farm in Tampa and taken Georgiana’s favorite mare. That’s what Landon would have done, if he and Georgiana had married and he’d taken her away from Claremont. Then again, if they’d married they would have stayed in Claremont, close to family and friends.
A movement by the green barn caught Landon’s eye, and he watched as a striking horse sauntered into its paddock. The golden coat, stark white mane and equally white tail gleaming in the twilight gave Landon no doubt that this was Fallon. So Pete hadn’t taken Georgiana’s horse after all. Landon wasn’t surprised Fallon was still at the farm though. Mrs. Sanders would never sell Georgiana’s favorite mare.
He glanced toward the log cabin and thought he saw a shadow pass by one of the windows. Georgiana’s mother lived there alone now, he guessed. Her father had passed away when Landon and Georgiana were seniors in high school, just three years after Landon’s father had died. Landon had gone to the funeral, where Pete had stayed by Georgiana throughout the ceremony and held her while she cried. But that evening, when she wanted to ride the ridge and quietly reflect on her father’s life, Landon was the one by her side. He’d understood what she was going through, having lost his own dad. Even if her father died of a heart attack and his had died in a farming accident, they’d both died way too young. And that night, when she’d sobbed until she fell into an exhausted sleep, Landon had been the one to hold her when she cried.
A few cows lifted their heads to glance toward Fallon as she neighed from her paddock, her long neck stretched as though trying to get the most enjoyment from the setting sun. Landon was so absorbed in watching Georgiana’s horse that he nearly didn’t see the second movement at the barn. But sunlight catching long strawberry-blond hair quickly drew his eye and held him captive.
She wore a green T-shirt, fitted jeans and boots. Her hair, even longer than in high school, was clipped back somehow and formed a red-gold waterfall of curls that fell nearly to her waist. She didn’t readily move away from the barn, but stood nearby staring into the fields, her face tilted toward the sun so that Landon could see her clearly and had no doubt...
Georgiana.
Apparently sensing Landon’s exhilaration, Sam nickered happily, and Georgiana turned and looked directly toward the flat rock, directly toward Landon.
His breath caught in his throat, heart thundered in his chest. How many nights in the heat of turmoil in Afghanistan did he dream of seeing her one more time? And now that the dream was reality, he had no idea what to do. He lifted a hand and knuckled his Stetson. Then he waited, hoped, prayed.
But instead of returning the greeting, she turned away from the mountain and toward the house, where the front door had opened and a young girl scurried down the porch steps. She called something to Georgiana, but Landon couldn’t make out her words. Even from his vantage on the ridge, he could see Georgiana smile, and then he clearly saw the girl, her hair
