leave the farm right now.”
“But you can soon. I’m here now. I’m going to learn everything about raising goats.” Jane sighed. “It’s all right that I’m here, isn’t it?”
Rachel nodded. “It’s your home, too. And I think Dad would be happy that you and the boys are here. He talked about them a lot.”
“I’ve been so… selfish. I should have brought them to see him when he was sick. I just didn’t think he’d… well, I thought he was going to live forever. Nothing is forever. I guess I’ve learned that.”
A rumble sounded from outside. “The bus is here,” Rachel said. “Why don’t you go say hello to your boys. I’ll make something for them to eat. I can’t tell you how much Trevor and Taylor eat. They have a meal when they get home from school and then another after milking is finished and then another before they go to bed.”
Jane stood up. “Well, I’m here and I’m going to start contributing. I’m getting the proceeds from our house to use for child support until their father can start paying. It should keep us going for a while.”
As she watched her sister run out the door, Rachel felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. If Jane was really serious about staying, then Rachel could have her own life and keep her promise to her father. She felt a surge of emotion as she thought of his pride that his grandsons might one day run the farm he’d loved so much.
She walked to the back door and stepped out onto the porch, watching the scene unfold at the end of the driveway. Her sister met the boys with her arms outstretched, then gathered them both into a hug, laughing and crying at the same time.
Rachel felt tears threaten and imagined how it would feel the next time she saw Dermot. Would she throw herself into his arms? Would she cry happy tears? For the first time since he’d left, she’d begun to believe there might be a chance for them.
“Soon,” she murmured. “Soon.”
The boys hurried down the drive, then dropped their backpacks on the porch before heading to the barn, their mother in tow. “Hey, change your clothes before you start working,” Rachel called. “And, Trevor, you need to come in and eat early if you’ve got a game tonight.”
“We just want to show Mom the goats,” Taylor said. “We’ll be right back.”
“Don’t go out into the barnyard with your school shoes,” Rachel warned.
Jane turned and smiled at her, then mouthed a thank-you. She slipped her arms around her sons’ shoulders and headed across the yard to the barn.
Rachel rubbed her arms against the chill in the air, then turned and walked back inside. The responsibility of parenting the boys had injected a lot of worry into her day-to-day life. But now that Jane was here, she could relax a bit.
The experience hadn’t been all that difficult. In fact, she’d been able to see that she might not make a bad parent one day. But part of her success had come from Dermot’s insights. From the moment the boys had arrived on the farm, he’d taken them both under his wing.
She grabbed the bread from the refrigerator and began to assemble three ham sandwiches, the favorite pre-dinner dinner for the boys. They’d find the milk and cookies on their own.
She had an hour before milking, and after that, they’d go into town for Trevor’s football game. Right now, she wanted to curl up in bed and talk to Dermot. She grabbed her laptop from the table, unplugging the power cord.
To her delight, the boys had put in a wireless router to handle the three laptops in the house. It allowed her to talk to Dermot from anywhere, including the barn. Rachel climbed the stairs and shut her bedroom door behind her. Then she opened her laptop and dialed into Dermot’s computer. A few seconds later his face appeared on the screen.
“You’re early,” he said. “Is everything all right?
“It’s fine,” she said. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Are you in your bedroom?” Dermot asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you naked?”
“No,” Rachel said. “But I can take care of that if you want.”
He groaned. “We have to stop with the online sex, sweetheart. It’s making me crazy.”
Rachel smiled. “I thought we were getting rather good at it.”
“It’s not like the real thing,” Dermot replied.
“Why don’t you take off your clothes first,” she said.
“I can’t right now. I’m at the office and I have a meeting in exactly three minutes. But we can make a date for later.”
“I’m going to Trevor’s football game later. And Jane is here now, so I have to get her settled. But I will try.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said. He kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the screen. “Miss you.”
“I miss you more,” Rachel said.
She pressed her fingers to the screen. A moment later, it went black and she sighed softly. How many more nights would she have to spend alone?
DERMOT SAT AT A STOPLIGHT, the Mercedes sedan idling beneath the music coming from the radio. The wipers slapped back and forth in a counter-tempo and he squinted out into the afternoon shower.
His mind flashed back to the rainy afternoons he’d spent on Rachel’s farm, the quiet time making love in her bed while the thunder rumbled outside, the freshened air blowing at the lace curtains in her bedroom.
All of his memories were so clear, so real, that he could almost imagine himself back there. He knew they’d agreed to wait until Christmas before they saw each other again, but every weekend, after every call, he fought the urge to hop on a plane and go visit her.
He couldn’t imagine that she’d be disappointed to see him. They spent every evening on the phone or on video chat, and though it wasn’t even close to being enough, it was all he had for now.
How many nights had he lain awake, thinking about making love to her, reliving every moment they’d spent in each other’s arms. It wasn’t just the miles between them, it was the need to touch her, to reassure himself that she was real, that what they’d shared was real.
He thought that returning to Seattle would help him put his priorities in order. But since he and his brothers had returned, everything had been turned upside down. All four of them had managed to meet women who had changed their lives, but none of them had made a move to leave Seattle for love.
It didn’t help that in the six weeks away, work had piled up and they were busier than they’d ever been. Dermot had three sales trips planned for the next two weeks, all to meet clients who were looking to build a custom yacht.
He used to love his job, the challenge of the sale, the high he got when a client signed on the bottom line and handed over a check for the down payment. And it had been fun to socialize with the rich and famous. It had certainly put him in a
