“Olivia told me that my in-laws thought I wasn’t good enough for their family. Didn’t even come to the wedding, apparently. And they cut Mia off for having married me.” Sawyer paused, swallowed. “So maybe I did have something to prove.”
“Who cares about the opinions of some hoity-toity politician types?” his uncle demanded. “Yes, it got under your skin, but people will have opinions about you. You’ll have a few about them, too. But other people’s ignorant biases don’t have to define you. You need to recover, and you need time with your children. Maybe forgetting a few things is a blessing. Ever thought of that?”
“You said you were the same as me,” Sawyer said irritably.
“I am,” Lloyd replied. “I let other people’s opinions hobble me for decades. And I’m not letting it stop me anymore. I might be late to the dance, but I’m here now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I want a wife,” Lloyd replied. “I might be a lot of things, but I’m still a man. And I want a woman by my side.”
Was that what that long conversation with the woman at the church had been about—another chance at romance?
“Okay...” Sawyer eyed his uncle. There was sympathy in those steel-blue eyes. And wisdom.
“You can change, too,” Lloyd said. “You’ve got a God-given opportunity here to start fresh. Don’t squander it.”
Sawyer looked away from his uncle, frustration rising inside of him.
“I appreciate the warning,” Sawyer said after a moment. “But I need to do something—anything—useful.”
Lloyd heaved a sigh, then looked out the kitchen window. “You see the vegetable garden?”
“Yeah.” He’d seen it. He’d been staring moodily at it for the last few days.
“It needs a good weeding again,” Lloyd said.
Weeding the garden... Not exactly what he’d been thinking of. He’d hoped for something that would take his whole concentration and distract him from the way his mind was still grabbing at elusive memories. When he did retrieve a few, what would he discover? He wanted his past back, his history. But he hadn’t stopped to consider that he’d also be getting his regrets back as well.
Sawyer was silent for a moment, then he rose to his feet, heading for the window. He looked out over the vegetable garden. He could recognize the first sprouts of carrots and lettuce. There were other rows he didn’t know immediately.
“Okay,” Sawyer said. “It’s something.”
Lloyd pulled a bowl from the fridge and put it into the microwave. He punched some buttons and it whirred to life.
Sawyer watched his uncle amble about the kitchen, his mind spinning. He’d assumed that his hard work had meant he was a good man, a worthy man. But he was beginning to see a different side to his past—a different version of the story where his hard work had gotten in the way of his relationships.
“Lloyd, what kind of father was I?” he asked.
Lloyd turned back, then shrugged. “You loved your kids.”
“But?” Sawyer prodded.
“You were a good dad, just busy. Preoccupied.”
“Was I like that in my marriage, too?”
Lloyd sighed. “I’ve never been married, myself, so I’m no expert, and I don’t pretend to be...”
“But Mia and I lived here—”
“In the manager’s house. You and the girls moved up here with me after she died.”
“Okay, but she must have talked to you,” Sawyer said. “Right?”
“She might have mentioned a thing or two,” Lloyd replied.
“Well?” he asked. “What did she say?”
“Instead of facing the stuff you didn’t like to think about, you got it out of your system with ranch work,” Lloyd replied quietly. “I can’t judge. I did the same thing. But I didn’t have a woman at home waiting on me. At least you were working and not out drinking or carousing.”
“She wasn’t quite so happy as a guy might hope.”
“She was lonely,” Lloyd confirmed.
Lloyd turned back as the microwave dinged, and he pulled the bowl out and peeled off the plastic wrap. It was reheated oatmeal, by the smell of it. Lloyd went about doctoring it up with sugar and milk, then took a dribbling bite.
“So, I messed things up,” Sawyer said.
Lloyd looked up. “We all have our hang-ups. You had yours. The past can’t be changed, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it. But right now, those little girls need their dad more than you need to prove yourself to the Whites.”
“Fine.” He could grudgingly see his uncle’s point. Lloyd was only trying to help—he knew that—but there was something fundamental about Sawyer that even erasing his memory didn’t change. Because even knowing that dedicating too much time to work had messed things up with his family didn’t change his rising frustration and his desire to be outside with dirt under his boots and get something done.
Anything.
Work might have been his solace before the accident, but his eagerness to get back to it wasn’t only about proving himself to the in-laws he no longer remembered. Because even without that goading, his gaze kept moving to the window, beyond the fence and to the fields beyond.
He knew where he belonged—out there.
What did that say about him?
The toddlers woke up as soon as Olivia exited the bathroom, and the house appeared to be empty, so she lifted them out of bed, got them changed and dressed into matching jeans and little sweaters, and brought them out to the kitchen. She spotted Sawyer through the kitchen window, a hoe in hand as he bent over the garden bed. He paused, picked something out of the dirt, then tossed it aside onto the grass and continued his hoeing once more.
She watched him for a moment, then looked down at the girls, who were playing with that bucket of toys in the corner.
“Daddy is outside,” Olivia said.
The girls glanced up at her, then turned back to their playing. She opened the side door and went out onto the step where she could see Sawyer bend down again, pick a rock out
