Lila pulled the knit cap from her head. “Between the long hours at the clinic and adjusting to the new partnership with Whit, the days blurred together. It wasn’t easy at first—I’d expected to take over the clinic myself, not share it with a man who rode in from Texas with his confident swagger and big ideas.”
She twisted a lock of hair. “But over time, we’ve found a rhythm. He challenges me, but he also respects my knowledge and dedication. And despite my best efforts to keep our relationship professional, a deeper friendship formed between us.”
* * *
She let the wind carry the silence between them, as if waiting for a response. Her hands curled around her knees, and she let herself imagine for just a moment that Aaron was sitting beside her, the way he used to, their shoulders touching.
“You’d like him, you know,” she said, smiling to herself. “Whit Calloway. He’s stubborn. Drives me nuts sometimes. Thinks he knows everything. But he’s got a good heart, Aaron. And he keeps showing up for me, even when I push him away.” She swallowed, feeling the lump rise in her throat. “I think I love him. It’s different from the love we shared, but it’s there.”
The admission hung in the air, both terrifying and freeing. She had loved once before, with everything she had, and that love had been stolen from her. Allowing herself to feel it again—well, that was still the scariest thing of all.
But that wasn’t why she was here.
Lila looked down, her fingers tracing the frost-covered edges of the rock. “That’s not why I came up to talk.” She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. “Aaron, Camille’s pregnant.”
Saying it out loud made it even more real. She blinked hard against the sting of tears, shaking her head. “I never saw this coming. One minute, she’s packing for college, planning her future. The next…she’s looking at me with those wide, scared eyes, telling me she’s having a baby.”
She let out a shaky laugh, pressing her fingers against her forehead. “She’s strong, Aaron. You’d be proud of her. She’s got a plan—says she’ll take classes online, finish her degree that way. But I know what she’s giving up.” Lila sighed, her heart aching. “She won’t have the late-night study groups, the rush of walking across campus, the friendships that come from dorm life, the silly midnight runs for coffee and pizza.” Her chest tightened. “She’s trading all of that for diapers and sleepless nights.” She paused. “Somehow, I always wanted her life to be different from mine.”
The wind whistled through the trees, and she shivered, but she didn’t move. “I know she’ll be okay. I know we’ll figure this out. Life seldom goes as planned—I’ve learned that the hard way. I thought I’d never survive losing you. But I did. And now…I’ve found someone else to love.” She glanced toward the sky. “Camille and I can survive this, too.”
She let the weight of what lay ahead settle inside her, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. “Aaron,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know how much pull you have with the guy upstairs, but if you do…you might ask Him to watch over our Camille.”
A sharp gust of wind rushed through the trees, rustling the branches like a whispered answer. Lila closed her eyes, willing her silent message to her late husband upward.
Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, brushing the snow from her jeans. One step at a time, she made her way down the path, back to the life that was still waiting for her. Back to Camille. Back to Whit.
And back to whatever came next.
18
Several weeks had passed since Charlie Grace had agreed to let Treasure Pickers film an episode at the ranch, and the days had been a flurry of preparation. Now, under a bright blue sky, with the last of winter’s grip fading, she worked tirelessly to make the place presentable. The flower beds circling the main house and along the path leading to the barn were beginning to show signs of life, tiny green shoots pressing through the damp soil—glory-of-the-snow and yellow bells, the earliest bloomers in the Tetons. The scent of thawing earth mixed with the crisp mountain air as she scooped mulch from a wheelbarrow, spreading it carefully around the fragile buds.
“Mom, I think I found an old horseshoe!” Jewel’s voice piped up from the other side of the barn. Her ponytail swung behind her as she ran toward her mother, brushing dirt from the rusted metal. “That’s good luck, right?”
Charlie Grace wiped the back of her gloved hand across her forehead and chuckled. “If that were true, this ranch would be the luckiest place in Wyoming. I think we’ve got a dozen of those hanging in the barn already.”
“Make that two dozen,” Aunt Mo called out, carrying a heavy sack of feed toward the chicken coop. “And half of them should’ve been thrown out years ago.”
Clancy sat comfortably in his wheelchair, soaking up the spring sunshine. His face was relaxed, his weathered hands resting on the arms of the chair as he watched them work. He hadn’t said much, just sat quietly, taking it all in.
“Tomorrow’s the big day!” Jewel exclaimed, hopping from one foot to the other. “The TV people will be here!”
Charlie Grace shook her head, dropping another rake of mulch into the flower beds. “I still think this is a waste of their time. They’re not going to find anything valuable.”
Jewel gasped dramatically, planting her hands on her hips. “Mom! It’s like an Easter egg hunt! What if they find treasure?”
Aunt Mo dusted off her hands and nodded. “Exactly. And even if they don’t find anything worth a fortune, we’re getting paid.” She gave Charlie Grace a meaningful look. “That will take a big load off you, dear.”
Charlie Grace sighed, adjusting her stance. “I know. I just don’t want people thinking we’re some gimmicky tourist trap.”
Jewel crossed her arms. “It’s fun, Mom! Not everything has to be so serious.”
“Fun or not,” Aunt Mo added, “this kind of exposure could be good for the guest ranch. People love a story, and this place has plenty of history.”
Charlie Grace opened her mouth to protest when Clancy finally spoke. “She’s right, you know.”
Both women turned to look at him in shock.
