Loree Lough - Suddenly Reunited

“’Course I do,” he said, a little rougher than he’d intended.

“When you proposed to me, you said you wanted us to have a family. A big one. You meant it, didn’t you?” she persisted.

Drew had nothing to go on now but blind faith, because she’d already left him, and if not for the concussion, Gabrielle wouldn’t be here now, in his arms, asking him to help her make a baby.

Blind faith.

Lord, he prayed silently, You’ve got to help me out here, ’cause I’m skatin’ on thin ice.

In thirteen years as a writer, Loree Lough has published over thirty inspirational novels for adults and kids, nonfiction books for juveniles, more than two thousand articles and dozens of short stories. She teaches writing and, even off duty, rarely stops talking about it. Loree lives in Maryland with her husband, Larry (who wears earplugs), and a twelve-year-old cat named Mouser (who can’t tell a mouse from a kibble).

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted,

forgiving one another even as God, for Christ’s

sake, hath forgiven you.

—Ephesians 4:32

To Elice and Valerie:

beloved daughters, dear friends.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Gabrielle leaned in close to the horse’s neck, her hair rippling behind her like a cinnamony cape. “C’mon, Triumph,” she said, snapping the reins, “give me all you’ve got.” The animal’s response told her he’d missed their morning runs every bit as much as she had.

Since leaving Drew just over nine months ago, her visits to the Walking C had been rare. If not for love of Triumph—and riding—Gabrielle didn’t think she’d have come back to the ranch.

Ever.

Pounding hooves drummed in harmony to her fast-beating heart. It reminded her of the perfectly syncopated rhythm of parade drums, and she relished each rib-thumping pulsation. The more rigorous and rapid the ride, the more free she felt. If only she could find this kind of freedom on her own two feet.

True to his nature, Drew had not used Triumph to punish her for filing the separation papers. “You’re welcome to come back and ride him any time,” he’d said in his quiet, controlled way. “I promise to make myself scarce when you do.”

Thankfully, he’d usually kept his word. Whether the dust cloud raised when her compact car chugged up the drive was his signal to disappear, or whether one of the hired hands had warned him of her arrival, Gabrielle didn’t know.

But he’d received no such notice of her approach today; if he had, they both would have been spared that awkward, cheek-reddening scene in the barn.

Gabrielle tightened her hold on the reins. “You’d think he would’ve adjusted to the separation by now,” she said into the wind. Triumph’s caramel-colored ears swiveled back at the sound of her voice, but she barely noticed. Gabrielle was far too busy remembering the expressions that flitted across her soon-to-be ex-husband’s face when he looked up from his work and saw her standing in the doorway, bit in one hand, bridle in the other. His whole face lit up with a smile, exactly the way it used to when she carried a glass of lemonade or a sandwich into the barn and insisted he take a much-deserved break. “You’d work straight through from dawn ’til dark if I didn’t insist you stop now and then.” If she had a dollar for every time she’d said that…

That bewildered, little-boy-lost expression had replaced his happy-to-see-her smile. Who’s seeing to it he gets enough rest now that you’re gone? she wondered.

Guilt coursed through her. Without her, it was a sure bet no one was making sure that Drew ate well, that his shirts were pressed, that he rested enough. And even if someone tried, Gabrielle acknowledged, it wasn’t likely that mule-headed man would listen. If he worked himself into an early grave, it was none of her concern. But…who was going to stop him from doing just that, now that she was gone? She’d felt partly to blame for that, just as she felt responsible for the dark stare that replaced his bright smile once his memory kicked in and he realized she was there to ride his horse—not to see him.

Sensing his mistress’s tension, Triumph snorted.

“Sorry, boy. It’s okay.” As though he understood her soft, soothing words, the horse ran a bit faster over the tattered trail, ran at a pace that reminded Gabrielle of the way things had started up between her and Drew….

A year ago May—three short months after meeting him—she’d agreed to become his wife. He’d seemed so sure of himself, saying he’d prayed on it, saying he felt the Lord wanted the two of them together, forever. Gabrielle hadn’t even thought to ask God’s opinion on the subject of marriage; she’d never asked His counsel before.

Gabrielle exhaled a sigh of agitation, and the horse’s ears rotated toward her again. “Don’t pay any attention to me, sweetie.”

“Attention,” she repeated, frowning. She’d studied dozens of women’s magazine articles that listed ways wives could encourage more attention from their husbands. Not one of those articles contained the advice Gabrielle sought: how to dissuade attention. Like when she’d make lasagna, and he’d sweeten the sauce with a teaspoon of sugar.

Life as Drew’s wife hadn’t been perfect, even before that dreadful night, but Gabrielle had never been a quitter. And though she’d never been a dyed-in-the-wool Christian, like Drew, she believed wholeheartedly in the “’til death us do part” vow they’d made at the altar. But since that awful night, whenever sleep eluded her, she’d gone to the window and stared up at the stars, wishing for a way to turn back the clock. Maybe if she could do everything over again, she’d anticipate that he’d go off half-cocked. Maybe then she could act faster…do something to keep Drew from—

Biting back bitter tears of regret, Gabrielle shook her head. There was no point in dwelling on it now. What’s done is done, and there’s no undoing it.

Triumph, reading her turbulent mood, increased his speed. She’d ridden the horse hundreds of times during her marriage to Drew, and had learned to read the animal’s moods well. Riding him was exhilarating, exciting, but he definitely was not a horse for beginners.

Mere days before she left the Walking C Ranch for good, Drew had said, “He’s as stubborn and single-minded as they come. I reckon that’s why you get on so well with him—you’re two of a kind.”

He’d been grinning when he said it, but the smile never quite made it to his eyes. He saw her as stubborn and single-minded, because she didn’t always agree with him. Jaws clamped with determination, she felt her heartbeat accelerate—in response to the wild ride, or because of the testy Wish I’d said this or that retorts pinging in her mind?

The wind whistled past her ears and the rocky trail whizzed by beneath Triumph’s galloping feet. Stubborn? Single-minded? You’re a fine one to talk, Drew Cunningham.

Her father used to call her stubborn, too, every time she disagreed with him. Which happened whenever he got it into his head to move to a new place.