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Chapter 1
Colleen Murphy shivered as the wind swirled around the hem of her black wool dress.
"You should have worn a coat," her mother whispered loudly.
Colleen sighed. She knew her mother was right. Even though the spring sun shone brightly in the almost painfully blue sky, April in Montana was not known for its warm weather. But the only coats she'd managed to unpack in the two months since she'd moved back to Big Timber were her giant down parka she wore to fend off Montana's brutally cold winters, and her Gore-Tex shell, for the snow and sleet on her morning runs.
Either one would have totally ruined the lines of her slim fitting, knee length, little black dress. Call her vain, but since she spent most of her life in nursing scrubs, on the rare occasions she got to dress cute, she made the most of it.
Goosebumps prickled on her forearms, exposed by the three-quarter length of her sleeves. Perhaps it was time to rethink her commitment to fashion. Especially at a funeral, when there were many more important matters to consider.
Oh, Daddy. Tears welled in eyes that felt like they were already swollen shut, and she lifted a Kleenex to her nose.
Father David's words barely registered through the fog in her brain as he read the funeral rites. It all seemed surreal, like a bad dream. If only she could get herself to wake up.
Not that she had any real reason to feel that way. They'd all known Dad didn't have that long. When Colleen had made the decision to move back to Big Timber, it was to help her mother help care for her father, who'd wanted to die at home.
And so he had, three days ago, peacefully in his sleep. Well, as peacefully as someone who was suffering from stage four lung cancer could.
And yet, as expected as it was, his death delivered a blow that had nearly leveled her.
Beside her, her mother let out a soft sob. Colleen's arm instinctively went around her mother's frail shoulders, and encountered her brother Liam's arm as he did the same. She looked over her mother's graying head and met her brother's sharp blue gaze. His eyes were damp, his lips set in a frown that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face.
Her mother swayed a little bit and they both tightened their hold. For all that their father's death had taken a toll on both her and her brother, she knew her grief was nothing compared to what her mother was going through.
Eileen and Bill Murphy had known each other since childhood and married right after they graduated high school. Sensitive, artistic, flighty—all words that could be used to describe her mother. Colleen knew her grandparents were relieved when Eileen married someone as sensible, levelheaded and practical as Bill Murphy.
They perfectly counterbalanced each other's personalities. Mom made sure Dad didn't get so caught up in the daily grind of working in his insurance office in town and managing their twenty-acre spread that he didn't have any fun. And Dad made sure that they had a reasonable standard of living and attended to things like paying the bills and making sure their nearly hundred-year-old ranch house didn't fall apart around their ears.
Now that Dad was gone—no, even before, when he first got sick—Mom had seemed lost, adrift.
Colleen and Liam held tight to her, as though she might blow away with the next gust of wind.
Colleen could relate. In the last year, her life had completely imploded in such a way that she understood how it felt to walk around the house like some skeletal zombie, wondering how this could possibly be her life.
She shoved the thoughts away as her attention was jerked back to her mother, who shuddered violently in her embrace. As her attention once again focused on the proceedings, she immediately realized why.
The shiny wooden casket that held her father's body was being lowered into the ground.
A baseball size knot closed up her throat and fresh tears welled in her eyes at the thought of her father, so tall and quietly strong. All that life force reduced to lifeless flesh being lowered into the ground.
She couldn't stifle the sobs as her mother dropped a handful of dirt onto the casket. She watched as her brother did the same. Then her own hand, with its own handful of dirt. She watched as it opened, releasing the dirt, as though it were some detached limb that belonged to someone else.
Her mother turned into Liam's chest, sobbing as the first shovelfuls of dirt hit the wood. Her father's brother, Uncle Charlie, came over and gave Colleen a tight hug before moving on to her mother. After several minutes he reminded them they needed to form a receiving line.
She and Liam guided their mother away from the grave site to the end of a row of chairs where Dad's sister Margaret was already waiting. Now that they were away from the trees that surrounded his tombstone, the bright sun pierced her eyes.
Was it bad form to wear sunglasses in a funeral receiving line? Her gaze wandered over the cemetery's immaculate grounds to the comically named Crazy Mountains that stood in stunning relief against the sky.
Normally she reveled in the natural beauty of her hometown, but today it felt like an affront.
Then, remembering how much her Dad had hated the gray days of a Montana April when winter and spring seemed to fight for who was boss, she thought maybe the weather was a fitting tribute to her dad's memory.
What followed was a blur of sad faces and whispered condolences. "I'm so sorry for your loss," times one hundred.
Suddenly she found herself gripped in a fierce hug, jarring her from her stupor. "Oh, honey, I know it's so hard, even when you're expecting it."
Colleen's arms instinctively wrapped around the woman's waist when she recognized the voice of Vivian Decker. Vivian and her husband Frank were some of Mom and Dad's closest friends, and Colleen and Liam had gone to school with the Deckers’ three sons starting in kindergarten. Colleen had even dated the youngest, Dylan, although their relationship met a swift, ignominious end when Colleen had barfed all over him the night of their senior prom.
