One time, when she was about fourteen, she’d asked him about Mother. Bridget was in nursing school and Claire had gone on a date with Luke. She and Dad were playing crazy eights at the kitchen table.“We’ve done fine without her,” Dad said curtly. She wanted to tell him then that she wasn’t fine. She wanted a mother, like all her friends had, but it seemed like a mean thing to say. Like Dad wasn’t enough.
“I heard you tell people she passed away,” she said, even though her dad’s face and voice said he was done talking about it. “You tell me not to lie.”
“I say she’s not with us anymore,” he said. “It’s not a lie.” He looked tired, and maybe sad. He put away the cards in the middle of the game and told her to go to bed. Was that why Bridget and Claire never talked about Mother? Because it made Dad sad?
Frannie looked toward their camping spot and saw Vicky and Jerrylynn roasting hot dogs over the fire. Claire and her friend Beth were sitting with the neighbors, eating sandwiches. Frannie had been pretty terrible to Claire since she got to Yellowstone. Just thinking about it felt like a big river rock was sitting in her stomach. She headed toward the campsite. Maybe she should tell Claire she was sorry for being a brat, and then Claire might tell her what was really going on with Red.
Paul was almost done getting the tent up. She gave him the hammer, and Jerrylynn handed her a stick with a hot dog on it. “I saved you one.”
“Thanks.” Frannie was hungry enough to eat a horse. She glanced toward Claire again. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to talk to her sister with all those people around.
Frannie stuck the hot dog into the flames. Vicky passed her a can of beer and started singing “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” Frannie joined in. She would talk to Claire and tell her she was sorry, but not tonight.
Tomorrow was soon enough for all that junk.
chapter 35:BRIDGET
Bridget hung up the telephone and wanted to scream.
Red had it all wrong and it was her fault. Her fault he’d left for a job who-knows-where, and her fault Claire had to rescue Beth Henshaw. Now Red thought Claire had left him when that was nothing close to the truth. She hadn’t been able to explain it all to Red after she heard that click on the party line. She’d bet her bottom dollar it was Pete Henshaw listening in.
Now she had to get to Riverside before Red did something stupid.
She checked the duty roster, then called the upstairs extension. Beckett answered in a sleepy voice. After some begging and promises, Beckett said she’d be down in a few minutes. “Don’t tell Larkin,” Bridget warned. “She’s on the warpath after that fire alarm fiasco.”
If Larkin knew she was leaving the floor without permission, Bridget could kiss her recommendation—and the job at Mayo Clinic—goodbye.
Bridget hung up and pulled open the closet where the nurses and doctors stowed their personal items. Dr. Sampson’s jacket hung on the hanger where he’d exchanged it for his white doctor’s coat. She slipped her hand in the pocket and fished out his keys. His shift wasn’t over for hours, and by that time she’d be back.
She was almost to the front door when a voice as sharp as broken glass stopped her in her tracks. “Reilly, where do you think you’re going?”
Bridget turned around slowly to face Larkin, who stood in the waiting room with a thunderous expression. “I have a family emergency.”
“And you may go when your shift is over, in”—Larkin looked at her watch—“one hour and fifty minutes.”
“Beckett is covering for me,” Bridget offered without much hope.
Larkin stared at Bridget as if daring her to walk out that door.
Bridget wavered, the job at Mayo and her apartment in Rochester teetering on the precipice of Larkin’s disfavor. But Claire... her sister. Her best friend. Bridget had made such a hash of things. Claire had been heartbroken about Red... and what she said about Mother proved just how distraught her sister was. Bridget had to fix this mess. She let out a long breath, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.
The light-green Thunderbird was the only car in the parking lot. She slid into the driver’s seat and stared at the steering wheel for a long moment. She’d seen people drive plenty of times. It couldn’t be that hard. Then why was her heart hammering like she was about to take off in a space rocket?
The key went into the ignition, and she turned it. The engine roared to life. “So far, so good,” she said, putting her trembling hands on the steering wheel. She moved the gearshift into drive and tapped one of the pedals. The car shot forward. She panicked and jammed her foot on the other pedal. The car jerked to a stop. This would work. She’d drive to Riverside, talk to Red, and drive back. She just hoped she wouldn’t meet any other cars on the road.
Five minutes later, the Thunderbird crept out of Mammoth Hot Springs toward Madison Junction. The speedometer said she was going twenty-five miles per hour. That seemed fast, so she let off on the gas a little. The road was—thankfully—almost empty this late at night. The full moon had risen, and the river gleamed in a bright ribbon beside the road as she concentrated on staying in her lane and considered what she would say to Red.
Claire wasn’t leaving him. Whatever was going on between them, they could work it out. She just knew it. Not because of the novels she read where the happy ending was guaranteed, but because she knew Claire.
She pushed down on the gas pedal and the speedometer crept up to thirty.
Claire was the bravest person Bridget had ever known. She’d gone to teachers’ college in Moorhead, then learned to drive so she could teach thirty miles away at Tara School, even though Dad already got a job for her at Willmar Consolidated. But no, she wanted to teach in a one-room schoolhouse and that’s what she did. She braved snowstorms and ice and fought the school board tooth and nail to keep Tara open despite yearly threats to shut it down and bus students to Willmar. Claire Reilly had been a force to reckon with.
But Claire Wilder... Claire Wilder was a wonder.
Not only did she have a baby in this wilderness, she knew how to shoot a gun and fish and even cook wild animals. She rode a horse—a horse!—and did her own laundry and drove a truck.
And Red.
