I hadn't thought about the fact that there were people on vacation and such...I hardly know what a vacation is. forgive me for my pity party.

There is one more chapter after this one that builds on Randi, then Erik will be back...so please be patient.

CHAPTER 7

The banging on the door is what woke her the next morning. It took a few minutes for her thoughts to focus, but she flew from the bed when the knocking became more intrusive and less friendly. Her robe had somehow been cast to the floor during the night; most likely by her tossing and turning. She threw it on and slipped her feet into her flip-flops, hoping that whoever it was would go away before she got there.

She made her way down the long hallway and gasped at her reflection in the large mirror that decorated one of the walls. Her hair was a frightful sight; flaying about as though there was neither rhyme nor reason to it. She threw her arms up in the air in exasperation and rolled her eyes – dreading the idea of anyone seeing her in her current state of disarray.

The banging became more incessant and Randi had the distinct impression that the person doing the banging was becoming very impatient with the lack of response. She sped up a little bit and finally rounded the corner into the kitchen. All she saw was a blond head turned toward away from the door.

When she opened the door, Scott McClintock turned around and narrowed his eyes as he openly displayed his lustful desires. There was not even a hint of a smile on his stern lips, and Randi crossed her arms over her chest to prevent him from gaining any further knowledge of her curves.

"Ms. Willows." He droned with a nod, trying to sound businesslike; but Randi knew his concern – or lack thereof – was forced. She tried to remember what it was she ever saw in this man. He had become a hard, ruthless lawyer in the years that they had been apart. Six years ago, he had been the man of her dreams; slightly above average height, golden blond hair, toned muscles and sculpted features. His drive and ambition had robbed him of his charm, and in its stead there remained only a shell of the young man she had known.

"Scott…" Randi managed, her fingers holding the ends of her robe together "…what brings you here at such an early hour?"

Seeming slightly perturbed at not being asked into the house, Scott opened his leather-bound briefcase and produced a small pile of papers. He took a moment to glance over them and then presented them to her with the flash of greed in his pale blue eyes.

"Your father died owing a considerable amount on his mortgage, Randi; you do not seem to have the means to continue carrying the payments; and after a review of the contract, the bank is under no obligation to extend credit to you."

Yanking the papers from his hand, Randi hid the panic that was constricting her breathing and threatening to send her to the floor to plead on her hands and knees for leniency; hoping to appeal to Scott's humanity. However, his humanity seemed to have disappeared along with his charm. There was not even a semblance of compassion in his ghostly eyes; they seemed so cold that his blood had likely frozen in his veins.

Scott closed his briefcase and stood proudly and arrogantly in front of her with a smug smirk on his face, "You have one month to pay the arrears and come up with an additional twenty percent of the loan balance; than the bank will take your case into consideration." He headed back down the porch steps and then turned back to address her one last time. "Think of the one month as a gift, Randi…they could have already foreclosed." He folded his expensively clad body into his impressive Mercedes-Benz and sped out of the driveway; leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

Randi's first thought was to wad the papers into a big ball and toss them into the trash, but she knew it was a fact she could no longer ignore. How was she going to come up with 536,243.16? The amount was as much out of her reach as a billion dollars would have been. She could possibly come up with the sixteen cents, but even that was doubtful at the moment.

Cody would not wake up for another hour or so, and Randi felt the sickness of desperation and loneliness closing in. She shuffled to the back of the house and opened the door to the observatory, needing to hear the comfort of music. The room was much as it had been for years, the addition of a large full-wall window being the only difference since the house had been built.

The sleek, mahogany, grand piano that her father had purchased for her when things had been better stood majestically in the middle of the room, as though it had been waiting for her return. Randi lifted the cover and stared adoringly at the ivory keys; imagining their cool purity beneath her fingers.

Slipping onto the padded bench with an ease she thought she had forgotten Randi felt the creativity churning within her. Propped on the piano was a book that her mother had loved; songs of the 70's and 80's that she and her husband had danced to for hours on end. Flipping through the pages, Randi felt the tears stinging her eyes as her mother's music notations spoke to her from the page. Seeing her handwriting and remembering the times that she had jotted them down made Randi's heart ache with brutal pain.

Finding her favorite song and positioning her hands, Randi allowed the music to fill her…

"I've been alive forever,
and I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
and I write the songs.

"I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special things.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs."

As Randi played the piano interlude between verses, she pictured her mother's gentle smile warming her from within. There had never been a moment between them that music had not been the focal-point of their discussion or foremost on their minds…it had been what bound them together.

"My home lies deep within you,
and I've got my own place in your soul.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
I'm young again, even though I'm very old.

"I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special things.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs."

Song is "I am Music", by Barry Manilow

Cody padded into the conservatory while still rubbing his eyes, and approached the piano wearily; it had been months since he had heard the familiar sound of it, and Randi was not sure if he liked it or not. She stopped singing and playing and pulled the young boy into her lap for a morning hug.

"Good morning, Cody…how did you sleep?" She asked, hoping he would give her one of his dazzling, impish grins.

He managed a smile, but it was far from a grin. He barely fit on her lap, being only slightly smaller than she was, and Randi laughed when he almost slipped onto the floor from her lap.

"I like the music, Randi…can I play, too?"

They spent the next couple of hours playing different songs and singing at the top of their lungs. Randi knew she had to study the papers that Scott had dropped off, but she avoided them as though they were a death sentence, and spent the day making her little brother smile.

The more she read, the more infuriated she became. The language hardly lent itself to the average person, and Randi considered herself a fairly intelligent person. There was no way on God's green earth that she was going to call Scott and have him explain the terms to her; she would find another lawyer to do the honors.

As night descended on the ranch, Randi could feel the storm approaching before it reached the mountains behind them. She could smell the rain in the air; the crisp, untainted scent of freshness that could only be produced by the forces of nature.

Randi loved storms; the force of the winds and the formations of the clouds had always enthralled her. It was this wide-eyed fascination that enticed her to the front porch. The sky was the oddest shade of lavender/grey; at least, that was the closest Randi could come to describing the color. She pulled her legs up into the wicker rocking chair and wrapped her arms around her knees; slowly and with unease in her heart, she moved her eyes across the beloved land that had meant so much to her father.

Memories flooded her mind; memories of her first horseback ride and the pride she had seen on her father's face when she refused to be beaten by the enormity of the task; memories of the many recitals she had hosted in the conservatory and the way her mother's eyes had filled with joy when she gave a perfect performance; memories of her first date and, subsequently, her first kiss – both happening on the same night and with two different boys.

The force of the memories made her smile, drawing tears to the surface and pain to her heart. How was she ever going to save the ranch? There was no way she could realistically come up with enough money to make the bank demands; absolutely no way. The future had seemed so bright at one time…a time when the ranch had been her father's responsibility and she could enjoy it when she came home on visits; but she would not let it go without a fight, that much was certain.

The rain started slowly, dropping every few milliseconds, and as Randi wrapped her shawl further around her shoulders, she kept her thoughts on the seemingly impossible task before her. As the rain increased and the lightning shot across the sky, she wondered if the Master Designer would bestow upon her the miracle that she so desperately needed.

"I know I'm not the most religious person, Lord…I fail terribly when it comes to church attendance and such…" she knew He was listening within the shattering of the thunder and the crack of the lightening; she could feel Him as sure as if He stood directly in front of her. "…but I know who You are, and I know that You care about what happens to us…" she wiped the tears from her eyes and humbled her heart, "…I'm not going to make empty promises or try to strike a deal with You; I'm sure You get enough of that….just show me the way."

TBC