CHAPTER 3

Getting over it was impossible, and getting past it didn't prove much easier, so Cody did the next best thing and pretended. Pretending wasn't so bad, really, and turned out to be surprisingly easy. He kept busy with his work and with a few of those doe-eyed floozies Stella so deplored. He wrote letters home, and in his letters to Stella he was careful to be the same old Billy. Never did he allow his thoughts to rest on her for longer than a moment.

Mostly he traveled. After Christmas the Army sent him off to Montana, and then to Colorado, which was always a favorite. The rest of the winter was passed in the wilds of the Rockies, and when the snow finally began to melt and the air felt just the tiniest bit warmer, he headed back home once more.

It was the anniversary of Jimmy's death.

Jimmy had been buried, according to his wishes, in the Rock Creek cemetery, and both times he'd been home Cody had paid his respects at his friend's grave, but he had always gone alone. Even though he knew the family mourned along with him, he found he was unable to share his own private grief with anyone but Jimmy himself. Not even with Stella did he bare his soul, fearing that to burden her with his own sadness would be more than she could handle. But this time, he knew the family would gather together to mark Jimmy's passing, and the thought gave him a great deal of comfort.

It might have been a somber occasion, but the children running around the homestead with their raucous laughter and wild horseplay saw to it that no one was allowed to dwell too long in sadness. There were noses to be wiped and lectures to be given, and most of all there were fresh young faces lighting the room with their smiles and sweetness, and in between it didn't leave too much time for grief, which they all knew was as it should be.

One year to the day after Jimmy died, the family gathered around his gravestone in the tiny cemetery. They brought flowers and Teaspoon read a poem, but mostly they were just together, quiet and pensive, gathered around Stella, hoping she could draw strength from them when right now she clearly had so very little.

By some unspoken agreement, everyone slowly drifted away, leaving just Cody and Stella. Cody wasn't entirely sure if she knew he was even there. She was staring at Jimmy's grave, and had been for ages. He didn't think she'd broken her gaze even once. But then she spoke.

"I can't believe it's been a whole year. Can you?"

Cody swallowed hard. "No," he said simply.

Her back was still to him, and Cody saw her head sink down, saw her raise a hand to her face as if to wipe away a tear. His heart lurched painfully, and he went to her, putting one hand to her back. As soon as he did, Stella's posture relaxed as if by magic, and she leaned back into his chest and closed her eyes.

"I'm forgetting so much about him," she said, and Cody saw tears slipping from beneath her closed lids, trailing two crooked paths down her pale cheeks. "His voice—I can't remember his voice. Or the way he smelled. I have this shirt of his—the one he loved. You remember it? He wore it all the time."

Cody chuckled. "The blue relic?"

"I forgot you called it that," she said, smiling a little. She turned her head to look at him, and he was startled by the intensity of her eyes behind their sheen of tears. "It doesn't smell like him anymore. I look at his photographs, and I—I remember so many things about him, but all the things I could feel and smell and—and all that's—all that's just…slippin' away from me, and it's like," she stopped and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, "it's like there's nothing there for me. It's like…it's like I got nothing left to hold on to."

The helpless look on her face burned right through Cody, and unable to stop himself, he burst out, "I'm here. You can hold on to me."

Stella made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and then her face crumpled again, and she rushed into his arms, the force of it nearly knocking him off his feet, but he held on and kept them both upright. He wrapped his arms around Stella, tightly, so tightly, hoping she could feel his strength, wishing he could give some of it to her.

"You just hold on to me," he whispered into her hair.

As Cody continued to observe Stella, it was clear to him that she was…not doing well. Oh, she tried to pretend she was, and most of the family seemed fooled, but not him. The chattering and bright smiles, the quick little laughs, the bustling energy—it gave the impression of a woman who was sad but mending, but he knew it was all an act. This was not Stella, it was nothing like her. Even a Stella was who healing from heartbreak would not act like this: anxious, almost restless, like she couldn't be still, like her skin was the only thing keeping her from flying apart altogether. And her eyes—her eyes gave it all away. Stella was no actress. She could pretend with her smile, but her eyes were the eyes of a lost woman, and it was killing him to see it.

Several times he tried to talk to her, but he could never find the words. He didn't even know if he had the right to say anything at all. But if not him, then who? He was her family. He knew her in ways no one else did, or could. And yet, the words just wouldn't come. Who was he, after all, to tell her how to grieve?

But as his visit wore on, Stella's demeanor of false cheer began to wane, and finally even the rest of the family started to notice that something was not quite right. Dark circles took up residence under her eyes, and her rosy skin grew pale. She took long walks around the homestead on her own, declining even Cody's offers to accompany her. Lou said that sometimes at night, she could hear Stella pacing the floor, and once, on his way back from settling little Hunter down from a nightmare, Kid saw Stella slipping back inside the house, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her cheeks stained pink with the cold night air.

Everyone seemed at a loss what to do next. Rachel tried a motherly approach, Teaspoon told stories to distract her, Kid took her riding, and Lou tried to coax her into talking by sharing confidences of her own, but they were all unsuccessful. Stella would just give them one of her shaky smiles and deflect their attentions elsewhere as quickly as she could.

Cody had still not settled upon the right approach, and in his helplessness, instead did nothing. He didn't pretend things were okay, didn't try to distract her, didn't treat her like a fragile thing, just went on about things as if no matter what had changed or gone wrong in their lives, at last they were still Cody and Stella. It wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to say the perfect thing, to talk to her, to draw her out of herself, to fix her—this—all of it. But he couldn't. He didn't know how. And, surprisingly, he began to realize that his approach—or lack of approach—was just what suited Stella for now.

He took it as a good sign of sorts when she began to welcome his company again. They took walks through town together. Sometimes they had picnics by the creek with Kid and Lou's brood; Stella seemed to like their airy chatter. Once Cody rode her part of the way along the old Express route, regaling her with the story about the time he'd outrun a gang of stagecoach thieves. It was a story she'd heard many times before, but it was a particularly good one, and one that he enjoyed telling, so he told it again anyway. He was doing that a lot lately, he noticed: talking for the sake of talking. Some would say that's what he'd done his whole life, and he wouldn't argue with them, but it was nice that it was serving a purpose for once. Stella seemed to like his talking, or at least she didn't dislike it. She didn't smile or laugh like she used to, but she did seem to relax, the tight lines of grief and fatigue on her face easing as she listened to the litany of Cody's words.

The weeks passed by, and Cody's visit began to draw to a close. He'd planned to stay only a month, but as Stella's sadness seemed to deepen, the family had prevailed upon him to stay for two. It was no hardship for him; he would've turned himself inside out if it would've made Stella happy again, but after a while, he was confronted with the fact that the family was just as worried about him as they were about her.

Everyone had gone to Christopher and Rachel's for supper. Stella had begged off for the evening and stayed behind with Hunter and Shannon for company. Kid and Lou's eldest children had both been gifted with their father's gentleness, and treated their aunt tenderly, even as they kept her occupied with their mother's liveliness.

It was a perfect spring evening, warm, with a sweet-smelling wind in the air. They were all gathered on the front porch watching Janie and Nora play in the front yard with the toddling Gregory. Conversation was light and full of laughter. For the first time since he'd arrived, Cody felt a little bit more like himself again. This was nice. This was the way it should be. This was what he wanted for Stella, why he'd brought her to Rock Creek in the first place.

Cody wondered idly if his thoughts would ever not turn to Stella.

"Penny for 'em," Rachel said, interrupting his reverie as she refilled his glass with lemonade.

"You sure you got that kinda money?" he teased, with a nod of thanks.

Rachel looked up, exchanging a glance with Teaspoon that Cody did not miss. Then she looked back at him. "Cody," she said, setting the pitcher aside and sitting next to him on the porch step. She smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, as if buying for time, "Teaspoon and I would like to talk to you."

When he looked back up curiously, Cody saw that somehow everyone else had left the porch and gathered with the children at the side of the house without him even noticing. He thought he heard Kid suggest catching fireflies, but it was drowned out by the girls' enthusiastic shrieks of excitement.

He turned his attention back to Rachel and Teaspoon. "About Stella, I reckon," he said.

"Well, yes…and no," replied Rachel.

Then Teaspoon said, "It's come to me and Rachel that Stella ain't the only one we should be worried about."

"Me?" Cody was genuinely surprised. "Why would y'all be worried about me?" He paused. "Ah hell, y'all ain't going to give me the 'it's time for you to settle down' speech, are you?"

"No," answered Rachel with a wry smile, "we gave up on that years ago. It's your life, Cody, you can live it as you see fit. And anyway, it ain't in everyone's nature, and it certainly don't seem to be in yours."

With a creak of the rocking chair, Teaspoon leaned forward, fixing Cody with an appraising eye. He sighed. "We been so focused on Stella we find we've neglected you, son."

Cody tensed. He clutched the glass tightly in his hand. For a second he didn't answer, just looked up at the darkening sky, trying to think what to say. Then he felt Rachel's hand steal across his knee, and she gave it an encouraging squeeze.

"Honey," she said, "you have bent yourself backwards for our girl for weeks now—for months, if you're honest with yourself—and I don't think you see how it is wearin' you out. You were lookin' like your old self when you first got here, but these days you look most as bad as Stella."

"However hard it's been, son," added Teaspoon, "you been copin' real well for the most part. We been real proud of you. But every time you come back, we see how Stella's grief affects you. And it was…" he sighed again. "It wasn't so bad the first couple times, because Stella wasn't doin' so bad. But this time is different. Somethin' about it bein' a year since Jimmy died, I reckon; it's like it's finally sinkin' in, like it's really real now, maybe, I don't know. But it's affecting her in a way it wasn't before. And you're takin' it on yourself to try to fix her, to heal her, and—and you can't do that, son. It don't work like that, not for anyone. You can't heal a person before it's their time to heal, no matter how much you may want to, no matter how much you…love them."

Rachel gave his knee another squeeze. "We all love Stella," she said in her soft, sympathetic voice, "but we can't repair what's broken in her. We've tried. It's human nature to want to try. Even Teaspoon and I have, and we've had more years than the rest of you to learn it don't work like that. She has to heal herself—and she will. In her own time and her own way."

"We think you ought to go, Cody. We think maybe we were wrong to ask you to stay longer. Me and Rachel been talkin', and the thing is…Stella's relyin' on you too much. You're like a lifeline to her right now, and it's takin' its toll on you."

"You got to live your own life, honey," said Rachel gently. "You can't put it on hold for Stella's."

But she is my life, he wanted to say, and it wasn't until he thought the words that he realized how true they were, and he wanted to say them so badly, to confess to Rachel and Teaspoon, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. This conversation proved that. Stella was grieving her husband—who just happened to have been Cody's best friend—and no amount of Cody's love or care would change that. And they were right: it was beginning to take its toll on him. He could feel his spirits sinking a little bit every day, watching Stella mourn even as she pretended not to mourn.

In a choked voice, he asked, "Did I do the wrong thing…bringin' her here?"

"Oh, no. No, Cody, of course not," Rachel reassured him.

"Absolutely not, son. We're her family, much as yours. It was the right thing to do."

Cody wasn't so sure. He could see that Stella had grown to love them all, but it didn't change the fact that she hadn't known them very well before Jimmy died, and then had suddenly been thrust upon them during the most devastating time of her life. Even though they were Jimmy's family and loved her as one of their own, how difficult must it have been to have grieved among people who were nearly strangers to her? But then, how could he have kept her with him? An unmarried man and a grieving widow traveling together? The talk would've been scandalous no matter where they were, and the Army certainly wouldn't have hired Cody back, which would've left him unable to support her anyway. So, should he have loved her enough to stay in Rock Creek with her? That was another question that had kept him up nights, and he still didn't have the answer. It seemed no matter what choice he made, he would have been guaranteed to feel guilty about it. The thought made him feel like a failure. And knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn't help Stella? Well, that made him sure he was.

The next day, rather fortuitously, a telegram came from his Army contact requesting his immediate presence in Sacramento, and Cody eagerly agreed—well, perhaps not eagerly, but he had certainly been grateful, dispatching a reply that very same afternoon. Now that Rachel and Teaspoon had confronted him with the futility of his self-sacrifice, he was ready to be gone. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being here, confronted with Stella's sadness and unable, apparently, to do a damned thing to help.

When he returned from town, he informed Kid and Lou of the telegram and of the ticket he'd purchased for the next day's train headed west. If either of them had reservations or questions, they kept them to themselves; Cody guessed they'd probably had a talk of their own with Rachel and Teaspoon. Then he went to find Stella.

He found her down by the creek, sitting quietly on the bank while the butterflies and bees zigzagged around her, her black hair gleaming in the spring sun. Her back was to him, so she didn't see his approach, but when his shadow fell over her suddenly, she said, "Knew you'd find me."

Cody smiled too, pleased to hear a little lightness in her voice again, and dropped down next to her. For a while they didn't say anything, just sat quietly together. Cody drew up his legs, resting his arms on his knees, sneaking quick glances at her profile. After his fifth or sixth, she caught him at it, and for the first time in weeks…she smiled. It fairly took his breath away, and for a moment he just stared at her.

There was something different about her today, he could see it immediately: a lift to the corners of her lips and the faintest spark in her blue, blue eyes. Even her body language seemed a bit looser. It wasn't his imagination. He knew her face like he knew his own name, and he could see the changes in it.

Stella knew him too. She could read the questions in his eyes. Her smile faltered and she looked away, but when she spoke, her voice was strong, stronger than he'd heard it in months. "I had a dream last night," she said.

The opening seemed a little out of nowhere, but Cody didn't remark upon it.

"About Jimmy."

"Oh yeah?" he asked mildly, staring down at his feet where a pair of crickets were leaping in the tall grass.

"He was…" She paused. "Mad at me."

"Mad at you?"

"Yeah," she said softly, but she seemed almost amused, "real mad."

Cody waited, saying nothing.

"He yelled at me." Stella's voice quivered just a little, just for a second, and a tear slipped down her cheek, but then she gathered herself back together. She even smiled again. "Said what a waste of my life it was to grieve him for so long. Said it wasn't forgettin' him to move on, and that he knew I'd love him forever, but I had a lot of livin' left to do, and it couldn't be done in the grave with him." Another tear spilled, and then another, but she was still smiling a little. "I woke up cryin'. Don't think I've cried like that since the day he was killed."

Her words awakened a memory in Cody that he had been trying so hard to forget: A cool spring morning. A desperate man with a gun. And Jimmy—strong, noble Jimmy—in the wrong place at the wrong time. Finding Stella. Telling Stella. Stella collapsing into his arms. Stella weeping over Jimmy's cold, lifeless body, bathing his face with her tears. The worst day of both of their lives.

He reached out without looking, and Stella took his hand in hers. "I don't much know," she said, "if it really was Jimmy's doin', or if it was God's, or if it was just my own common sense, but I know—I know he was right. And I been out here all day, thinkin' about that dream, even though it's mostly kind of a blur now, but…I've sort of been feelin' a little bit better the more I do." She turned to him with a watery smile. "I sound crazy, huh?"

"You sound just fine to me. I don't care if it takes a dream, or time, or a wing and a prayer, Stells, all that matters to me—to all of us—is that you're healin'."

Stella looked thoughtful. "I think I am. I don't know, Billy, I think maybe I'm goin' to be all right."

Cody looked at her, and his heart filled with so much love he almost couldn't bear it. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, or known anyone so strong. Here she sat, just a year after the loss of her husband, still torn apart by grief, yet able, finally, to see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.

"Of course you are," he told her tenderly. "You're the only one who thought you weren't."