Her Cowboy Reunion. Ruth Logan Herne

smiling at his son. At the campfire, her lyrical voice and the flickering flames taking him back in time.

      Heath didn’t have the luxury of lingering in the past. Fatherhood required him to be fully present in today, but that reality had changed when he’d come face-to-face with Lizzie that morning.

      The other reality was the massive amount of work that they’d have on their hands after Ben, Aldo and Brad headed into the hills for the last time ever.

      He pushed off the rail to return to the house, and there she was, backlit by the stable lights. She stood quiet and still, with a beauty he remembered like it was yesterday. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised...

      He used to care what the Bible said. He used to pray with his heart and soul.

      Now he only went to church because he believed Zeke needed that structure, but the old verse washed over him as they locked eyes. He stood there, unable to shift his gaze while years melted away.

      She broke the connection first and kept walking toward the stables.

      In a weird reversal of roles, he moved toward the house. It had been different in Kentucky. She’d lived in the grand house and he’d bunked with his drunken father in the upper part of the horse barn, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in the change. It felt wrong on so many levels. Lizzie Fitzgerald shouldn’t be sleeping in a barn. Not now. Not ever.

      And yet she was.

      He cut around to the back door and slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and moved into the bedroom he shared with his son.

      Anna had made the ultimate sacrifice five and a half years before. She’d understood the dangers to herself, but refused to terminate the pregnancy. And when the resulting heart damage from the previously undiagnosed condition proved too much for her body to bear, she’d kissed him and the perfect baby boy goodbye. And then she was gone. No pain. No suffering. Just wave upon wave of immeasurable sadness.

      Zeke rolled over. He brought his hand toward his mouth, an old habit from when he used to suck his thumb, but then his small brown hand relaxed against the white-cased pillow.

      Heath kissed the boy’s cheek. Then he went to bed, listening to the sound of his son’s breathing, like balm on a wound. But when he couldn’t get Lizzie’s russet-toned eyes out of his mind, he realized that shrugging some things off was much harder than others.