Page 50 of Clashing Moon

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Page 50 of Clashing Moon

“Michael takes after our mother,” Daniel said graciously. “They’re artists and storytellers. Which the world will always need.”

“If only to help us make sense of the chaos,” Sally said softly.

Arabella asked Sally to tell her more about her theater. Sally lit up, describing how she’d built it from nothing, starting out in a run-down building in downtown Missoula with only forty-nine seats. “Now we have two stages with several hundred seats. We’re a nonprofit, of course, but we’re doing well because of several wealthy donors.”

“And sold-out shows,” Jacob said.

“Mom’s kind of famous in the theater community,” Michael said. “All my friends at school worship her.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Sally said. “But thank you.”

“I’d love to see a show sometime,” Arabella said. “Do you act or direct or both?”

“Both. Depending on the project. I enjoy all of it equally, so it’s a joy no matter what I’m doing. The Missoula Playhouse has been my passion for twenty years. Other than this lot, obviously.” She gestured around the table.

Jacob gave his wife a fond smile before glancing over at me. “So, Rafferty, tell me about your practice. I’m sure it’s different than my experience in a big hospital.”

I nodded while swallowing a piece of the crusty bread. “Yeah, it’s a bit of everything, and it keeps me on my toes. A lot less…specialized than what you’re doing, obviously.”

Jacob took a moment to answer, slicing into his lasagna thoughtfully. “In a way, yes. Oncology is very focused, with a lot of protocol and endless testing. A lot of heartbreak and a lot of triumphs. I can’t imagine doing anything else, but it can wear on me sometimes. Still, the advances I’ve seen in my career are optimistic.”

We fell into an easy conversation about the challenges of medicine, the differences between big hospital work and the day-to-day of a small practice. Jacob’s dedication to his patients was clear, the same kind I felt for the people of Bluefern. Sally and the boys chimed in occasionally, sharing stories of Jacob’s late nights and the ways he tried to balance it all with family life.

The dialogue turned to Arabella’s veterinarian practice. She had us all howling over a recent story that involved her and an ornery cow.

The dynamic between the brothers and their parents reminded me very much of my own family. Not quite as loud, of course, but with the same good-natured ribbing I enjoyed with my brothers. And the same unconditional love that flowed among them all.

Toward the end of the meal, Arabella’s hand found mine under the table. I glanced over at her, thrilled to feel her soft hand in mine. Better than that, though, was the look of peace and contentment on her face. This was the family she’d wanted.

I hoped she’d still find mine appealing. Because I’d decided over the last few days, I was going to do whatever I could to get Arabella Collins to fall in love with me and meet me at the church to exchange wedding vows. One way or another.

The next morning,after a breakfast of eggs and pancakes, the entire family walked us out to my vehicle. Arabella’s brothers were leaving to return to school soon after we left, but they’d wanted to say goodbye to their sister first.

After hugs and promises of more visits, Arabella and I headed for home. As we pulled onto the highway, the Montana landscape stretched out in front of us, endless and breathtaking.Snow-dusted peaks framed the horizon, and pine forests sprawled under the open sky, vast and deep green against the winter sunlight. Arabella remained quiet, just staring out the window, her fingers absentmindedly moving to the beat of the music on the radio. I glanced over at her, noticing again that a soft peace seemed to have settled over her, as though she’d shed an old weight she’d been carrying for years.

We’d shared a bed last night, talking a little while holding hands under the covers before falling asleep. I didn’t dare get too close to her for fear of my base instincts overriding my dedication to being a perfect gentleman. Fortunately, I’d been tired from the day’s activities and had soon fallen into a dreamless sleep.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Blessed. Regretful. Happy. Sad. Mostly, grateful. I have a second chance with my mother, and now I have two brothers. Jacob’s special, don’t you think?”

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the road. “Very much so. He’s taken good care of his family. Gave your mother her dream job.”

“And that beautiful home.”

“Is that something you want?” I asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.

“What? A family and a home?”

“Yeah.”

“I do,” she whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And now I know it’s possible, even for me.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“My dad made sure to tell me more often than not how no one wanted a fat girl.”

I gripped the steering wheel, filling with rage at how I would have loved to get my hands around that guy’s neck before he died. However, I kept myself together, not wanting to drive off the side of the road. “Have you stopped believing him? Becauselet me tell you—this man here—although I’m not perfect—he sees you as you are, and that is beautiful, smart, and fun. You have everything a man could want.”




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