Sweet Heaven

“Oh, God!”

Megan's prayer was heartfelt as she stared into the mirror, pinching her already pink cheeks with trembling fingers and debating feverishly if a few swipes of mascara wouldn't be appropriate. Should she change into a clean pair of slacks, or a skirt, or stay in her old jeans and t-shirt? Should she put her hair up or leave it down? A part of her mind, the more mature part, was wondering exasperatedly what in the name of heaven was wrong with her. Here she was, a woman grown, still acting like a swooning girl over someone who should be like a brother to her.

But Travis had never been like a mere brother to her. From the moment she had first arrived on the ranch as an angry, bitter, fifteen-year-old foster kid he had been far more than that. A year older, he had met her animosity with good humor and patience. The same good humor and patience he had used when training his family's horses. Later, as she grew more comfortable in her new surroundings, he had begun gently teasing her until she smiled and laughed and teased him back. He may have seen her as a young sister but he was never a brother to her. She had gone straight from distrust to hero worship, and by the time he left for the Academy two years later, to being head over heels in love for the first, and as it turned out, only time in her life. No, he had never been just a brother to her.

That had been nearly fifteen years ago. Travis had since completed his studies and earned his commission, then immediately deployed to some of the hottest, most unstable areas of the world . He rarely came home, though he did stay in frequent contact with his parents. They had all worried for him and prayed earnestly each night for his safety, but they had managed to keep an optimistic front during his visits and video chats. During those times when his silence was long, the wait had been unbearable until they heard from him again.

When she had turned eighteen, Travis' parents had encouraged her to stay on and continue being a part of their world, and she had eagerly accepted. They were the first true family she had ever known. She could barely remember her life before fosterhood, before her mother had abandoned her in favor of her drugs. She had been only four, but she still had nightmares of hits and slaps and days without food. Being a foster may have been better in terms of shelter but it hadn't offered much in the way of emotional support. Until she had come to the Two Rivers Ranch. Here she had found stability and, as an extension, a part of herself that somehow had been cast aside over the years. Other foster kids had come and gone but she remained She had finally found her permanent home.

Now Travis was coming home. She hadn't seen him in nearly four years but it seemed like forever. It wasn't exactly a happy homecoming, however. His father had died six months before after a long and courageous battle with cancer. Now his mother, who was beginning to show the affects of Alzheimers, had moved into assisted living, leaving the ranch in Smitty's and Meghan's capable hands until Travis could get home to take over.

Hearing the approaching sound of Smitty's truck, she gave herself a last despairing look then hurried from the bathroom. She reached the front porch just as the truck pulled up.

Travis was beyond exhausted and felt as if he'd been wearing this uniform forever. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since wheels up in Kabul but even before then it had been ages since he'd had a good rest. He was grateful the old man beside him wasn't one for idle chit chat because he wasn't certain he'd have been able to maintain a lucid conversation. Smitty had made one comment since picking Travis up from the airport.

“Bet you're glad to be home,” then he'd spit out the window.

Travis had once asked Smitty why he chewed tobacco instead of smoked. “Saw a barn burn once,” had been the laconic reply.

Now Travis watched out the windows of the truck that was nearly as old as its owner and drank in the sight of green pastures lined here and there with small streams and surrounded by craggy, snow-capped mountains. In the distance he could see one of the two rivers that gave the ranch its name. As ranches went it wasn't large, but it was plenty big enough for the modest cow and horse operation his great-grandparents had envisioned. And it was home.

The homestead sat three miles back from the main road but the long drive was well maintained with gravel and shale so the ride wasn't uncomfortably rough. Which was a good thing, given Smitty's enthusiastic driving. In the distance he could see the one level ranch house growing closer and a mix of sadness and anticipation filled him. He would always regret not being home when his father had passed but he had been on a mission and completely unaware of it until days after the funeral. For whatever reason his superiors had not approved his leave to come home and instead had sent him back out in the field, something that left a bitter taste in his mouth. When Meghan had told him of his mother's move to the assisted living complex, he had immediately resigned his commission and started making the arrangements to come home.

He could clearly make out the porch with its hanging baskets of flowers that his mother had babied for as long as he could remember. He thought of Meghan, his sister-friend, and was a little surprised by the two step his heart was making as he watched for her to appear. Next to his parents she was a rock in his chaotic, war torn life. Of course he would be anxious to see her when everything else seemed to have gone to hell in a handbasket.

The fences on either side of the drive finally opened up into the yard proper and Meghan did appear as the old truck lurched to a stop. For a moment Travis luxuriated in the silence as he took in the welcome sight of her, dressed in a faded and well worn pair of jeans and a simple pink tee-shirt. Her light brown hair hung loose and shining about her piquant face and there were well broke in ropers on her feet. As he exited the truck he watched her smile even as she nervously wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” he greeted her and was rewarded with her full out characteristic laugh as she bounded off the porch and into his arms. After years of mental, emotional, and physical hardship, it felt good to hold her softness against him.

“Oh! I'm so glad you're home!”

The hug seemed to go on forever until Smitty urged them to inside while he followed with Travis' duffle, and they jogged up the steps with arms about each other's waists.

Inside the last of his tension fell away as the aromas of roast and home welcomed him. Everything was just as it had always been, though it was obvious his mother had finally had the old furniture reupholstered in deep red and black buffalo plaid. Somehow the scheme worked with the rest of the decor. The big rock fireplace was clean, the plain screen in place in deference to summer, the mantle was lined with photos, and an old Native rug covered the shining wood plank floor. From her bed beside the fireplace an elderly collie suddenly realized someone new had entered the house and rose with a whuff and whine when she recognized who it was.

“Hey there, Girl,” Travis crooned and gently scratched her ears in the way she loved as she laid her grayed head against his leg. As a puppy she had been given a proper name but everyone had called her Girl for so long that the moniker had stuck. Now in her early teens she was an old ranch dog that had earned her spot by the family fire.

“Are you hungry?” Meghan asked and he straightened, nodding.

“For something other than army food, definitely!”

“Then go on in and change and I'll get it on the table.”

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and feeling much lighter, he entered the big country, eat-in kitchen dressed in a favorite pair of ancient jeans, snap front shirt, and boots he had found in his closet. They were all a bit loose on him but that wasn't a surprise given his life of late. Meghan had set the table with his mother's floral stoneware and was just setting the roast potatoes on the table. No doubt she'd fatten him up in no time.

“Sit,” she told him and motioned to the head of the table before removing her apron and taking her own seat to his right. After a quick, heartfelt prayer of thanks, he immediately helped himself to generous helpings of roast and vegetables before breaking the silence.

“So, how are you?”

She smiled in response, “Fine. And you?”

“Fine.”

And they laughed at their incongruity, but there was a strange awkwardness between them that had never been there before. Both silently put it down to the absences of his parents. It was the first time they had ever been completely alone together.

“How's Mom?”

Meghan took a bite of roast.

“She has her good days and bad days.”

“How much does she remember?”

She smiled encouragingly, “She still remembers me, which is good.”

“How bad is she?”

“She's having a hard time remembering people she doesn't know as well, and things like dates and times and past experiences. And she has a way of losing things that she puts in odd places. The doctors say it's typical of this stage in the disease progression.” She paused. “Travis, she doesn't remember that Dad has passed. She keeps asking when he'll come home.”

He sat for a moment, his heart aching as he let that sink in.

“I am so sorry that I wasn't able to make it home.”

Impulsively she laid her hand over his, “We know.”

Turning his hand over he held hers in a warm grasp, absently noting how soft they were despite her life on the ranch. He remembered his mother's insistence that Meghan always wear gloves when working outside and when she washed the dishes. He also remembered the bottles of hand cream that were stationed strategically throughout the house. Obviously she had learned her lessons well.

“When can I see her?” he asked as he released her hand to resume eating.

“Anytime. We just have to let the nurses know when to expect us.”

“Then we'll go this afternoon.”

She agreed and, after a couple of slices of his favorite coconut cream pie, they finished the dishes together and set out to visit his mother.

That evening they returned and sat quietly in the living room as soft music played and night settled in over the house. Travis had taken a seat in his father's big chair while Meghan sat with legs curled beside her on the sofa. They discussed his mother and what had been going on on the ranch since his father died, and Meghan was able to reassure him that Smitty had done a good job in keeping the place humming along. He confided that he was at a loss as to where to begin, but she only smiled and told him that it was like falling off a bicycle, and he had smiled in return. The hours stretched before them and neither were eager to say good night.

Finally, Meghan stood up, stretched, and announced that it was late. He agreed as he rose to his feet, and they suddenly found themselves close enough to nearly share a breath. For a long moment their eyes held, but she quickly moved away when his gaze fell to her lips.

“Good night,” she murmured and left the room, leaving Travis to wonder what had just happened.

~

Days passed and he found that she had been right. Getting back into the routine of ranch life had been easy. Nearly everyone had been with them for years so there were few new faces to remember, and as promised the ranch had been run well. All Travis had to do was saddle up and he was back in business.

Working with the horses had always been his favorite part of ranching and with little effort he was back up to form. He looked over the new crop of foals and yearlings, mentally separating them into keeps and sells. All would be at least green broke by fall. One young filly had become a special project. Smitty had let slip that Meghan had taken a great liking to the striking little appaloosa and Travis had decided to make a gift of her come Christmas. Keeping secrets was difficult on the ranch but he was determined to pull it off. Somehow.

In the meanwhile he concentrated on inspecting the land and herds, as well as the books. The operation was in good financial shape, as evidenced by Meghan's careful bookkeeping, so he was able to relax and enjoy being home.

They visited his mother nearly every day and when they couldn't visit he would call. If she wasn't up to talking on the telephone, he would speak with the nurses and doctors to keep abreast of her condition and treatment. Once, Meghan had taken him to the cemetery so he could pay his respects to his father, then held him while he cried out his grief.

~

Travis had been home about a month when a neighbor announced they would be having a barbecue to welcome him home. It had been just the thing to help pull him away from the sadness that settled on him at times, especially after a visit with his mother during one of her “bad” days, and he and Meghan had eagerly readied themselves for the festivities. When she had left her bedroom dressed in her pretty skirt and blouse he had felt the punch to his core. When had she grown so beautiful?

On Meghan's part, it was getting harder to adhere to the sisterly conduct she had always managed to maintain, especially when she found him dressed in his best jeans and western shirt sans the bolo that many men preferred to wear. At six feet tall he seemed to tower over her petite five foot three and he was breathtakingly handsome. She was delighted that his hair had begun to grow out of its army buzz cut. She had always loved his hair.

The party lasted late into the night. With a live band and the never ending food, it could have gone on for another day. But the next day was Sunday and so it began to break up shortly after midnight. Both Meghan and Travis had been popular dance partners yet they had not danced with each other, something that had not gone unnoticed. When one of Travis' aunts commented on it, Meghan had been quick to explain that it was his night and he could dance with any of the ladies, not just his sister. But in fact, she had been hurt by his apparent disregard of her and had responded by throwing herself into the merriment with her own assortment of would be suitors. What she didn't realize was that Travis had noticed, and not liked what he saw.

The ride home was silent and tense. Neither said much and when they did, their words were brusque, even terse. It was such a strange situation to be in, this awareness that was rubbing them raw. Where had the old camaraderie, the old easiness, between them gone?

Once home they entered the house in complete silence and went to their respective rooms to get ready for bed. Meghan was near tears as she shut herself up in the bathroom down the hall. And they did fall, slowly and sadly, as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. How much longer would she have to endure this? How much longer could she keep her feelings to herself? And how much longer could she go on living here beneath this roof trying to behave like a sister?

When finished, she turned out the light and opened the door, only to find Travis waiting on the other side.

“It's all yours,” she told him, dismayed by her caustic tone, and started to walk away. But he stepped in front of her, blocking her and forcing her back a step.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” he asked, his voice ominously low.

“Did you?”

“You seemed to have plenty of partners to keep you happy.”

Shocked she drew herself up to her full, though still short, height.

“I could say the same for you.”

For a long moment they glared at one another before Meghan looked away, but not before he saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

“Ah, Meghan,” he whispered, “What is going on with us?”

She could only shake her head and he sighed before lifting her face with gentle hands.

“When did you get to be so beautiful?”

Stunned, unable to breathe, she waited as he tenderly stroked the tears from her cheeks.

“Travis, I...”

“Shh.”

And he brushed her lips once, then twice, before taking them deeply, more urgently, his hands falling to her waist as his tongue found its way into her mouth. For long moments there was only the sound of her sigh as her fingers found their way into his hair, then he pulled slightly away, his breath falling heavily upon her lips now moist from his.

“Stop me,” he ordered hoarsely, “Stop me because I can't stop myself.”

But she was beyond stopping. This was what she had longed for almost from their first meeting all those years ago, and she pulled him back down to her.

They missed church the next morning. Meghan awoke in her bed but not alone. Travis' arm was strong about her waist, holding her back against him while he slept, his breath gently teasing the hair about the nape of her neck. Never had she known such contentment, such peace, such safety. Such love. And she luxuriated in it, running her hand gently down his until she felt him stir.

“Good morning,” she whispered and smiled when he rolled her over.

“'Mornin', ma'am,” he responded in a gravelly tone as he caged her beneath his arm. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, isn't it?”

And he smiled before kissing her tenderly and pulling her close against his shoulder.

“We need to get up,” he whispered, “but damned if I want to.”

“Um hum.”

He grinned and dropped a quick kiss on her head

“But we need to before Smitty shows up to find out where I'm at.”

“Oh dear God!”

Without another thought she sat up then gasped when the flowered sheet fell away from her body. He laughed when she jerked it back up.

“A bit late for that, wouldn't you say?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed again as she rose regally from the bed, taking the sheet with her and leaving him gloriously nude against the cotton florals.

“If I have to dress, so do you,” she told him primly then shrieked when he made to dive for her. Grabbing her robe, she disappeared down the hall to the bathroom where, behind the closed door, she hugged herself with happiness.

~

Days passed and in the privacy of the old home they explored the new relationship that was growing between them. Outside they believed they were keeping it hidden but Smitty finally cornered Travis one afternoon with a succinct question as they cleaned tack.

“So, when you going to marry the girl?”

Travis choked and stared at the old man in total surprise.

“What? You think I'm that dumb?” Smitty asked, and Travis smiled ruefully.

“No, I guess not.”

“She's a good girl.”

“Yes, she is.”

“So when you going to marry her?”

“I'm not sure she'll have me yet.”

Smitty scoffed, “Then you're the dumb one.”

“You think so?”

“Son, Meghan's been starry-eyed over you since she was a young'un.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yep. That whole sister-friend act of hers was just that, an act. She's loved you for years.”

Travis shook his head, stunned. “I don't believe it.”

Smitty also shook his head and spit, “Yep. Dumb as a brick.” He paused. “So you gonna marry her or am I gonna to hafta take a shotgun to ya?”

And Travis chuckled, marveling, “Nope, no shotgun needed. Would you object to being my best man?”

He planned to ask her the next night, after taking a trip into town and finding just the right ring. A simple diamond solitaire wouldn't do. Not for Meghan. She was special and deserved something equally special, and he finally found it at Dwyer's Jewelers. Only problem was there would be no keeping the purchase secret. Handing Old Man Dwyer the ring he had swiped from Meghan's box to help size the new ring, he pleaded with the jeweler not to say anything until after the formal announcement was made at church that Sunday.

The old man grinned and promised, “But not a minute longer!”

And so, after a quick stop by the florists for a bouquet of Meghan's favorite pink roses, Travis thought the scene would soon be set for a romantic evening that would end with a, well, a yes. He hoped.

But life on a ranch rarely runs as planned, especially when those plans are of great importance.

That night as they settled down to dinner there came an urgent knock at the door.

“Travis, we need you. Joy is foaling and it's not coming easy.”

Joy was Meghan's horse so she rushed alongside Travis to the stable. The mare was already down and groaning, her legs stiffening with each hard contraction.

“Where's Smitty?” Travis was already taking off his nicest shirt to bare his arms for what lie ahead.

The ranch hand lifted his hat and wiped his sweating head, “Gone into town. It's his night off.”

“Great. Okay, get me some rags and Vaseline. Meghan, hold her head.”

And with that, Travis dropped to his knee at the mare's rump. Fluid seeped from her body, increasing with each push, and it was obvious it had been going on for a while. When the man hurried back with the Vaseline, Travis lubricated his hand and arm then gently inserted them into the mare, feeling as he went for the foal's legs. He found one and grunted. Probing further, he finally found the other, as well as the foal's nose. After gently pulled the leg forward, he checked the position of the head before withdrawing and soon afterward, the front legs emerged, followed shortly thereafter by the nose, head, neck, and body. Taking the rags he began to vigorously rub the new foal as the mare rolled to her feet and Meghan joined him in bringing life to the seemingly dead baby. After a few tense moments the little colt jerked and made a bleeting noise before opening its eyes. They continued to rub until it started trying to raise its head then they withdrew to allow the anxious mare to take over.

Resting their backs against the stall wall, Travis used the remaining rags to clean his arms as best he could and watched the mare as she cleaned the new foal. Beside him he heard Meghan give a little sniff and looked up to find tears running down either side of her smiling mouth.

“You're such a softy,” he teased and her smile grew.

“Yes, I am. There's nothing as beautiful as a newborn.”

The ranch hand had left and he watched Meghan take in the new little family before her. Suddenly, he was awash with emotion.

“I love you,” he whispered and watched as she turned her smile on him.

“And I love you.”

“So will ya marry me or will Smitty have to take a shotgun to ya?”

Meghan laughed and leaned against him, burying her face against his chest as his arm came about her.

“Yes, I suppose I should make an honest man out of you.”

Old Man Dwyer didn't keep his promise. By the time they arrived at church the next Sunday the entire town knew about the big announcement and the congregation applauded loudly when it came. Sitting in the family pew along with Smitty, Travis lifted Meghan's hand with its elegant emerald engagement ring to his lips before kissing her, there for all to see.