Page 15 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

“What will we do with the bed?”

“The college thrift store can pick it up when we’re ready.” Like her dad, Eryn had been putting off this job, but now that they’d agreed, she was ready to purge the remains of Amelia’s life. Maybe that would help with the ugly memories. Maybe a fresh start in a home her sister had never lived in would help, too.

She could only hope so as she stood in the doorway. The room was a mess — a mess with a solid layer of dust over everything.

Eryn crossed the space, opened the window, and looked back at her dad. Tears had filled his eyes, and his chin was quivering. She strengthened her resolve. “I’ll go through her clothes.”

“If you see anything you’d like, keep it. You were about the same size.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” No, she wouldn’t. A purge was a purge.

Eryn did her best to ignore her father as he cleared the bed and banged it apart with a hammer. She stood at the closet and folded item after item into boxes for the thrift shop, except for the ones stuffed in the back that showed too much wear. Those went into a trash bag. She could use some of the empty hangers, but the rest got boxed.

There, that had been therapeutic. Next came the litter of shoes mounded on the closet floor. There were a few cute pairs that Eryn might’ve been tempted to snag if Amelia’s feet hadn’t been a size smaller.

Now on to the dresser. Most of the contents were trash. No one wanted used underwear. In the bottom drawer, beneath Amelia’s summer nighties, lay a pile of journals. Eryn glanced up to see Dad disappear through the doorway lugging the headboard.

She’d just tuck those books in her own room and burn them later. Would that be before or after she’d read some of them?

Dad was downstairs.

She’d take a quick peek before getting back to sorting. The covers had the years neatly penned in Amelia’s round handwriting. The last one was the year she’d died. Eryn wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what Amelia thought of life that recently. More than a dozen years’ worth of memories. Maybe she could handle reading about junior high.

The first journal was from seventh grade, the year before Mom died. Eryn bent the paper cover and let the pages flick by in a buzz. She shouldn’t read these private thoughts. But maybe she’d understand Amelia a bit better if she did. Maybe there’d be some sort of closure if an entry mentioned a desire to be closer to her twin.

It was a long shot, but it wasn’t completely impossible.

January 1, 2008

We had our annual sleigh ride this afternoon for kids from school. There was barely enough snow, but it was still fun. Then Mom made hot chocolate and cookies. Yum. But what’s really yummy is Max. Sigh. He’s so cute with his dark curly hair!!! [three heart emojis] I think maybe he likes me!!! [three heart emojis]

Eryn slapped the book closed. She did not want to read about her sister’s adolescent crush on Maxwell Sullivan.

On the other hand, maybe she’d get some insight on what made the man tick. Not that any of it mattered. Amelia was dead, and Maxwell was leaving for Montana again on Wednesday.

It couldn’t possibly hurt to indulge in a little nostalgia, even if it was through her sister’s eyes. Could it?

“Eryn?”

“Coming, Dad. I just took a little break, but I’m ready to get back at it.”

Chapter

Six

Maxwell had told himself a dozen times since yesterday that this was a bad idea. He should leave well enough alone.

But still, he’d called Debby’s Diner to find out if Eryn were working, and the helpful waitress said not until 4:00. Given she didn’t seem to be a social butterfly, that meant she was likely at home.

She’d been clear about not wanting to pursue anything with him. He’d also set his mother straight. No relationship. No friendship, even. Just a couple of days catching up on old times with an acquaintance before moving on.

Which was a bunch of crock, because he didn’t have that many memories with Eryn in them. None without her twin. And they hadn’t discussed ancient history for more than five minutes of their conversations.

No, she was intriguing, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. She seemed vulnerable. She seemed like she needed a champion. In fact, Eryn reminded him of several workers on Maxwell’s crew who’d just needed a simple leg up so they could blossom and prosper on their own.

Everyone needed someone to believe in them.

Maybe he should offer her a job as he had to Heather, to Jordan, to Janessa.

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