Danielle Steel - The Ranch

“It sounds like it's time to move on,” Zoe confirmed, and Mary Stuart didn't disagree with them. She just hated the fact that it had come to this after all these years. She dreaded telling him, and then packing up her things, and telling Alyssa they were getting divorced. It was all so difficult, and she shuddered at the prospect of dating. She almost couldn't bear it. But it was the same boat Tanya was in, except she was Tanya Thomas, and Mary Stuart said that. “Are you kidding? I haven't had a date since Tony left. Everyone is scared to death of me. No one's going to ask me out, except some damn hairdresser who wants to say they were out with me. Like Everest. No one wants to live there, but the whole world wants to say they climbed it.” All three of them laughed at that, and Mary Stuart wasn't sure if she felt better or worse. Just talking about her plans made it all seem so final. And in a way it seemed a betrayal of Bill, who didn't even know what she was thinking. But it was real, and it was what she was feeling, and what she thought she'd do at the end of the summer. At least she had time to think about it now while he was in England.

They sat and talked for a long time. Nothing was resolved, but their friendship was restored, and none of them said anything more about leaving in the morning. Zoe's apology had meant a great deal to Mary Stuart. And Zoe was deeply moved to realize her words had hurt her friend for all these years, worse still since her son had been a suicide, not unlike Ellie. Life was so cruel sometimes. It always boggled her, but it was also so kind at others. And in the morning, when the phone rang at six o'clock, it was Zoe who answered. She was used to coming awake instantly for the phone at night, and the other two were still sleeping.

“Hello?”

“Zoe?” It was Sam, and she instantly thought of Jade and felt a wave of panic… appendicitis… crib death… an earthquake…

“Is Jade all right?” They were the first words out of her mouth. It was as though Jade had been born to her, she loved her as much as any natural mother and had all the same instincts.

“She's fine. I'm sorry if I scared you. But I wanted to call you. I thought you'd want to know.” He hated calling her with bad news, but he was sure she'd never forgive him if he didn't. “Quinn Morrison died an hour ago. He went peacefully, and his family was with him. I'm sorry you weren't here with him, but I did everything I could. His heart just gave out finally.” In a way, it had been a mercy, and she knew it. But she was sad anyway, and she cried when he told her. She cried for most of them, the old, the young, and especially the children. At least Quinn Morrison had been seventy-four years old, he'd had a full life, and AIDS had only ruined the last year of it, not an entire lifetime, and it hadn't cut it much shorter than most people his age with other diseases. But she was sad anyway, she felt a sense of loss, and of having been defeated. It was a familiar feeling to her, she lost so many patients to the dread killer. “Are you all right?” Sam sounded worried.

“I'm fine. I just feel badly not to have been there.”

“I knew you would. That's why I called. He said he was glad you went to Wyoming.” She smiled at that. It sounded just like him. He'd spent the whole year telling her she should get married and have children.

“Is everyone else all right?”

“Peter Williams had a rough night. I spent an hour at his house before I went to Quinn's. He's got pneumonia again. I'm going to admit him in the morning,” He was thirty-one years old, and getting close to the end too. But in his case, it was far more disturbing because he was so young.

“Sounds like you had a busy night.”

“The usual,” he said, smiling. He loved it. This was what he had gone to school for. “What about you? Having fun? Meet any cowboys yet?”

“Just one. The one who picked me up at the airport. He's about twelve years old and twelve feet tall, a kid from Mississippi. It's incredible here, by the way, I really love it.”

“How's your friend?”

“Fine. And she had a surprise for me. Our other roommate from Berkeley. It's a long story, but she and I haven't spoken in twenty years. She was ready to take the next plane back to New York when she saw me. But I think we made peace last night. I was a real shit to her twenty years ago, I've never forgiven myself for it. And it was really nice to put that behind us.”

“Sounds like you've been busy too,” he said kindly.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I called so early.” It was only five-thirty in the morning for him by then, and he was about to go to bed. But he had wanted her to know about Quinn Morrison as soon as it happened. He knew that was what she would have wanted.

“Thanks for calling, Sam. I really appreciate it. I know you did your best for him. Don't feel that you didn't. I wouldn't have been able to do anything different.” It was nice of her to say that to him, and he was grateful. She was a good woman.

“Thank you for that, Zoe. Take care. I'll talk to you soon,” but as he hung up, he felt sad thinking of her. There was so much there, so much he wanted and admired, and he couldn't get near her. And he sensed her loneliness too. There was an overwhelmingly vulnerable quality about her, and yet she was hiding somewhere, and he was beginning to suspect he would never find her.

At that exact moment, as he went to bed, Zoe was standing in the living room of their cabin in Moose, Wyoming, watching the sun come up over the Grand Tetons. And there were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks at the sheer beauty of it. She thought of Quinn Morrison, and the life he had led. She was sorry he had died, she was sorry for so many of them. There was so much grief in life… Ellie… and Todd… and all the sorrows she'd seen, and yet at the same time there was this overwhelming beauty. And she was suddenly glad she had come. Whatever happened, she had seen the sun come up once in her life over the Grand Tetons. It was impossible not to know there was a God when you saw that. She tiptoed quietly back to her own room, and lay in bed, thinking of Sam, and looking out over the mountains.

On their first morning at the ranch, Zoe went back to sleep for a while after Sam called, but she woke again just as Mary Stuart wandered out of her room. Zoe heard someone stirring, and got out of bed, and the two women met in the kitchen, where Mary Stuart was making coffee. They were both in their nightgowns, and Mary Stuart looked up and smiled at her. Zoe looked more rested than she had before, and surprisingly young that morning.

“Can I make you some coffee? There's tea too, if you want it.” But she didn't, and Zoe helped herself to a mug of steaming coffee. “Is Tanya up yet?” Zoe asked, and then they both grinned. “I guess some things don't change.”

Mary Stuart looked at her old friend seriously for a moment. They had been estranged for so many years. “No, they don't. I'm glad. I'm glad I came.” She looked right into Zoe's eyes.

“So am I, Stu. I wish I hadn't been stupid way back then. I wish we'd talked over the years. I'm just glad we saw each other now. I would have hated to have this stay between us.” It had gone on for long enough. Ellie had been laid to rest for more than twenty years, and their old battles could be too. Looking back, it seemed so foolish and such a pathetic waste of time. “I owe Tanya one for asking you here and not telling me.”

“She's a cagey little thing, isn't she?” Mary Stuart laughed. “All the way here on the bus she never said a word. I should have suspected something though. She said ‘we’ a couple of times before I agreed to come, and I think her assistant said something about ‘they’ and three rooms. I thought she meant the kids. It never dawned on me she'd invited anyone. And it worked out so well for me when Alyssa canceled our trip. I had nothing to do.”

“It's a godsend for me too.” She thought of the light on the mountains that morning when Sam had called to tell her Quinn Morrison had died. She told Mary Stuart about it, as they sat at the narrow counter in the kitchen alcove, and sipped their coffee.

“It must be depressing work,” Mary Stuart said quietly. “I admire you for it, but you just can't win.” She thought of how awful it had been when Todd had died, she couldn't imagine dealing with that every day. But then again, he had been her son, not her patient.

“You can win for a while. And oddly enough, it's not depressing most of the time. You learn to take the little victories, you get more and more determined to win the fight. And sometimes you lose.” She lost a lot of the time, it was inevitable. But some of it had to do with the circumstances, and how ready the patient and the family were to let go. Sometimes it was just time, like with Quinn. It was the children she hated to lose most, and the young people, the ones who had so much left to live and to learn and to give. Like herself. But she hadn't absorbed that yet.

“You're lucky you found the right path for yourself so long ago,” Mary Stuart said, envying her, and enjoying her company. It was easy to remember why they had been such good friends. The rift seemed so unimportant now. In the sunlight of honesty, it had finally vanished. “I do a lot of charity work in New York, a lot of committees and volunteer work, but I've been thinking of getting a job. I just don't know what I'd do. All I've ever really done is be a wife, and mother to our kids.”

“That's not bad.” Zoe smiled at her, suddenly realizing how much she'd missed her. And in the unexpected twilight of her life, she realized how much she needed her friends now. It was all the more poignant for her because she had always thought she would have so much time, and now she didn't. “Being a wife and mother is a job too.”