Free Green Calder Grass by Janet Dailey Page A

you.” Her soft voice was husky with gratitude.
     
     
    A brisk wind stirred through the damp leaves, raking the willing ones into small piles at the base of the gravestones. It was a cold and damp day, made all the more bleak by the low, gray clouds.
    Ty kept a steadying hand around Tara as they made their way over the uneven ground, past the orderly rows of ancient markers. With one hand, she clutched the up-turned fur collar tight around her neck, completing the frame of her cameo-perfect features. In the other hand, she carried a single Texas-yellow rose.
    Their destination was just ahead, Dyson’s final resting place marked by a rectangular mound of freshly turned earth, a sharp contrast to the winter-brown grasses. When they reached the site, Ty removed his hat out of respect, conscious of the wind ruffling his hair, as it was doing to Tara’s.
    They stood silently beside the new grave for a long run of seconds. For all of Dyson’s Texas-flash while living, his granite headstone was an unusually modest one, containing no more than his name, date of birth, and a blank space for the date of his death to be engraved.
    Stepping forward, Tara bent down and placed the yellow rose atop the dirt. The wind immediately blew at it, but it caught against a large clod and stayed in place.
    Rising, Tara brushed back a strand of hair the wind had whipped across her face. “Daddy left written instructions that we were to move heaven and earth, if necessary, to see that he was buried here. He said he wanted to lie among real Texans, not a bunch of newcomers. Silly, isn’t it?” she mused.
    “He was proud of his Texas roots.”
    “I know.” With a turn of her head, she looked up at Ty. Just for a minute there was that knowing gleam of the old Tara in her eyes. “Whereas the Calders rarely mention theirs at all.”
    It was the kind of subtly flirtatious look that invited a smile. Ty responded with a slow one. “I guess we’ve been in Montana too long.”
    Tara watched the smiling movement of his mouth, finding something sexy in the laziness of it that still had the power to snatch at her breath. There was a time when she would have tilted her head at just the right angle, inviting more than his smile. But she was much too wise to try that ploy this time. Instead Tara hooked an arm around his and let her gaze wander over the old cemetery.
    “Do you remember the last time you brought me here, Ty? You wanted to show me where your great-grandfather was buried. We were both still in college.” At a leisurely pace, she began to stroll in the direction of the car, drawing Ty with her, arm in arm.
    “That was a long time ago.”
    “You proposed to me that day,” Tara reminded him, giving him one of her patented sideways glances that was both coy and mischievous.
    “For either the third or fourth time. I did a lot of proposing back then, as I recall.”
    There was an opening there, but Tara let it pass. “We were so young back then. Or at least I was. You were too serious to ever really be young.”
    “I suppose.”
    She deliberately let the silence lengthen a little. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
    “What?” Ty’s glance touched her with mild interest.
    “That you have to lose someone close to you, someone you loved very much, before you realize that money, status, the opinions of others—none of that matters. Only the people in your life are important. All my life I’ve been so ambitious—” Tara stopped and darted him a wry look. “But you know that better than anybody. Now—now, I realize that I spent all that time chasing the wrong things. And that is very, very sad.” She knew there was nothing Ty could say to that, so she didn’t give him the chance to respond. “Sorry. As always, I’m so wrapped up in myself and my troubles that I haven’t even asked how you are.”
    “I’m fine. Busy as usual.” It was exactly the kind of noncommittal response Tara expected from him.
    “And Jessy?” It was so hard