The Rancher's First Love by Brenda Minton

there.”
    He didn’t question her. He slowed the truck and turned into the dusty, empty parking lot. “Okay, we’re here. Why are we here?”
    She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “To talk,” she said. “I can’t put this off any longer.” He knew that this was one of those moments. A moment of truth. And nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter Seven
    F or years Samantha had thought about how she would tell him. She’d written it down. She’d even prayed a time or two. Yes, she still believed. She just wanted God to be the God she remembered, not the vengeful, angry God that her aunt had introduced her to.
    â€œSam?”
    His voice, familiar but stronger, deeper. She breathed in, wanting to breathe in his scent, his presence. Because after today he would have to work at forgiving her the way she’d been working at forgiving herself.
    â€œWhen I left town,” she started, then she didn’t know where to go next. She couldn’t remember all of those well-planned speeches she’d written over the years. And saying it was so much harder than writing it down. Saying it out loud would make it all so real.
    â€œI’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
    She wished that could be true. “Rem, I was pregnant.”
    The words were so loud, so harsh. She hadn’t planned it that way. She’d planned to ease in, to say it gently. But it was out there between them, cold, harsh and painful. She’d closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at him.
    He was staring straight ahead. He was beautiful. He was strong. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—be able to forgive this.
    She wanted to touch him. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, then didn’t because sometimes a person had to be alone with their pain, to come to terms with it.
    â€œYou were pregnant,” he said, the words holding all of the agony she had felt for so long.
    â€œYes. My aunt homeschooled me throughout the pregnancy. And when I had the baby she arranged the adoption.”
    â€œA baby,” he said softly. “Where is our baby, Sam?”
    â€œIn Tennessee. She lives with a good family. They love her. She’s safe.”
    â€œIt was a girl?”
    â€œYes. Her name is Marlie. I don’t know her last name. But I have pictures. She’ll be nine this year.”
    He held up a hand. “Give me a minute. Right now I’m so angry with you, I can’t see straight.”
    His hands gripped the steering wheel and he leaned back, eyes closed, jaw clenched.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œYou didn’t think this was something I should know?”
    She felt anger roll over her like a wave beating against the shore. “You think I was allowed to make any decisions? I was barely sixteen. I didn’t have a say in anything. I didn’t have your address or a way to contact you.”
    â€œYou could have found it. Gus would have gotten word to me.”
    â€œRem, Gus knew. My brothers talked to him. And then they decided my future. They told me it was best for me, for the baby and for you, if I gave her up. After all, you were getting ready to start college. You didn’t need this, they said.”
    â€œI would have been there for you.”
    â€œI wanted you to come and get me. I waited,” she admitted. She’d never wanted him to know how desperate she’d been for him.
    â€œWe have a daughter.” He started the truck and pulled back onto the road. “I have a daughter and I’m never going to have a chance to know her.”
    â€œI have pictures and letters from her adoptive family.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t want to see pictures or read letters. Not right now.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œYou should have told me. I understand you didn’t have a lot of choices, but you haven’t been a sixteen-year-old for a long time.”
    â€œI know.