It took Callie the entire drive from that bar to her grandparents’ farm to remember that she'd left a file folder of their bank statements inside Ford Holder's truck. Her body was now in a permanent state of cringe, and her brain was so obviously sluggish she felt like she'd been drowned in sludge. God, he must think I'm an idiot. At the moment, she agreed with the assessment. But a wicked notion, buried deep under the rubble of the woman she'd forced herself to become for Derrick, fought its way to the forefront of her mind. He still had her paperwork, which meant she'd need to see him again soon.
But reality quickly jerked her back to what she'd done. What was she going to tell Nana? She'd be apologizing for this stunt for the next decade at least. The summer she'd turned fifteen she'd met up with some local kids at the street party when the Stockade Rodeo had come to Holder County. On a stupid dare, she'd climbed up the water tower with them and had her first sip of white lightning. It had tasted the way she imagined paint stripper would. One sip had been enough for her that night, but she'd stayed out way past the time her grandmother had told her to be back on the farm. The worry and disappointment in Nana's eyes had been enough to keep her on the straight and narrow for the next three summers.
A spiral of rebellion twisted in Callie's gut. She loved her grandmother more than life itself, but sometimes a girl just wanted to have some fun, do something completely unexpected. Something like getting plastered and spending the night with the most beautiful cowboy she'd ever seen. It sounded a little better than the reality of it had been. If she were going to sleep with Ford Holder—not that he'd offered or would even be remotely interested—she would definitely want to remember it. The night before still existed in hazy shadows.
Nana was already pacing on the front porch. The eggs and bacon Callie had eaten solidified into a block of dread in the pit of her stomach. The sharp edges tore through her. How could she have done this?
Every instinct she possessed wanted to back down the driveway and head anywhere else, but she would never hurt her family like that. She would never be her mother. Swallowing down raw regret, she forced herself from her car. Shame flooded her cheeks, probably turning her normally pale face the shade of a tempestuous apple.
Nana clutched her chest. "Thank heavens you're all right."
"I'm really sorry. I...uh...well I..."
"Spent the night with Ford Holder." Her grandmother's words were laced with heavy threads of disapproval.
"Wait." Callie rubbed her head in an effort to make her brain work again. "How did you know that?"
"When Sally phoned last night to say you'd gone home with a friend, I got worried. I tried to call your phone several times."
Callie fought not to whimper. She'd turned the phone off last night to keep from seeing all of Derrick's endless texts, and she still hadn't turned it back on. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I didn't mean to worry you."
Her grandmother gave her a weary nod. "This morning I tried to call some of your friends that you used to play with in the summers, but most of them have moved away. I finally got ahold of Karen Alexander. Kimberly told her mother that you'd gone home with Ford. She heard it this morning at The Bumpkin." Clearly, Callie had been in LA so long she'd forgotten just how quickly word spread from one boundary line of Holder County to the other. The central life source of gossip in town was The Bumpkin, an admittedly adorable breakfast joint on the square where residents frequently went for coffee, biscuits, and gravy.
Her responses continued to confuse even her. "Kimberly still lives here?"
Nana studied Callie like she might've received some kind of brain trauma. "Yes, she married Tad Bishop three summers ago. Her daddy gave them half of his ranch."
The sudden desire to call Kim and find out a little more about Ford Holder planted itself firmly in her head, but she needed to apologize at least a dozen more times and then figure out how to get those bank statements back without cementing herself as an example of every single offensive blonde joke. "Absolutely nothing is going on between me and Ford. I promise. We're...just..." Shaking off that lack of explanation she asked the question she was sure she didn't actually want the answer to. "Wait, what did Mrs. Alexander tell you happened last night?"
"Well...she only knew what Kimberly told her, which wasn’t much. But the Holder boys have quite a reputation, and Ford and Meritt's," she lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing on with the word, "divorce just went through yesterday according to Sally. Her sister works for the county clerk's office, so I imagine she'd know."
Trying to wade through all of that information, Callie's responses continued to make no logical sense, and yet the disdain spilled from her mouth anyway. "Ford's wife's name was Meritt?" That came before she considered the kind of damage the local bartender being related to the secretary of the county clerk could do to someone's reputation. Ford probably hated that everyone was discussing his divorce. She didn't know him that well, but he seemed like the kind of man who didn't want his private matters discussed publicly. She recalled that he'd scowled at everyone who'd tried to discuss it with him the night before.
The terse pinch of her grandmother's lips did nothing to ease Callie's guilt.
"Yes. Her name is Meritt, and you know I don't like to gossip, but I did hear that she's moved in with the son of that couple who owns the cleaners out in Odell. They're the ones who ruined Virginia Tilson's good bedspread. We've been praying for Meritt at Bible study for years. I always hate to see a family torn apart, but she did seem determined to be unhappy."
That was true. Her grandmother did not like to gossip. She loved it. Callie fought not to roll her eyes. She wondered how gossip had ranked lower than divorce in her grandmother's list of sins.
But it was her grandmother's real hatred of divorce that had led to her father being able to talk his way into staying on land that rightfully belonged to her mother's family, even after she'd left.
"I really am sorry I stayed out all night. It won't happen again. Derrick kept texting me, and I..." she cringed but went on with her full confession, "I had too much to drink. Ford was a perfect gentleman. I'm lucky he was there."
"Devil's water," Nana sighed. "Come inside. I'll...fix you something to eat."
Callie didn't deserve to be fussed over, but she wouldn't deny her grandmother much of anything after worrying her like she had. But as soon as they'd settled at the kitchen table with coffee, Nana probed deeper. "Why was Derrick texting you last night?"
The fact that the entire town was already discussing her and she'd only arrived the day before robbed her of a little of her practiced reserve. Defeat weighted her shoulders. "Because he refuses to grow up."
"Explain that."
"His parents do everything for him. They always have. He expects me to fill that void now that he's grown, I guess. I've tried to explain that I'm not coming back to LA, but he won't listen to me."
"Some men do need someone to look after them," her grandmother reminded her.
"It's not my job to raise him, and I don't want to take care of him for the rest of my life. I shouldn't have given him as many chances as I did. I have to make a clean break. Eventually I have to get through to him." Besides, she was tired of feeling so trapped in his shallow life. She needed to breathe.
Her grandmother reached to gently squeeze Callie's hand. She traced her index finger over her grandmother's fingers. Those hands that had wiped her face and given her baths, cared for her, and fed her thousands of meals drew a confession from the depth of her soul. "I shouldn’t have ever gotten involved with Derrick. If I were smart, I would've come back here right after college until I figured out what to do with the rest of my life."
"Honey, you've got a head full of smarts and more creativity in your little finger than most people have in their whole bodies. Getting distracted doesn't have anything to do with your intelligence, but I worry about Derrick not listening to you. I don't ever want you to leave here, but should you go back out there and try to explain things face to face? It seems to me you should try to work it out with him since you've...had relations with him."
An involuntary shudder shook through Callie at that. "We are not discussing that, and I am not going back out there. I'll find some other way to get through to him."
"Okay. Well then, have you figured out what you want for the rest of your life, sweetheart?"
What you and Pops have. She had no idea where that particular thought had emerged from, and she would never speak it out loud. She wasn't even sure what a life like that would look like for her. People didn't fall in love that way anymore. The world was all different now. "I want the internship in New York with Nina Morales...I think. And when I'm ready I want to open my own photography studio."
"What about Ford?"
"What about him? I just met him last night. I told you nothing happened. We're just friends," Callie vowed, perhaps a little too insistently.
Her grandmother gave her a weary nod. "Forgive me for asking."
"It's fine. No big deal."
"Uh huh."
Before Callie could continue to assert that Ford was nothing more than some sweet cowboy, the kitchen door swung open and in walked her father.