“How can I help, son?” Sam had come up alongside quietly, but when he put his hand on Nick’s arm, it didn’t feed old fuels of resentment, and that was surprising enough. Nick thrust his chin toward the town beyond the raised hedge and the route Elsa had just taken. “Tell me how to fix the unfixable.”
Sam stayed quiet.
Nick turned his way because if the old man wasn’t going to try to help, what was he doing here? One look at Sam’s hurting face made him bite back words of frustration. “I’ve got this, Dad.”
“I see that.” Sam paused and leaned against the broad barn door. “Didn’t doubt it. But I’d still like to help if I can.”
What could an aging, ailing cowboy do? Nick tapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then faced his father. “I wanted to show you up in the worst way.”
Sam didn’t look all that surprised.
“I wanted you to see that I was the best son for the ranch, for the business, for production. And then I wanted to show you how a good marriage was handled, that if you paid attention to your wife and worked with her instead of against her, everything would work out all right and we’d all live happily ever after. I wanted my success to show how you messed up so completely with my mother.”
Sam grimaced. “I passed a lot of good qualities down to you, Nick. But that one, the one that’s always got to have a hand in everything, besting everyone, that’s one I wish you’d missed. Because in the end, what does it matter?” He shrugged. “Folks talk all the time about how if they could go back, they wouldn’t change a thing. Well, they’re stupid.”
Nick watched him. “What would you change?”
“I’d have taken Colt to school that day like I was supposed to with his mother. We had it all planned out, to drop the little guy at preschool and grab lunch, then pick him up later. But something came up, I didn’t go, and I lost the most precious thing I’d ever known. I didn’t know what to do, how to handle any of it, and when Rita showed up and offered to help, it seemed like the smart thing to do. We’d dated in high school, and then there she was, quietly helping out, taking care of Colt. Marrying her seemed brilliant at the time.”
“Did you love her?” Nick wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it did.
Sam didn’t lie. “I was grateful to her. She’d stepped in and was willing to take what I could give then, but in the end it wasn’t enough.”
“I wasn’t enough.”
Sam stared at him and straightened. “It wasn’t about you, Nick. It was about her, and what she wanted. And that wasn’t us, or the ranch, or Gray’s Glen. She wanted a husband who loved her first, and that could never happen because Christine’s shadow was everywhere around us. In Colt’s smile. In his eyes. In the pictures on the wall, even after I had them taken down.”
He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. He faced Sam and held his gaze. “Did you pay her off ? Pay her to leave?”
Sam studied him. “You think that? That I would pay your mother to abandon you?”
“People have said as much.”
“The dumb ones. I asked her to stay. I begged her to stay, and I’m not the begging sort. But she said I’d left no room in my heart for another woman and she wasn’t playing second best, ever again.”
“She didn’t take me.”
“Well, now, that wouldn’t have been allowed.” Sam faced him. His gaze went tight. “I’d have shared, Nick, because she was your mother, but she was bent on going to Texas, to family that had moved there, and there was no way I was letting her take my son so far away. If she’d stayed local, it would have been different, I expect. But she wouldn’t hear of it. I sent her pictures of you every year. You remember that picture you made of you and her when you were in first grade? With her curly brown hair and big brown eyes?”
He remembered. In retrospect it was probably more of a caricature, but he’d looked at that picture and saw Rita Stafford, his mother, looking back. “I remember.”
“I sent that to her and asked her to come visit. I even said we’d come visit there.”
Sam had offered to go to her? To bring him to visit her? “We never went to Texas, Dad.”
“She said no. She’d moved on with her life, she was remarried and expecting a baby, and she didn’t want to face old regrets.”
He was a regret.
Emotion swelled his throat so tight it ached.
“And right about then Sandy and EJ overdosed, and I had to make a run to California to find Trey, and then it was the four of us, with Murt and Hobbs. I wish it had been different.” Sam sighed. “I wish I’d been different. But your mother didn’t leave because of you, Nick. She left because of me and her, and she couldn’t see her way beyond that. Maybe I was wrong, saying you couldn’t go, but how does a father let something so special just slip out of his hands? I couldn’t do it, and I hope you don’t hate me for it.”
Sam, professing his feelings for Nick. The big, rugged, faded-jeans cowboy saying how important Nick was to him.
He hadn’t bought Nick’s mother off. He’d asked her to stay.
It made a difference, somehow. The thought that Sam had been willing to sacrifice to keep things together way back then made a difference now. “And there we have the difference between the adult point of view and childlike perception.”
The common sense of Elsa’s observation rang true. Those early wounds had festered into gaping holes he’d tried so hard to fill, but in the wrong way.
He couldn’t solve Whitney’s problems by making her path smoother. If anything, that would probably enable her. But he could forgive her and move on, because he was sick to death of grudge holding.
He would go see her tomorrow, after church. If Rye’s information was correct, she’d broken their agreement, and she’d skipped the girls’ recital to do it.
He’d help Cheyenne work through it. And he’d respect his younger daughter’s trepidation, unless Whitney did a full three-sixty, because if he couldn’t understand his former wife’s choices, how could he expect a six-year-old to rationalize them? He couldn’t and shouldn’t.
Putting the girls first was bound to make Whitney unhappy, but that was her problem now because one of them had to be the responsible parent, and in this case it was him.
Nick walked the girls into church the next morning. It had rained gently overnight, a five-hour soaker, just enough to give thirsty plants and ponds a needed drink. Damp morning air met glorious sunlight, while evaporating moisture scudded thin clouds along the ground, rising into the trees as the sun moved higher.
Sam had stayed home, tired from yesterday’s outing. Hobbs had remained at the ranch with him, but everyone else flocked to church. Everyone but Elsa, of course.
Nick reminded himself not to look around the church for her, so when they walked through the double oak doors, that was the first thing he did.
She wasn’t there.
His gut tightened.
Was she skipping the service because he was there? Most likely.
He rubbed his jaw, troubled. Messing up a person’s faith quest hadn’t been on his list of things to do that day, and yet…
Elsa wasn’t there. Was she all right?
She seemed pretty calm and cool when she walked away from you last night.
She had, at that. As if despite her troubles, she was in charge, the same thing he’d sensed about her at their first meeting.
“Dad!” Dakota grabbed his pant leg, leaned back, and peered up. “Elsa said she was coming to church with us! I don’t see her! Can we go get her?”
“She promised.” Cheyenne didn’t look up as she muttered the words. “And Mom promised to come to our dance recital. Big deal.”
Her disillusioned tone seemed to expect grownups to break promises. Elsa wasn’t like that, but he didn’t know how to excuse her absence.
“Dad.” Dakota wasn’t about to let up, a true Stafford quality. “She might be sick. Or maybe Hoyl flew away and didn’t come back and she needs our help.” She tugged his arm. “Come on, Dad, we have to hurry! What if she’s in trouble?”
Angelina leaned their way as she waited behind them. “I’ll text her. If she needs help, we’ll run right over there, okay?”
“Yes! Thanks, Angelina!” Dakota whispered her gratitude as they moved to a pew.
Nick shook himself mentally.
He could have put Dakota off that way too, but his brain wouldn’t function once he realized Elsa hadn’t come to church. She wasn’t there because of him. She’d suffered a panic attack in public and was probably embarrassed, and he’d done nothing to assuage that embarrassment.
He’d been so angry about the lie of omission that he’d forgotten to be caring and tender. He’d thought about her horrible experience half the night, and when he couldn’t sleep, he’d opened his laptop and searched her name.
And there it was, linked to the Belvedere tragedy.
He’d lost that cow and calf earlier that month, and he felt the loss grievously. His negligence had been a factor. If he’d told someone that he’d brought her into the barn, she and her calf might be alive today.
He didn’t.
For Elsa, a moment’s indecision had cost three lives.
As he settled into the pew, single notes sounded from the keyboard. Familiar notes, warm and true. And when their small choir began singing “Amazing Grace,” the words didn’t just speak to him. They flowed over him, reminding him of lost times and finding his way back to faith, to God. And here he was, ready to walk away from the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him because she was flawed.
Who wasn’t?
She kept a mighty big truth from you. That’s something to think over, isn’t it?
It was.
Staffords might be tough negotiators. They might be savvy, always looking for a good deal, but they were honest, and Nick was proud of that. Maybe more because of how his mother left and his wife bailed out of their marriage. As Dakota kept leaning up, peering toward the entrance, another thought rang true.
The girls trusted Elsa. She kept them focused, the way a ranch kid should be focused. Work first, play later. Follow directions. Don’t shirk.
Reverend Stillman crossed the simple sanctuary. He raised his hands and smiled, letting his gaze roam the filled church. “May the peace and joy of the risen Christ be with each and every one of you this day.”
Peace and joy.
Nick centered himself on those two words. Perhaps if he focused on them more, they’d be granted to him. That was something worth praying about, right there.
Elsa saw Rachel’s name and accepted the call. “Hey, Rach. Good morning.”
“Good morning!” Rachel sounded happy to have her back on track. Would she rethink recommending Elsa for the job once she heard about yesterday?
“Am I seeing you in church this morning?” Rachel asked.
“You aren’t.”
Her sister cued into her voice instantly. “How come?”
Elsa didn’t mince words. She’d had enough of that. “I had a panic attack at the dance recital. The good thing is that Angelina was there with smelling salts and snapped me out of it. But the whole thing gave Nick a wake-up call he wasn’t expecting. Let’s just say he was less than thrilled with my reticence.”
“Elsa.”
She appreciated the note of sympathy in Rachel’s voice. “On the plus side, a fighting couple kept the crowd quite engaged, so no one even noticed me.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”
“I am too. But in a way, it’s good,” Elsa admitted. “I got deluged with reminders, but once it was over, it was over. I didn’t revert to hiding, I didn’t want to revert to hiding. I mostly wanted to smack both of the fighting parents, then shove it behind me and get on with my life, and that’s huge. Huge to me, anyway.”
“It is. Do you want me to come over?”
“Nope. You go to church with your family. I heard that the reverend is doing a fresh air service in the hills this afternoon. I might pull out for that. I like praying outdoors.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
For the first time in a long time, she was sure. Sure of herself, because falling apart yesterday wasn’t a crushing blow. It was more like a rough ride on a bad trail, and for a ranch girl, those things happened. “Yes. Talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
She set down the phone, then picked it back up as a text buzzed in. Angelina’s number came up in the display. “Are you okay? Coming to church? Dakota’s asking.”
Dakota. Not Nick.
She texted back quickly. “Yes and no…In that order. Give girls kisses and hugs for me.”
“On it.”
So the girls were wondering where she was.
Did Nick wonder? Or was he relieved that she stayed home to avoid an awkward situation?
She pulled out her scrapers and began working on the front of the house. As she completed her doll-up of each side, the house seemed happier. More inviting.
She turned on a modern country station, and when Trey Walker’s “Find Your Way Home” came on, she sang along softly.
Hoyl flapped, as if approving the song. Or maybe he was just happy that she stayed home. He flew off as Achilles plodded to her side. The shaggy dog sat, eyed the car and then her, and whined.
“We’ve got work,” she told him.
He pawed her leg gently, then looked toward the car again.
His meaning was clear. She’d given him a taste of life outside their hermitage and he liked it. Now that she’d opened the floodgates, he wasn’t content being stuck in the woods.
Neither was she, but for the moment it would have to do. “We’re staying put right now. Stop begging.”
The dog thumped to the ground, drew his front paws over his snout, and sighed as if she’d let him down.
He liked going to the ranch.
So did she.
But that wasn’t an option any longer. If she had to get used to it, so did he. Once the front was painted, she’d take her canine friend for a ride. It wouldn’t be the same as hanging out at the Double S, but it would be all right. Elsa was sure of it.
Trey climbed into the passenger’s seat of Nick’s SUV once the service had concluded and sat back. “Let’s do this.”
Nick lifted a brow in question. “Do what?”
“Go see Whitney. You. Me.” Trey waved a hand between them. “You can’t bring Colt because nothing will get accomplished once they start sparring, and I’m the next best thing.”
“I figured I’d see her alone. But thanks.”
“Guess again,” Trey told him. “Just in case you need a witness or a pal when this is all said and done, I’m coming.”
“Listen.” Nick faced him. “I appreciate all this brotherly love stuff, but I’ve got this.”
“Never doubted it. I’m still coming.” Trey settled back against the seat and tapped his wrist. “Colt’s got the girls; I’ve got all day. Take your time.”
Nick started the engine. It was probably smart to have someone along because there was no predicting what might happen. He drove west and turned into the subdivision. He pulled up to the curb outside the house, got out, and walked to the door, while Trey waited by the car.
Nick rang the bell. Would she answer? Was she even here?
The door opened quickly, surprising him, but then she looked just as surprised to see him standing there. Was she expecting someone else?
He motioned her outside. “We need to talk.”
She didn’t look great, but she didn’t look terrible either, and Nick was grateful for that. She nodded. “I know.” She stepped through the door and spotted Trey. “Hey, Music Man. How are things?”
He lifted one shoulder, cowboy easy. “Can’t complain.”
She laughed as if he’d said something funny. “Well, that’s a quality that didn’t come down from the Stafford side, did it?”
Trey didn’t engage the comment. He hung out, next to the car, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Listen, Whitney.”
She turned back toward Nick. “You’re upset because I missed the girls’ recital.”
That was all she had to say? She’d been in a wreck, her car was totaled, and she’d broken promises to him and her kids. “The girls expected you. They looked for you. Cheyenne has worked for years doing something she doesn’t even like, just so you’d be proud of her when you came back home. And then you didn’t even bother to show. How can I explain things like this to them?”
She had the decency to look guilty when he mentioned Cheyenne’s hard work. He continued, “Then you had Rye call me, and when I came to pick you up at the sheriff’s office, you’d gone off with someone else.”
“I don’t wait on Staffords anymore, Nick. Not now. Not ever again.”
He frowned. “You can have all the issues you want with me, but the girls need to know where they stand with you. They’re kids. Your kids,” he added with meaning.
“It matters to Cheyenne, maybe. Not Dakota.” She studied his face as if looking for something, then sighed. “She’s your little girl, Nick, through and through. She doesn’t need me. And she sure doesn’t want me around.”
His brain went right back to the cow story he shared with Elsa, how the occasional one showed no interest in her calf despite an udder full of milk. “She doesn’t know you,” he offered reasonably. “She’s a little girl. You’re her mother. Don’t you think it would be good for her to have a relationship with you?”
“Good for her?” She held his gaze deliberately. “Why would that be good for them? I’m not exactly mother-of-the-year material, now am I?”
What could he say to that? Nothing, so he let it be. “Kids want to know their mother loves them, because the opposite of that leaves you on the outside, looking in, for an awfully long time. I want more than that for them, Whitney.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got money, now, Nick. Not a lot, but some. I can get by.”
He heard the words and frowned, confused. “What’s that got to do with anything?” But even as he asked the question, he knew. He’d known it from the minute she’d rolled into town, pretending they mattered.
“Nothing if you’re rich, but when you’re down on your luck, a little bit of good fortune is a solid surprise. Aunt Rose’s trust fund just came down to me. It’s not Stafford huge, but it’s more money than I’ve seen in a while. Enough to fund my way out of this one-horse town.”
Another out-of-the-blue surprise. “You’re leaving?”
“I can’t stay here. You know that. I don’t want to be under your thumb, or on someone else’s schedule, or at someone’s beck and call. I like calling the shots. You should know that about me, Nick.”
Oh, he knew it all right. “By someone’s, you mean your daughters?” Her words prickled. Or maybe it was the disdain in her voice because being a mother would tie her down.
She squared her shoulders as if spoiling for a fight, but he didn’t want to fight. He wanted that peace and joy the reverend talked about earlier. “When are you leaving?”
“I’m going over to Sal’s to check out the used cars he’s got on the lot. Once I have wheels, I’m heading back to the coast. Real cities. Real people. Places where folks won’t look at me like I’m the odd one.”
“I need you to do one thing before you go.” When she huffed, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me bring the girls over to say good-bye. They’re at the playground; it will only take a few minutes. It would be real rough on them if you just disappear again.”
She hesitated, glanced around, then shrugged. “Sure. I’ll be right here.”
She wouldn’t; Nick was pretty sure of that. He looked at Trey.
Trey moved over to the driver’s side and climbed in. “I’ll be right back.” He pulled out, leaving Nick and Whitney standing there, and just like Nick had predicted, Johnny Baxter rolled into the driveway while Trey was gone. He looked at Whitney, then Nick, waiting.
Whitney moved his way.
“Give me ten minutes, okay? I’ve got to say good-bye to my girls.”
“Is there coffee inside?”
“Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He smirked as he walked by Nick, as if coffee mattered.
In the whole scheme of things, Johnny Baxter grabbing a cup of coffee was no big deal. Nick saw Trey making the turn back onto West Chelan. He drew a breath.
He wasn’t sure how the girls would handle this, but no matter what happened, they had him and the whole Stafford family to offer love and support. They’d be just fine. He’d make sure of it.