On Wednesday morning, Abby helped Betty out of the car and walked beside her as she navigated her walker over a snowy curb and up the sidewalk. “Are you sure this is all right? I don’t like leaving you here alone.”
Betty hobbled into the rehab clinic with Abby at her side. Once Betty was checked in and her coat hung up, she settled gingerly into one of the waiting-room chairs. “This will work out perfectly, dear. I’ll be here for about an hour of PT, and then Frieda is meeting me right here. We’ll walk down to the Senior Center wing so we can visit over coffee, then we’ll have lunch with our friends.”
“You do have your cell phone, right? In case your plans change? I can come straight back.”
“That’s nice of you, dear. But just be back by three so we can pick up the girls at school.” Betty patted Abby’s hand. “Go on—the sooner you leave, the sooner you can have a nice visit with your father. I haven’t seen him in years, so tell him hello from an old schoolmate.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial chuckle. “I always thought he was the cutest boy in school. If he’d been five years older, I might’ve asked him out.”
Abby couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Betty! You rascal.”
Her smile wreathed her face in wrinkles, but the sweet beauty of it hadn’t been diminished by the years. “I might’ve thought that, but you know he never had eyes for anyone but your dear mother.”
Abby smiled, and memories of her parents came to mind as she drove south of town to her dad’s Shy Creek Ranch, where she’d grown up.
This morning, she’d tried to play it safe by calling his cell phone. He didn’t pick up, but she recognized his voice on the voice-mail recording so she left a message and then sent a text for good measure.
The house phone was another matter.
If Darla knew when she was coming, would no one be at home? Or would Dad’s gimlet-eyed new bride storm out of the house when Abby arrived?
When she pulled up to the house, she surveyed the barns, wondering where Dad might be. Then she heard his German shepherd barking from inside the machine shed. A moment later Dad appeared, waved at her and then went back inside.
Quite a welcome after three years, but with the windchill hovering around minus ten, she didn’t want to dawdle either.
“Shut the door,” Dad barked from somewhere behind his 4020 John Deere tractor as soon as she stepped into the cavernous building. “Heat’s on, and it’s cold outside.”
“I know, Dad,” she said dryly. “Good to see you, too.”
“Just hold on,” he growled.
She heard a wrench hit the cement floor, her father grumbling, then the screech of metal on metal. A few minutes later he rounded the front of the 1960s tractor, wiping his hands with a dirty rag.
“I see you’ve still got the old girl running,” she said, sliding her hand over its spotless flattop fender.
He snorted. “No use buying new when the old one runs fine.” He tossed the rag into a bucket on the cement floor and took an awkward step forward, as if planning to shake her hand—typical Dad—but stopped and held both greasy hands palm up. “Better not.”
She took him in from head to foot. With so many questions to ask, where did she even start?
He had aged so much—beneath his Pine Bend Grain Elevator ball cap there were short wisps of thin gray hair, and the deep lines in his face were now like ravines that spoke of a hard rancher’s life spent out in the elements.
There was a gimp in his gait that she hadn’t seen before when he motioned to a couple of tractor-seat bar stools in front of his workbench and settled onto the one next to a grimy electric coffee maker. A bad hip, maybe. Or a bum knee? She felt a pang in her heart at the visible evidence of his aging.
The coffee smelled old and bitter, and she shook her head when he offered her a mug before pouring one of his own.
“You’re looking good, Dad,” she ventured.
He shrugged off her compliment. “What’s this about you divorcing that man and having no job? Maybe you should’ve found a job first.”
She felt a flicker of relief at him remembering the letter she’d sent him, even if to Dad Alan had always been that man, a city slicker he’d never liked. But leave it to Dad to forgo all niceties and get right to the point. “Alan filed for divorce, not me. And I was the only one working. So now...I’m in transition.”
“Unemployed, you mean.”
Abby suddenly felt even more thankful that Jess had hired her. “Actually, I do have a job, on a ranch outside town. And in the fall I hope to be starting on my PhD in Special Education.”
“Hmmph.”
“Then I’ll be a professor, Dad. I want to focus on autism research and make a difference in this world.”
A grudging light of approval lit his eyes.
“So how are things here?” She lifted an eyebrow, hoping to get a rise out of him. “Switched over to Herefords yet?”
He sputtered over a sip of his coffee and shot her a look of disbelief. But then she saw the faintest deepening of the laugh lines framing the corners of his eyes.
“The day this ranch runs anything but Black Angus is the day I’ll be six feet under.”
She’d been worried about his mental status, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten his lifelong prejudice about cattle, and she’d even detected a hint of humor beneath his usual crusty demeanor. All good signs. And for the first time, she wondered if she’d been misreading him all along. “I was wondering—”
The door to the steel building opened and a rush of cold air blew in.
Darla hurried over to Dad and threaded her arm protectively through the crook of his elbow. “Honey, it’s time to go.”
Dad looked at her in surprise.
“Remember? I have to pick up Lanna by three.”
He still looked mystified, but then seemed to catch on to her urgent desire to whisk him away. “Not just yet, Sugar.”
Sugar? Honey? Those words had sure never been in Dad’s lexicon while Abby was growing up.
“No, now,” Darla said plaintively, giving him an imploring look. “Greg is always so angry if I’m late, and I just can’t bear it.”
He covered her hand with his and dutifully slid off his stool. After a moment’s hesitation, he awkwardly patted Abby’s shoulder. “Maybe you can stop by another time, while you’re still in these parts,” he said gruffly.
Abby settled a long, assessing look on Darla, who was tugging at his hand. “I’ll definitely be back, Dad, because I think we have a great deal to talk about. A very great deal.”
* * *
Jess loaded a saddle into the rear tack compartment of his gooseneck horse trailer, then went back into the barn for a couple bales of hay.
Abby pulled her SUV next to his truck just as he was coming out with some extra winter blankets for the two horses he would be hauling to Denver.
“Well, the girls are off to school.” She peered into the tack compartment. “Looks like you’re set for anything.”
“This time of year you can’t be too careful.” He nodded toward the living quarters at the front of the trailer. “I’ve packed extra winter gear for myself and stocked the kitchen, just in case.”
She went to the side door and peeked inside. “Wow—this is really nice, Jess. How many does it sleep?”
“Supposedly eight—if they’re hamsters. Comfortably, probably just three adults. Go on in and take a tour if you’d like.”
She came out a few moments later. “You’ve got everything you could need with that pretty little kitchen and a half bath. What time are you leaving?”
He glanced at his watch. “As soon as I get the horses loaded. Sounds like some bad weather will be moving through Colorado tonight, but if I leave now, I can beat it.”
She bit her lower lip. “The girls are really worried about you leaving. It seems like any change in the status quo makes them nervous.”
“I know.” He slammed the door of the tack compartment shut and locked it. “Are you going to be all right with them while I’m gone overnight? I know they aren’t always easy.”
“They don’t need to be easy.” She met his gaze squarely. “If I was that age and my mom had disappeared, I would feel insecure, too. But their gramma is here, and she’s a familiar face. And I’ll keep them entertained. Everything will be fine.”
His eyes still locked on hers, he stilled, holding himself back from the most natural thing in the world—saying farewell with a quick embrace.
Maybe even with a longer one and a farewell kiss.
She seemed to feel the frozen moment of tension, too, because her eyes widened. Darkened. And then she abruptly stepped back.
“I’d...um...better get back up to the house to check on Betty. Have a wonderful trip.”
She’d gone just a few steps when she pivoted and came back to rest a mittened hand against his chest and brush a swift kiss against his cheek. “Stay safe.”
She was halfway to the house before he could react. But hours later, he still felt the warmth of that innocent kiss.