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“HE’S NOT GOING TO COME back,” Mrs. Conover said.
Lacey jolted. She’d just been thinking of Jesse and kind of thinking the same thing, that he wasn't going to come back ,that she had scared him off by getting pregnant. And she was kind of thinking that if he was scared off by that, she was best done with him.
But she wanted to know for sure.
“What?” she asked, looking up from her bag.
“Beck. He hadn’t been here in years and he won’t be back for years. He feels like his duty is done. He passed me off to someone he could pay to look out for me.”
Lacey was surprised at how the words made her stomach sink. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Of course it is. How long have you been checking in on me? How often do you see my children come to visit?”
Lacey had never seen them visit. “Why do you suppose that is?” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, and she flinched when Mrs. Conover cut a sharp glance in her direction.
“Because they are ungrateful children, and honestly, who wants to come and stay at the old house, or at this ugly motel.”
“So why don't you go see them?”
“They don't want me there, either.”
“How many grandkids do you have? I mean, you don't get to see them very much, do you?”
“I have four grandkids, and no. I don’t. They’re all busy and don't want an old lady disrupting their lives.”
Maybe if she could relax and stop judging all the time, she could open herself up to being part of their lives. But Lacey wouldn't say so. God, she wanted to.
“And your mother? How often do you see her?” Mrs. Conover asked.
Ouch. Lacey hadn’t expected that question. “It’s been a while.”
“And why is that? I know she left you but...”
“She didn't leave me. She left my dad. I chose to stay behind with him.”
“I remember that. It was a very brave thing for you to do.”
Lacey was taken aback by the comment. “It didn't feel brave.”
“Nonetheless. But you don't see her? Your siblings?”
“Very rarely. About once a year. Usually Thanksgiving. Sometimes Christmas. Sometimes Mothers Day. Depends when everyone is available.”
“But even your brothers and sister? You’re not close to them?”
“We don't have much in common.”
“Why not? You were a teenager when they left. You’d think you’d have some shared experiences at least.”
“We have some. But my sister is married to a lawyer and they have a house and a lake house, and my brother Dalton is a mechanic and my other brother is married to a woman who doesn’t have much to do with any of the family, so we hardly ever see him. I’m just as happy to have me and my dad, you know?”
“I think that is fine.”
But Mrs. Conover didn't have anyone, because Lacey was afraid to admit she might be right about Beck. He wasn't coming back.
“Do you want to come to dinner at our house today? Since you’re in town and it’s not such a long drive?”
For just a moment, the older woman looked vulnerable, like she wanted to say yes, before her expression closed again.
“Why would I want to do that, when I can get delivery to my door and watch whatever I want to on the television?”
Lacey stopped herself from letting out a long sigh. She’d tried to do the right thing. She couldn't be responsible if Mrs. Conover didn't accept. She would rather not have the woman over judging her housekeeping and her cooking anyway.
“All right, then, I’ll check on you in a couple of days, and pretty soon you should be able to get back out to your house.” Lacey packed her equipment away as she spoke.
Mrs. Conover brightened at that. “How is it coming? Did you see it?”
“No, I don't go inside, I just open the door and let them in, then head to my next job.” The temptation had been great to sneak a peek, but she’d resisted. “I didn't want to go inside while you’re not there, and I didn't think I should see it before you do.”
“That’s good. That’s good. I didn't think about that, but that’s good.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Lacey repeated, and opened the door to see Beck standing there, hand poised to knock. She took a step back, stopping herself from lifting her hand to her heart in shock.
“Hey, Lacey. I thought that was your car.”
“What are you doing back so soon? I thought you were going to California after Las Vegas?”
“I decided I needed to take a leave of absence.”
“But I thought this was the season, or whatever, for racing? That your driver needed you there? That it was impossible for you to take off?”
He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Well, it turns out I’m not as indispensable as I thought I was.”
Lacey stared for a moment. “You were fired.”
“It was a mutually-agreed-upon parting,” he said, edging past her into the room. “I needed not to be there any more.”
“But the money.” She still had those hundreds tucked away in her purse. She had driven out to the house four times, but she didn't need to be paid a hundred dollars a time. “I have your cash...”
He held up a hand and gave a chuckle. “I’ve got money put aside, don't worry about me. Not sure what I’ll do next, but I’m going to stick around a while. Work on the house. Get it where it needs to be. Then I’ll worry about the next step.” He turned to his mother. “Does that sound okay to you? Can I stay at the house with you while I get it in shape?”
“I don't know,” Mrs. Conover said, her voice caustic though Lacey could see the emotion in her eyes. “You didn't want to share a motel room with me to save money. Will you be able to live in the same house?”
“I think we’ll be able to do okay,” he said with a smile. “Once we get that bathroom in working order.”
Lacey slipped out the door to give them privacy, her heart lifting. She would not read too much into that reaction. She was glad for Mrs. Conover’s sake, that was all. Not hers. Not hers at all.
*****
WHAT THE HELL WAS HE thinking? Beck should have given into his first temptation and burned the house down, started from scratch. The plumber from Kimmel had done a solid job replacing all the fixtures in the bathroom, though he hadn’t finished off the room. It still needed flooring and paint and new towel racks and a shower curtain rod and toilet paper holder. But Beck could handle that. The biggest challenges were the kitchen and the porch and the roof. He didn't mind hiring people, but he had to be more careful with his money than he’d been in the past, since he didn't know what he was going to do next.
But he hadn’t been able to concentrate on his job, knowing his mother was living in such a bad situation. And yeah, he hadn’t exactly been loyal to Riley, who had had such faith in him when they were coming up together. But Riley could afford the best, and would have Beck replaced before the next race.
Beck knew his mother’s living situation was all his fault. If he’d paid more attention to his mother over the years, the house wouldn't have gotten into such bad shape. His own fault. He’d just wanted out of town so bad, he hadn’t stopped to think about what she needed.
So he would make up for it now and continue with his life once he could leave his mother without feeling guilty.
Which was why he stood in the middle of the living room where he’d grown up and tried to figure out what he was going to tackle first.
The bathroom, he figured. He’d finish it off, then hit the kitchen.
Yeah. He’d do this. He wouldn't think about five-star hotels, and seeing the country, and meeting girls. He was going to put family first. Lacey did it, so he could, too. That was the kind of man he wanted to be, the kind of man he should have always been.
*****
STAYING IN HIS CHILDHOOD bedroom was weird as hell. Exhausted, he stretched out on the twin sized bed with the same bedspread he’d had growing up that smelled a little musty from disuse, and looked at the ceiling that had a crack from right over there in the corner. Had that always been there? He didn't remember.
He did remember resenting his younger brother Conrad moving into his space, and staying there until he, too, fled this town for literal greener pastures. Conrad was a cop near Houston. But Marcus had been the oldest, so had his own room. Sara was the only girl. Beck and Conrad had to share.
Beck had the window cracked because the next item on the agenda, moved way up really quickly, was a central air conditioning unit. His mom had window units in her room and the living room, but every other room in the house was just straight-up miserable so, yeah, she would argue, but he was insisting, since he was paying for it. They’d never had central air growing up, and he supposed he’d been used to it, then, but he wasn't any more and he didn't have to be, damn it.
He rolled on his side toward the window, presenting the greatest surface area to the breeze that flowed through, and he heard the lonesome call of a coyote.
Well, maybe not so lonesome because a chorus of cries, spine-chilliingly close, responded to the first animal. Beck sat up in bed, straining for a glimpse of the animals that howled just on the other side of the barn. He didn't know why they fascinated him. Maybe he’d been away too long. He’d always strained to see them when he was a kid, too, and had, many times. His father had killed them on sight, because they were a threat to the livestock, and Beck understood that, though it always made him sad, especially when there were pups or a nursing mother.
Now they weren’t a threat to anything he had, and he wanted to see them. But the night was too dark, and they sounded farther away. He lowered his head to his pillow and let the scents and sounds of his childhood carry him to sleep.
*****
“BECK! I’D HEARD YOU were back in town!”
Beck turned from the counter of the hardware store when he heard the deep voice of Con McKay from behind.
Con had always been a big guy, but now in his late twenties, he was in his prime, his shoulders broad beneath his t-shirt, his arms stretching the sleeves. He wore his dark blond hair shorter than he had in high school, and the planes of his face had sharpened, but otherwise, Beck would know him anywhere.
“How long are you here?” Con demanded after a back-slapping embrace.
“Getting my mom’s place fixed up.” Beck rested a hip against the counter. “After that, my plans are fluid.”
“Fluid, huh?” Con picked up a key ring measuring tape from a box near the register, then put it back. “I thought I heard you were working for Riley Foster? Why aren’t you up there in California with him?”
“We parted ways. I needed to get some stuff done around here and his schedule isn’t very flexible, you know. I needed more flexibility. I’m still waiting to realize I don't have to be somewhere at a certain time. It’s an adjustment.”
“I can imagine.”
“And you? Working on the family ranch still?”
A shadow passed over Con’s face before he replaced it with an affable smile and nodded. “Yeah, not a lot of flexibility out there, either. Tied to the land with its own schedules.”
“Working horses out there, still?” Con’s father had raised some of the best of the best Appaloosas, the most beautiful horses Beck had ever seen.
“My number one priority.”
Beck didn't know if his father was still living, still running things, and he didn't want to ask, didn’t want to bring it up in public. Con had had to put on a positive face for Broken Wheel for years. Beck didn’t want to chip away at it.
“So where are you staying?” Con asked. “Your mom’s place?”
“Yeah, for now. It’s in pretty bad shape so I’m trying to help her get it taken care of. Then I’ll figure my next step.”
Con straightened. “Hey, let’s go over to The Wheel House and I’ll buy you a beer. Couldn't do that the last time I saw you.”
Beck’s first instinct was to say no, but damn, he and Con had been friends in high school. And he could use a friend now. He wondered if Con could, too.
“That place still around?”
“Not exactly the same. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Beck hadn’t been to The Wheel House since he had to go in and drag his dad out when he was a kid. Yeah, that had been fun. But apparently it had new owners or something. Beck didn't remember what building had been next to it, but that building was gone, and the area was partitioned off by a split rail fence. Inside the fence were picnic tables, three-hole washer game boards, a small stage. He could see where this would be a nice gathering area some evening or a Saturday afternoon when it wasn't blazing hot outside. A couple of trees grew around the perimeter, though they didn't add much shade yet.
The two men walked into the bar, which was in the same orientation it had been years past, but a big chalkboard behind the bar listed a menu of food and drinks. They could sit at wooden stools at the bar, or at additional picnic styled tables inside.
Con chose the bar.
“So who bought this place?” Beck asked.
“Ah, well, no one you know. She came in a couple of years ago, thinking the boom from the basin would trickle down here. It hasn’t, but this is a nice place to hang out. I don't know how she’s keeping her head above water, but I do what I can to keep her in business.”
The casual reference made Beck wonder to whom Con referred. “So what’s new with you, man? You knew about me, about my life. What about you? Married? Kids?” Con and Britt Fraser had been inseparable when they were in high school. Everyone had been sure they’d be married. For all Beck knew, they had ten kids by now.
Con flicked a hand to the side. “Nah. Neither of those things.”
“Britt?”
“She left after high school and never came back.”
Beck straightened. “I never thought that would happen.”
“Yeah, well, after all that happened that spring, hell, I would have left if I could, too.”
“But you’re still here.”
“It’s what I know.”
That kind of thinking was how people got to be bitter and old before their time, but Beck didn't know Con now well enough to say so.
He ordered a bock, Con did the same. The bartender looked vaguely familiar, and greeted Con, just nodded in Beck’s direction. Beck would ask later who he was. He was older than the two of them, but not much.
“You? You get married? Or come close? Or you just have all the girls now?”
“Not married, not close, and only a few of the girls,” Beck replied with a grin as he lifted the bottled bock to his lips. He wondered why at Con’s question, the face that popped into his head was Lacey’s.
“I guess why settle down when you’re seeing the world, right?”
He heard the envy in Con’s voice and didn't know how to address it. Sure, he’d been able to see the world, been able to escape Broken Wheel, had a college education. He wasn't sure Con ever got one. He knew Con’s guilt compelled him to stay, to make up to his father for not saving his sister’s life.Beck didn't want to see his friend old before his time, not the guy who who used to have a smile for everyone, was affable and cheerful. Beck wondered how much of that had been destroyed when Claudia died, how much of it had happened when he saw his future drifting out of his reach.
Beck wished he could turn back time for his friend.
“What about Marcus and Conrad? Sara?”
“Oh, yeah, they left town and never looked back. I don't think they’d even think about Broken Wheel if Mom didn't live here.”
“But they don't come visit?”
“She is not an easy woman to get along with.”
“And yet you’re living with her.”
Because fixing up the house would alleviate his guilt for leaving her here. He could leave town without feeling bad.
“Too bad this town was a place we wanted to leave,” Beck said with a sigh, folding his hands around his beer. “Whoever bought this place had the right idea—make it a place to enjoy, to gather. The only places I remember ever gathering were church and school. And high school wasn't even in Broken Wheel. Had to travel another half hour to there.”
“Yeah, this place does pretty good on the weekends. You’ll have to come see.”
“Who do you keep in touch with from back in the day?”
“Well, you know, some people leave, but Dwayne and Caleb got jobs in the basin, and Javi works for the highway patrol. Lacey is nursing, but I guess you know that. Sofia still runs the motel, though she has to be drowning in debt after her bastard ex talked her into renovating, then bailed and left her with the bills. Ginny is waiting tables at the diner, and word is Janine wants to retire and leave it to her. Poppy is an elementary school teacher, which I think is more odd than Javi being a cop, if you ask me. Your family left, Britt left, Debbie left, but most everyone else stayed.”
“I can’t believe Javi is a cop after all the shit we pulled growing up. I ran into Sheriff Talamantez the other day and he remembered me.”
Con laughed. “Yeah, he would. Seriously, man, I’m surprised you didn't become the race driver instead of Riley Foster.”
“Maybe if I’d grown up driving something besides that old truck, I would have.”
“So have you run into anyone else since you’ve been back?
“Yeah, I’ve seen Lacey. She’s looking after my mom.”
“That’s the perfect job for her. She likes to take care of people.”
“You know this guy she’s with? Air Force guy?” He didn't mention her pregnancy in case Con might not know yet.
“I’ve met him a couple of times.”
Con’s lack of elaboration raised some red flags. “Good guy?”
“Not worthy of Lacey, but you know, I’m not going to think anyone is.”
“Think they’ll get married?”
Con shot him a look. “Why do you ask?”
Shit. Revealed too much. “No reason.”
“Right.” Con held his gaze for a long moment, but Beck was determined not to give anything away. Finally Con relented. “So tell me all the places you’ve been. Let me live vicariously.”
Beck lifted a hand from the worn wood of the bar. “Yeah, well, I’ve been a lot of places, but I was working mostly, so I didn't get to see a lot. I mean, I was just in Las Vegas but didn't get to so much as pull the handle of a slot machine. The schedule can be pretty brutal, especially this time of the season, and when Riley is doing well in the standings. The better he does, the more work for his crew, you know?”
“But you, like, have stamps on your passport beyond Mexico, right?”
“Sure, I’ve been to Spain and Italy and Belgium, driven on the Autobahn. Was supposed to go to Russia this summer, but I guess that won’t happen now. I’d never been there.” Something in his chest sank at that realization. He’d really been looking forward to that experience. But he’d made his choice. He was pretty sure that even if he went back to Riley with a plea to work for him again, Riley would say no. He’d left the team at a vulnerable time, after all.
Con shook his head. “Man, I’d love to see a fraction of those places.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Ha.” Con pulled out his wallet to pay for the beer, and Beck put his hand out.
“Let me buy.”
“I invited you. Besides, you’re unemployed now.” Con slapped his shoulder and offered a smile, the old smile Beck was used to seeing. “Come on out Sunday. We get here about four, play some washers, drink some beer, listen to some music. It’ll be good for you to see everyone again.”
Maybe it would, maybe not. But he found himself nodding, and worse, looking forward to it.