Ryker had called every ranch within a thirty-mile radius of Westbend. No one was hiring. He’d even contacted the horse ranch that they’d driven by the other night and left a message. It was a long shot. He certainly wouldn’t be holding his breath while waiting for Sunny Farms to call him back.
He was about to start marching door to door in town looking for work. He’d seen a construction crew demoing the place next to Charlie’s Garage. He could go by there and check if they needed an extra man. Ryker didn’t have construction experience, but he was willing to do anything for Honor.
Which was why he was about to walk into a meeting about an elementary play. Would his sister have gone to this thing? Doubtful. And yet Charlie, who was running a business and basically volunteering to care for her, would.
Ryker could no longer deny Charlie’s value in Honor’s life. He just wasn’t sure how she fit into the long-term picture. If it was up to him, he’d earn the right to raise Honor. Until his sister reappeared and regained custody...or lost Honor for good.
The thought made him sick. How had Kaia gotten so off course? Ryker had tried various ways of getting in contact with her, but every attempt he’d made became a dead end. Her voice mail was full—because of his messages, most likely—and she didn’t answer his texts. What if she never came back? What if having Honor taken from her was a ticket to freedom in her mind? Ryker was desperate to hear from her, to know what she was thinking.
And if she did respond to him, he’d do his best not to shout and rage, because man, he was mad at her. Who left a kid in the dust? And before Kaia had even skedaddled, Honor had been fending for herself. Ryker had learned more from Angela about how the school had reported her for possible neglect because of so many absences in just a few weeks of school. She’d also been without lunch on numerous occasions. And that was outside of the fact that she wore the same clothes to school on repeat, without even the illusion of a shower or bath.
The whole thing made him want to kick something and then empty the contents of his stomach.
A pair of small arms wrapped around his legs, and he glanced down. Sweet Honor peered up at him.
“Did you hear her?” Charlie asked from two steps behind. She wore ankle-length jeans and a simple white T-shirt with her leather sandals. Casual. Distracting. Just like when he’d poked his head into the back of her shop last night and found himself tongue-tied. She’d had a bandanna holding back her bright red locks, and all of the focus had been on those smoky green eyes of hers.
“No, sorry.”
“She called out to you as we were walking in your direction.”
He hugged Honor. “I missed that. Sorry, kiddo. My mind was elsewhere.”
The sun stretched toward the mountains as they walked into the elementary building together. Freshly scrubbed floors reflected fluorescent lights, and hooks along the walls were labeled for backpacks with shelves above.
“You excited about this play, Hon?”
Her head bobbed, and she chewed on a fingernail. They were down to nubs. The stress from her current situation had to come out somewhere.
Parents and students filled the brightly decorated classroom, sitting in folding chairs around the sides and back. The three of them found seats, though the only chairs left were the little ones at the desks that the students used.
Ryker pretended to fall out of the tiny chair, making Honor giggle, though it wasn’t far from the truth. He barely fit in the thing, and he wasn’t the tallest of men at five foot ten. His father was over six feet, but Ryker had taken after his mother in the height department. He’d bulked up in high school as a defense mechanism—as if his physical strength could squash the turmoil and verbal wake from his childhood. Now, his workout was the ranch. It kept him in shape, and the manual labor helped him crash at night. If only he could find another ranch to hire him so that he could stay in town.
Ryker shot up a desperate prayer request yet again. He’d said plenty of those lately.
“Thank you for being here.” A woman with trendy black-framed glasses and a flowered dress began the meeting. She introduced herself as Ms. Rana—the play director—and went on to inform the group that each family would be called on to fill a volunteer spot.
Charlie bit her lip next to him, broadcasting some sort of upset. Ryker had two nervous nellies on his hands tonight.
Ms. Rana talked about the various roles available and the tryouts she would hold. Papers were stationed around the room with descriptions for various parts and explanations of other options for involvement, like the narrator and backstage crew, plus a group that would do a dance number. Ryker poked Honor at that. She’d always loved dancing.
Once everything had been outlined, Ms. Rana dismissed the group to check out parts and sign up for ones they were interested in trying out for. Kids were supposed to rank their top three choices, and parents were supposed to sign up on one of the volunteer sheets.
Three little girls who looked to be around Honor’s age ran up to each other, discussing what parts they wanted. Honor nibbled on what was left of her right pinkie nail.
Did she have any friends?
Ryker’s heart rolled up into his throat, making him nauseous all over again. Honor had probably cemented herself as the oddball the moment she’d come to school without any of the necessities. When she’d worn the same outfit on repeat or her hair hadn’t been brushed.
What Ryker wouldn’t do to get ahold of his sister right about now.
He scooped Honor into his lap, praying the chair would support them, praying for healing for Honor. “What do you want to sign up for, Hon?”
Charlie must have recognized his attempt to protect Honor, because she wore relief like another woman might douse herself in perfume or layers of makeup.
“Do you have any ideas of what parts you’re interested in?” Charlie asked. “Or should we walk around and look at the sheets Ms. Rana set out?”
Honor paused from demolishing her fingernail. “I want to be Carmony Candy.”
Ryker reached back in his mind. Hadn’t that been one of the lead roles? There were five or six that would be on stage for most of the play according to Ms. Rana.
“I think they save parts like that for the older grades.” Charlie shot him a panicked glance. Ah. So, it was one of the lead roles. “Why don’t you scoot around the room and look at some of the other options? Then we can decide.”
“Okay.” A sad Honor pushed from his lap and shuffled to the first character photo, scanning the sheet.
“We can’t let her try out for a spot like that, can we?” Charlie held her head in her hands, elbows propped on the short table, her voice muffled. “She’ll never get it, and I just don’t know if she can handle another blow right now.” Her forearms crashed to the faux wood. “I mean, she barely talks. She’s getting better, yes, but she’s not some exuberant theatrical kid.”
“I guess. I’m not sure what to do.” Was he supposed to have answers? All he wanted was for Honor to be healthy and happy and safe. He’d prefer to pluck her out of kindergarten, give her a year to get settled, and then start over.
But that would have its repercussions, too.
He was starting to wonder if he should be here at all or if Charlie was the better option for Honor. Who was he to think he knew anything about raising a kid?
“What about this one?” Charlie pointed out a part that had five lines. It wasn’t the biggest role. Not the smallest, either. “It says the costume is pink.” So far pink had been high on Honor’s like list.
Honor’s head swung from side to side.
“Okay, no problem.” Though they were halfway through the sheets in the room at this point. No reason to panic. They’d figure something out that was a fit. Wouldn’t they? Charlie wasn’t trying to discourage Honor. She was simply directing her to roles she was more likely to get. Ones she’d be able to handle memorizing. It only made sense to be logical about the whole thing, didn’t it? And protecting her at this point in her tumultuous life had to be a good thing.
“What about this?” Ryker indicated a sheet that showed a group dance. “You love to dance. You’d be great at this.”
Honor shook her head, and Charlie’s stomach churned.
After three more sheets outlining parts that would make sense for Honor’s size and abilities—and three more refusals—Charlie fisted her hands in order to prevent throwing them in the air in exasperation. If Honor didn’t pick something she was interested in, she’d be assigned a spot. It would be better for her to have some choice in the matter.
Ryker’s features were drawn tight, and he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Seemed like neither of them knew what they were doing in this moment. Did all parents feel this sense of desperation? This terrible I don’t know how to fix this drop in their gut? If so, it was a wonder anyone ever signed up for the job.
Charlie had assumed parenting would come naturally to her because she’d wanted a child for so long, but if she made a tick mark for all the instances she’d already failed or botched things up, she’d be out of paper. Parenting—temporarily or not—was stressful. The smallest details—like this play—felt big. Despite the classes she’d taken and the things she’d read, Charlie wasn’t equipped to deal with any of this. And that pressure didn’t include the strain of keeping her business running and on track. When she’d heard Ms. Rana say that all parents were required to sign up to volunteer, she’d stifled a whimper. The school was only asking for one shift per family, but with the garage and the construction at the café, plus the medical, vision and dental appointments that Honor required, it would take a herculean effort to carve space in her schedule.
She’d figure out a way, though. Honor was worth it. If Charlie was going to be in this relationship, she was going to be all the way in. When she got home tonight, she’d continue tackling her to-do list one item at a time. Her granddad had always called her fiercely capable, and she wasn’t going to stop believing that moniker now.
She could call her granddad when she left here, and he’d encourage her like he always did. Even at ninety-six years old he was sharp as a tack and full of wisdom. But Charlie felt the tug to handle this herself. With God, of course. Her granddad had poured into her enough over the years that she had the tools. She could tap into that and overcome this bump in the road.
And then after she’d call and tell him about it. He’d love that. He’d always championed her strength and tenacity.
Ryker nudged her arm, his skin against hers warm and strange and not altogether unwelcome. “What’s on your mind?” They followed Honor as she flitted to another sheet.
“Just processing my schedule and the volunteer portion of this.”
“I can help.”
His offer caused that heat she’d experienced a moment ago to chill. Honor was her responsibility, not his. At least, not his yet.
Charlie wished she could rewind and erase her admission. Ryker might not be the worst person on the planet like she’d originally thought. He might even be good for Honor. But that didn’t mean Charlie had to open up to him.
Ryker might not be the enemy anymore, but that didn’t make him a friend, either.
She’d been naive too many times in the past and had gotten burned. She wouldn’t be making that mistake this time around. Any relationship she and Ryker formed was about Honor and nothing more.
“I appreciate that, but I’ll figure it out.”
“This is a lot, isn’t it?” She’d expected him to fight back, not to extend an olive branch.
Some people had voiced opinions that Charlie shouldn’t be fostering as a single woman, but Ryker, as far as she could tell, didn’t harbor any concerns like that. She only heard respect in his tone, which made hers turn up a degree.
“It is a lot, but she’s worth it. I don’t have any regrets.”
Gratitude claimed his features, turning them distracting in a flash. “Thank you for that. When I think about the places she could have ended up...” His head shook. “I appreciate you being her home.”
For now.
Neither of them filled in the phrase. But for all intents and purposes, they were still on opposing sides of the fence. In the midst of fighting for Honor’s well-being, they were ultimately fighting each other for the right to care for the little girl. Yes, Charlie knew Ryker wanted Honor, but was he the right place for her? Or could she possibly do better? Charlie’s income was stable, and her feet were cemented in this town.
Questions about what was best for Honor kept her awake at night, which wasn’t a help in running her garage. The other day she’d left an old gasket on an engine and had almost installed a new oil filter on top before realizing it. Huge rookie mistake that could have caused a loss in oil pressure and damage to her customer’s engine.
Charlie had also tossed around the theory that she should back out of fostering Honor and let Ryker have her. He was family, after all. But according to Angela, that wasn’t even an option until he could provide what his niece required in terms of a living arrangement.
Which meant Charlie had to stay in this right now.
Plus, who knew if Ryker would stick things out? It was possible he wouldn’t find a job here or a way to transfer his life from Texas to Westbend. The moving expenses of his old place plus a new one would break even the most stable of households.
And the jury was still out on whether he harbored any of his sister’s tendencies. It had only been a week since he’d roared into town. For all Charlie knew, he’d leave the same way, and Honor would be heartbroken all over again.
No, she definitely wasn’t ready to hand over the fight regarding Honor. Not until God made it clear that she should let go in the same way He’d shown her to commit in the first place.
“I really don’t mind signing up for the volunteer spot. It’s only one shift per family, so I can cover it.”
Family. They were anything but that.
“I’d like to help if I can swing it.”
“All right. Then I’ll sign up for now, and if it works, you can later.”
The weight bearing down on her eased a bit. “Okay. Thanks.” Letting him fill in for the volunteer slot wasn’t handing over Honor. As long as this wasn’t just a way for Ryker to worm his way into proving something to Angela. Charlie internally cringed. It was tough not to doubt his intentions.
Honor finished perusing the sheets and then turned to face the two of them.
She spoke clearly, concisely. “I want to be Carmony Candy.”
Charlie suppressed a groan. The last thing Honor needed was to reach for the stars and have her legs taken out from underneath her.
She kept her voice quiet, so that others wouldn’t overhear, and soft, so that she didn’t break Honor. “I don’t think that’s a—”
“Okay, Hon, if that’s what you want to do, then you should try.”
Charlie choked on a breath, fire and rage igniting at Ryker’s interruption. He shouldn’t even be here with them. Charlie had been willing to let him because she’d thought it was good for Honor—and had cleared it with Angela. But he was pushing his way in where he wasn’t welcome.
“Yay!” Honor cheered and hugged Ryker, looping her arms around his knees.
Charlie wanted to shout, stomp her foot, scream. When Honor got hurt, she’d be the one figuring out how to comfort her. When she cried herself to sleep—as she had the first few nights—Ryker would be off somewhere, oblivious to what he’d done.
The man should come with a muzzle.
Good thing Charlie still had her barriers up when it came to Ryker, because otherwise, she’d have to start rebuilding.