You’ve got mail.
Summer called out to her cousin. “Hey, April’s sent us an update. Want me to read it out loud?”
“Sure,” Autumn said, distracted by the mound of paperwork in front of her. Tax time. It was a killer, but it paid the rent. And being a CPA for one of the largest accounting firms in New York meant she was right in the thick of things. Just the way she liked it. She liked numbers and charts. She liked proof. Everything had to add up, make sense. Only two more days of this intense tax season frenzy, and then she could relax a bit. Not that she ever actually relaxed.
“Go ahead, I’m listening,” she called to Summer.
“Okay.”
“‘Daddy is about the same. Uncle Richard called Reed the other day, then called me. He hopes to come and visit this weekend. He said I should ask y’all to come home, but Autumn’s surely busy right now. Maybe in a few weeks, if Daddy can last that long. If not, well, I guess y’all will have to come when things change, when he’s gone. He looks so frail, so old. How did I let things get this bad?’”
Summer stopped reading. “No mention of my daddy, huh? No mention of Uncle James and Aunt Elsie. Of course, they’re probably off on the yacht, unaware of anyone else but themselves.”
“Your bitterness is showing,” Autumn called.
“You think?”
“Just read me the rest, so I can get back to work.”
Summer turned back to the computer.
“‘Reed kissed me this morning.’”
That brought Autumn careening across the big lofty living room so fast, the magnolia-scented candles Summer always kept lit flickered from the stirring of air. “What?”
“Says so right here,” Summer replied, pointing at the words on the screen. “Reed kissed April.”
“Oh, my.” Autumn sank down on a cushioned polka-dot footstool near Summer’s chair. “What else does she say?”
“‘We were by the swimming pool. It was mid-morning. He kissed me right there in the sunshine. And it felt as if we’d never been apart. I don’t think this is smart right now, even if it felt so right. I have to think about Daddy. And did I tell y’all that Daddy thinks I’m home for good, that he expects me to stay here and run the Big M?’”
“Makes sense,” Autumn murmured. “She will inherit it after he’s gone. I mean, Daddy and Uncle James will get their parts, but they both gave up running the Big M long ago. And Uncle Stuart is the oldest. She’s his daughter. Makes sense to me that he’d leave the majority of the ranch holdings to his only heir.”
“Shouldn’t we be jealous or something?” Summer asked.
Autumn slapped her on the arm. “Of what? Our parents have just as much loot as Uncle Stuart. And we’re not hurting, either.”
“I was just teasing,” Summer said, sticking out her tongue. “I don’t want any of it, anyway. Besides, my parents are too busy spending their part to worry about actually thinking about my future.”
Autumn scowled at her cousin. “You need therapy.”
“I don’t need some overpaid shrink to tell me that my parents don’t care about me,” Summer retorted. “Now, can we get back to worrying about April?”
“Sure,” Autumn replied, more worried about Summer. She had a chip on her shoulder that seriously needed shaking. But Autumn wouldn’t be the one to do it. “Go on,” she said, nudging Summer. “Keep reading.”
“‘I don’t know what to do. I planned to return to New York and Satire. I’ve built up a career there and I have a good chance of getting a promotion when we break into ready-to-wear this fall.’”
“Head of ready-to-wear marketing,” Summer said, nodding. “She’d be so good at getting Satire’s ready-to-wear off the ground. Trendy new threads and upscale department stores—stock should go right through the roof. Glad I invested early.”
“It would mean lots of traveling to all the various stores,” Autumn said. “All over the country and around the world. And I’m the one who told you to invest early, so you’re welcome. We both should make some money off this one.”
“How can she run the ranch and do that, too?” Summer shot back, ignoring her cousin’s other remarks.
“What does she say?”
“‘I don’t think I can do both—run this place and keep my job, let alone get a promotion.’”
Summer jabbed the computer. “Told you.”
“Just keep reading,” Autumn said, scanning the words on the screen. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
Summer turned and started reading again.
“‘I’m in such a fix. But all of that aside, I have to be near Daddy right now. I talk to him every night, tell him all the things I wished I’d said before. I’m not sure he can hear me, but it feels so good to pour my heart out to him. Why did I wait so long? Why did I let myself fall back in love with Reed? I’ve realized that all this time, he’s been waiting for me to come back, and now that I’m here, it’s for all the wrong reasons. I’m home to watch my father die. So Reed is being kind and patient and undemanding, but I’ve also realized that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been waiting for Reed all these years, too. I guess I always thought he’d come for me, you know? That somehow, he’d come to New York and tell me he wanted me back home, with him. Isn’t that silly?’”
“She’s completely stressed,” Summer said, finishing the e-mail. “Maybe I should go there, be with her. She’s getting too caught up in memories of her first love. That’s dangerous. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.”
Autumn stared at her cousin. “What’s wrong with a little hope? Uncle Stu is dying. And she still loves Reed. What’s wrong with hoping that they might actually get to be together?”
Summer jumped up, headed for the kitchen. “I just wouldn’t pin too much hope on a happily-ever-after,” she called over her shoulder. “She’s been through enough.”
Then she came back to the sofa with a container of yogurt. “Maybe I should just go there and help her get her head straight.”
“You could go to lend her your support,” Autumn said, “not shatter her illusions. You have gobs of vacation time accumulated.” She started back toward her desk. “Then as soon as tax season is over, I could come, too. If—”
“If it’s not too late,” Summer finished. “I’ll see what I can arrange at work. Take a few days. I could use a vacation anyway.”
“That’s an understatement,” Autumn replied. “But if you go and your parents do show up, don’t make a scene, all right? It’s not the time to make a big deal out of past hurts, Summer.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Summer said, saluting her cousin, her frown pulling her oval face down. “You’re so calm and collected, Autumn. How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Always stay in control. I mean, I blow up, shout, fight, pout. But not you. Always got it together.”
“You make that sound like a sin.”
“It is, if you can’t ever let go and just—react.”
“I don’t recall reading about that in the Bible.”
“I do,” Summer countered. “Something in Psalms, about asking the Lord to cleanse us from our secret faults.”
“I don’t need cleansing and I don’t harbor any secret thoughts. I’m just fine.”
“Well, I guess I do—harbor secret thoughts, that is,” Summer replied, her eyes downcast. “I guess I got me a lot of cleansing to do. I cry out, just as King David did, but sometimes I don’t think the Lord is listening.”
Autumn touched her cousin’s arm. “Well, just don’t do it when you get to the Big M. I mean, don’t cry out at your parents or raise a ruckus. Ask God to ease your famous temper. April needs us to be strong and supportive.”
“If I go, I won’t make a scene, I promise,” Summer replied.
Autumn hoped her volatile cousin meant that. It would be bad if Summer lost her cool while Uncle Stu lay dying.
“You know Mr. Stuart is dying, right?” Reed asked Tomás as they rode the fences the next morning.
Tomás held on to the dash of the hefty red pickup with one hand while he worked on adjusting the radio dial to a hard-rock station. “Yeah.”
Reed pushed the boy’s hand away and turned the radio off. “And you understand that we all need to rally around the family right now, not cause any hassles?”
Tomás glanced over at him, his dark eyes slashing an attitude a mile wide underneath the fringe of his silky black bangs. “You mean, like I shouldn’t get speeding tickets and cause an uproar with my grandparents?”
“Yeah, I mean that,” Reed said with a sigh. “Want to talk about it?”
“I wasn’t going that fast.”
“You just got your license. You might need to take it easy until you’re a little more experienced.”
“I am experienced, Reed. I’ve been driving all over this ranch since I was twelve.”
Reed nodded. “I did the same thing. Best place to learn to drive. But driving on these dirt lanes is a whole lot different from driving out on the highway or up on the Interstate. I’d hate for something to happen to you or your buddies. And I don’t think Adan’s parents would approve of this kind of behavior, either.”
“We’re okay, Adan and me. Or we would be if everybody would just leave us alone.”
Reed stopped the truck near a sagging barbed-wire fence, then got out. “It’s our job to hassle you, man. Keep you in shape. We wouldn’t want the star of the football team to get in trouble.”
“I’m covered there,” Tomás said with a twist of a grin as he slammed the truck door. “Coach understands me.”
“I’m sure he does,” Reed said, wondering when things had changed so much in high-school sports. His coach had kept a tight rein on all the players—curfew, good grades, no late-night shenanigans, no drugs or liquor. A long list of no-nos. Nowadays, it seemed as long as a boy could throw a ball or run fast, he could get away with indiscretions of all kinds. “Listen,” he said as he and Tomás rounded the truck, “we all care about you. If we didn’t care, we’d just let you run loose.”
“My parents let me do whatever I want,” Tomás retorted. “They trust me.”
Reed stared over at the young boy. Tomás was handsome in a dark, brooding way. A way that could lead to trouble down the road. And from the pained expression on the boy’s face, Reed decided Tomás wished his parents did care a little bit more. A whole lot more.
“Do your parents know about the ticket?”
“Yeah, sure. No big deal.”
“Uh-huh.” Reed could only guess what his own father would have done in the same situation. It would have been a very big deal. “Well, your grandparents think differently. So…Horaz is giving you yard duty on top of your other chores.”
“What?” Tomás threw down the coil of wire he had gathered from the back of the truck. “I have to mow that big yard? That is so not fair.”
Reed shrugged. “Life is so not fair at times. But you have to roll with the punches. You got the speeding ticket. Now you get to do the time.”
“But Grandpa said he’d help me pay it.”
“Yes, and because he’s doing that, he expects you to work off some of the price.”
“That’s just not right.”
“Neither is going sixty-five in a thirty-five-mileper-hour zone. Can’t have it both ways, Tomás.”
“My dad says I can have it all, if I just keep playing football. He says one day, I can own a ranch like the Big M.”
“Your dad is proud of you, I reckon,” Reed replied, shaking his head. “But first, get a good education, and stay out of trouble. I sincerely hope you become a success in football, Tomás. College and pro. But don’t count on that. Have a backup plan.”
“Did you?” Tomás asked, his expression clearly stating the obvious. Reed had had the same dream and it ended when he messed up his knee.
The boy’s pointed question should have hurt, but Reed knew in his heart he was content with his lot in life. He could deal with it. Well, almost. “As a matter of fact, I did have a backup plan,” he told Tomás. “I always wanted to have my own spot of land, right here near the Big M. And now I do.”
“Yeah, and look how long you had to work to get that,” Tomás remarked, his tone smug and sure.
Reed grabbed Tomás by one of his thick leather gloves. “Hey, I’m proud of my land. I worked hard to get it. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And you’d better learn right now, son, there aren’t any shortcuts in life.”
“You sound like my abuelo. But then, both of you have spent most of your lives catering to the whim of the big man, right?”
Reed wanted to smack the kid, but he held his temper in check. “We weren’t catering to anyone’s whims, Tomás. We were making a living—an honest living. Your grandparents have had a good life here on the Big M. Stuart Maxwell has made sure of that. And he’s always helped my family, too. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, and don’t ever disrespect Stuart Maxwell again.”
Tomás looked down, his sheepish expression making him look young and unsure. “I just want a better life, Reed. I just want more.”
“We all want that, kid. But…just make sure you go about getting the good in life in the right way. Remember your roots, your faith in God. Remember where you come from. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
Tomás looked doubtful, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be careful.”
“I hope so,” Reed said. He’d have to pray that Tomás had listened to him. Really listened.
April tried to listen to what the preacher was saying in church the next Sunday. But her mind wandered off in several different directions, maybe because Reed and his parents were sitting right behind her. She could almost feel his catlike eyes on her.
He’d been standoffish and quiet since their kiss. He’d been avoiding her. He came by and called to check on her daddy and give her updates on the ranch. That was something at least, since he could send any one of the many hands they had on the Big M to do that job.
But then, Reed had always been a meticulous details man. He’d always been thorough in anything he did—from playing football to starting a vegetable garden to dating the rich girl from the big house. In fact, she had to remind herself, he’d been so complete in his love for her, in what he hoped their future would be like, that he’d spelled it out in detail for her over and over again.
And she’d let him believe she wanted the same things.
She looked up at Reverend Hughes. What had he just said? His mercy endures forever? Did God show mercy to those who turned from him? Would God show mercy to her dear, dying father? Would God show her that same mercy?
I was scared, Lord. I was so scared.
She could understand now. Her heart and her head had matured a hundred times over. If she had married Reed back then, she would have made his life—the simple life he’d always wanted—miserable.
Because I was miserable.
Why couldn’t she just be happy? Why had she gone so far away to find her own brand of happiness?
Because I was scared. I’d lost my mother. I’d watched my father deteriorate into a mire of grief. Even going away to college hadn’t helped. The weekends at home only brought the pain back into a sharply focused kaleidoscope of anger and grief.
That grief had been so overwhelming, so thick with despair, April had felt as if she were drowning. And she felt that same pulling feeling now, which was why she’d taken a precious hour away from her father to come to church.
I had to get away, to find some peace, some space.
Back then, and now, for just a little while.
But she didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes, follow the same path again. Not this time, Lord.
All those years ago, she’d hurt Reed. And she’d never wanted to hurt Reed. She loved him. Loved him still.
I need Your mercy, Lord.
April thought about her father. Asked God to show all of them his tender mercies. She had to take it one day at a time. That was all she could do at this point. She couldn’t think beyond her father and what lay ahead— Even if she did feel Reed’s eyes on her, willing her to think of him and their future.
When April got home an hour later, Flora greeted her in the kitchen. “I just got here myself. Lunch is in the oven, querida. Oh, and you have a message from a Katherine Price. Phone was ringing when I came in. Lynette can’t hear it back there. We’ve got that phone turned off, so we don’t disturb your father.”
“Katherine called?” April took the note Flora had scribbled. “Urgent.”
“Sí,” Flora said, taking off her church hat so she could serve up the pot roast she’d left in the oven on warm. “Is she someone from your work?”
“My supervisor, the CEO of public relations,” April said, reaching for the phone. “She’s probably wondering why I haven’t called in to work.”
“You have enough to worry about.”
“Yes, but I also have responsibilities back in New York. Although I pretty much cleared my desk before I left.”
“You should eat first,” Flora said, concern marring her tranquil eyes.
“I will later. You and Horaz go ahead. Are any of your family joining you for Sunday dinner today?”
“No,” Flora said with a sigh as she tied her apron. “My son, Dakota—you remember him—he took his wife on a weekend to Dallas. Left us in charge of Tomás, of course.”
Her fingers on the phone, April asked, “Did Reed talk to Tomás?”
“Sí, but the boy was very angry still. Blamed us for his troubles. He’s not happy to be doing yard work.”
April had to smile at that. “It’s going to get hot out very soon. But then, Tomás should be used to sweating, what with football practice all the time.”
Flora nodded. “He’s just not used to authority. Obstinado, that one.”
April shook her head. “I hope things get better. Now, you get your lunch ready while I make this call.”
She left Flora humming a gospel tune. Heading out onto the long tiled verandah by the swimming pool, April dialed Katherine Price’s home number.
What did her boss want on a Sunday afternoon?
Her stomach twisting in knots, April waited for the phone to ring. Just one more thing to deal with. She didn’t need problems at work while she had so much going on here at the Big M.
But then, she’d already decided she couldn’t handle both.
She once again prayed for that mercy Reverend Hughes had talked about. Mercy, and strength. She needed both for the long days ahead.