He smiled, though it held some pain. Self-directed? He’d naturally blame himself, but the choice to take off was hers ... and she’d paid the price for it.
“I promise to never bring it up again,” her dad said.
Because he was afraid? That made her ask what would happen once they returned home. She didn’t want to be treated with kid gloves and feared that’s what he’d do. She worried, too, she wouldn’t see Kees. As grateful as her dad seemed to be, he hadn’t said he’d changed his mind about them being together.
Kees called that evening, and strangely, for the first time in a while, she was alone. Brenna clung to the phone with both hands. “I’ve missed you.”
His silence answered.
“Kees?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing to miss,” he replied. “Same ol’ me.”
To her mind, he sounded like he was teasing, but the undercurrent between them grew. Worry wrapped around her heart. He hadn’t said he loved her, but had come pretty close. At least, she thought so. One thing was for sure, he knew how she felt about him, and that would naturally affect how he acted right now.
“I’m supposed to be released the day after tomorrow,” she said. “My mom is coming to visit, but maybe you and me ...”
“Brenna.” He interrupted her. “You need to mend. Concentrate on getting better.”
And don’t pressure him. She heard his unspoken words.
Why? Because he didn’t feel anything or because he did? She couldn’t ... wouldn’t forget what all had gone on between them. More than their conversations, there was the look in his eyes.
“I’m going to get better,” she replied, “and I’m staying in Montana. This is my home.”
Where he was. Did he hear her? Unable to look him in the eye, she couldn’t say. He gave her one breath of hope, though.
“I’m glad,” he said. “Montana needs you.”
Montana did ... but did he? After he’d hung up, the question lingered. She suspected the answer would be days ... weeks coming.
Though he’d blurted the truth to his dad, Kees didn’t share his feelings for Brenna with anyone else. He couldn’t find the words, since he struggled with even admitting it to himself.
Fortunately, his absence and the recent rains had left a lot of work at the Chapmans’, and he was able to lose himself in mundane tasks for a while. At least, during working hours. At night, alone, was another matter. Even sleeping out under the Montana stars, what he saw was him and her. What he longed for was her fingers in his hair, her voice in his ear.
But to allow himself that, he had to, first, take a good look at his past, at the cavalier, slightly egotistical man who’d wink at a woman just to see her react. That reputation was the reason Malcolm had no respect for him.
“Be honest,” Kees mumbled. Slouched in the saddle, the reins slack in his grip, his gaze trailed across the herd, yet not seeing it at all.
Be honest that it was more than winking. He’d had a few overnights with women of loose morals. One had even accused him of fathering her child, though that’d proven to be untrue. He’d acted justified in his behavior afterward, saying, too loudly in the townspeople’s ears, how careful he always was.
What did that matter? He’d looked like a fool then and felt like one now.
“That’s a long face.”
Hearing Lottie, Kees shook his thoughts free. He gazed past her at Harlowe, some hundred yards distant. “You’re picking this up kind of fast, aren’t you?”
She smiled and gripped the saddle horn. “I’m wobbly, but Harlowe says, I’m a natural.”
It seemed like it, though Kees didn’t say so.
“You thinkin’ about Brenna?”
He sobered and looked away. No reason to share anything with her. She’d probably drop the subject if he held silent, but he needed perspective and she knew Malcolm. She’d have a good outside view.
“Her and myself. I was thinking Malcolm is justified to not like me.”
Brenna’s horse danced to the side, and she tugged the reins, bringing the animal to a safe stop. She tapped her heels into the beast, and it paced forward once more.
“He sees a different side of you now,” Lottie replied. “But ... speaking for myself ... I understand not liking how you’ve acted better than anyone.”
He slanted her a look again. She would, and it was brave of her to admit it. He’d heard, third hand, about her fling with a married man back home. It was what had sent her racing north to Montana.
“I had to forgive myself. Harlowe gave me that chance.”
Kees searched the area for Harlowe again. “Yeah, well, he and I are cut from two different pieces of cloth.” One more saintly than the other. He liked Harlowe, but he couldn’t compare himself without feeling less of a person.
A knowing look rose in Lottie’s eyes. “Being different doesn’t mean you can’t forgive yourself. I haven’t read anywhere in the Bible where it says, ‘God forgave everyone except Kees Butler.’”
Kees smiled, halfhearted.
Lottie inhaled. “Look, if my uncle is the issue, then talk to him. Meet him somewhere mutual, you know, even ground.”
Good advice. But later, lying in his bunk, the bear’s head hanging directly overhead, he suspected Malcolm’s own long-time bachelor status would come into play. He’d loved and lost, and according to Brenna, had carried the pain of it all this time. Last thing he’d want was to allow the local scoundrel to date his daughter. And risk her heart breaking?
Understandable. Though in Kees’s mind, there wasn’t anything for him to fear. This had gone way past dating. He was looking to live out his days in Walt Whitman’s poem, with his muse by his side. He had no more time to waste with petty dinners and boring conversations. That wasn’t Brenna, anyhow.
She was facing a grizzly in a rainstorm and surviving. Something he’d already experienced, and there wasn’t any going back.
“I can’t believe I’m here.”
Brenna’s mother, Beverly, turned in a slow circle, memories fluttering across her face. Her cheeks washed pink then pale, in turn. Behind her, Sierra, her stepdaughter, stood motionless, her hands folded at her waist. She was pretty, in her late twenties, with fiery red hair. She seemed clearheaded, and probably her mom had brought her for that reason. She wouldn’t have wanted to come back here alone.
Her mom ended her perusal of the room by looking at her. Seemingly overwhelmed, she surged forward, wrapping her in a tight embrace. A light floral fragrance tickled Brenna’s nose.
“You scared me witless. I told Malcolm ...”
Whatever she was going to say, her dad’s entrance cut short. He leaned his weight on one foot, one hand on his hip. Uncertainty worked on his brow. He looked stiff, to her eyes. He’d been far more relaxed when seeing her mom on their visit to Georgia. Having her here made things much more uncomfortable. Though, it seemed like Sierra’s presence helped dissipate some of that.
She’d told him not to worry about picking them up at the airport. She’d drive. She had no fear of getting lost. And she hadn’t, showing up exactly when she’d said they would. Another reason, beside moral support, that her mom must have brought her along.
“Malcolm.” Her mom ended her statement, speaking his name. “This is Sierra.”
She stepped to the side, and her dad’s gaze shifted.
Sierra dipped her chin. “It’s good to meet you, and thanks for agreeing I can stay for a while. I promise to not get underfoot.”
Her dad seemed to drink that in. He cleared his throat. “You have suitcases? I can get those for you.”
“They’re in the trunk,” her mom replied.
Her dad flicked her mom a glance.
“Let me help,” Sierra said. “I packed more than one man can carry.”
Her dad didn’t respond at first, then waved her toward the front door. Side-by-side, they left the room. Brenna waited for the door to open and close before she spoke.
“She seems nice,” she
said.
Her mom smiled. “She’s very independent, acts forty instead of twenty-eight. Stubborn and strong-willed and determined like someone else I know.” Her mom rested one hand atop Brenna’s head. She pressed her to her chest. “You’re okay?”
“Mmmhmm, a little weak, and I cough some. I’ve been given a strict regimen of what I can and can’t do.”
“And you’re already pushing at the seams.”
Brenna laughed softly. “Not too much. I learned my lessons about losing control.” The hard way. She pulled back and lifted her chin.
Her mom’s smile faded, fine lines forming on her brow. “I want to know more about this man who saved you,” she said.
Once more, her dad interrupted things. He ambled inside, three suitcases, a small carryall, and a garment bag in his grip. “I’m going to put you and her in the guest rooms. You know where those are, top of the stairs.”
Her mom nodded, and he disappeared.
Sierra strolled in, empty-handed. “He wouldn’t let me carry anything.”
“He won’t,” her mom replied. “Malcolm, you’ll learn, is a very proud man.”
Brenna couldn’t tell how she meant that, as a general comment or a slight complaint. She didn’t want to ask either and so held silent. Her dad returned a minute later.
“How long are you here?” he asked.
Another loaded question. Pain flickered in her mom’s eyes. “A week, and I want to spend as much of it as possible with my daughter. I also want to meet this man, Kees Butler. I’d like to thank him in person.”
His teeth together tight, her dad’s jaw flexed. He glanced at her but spoke to her mom. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
There was a definite bite in his voice, and the conversation threatened to collapse. Was he upset over Kees or because it was her mom who’d asked? They’d faced each other in Georgia with smiles. Did being here, in this house, really make that much difference?
She remembered so little about their being together. Somewhere in the back of her mind was an image of her mom saying she loved her but was moving home. She hadn’t understood that then. This was home. Wasn’t it?
“Mr. Stratton?” Sierra broke the silence. “Can I have a drink? Better yet, why don’t you show me the kitchen? I can’t be bugging you and Brenna every time I need something.”
“Glad to,” he replied.
He turned his back and sauntered ahead. Sierra fell in step behind him.
Once more, Brenna waited for them to leave. “Mom? Are you okay?”
Her mom exhaled and tightened her hug again. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. This has been a long time coming. Your dad and I simply need to work it out. It’s too bad, though ...”
She hushed.
“What’s too bad?”
Her mom stood there, unspeaking, for quite some time, then glanced down at her. “That he can’t move on. He’s a good man. He ought to love somebody besides himself.”
Brenna winced inwardly. Is that how she saw him? He loved her, his daughter. Though, thinking on that harder, he’d focused his affections on her too much and that’d become part of the problem.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Kees,” Brenna said, switching the subject.
Her mom laughed softly. “I met him once long ago. He was just a boy. But, yes, I want to see the man he’s become, the man who holds my daughter’s heart.”
Her dad returned, and the expression on his face said everything. He’d plainly overheard the remark, yet seemed like his thankfulness to Kees extended only so far.
How did she begin to change that and get her dad to see the man she did? There wasn’t a better cowboy than Kees. Her dad would have to admit to that. But it was Kees’s heart her dad overlooked. Then again, Kees had tried his hardest to hide that part of him from even himself. At least, until last week.
CHAPTER 6
A knock at the door to the loft raised Kees’s gaze. Expecting it to be Harlowe, he didn’t bother to get up. “Come in.”
The knob turned and his dad entered. Kees swung his legs over the side of the bed, his hands falling to his side. He made to stand, but his dad waved him back in place.
“I won’t stay long.” His dad glanced around the room, focusing on the bear’s head for quite some time. “Impressive animal.”
“When he was alive, too.”
His dad wasn’t much of a hunter, though he’d encouraged his interest in it when he was young. He did, however, understand the need and have respect for taking a life. Kees had learned that mentality from him and never let go of the thought that the end of his gun brought death. In his mind, preserving part of the animal was a tribute to it.
Especially the bear. He hadn’t set out to kill it, but had done so to save Brenna.
His dad shifted his gaze to him. “Harlowe said you were inquiring about the Metcalf place. You were holed up there for a week and now you want to buy it?”
Kees wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. He’d asked Harlow discreetly, but figured he’d have to inquire from someone else. He hadn’t expected that inquiry to bring his dad into the mix.
“What do you know?” Kees asked. Now that it had, he had to make the best of it.
His dad hooked one thumb in his pants pocket. “Reverend Harris owns it.”
That was a surprise and must have shown on his face.
“She purchased it when Metcalf got low on cash. He was a drunk, which you know already. She had compassion on him and let him live there until he decided to go be with his son.”
That sounded like her. He liked Reverend Harris, though he didn’t quite understand everything she said in the pulpit. He suspected he would if he applied himself. There was a distinct difference between quoting passages and taking them to heart. Whitman had been strictly a good writer until he’d adapted Brenna to the storyline.
“You didn’t have to come here to tell me that.”
“No. I wanted to tie up our last conversation.”
“Tie it up?” As if the subject would ever be ended. Anger suffused his face, and he swallowed hard.
His dad held up one hand, palm outward. “Calm down, son. I didn’t mean that as harshly as it sounded. But you made quite a declaration, one with huge consequences.”
“Malcolm.”
Malcolm and his dad weren’t particular friends, though there wasn’t a reason for that past personality types. They did have to work together in the community and so had developed a sort of passive-aggressive relationship.
His dad nodded. “Brenna’s quite a girl, and I wondered when you’d wake up. I’m glad you did. Being frank, I didn’t like you running around with ...”
“I get it.” Kees cut him off. “I know what I was. Consider this my ‘new leaf’.”
His dad waited before speaking again. When he did, he seemed to modulate his tone. “It’s going to take work for Malcolm to trust you.”
“He trusted me with Brenna’s life.”
“And you gave her back to him. I’m sure that increased his estimation of you. But there’s still the fact she’s his only child and he’s spent way too much time closeted in his house alone.”
Kees didn’t respond. If his dad saw that, without having spoken to Brenna, then why didn’t Malcolm? How could one man not realize the damage he’d done?
Kees started. He asked that and yet look at him. He’d done the same for years now.
“I got a call,” his dad continued. “I guess Malcolm called me because contacting you isn’t in his wheelhouse, but in any case, his ex-wife, Brenna’s mother, wants to meet you. I said to bring her by Tuesday evening. He said he’d be there around seven. Your mother then invited them all to dinner ... Malcolm, Beverly, Brenna, and Beverly’s stepdaughter, Sierra.”
Kees shook his head. He didn’t know much about Brenna’s mother, past she’d remarried. Seemed like, Brenna had mentioned Sierra, though.
“You’re asking me to be there.”
His dad
nodded. “This is your chance, and you probably won’t get another. If you love Brenna, like you said, you need to step up and be the man I know you are.” His dad mashed the flat of one hand in the center of his chest. “I’m proud of you, always have been, but even more so now. Put on your best.”
Best clothing. Best manners. Be prepared to grovel. He didn’t do groveling so well. For Brenna, he’d manage it. She’d become too important to his future.
His dad withdrew his hand. “Got a beaver hide if you want it. I heard you can get more if you’ll frame it as well.”
Kees made no remark.
Reverend Harris motioned him inside, and Kees obeyed, though he was, right then, a deer in the headlights. Sitting under Reverend Harris’s ministry since his youth didn’t make this trip any easier.
“Pardon the mess,” she said, nodding at the furniture.
She lived in a cluttered space, surrounded by books. In an unmeaning way, her quotations from literary geniuses had fostered his love of words. Currently, her living room was filled with newspapers, bound tightly in heavy stacks.
“Can I help you with those?” he asked.
Most likely, she was sending them for recycling.
“I appreciate the offer, but why don’t we talk first? You mentioned the Metcalf property.”
Kees turned in place. His hat in his hand, he worked it in a slow, nervous circle. “I want to buy it. I plan to put in a road and a bridge over the creek toward my dad’s place.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s a good idea, and it’s sat idle too long. You’ve looked at the land?”
He nodded. “There’s good pasture to the east for a few cows, but I’m not sure how much of that I’ll do. I’m still promised to the Chapmans for a few years, and I mean to finish out my time there.”
Reverend Harris smiled and dipped her chin. “I’m willing to work with you on it, but I’m thinking you didn’t come here in person strictly for that.”
No, and he stood there, unspeaking. He’d come for something more personal that he knew she could do, but saying so was difficult.
“I want to ask you to pray for me.”
Poetry & Life Page 5