by Lori Wilde
“Vampires were never a big concern for me.” She straightened from peeling an onion, her ponytail swinging against her swanlike neck. “Zombies or werewolves either.”
“You’re not the least bit whimsical, are you?”
“Nope.” She looked proud of herself.
“Down-to-earth as they come,” he said.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, not at all.” He shrugged. “I just don’t get it. I mean, what is life if not a grand dream?”
“I feel like life is about helping people,” she said. “It’s about relationships, not chasing fantasies.”
“You can’t have both?”
“Not when you make people and relationships a priority.”
“You mean put other people’s needs ahead of your own?”
“Not exactly—”
“You give to get. It’s why you’re here with me right now.”
She ducked her head, hiding her face from him. “Maybe.”
“It’s all about maintaining control.”
Her head jerked up and she stared at him as if he’d guessed her dirtiest secret. “What? Are you saying I’m controlling?”
“No, I’m saying you use giving as a way to be in control of your life. Ultimately, that’s why you give. Because you’re afraid of being out of control. The giver has all the power in a relationship.”
She looked pensive. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah. Believe me, I’m usually the taker, and the only place I have control is on the back of a bull. That’s why I do what I do. In the arena, I’m in charge.”
“Or the bull is.”
He grinned. “Can’t let me have one illusion, huh?”
“Sorry, that’s not how I roll.”
“Now that’s not a people-pleaser trait. You’re supposed to support my high sense of self-regard,” he teased.
“Quite enough people polish your ego. I’m not getting aboard that train.”
“That’s because you’re scared of me.”
“Say what?” She stopped mincing the onions and garlic and tossed down the chef’s knife. “I am not the least bit scared of you.”
“Oh yes, you are.”
A frown cleaved her brow. “Support your claim.”
“Because I can see through you. You get mad at me whenever things get real.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. Just like now.”
“Wow.” She snorted, and her body stiffened. “Dinner and psychoanalysis. How lucky can one girl get?”
Dammit, why had he said all that stuff? Over the past couple of days things had been really good between them and now he couldn’t help feeling that, because of his big mouth, their relationship had just taken two steps back.
Chapter 15
Honker: A really rank and hard bull to ride.
For the next three weeks, as June barreled toward the temporary custody hearing, Tara and Rhett kept in touch through texts and Skype sessions. Each morning, Tara would start her day by sending him pictures of Julie, showcasing how she was growing. Each night when he was finished with his day, Rhett would call in.
On Wednesdays, Mom kept Julie while Tara volunteered at the WIC clinic in Pecos, using her language and nursing skills to help the underserved Mescalero Apache population that visited the clinic. The side job reminded her of how much she’d been neglecting one half of her heritage, and it put her back in touch with her culture. Strengthening ties to her tribal community. Plus getting out of the house for a few hours a week helped balance the demands of caring for an infant. Each time she came away from the clinic, Tara felt renewed and invigorated.
Rhett’s last check-in with her was on Friday night, June 21, after another high-scoring ride in Billings, Montana, which put him three points ahead of Claudio Limon.
“I’ll leave Sunday morning after I’ve rested up after tomorrow’s ride,” he said. “But it’s a seventeen-hour trip. I’m worried I might not make it back to the Silver Feather in time to pick you up.”
“Don’t rush. Take plenty of breaks. You’ll be exhausted after riding.” Tara propped her feet on the coffee table, the computer in her lap, Julie on the couch beside her, swaddled in a blanket. “Instead of you driving thirty miles out of the way to the ranch, let’s just meet at the courthouse at nine a.m. on Monday.”
“All right,” he agreed.
She leaned over to put a sock back on Julie that she’d kicked off.
“Tea?” he said.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She straightened. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You could lose custody of Julie on Monday.”
Tara gulped; she’d been trying not to think too much about that. “But nothing will change. You’re going to stay on the road and I’ll keep watching Julie until the PBR season is over, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
Tara chuffed out a breath. See, nothing had to change until November. She had plenty of time to prepare for losing Julie. Her chest tightened, and she had to remind herself to inhale.
“You look good,” Rhett murmured, his eyelids lowering on the computer screen.
“Not so bad yourself, cowboy.” She kept her tone light.
“Have you been getting any sleep?”
“No.” Tara laughed. “The little munchkin of yours wakes up every hour and a half like clockwork. If I look wide awake it’s because I’m on a coffee high.”
“I can’t wait to get home and take over, so you can get some rest.” His gaze latched on to hers. “I miss you guys.”
Tara’s heart skipped a beat at the wistfulness in his voice. She missed him too. “We’ll be waiting.”
At nine a.m. on Monday, June 24, Rhett met Lamar Johnston on the steps of the Jeff Davis County Courthouse.
Lamar eyed Rhett in his suit jacket, tie, and starched blue jeans. “You don’t have any dress pants to match the suit jacket? Image matters. You’re a Lockhart, you should look the part.”
“I’m also a cowboy. I feel weird in anything but jeans.”
Lamar sighed an it-is-what-it-is sound. Leaned over to straighten Rhett’s tie. Stood back to admire his handiwork. Lamar’s curly black hair was clipped short close to his scalp. He sported a single diamond stud in his left ear, a tolerant smile on his russet-brown face, and a Barbie Band-Aid on his little finger.
“Domestic injury?” Rhett nodded at the Band-Aid.
“Paper cut.” Lamar let out a deep bass chuckle. “Zoya insisted on playing nursemaid.” He held up his pinkie. “She kissed it and made it all better. Just wait until your girl is five. It’s a whole new level of fun.”
“If I get custody.”
Lamar waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll get it. You’ve just got to jump through a few hoops first. Mere formality.”
“I love your confident front.”
“No front, man.” Lamar swept an arm up and down his body. “This package is the real deal. I’ve got your back.”
“You sure I’m going to win custody?”
“There’s nothing standing in your way.” Lamar ticked off the advantages on his long, muscular fingers. “Your family is a pillar of the community. You’re solid financially. You assumed responsibility and paid for Julie’s hospital bills when you didn’t really have to. Baby mama out of the picture. No maternal relatives wanting your daughter. Piece of cake.”
“But what if Rhona comes back?”
“That’s a problem for the permanent hearing. Right now, we’re just determining temporary custody. One step at a time. You’re a shoo-in.”
“So, there’s no way I can lose her?” Rhett fretted, which wasn’t like him. Usually, he was the type to latch on to good news with both hands and run with it. Why was he not accepting Lamar’s optimism at face value?
“Not if you jump through the legal hoops.”
“Just tell me how high.”
Lamar winked, poked him with his elbow. “Now t
hat’s the attitude I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
“I’ll do everything the court asks of me.”
“No sense sweating it out here on the steps.” Lamar clasped a hand on Rhett’s shoulder. “Let’s head inside.”
He and Lamar pushed through the glass double doors into the court building. Simultaneously, he and his lawyer pulled off their sunglasses as they passed through the security screening. Once inside the cool of the lobby, Rhett spied Tara sitting on a bench.
Aria was with her, holding Julie.
Tara stood up. She was wearing a print green, short-sleeved dress that nipped in at the waist and showed off her shapely figure. Her legs, the tawny color of desert earth, drew his attention.
“Hey,” he said, meeting her gaze.
“Hey,” she said back.
He had an overwhelming urge to tug Tara into his arms and plant a big kiss on her lips. The impulse both alarmed and electrified him. He’d missed her so much.
“How are you doing?” he asked, realizing she was probably as nervous as he was. She had as much on the line as he did. More so, really. She was losing Julie. His stomach hitched.
“I’m taking Julie to the park across the street,” Aria said.
Tara’s eyes locked tight on his and she didn’t spare a glance for her sister. “If it gets too hot, take her to Stormy’s,” she said, referring to the nearby ice cream parlor.
“Can I give her ice cream?” Aria asked.
“No,” Rhett and Tara said in unison. He’d learned a few things in her parenting class.
Lamar tapped the face of his expensive watch. “Tick tock.”
“I’ll come get you when this is over, sis.” Tara finally dropped his gaze and walked over to Aria, who was holding the baby in her arms. Tara bent to kiss Julie’s cheek.
Should he do that too? Rhett started toward the stroller, but Lamar was already holding the door open to the courtroom and nodding him inside.
Rhett turned and joined Lamar, who escorted him to the front of the courtroom. Ms. Bean was already seated in the witness section. She gave him a smile and a small wave. He waved back, heartened by her kooky friendliness.
Everything was going his way. Just formalities. Hoop jumping, as Lamar said.
He thought of Tara, wondered how she was doing. He glanced over his shoulder to find her. She was slipping into the pew behind the bench where he sat with Lamar.
Tara raised her hand, her eyes steady and calm. He waved back, felt a trickle of fear shift through him like hourglass sand.
“All rise,” said the bailiff. Not that there were many people to obey his command. It was just him, Lamar, Ms. Bean, and Tara. “The honorable Judge Helena Brando presiding.”
An iron-jawed, gray-haired, robed woman swept into the room and settled herself on the bench, looked out across the group, spied Rhett, and immediately crinkled her nose in distaste. She cleared her throat, slipped on the reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck, picked up the papers in front of her.
The room hushed. No one spoke a word as the judge perused the documents. The only sound came from the ticking of the courtroom clock.
Finally, Judge Brando glanced up, shot Rhett a scalding scowl. “This is an initial hearing to review the status of the minor child, Julie Elizabeth Lockhart, for the possibility of permanent placement with her father.”
Rhett’s scalp felt itchy, as if he had a persistent heat rash, but he didn’t dare scratch it.
The judge held up the results of his paternity test for the courtroom to see. “Rhett Winston Lockhart, you have petitioned the court for custody of the daughter who was abandoned by her mother, Rhona White, at El Paso Children’s Hospital in El Paso County.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said.
“Please stand when you address the court.” Her voice was steely.
He sprang up, not wanting to tick her off any more than she already seemed to be, but he accidentally knocked Lamar’s pen and yellow legal notepad off the desk. He leaned down, fumbling for the pen as it rolled away from him.
“Leave that for now,” she snapped. “Sit back down.”
He sat.
She leafed through the documents again. “I see you have paid the child’s extensive medical bills.”
“I have,” he said, popping up again. She gave him such a piercing stare, he quickly added, “Your Honor.”
“That gesture has bought you some goodwill with the court.”
Whew. Good. Great.
“Don’t look so relieved. You’re not off the hook. Not by a long shot.” The judge raised her arm, and the sleeve of her robe caught on a loose nail. She snorted like a PBR bull and yanked herself loose. “Bailiff, make sure to get a hammer and nail this sucker down.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Now back to you, Mr. Lockhart. You are a professional rodeo cowboy?”
He was still standing. “Yes, ma’am . . . um . . . er . . . Your Honor.”
“You want custody of this baby?”
“I do.”
“Then I suggest you find another line of work.” If her tone was a dagger, it would have slit his gut wide open. “I’m not going to give you the baby until I am certain the environment is safe. She is a preemie and has special needs. I want to be sure you’re equipped for that.”
He shot Lamar a helpless look. His attorney shrugged.
“It’s a dangerous job,” the judge went on. “And since you’ll be a single parent, who would raise the child if you were to get seriously injured or killed?”
“Um . . . um . . .” He had no idea what to say. “But . . . but . . . Your Honor.” Fear was a boa constrictor squeezing his chest. “I’m ahead in the standings. This is my season. The world championship is mine to win. If we could delay the permanency hearing until after November, I—”
“Mr. Lockhart.” Her eyes were firehoses now, dousing him in high-pressure water. “The state of Texas is not your piggy bank, nor your personal babysitter.”
“But—”
“Mr. Lockhart?”
“Yes?” Shit, his knees were barely holding him up. He had to grab hold of the table to steady himself.
“Shut up.”
He rested his knuckles over his mouth.
“I know who you are. Who your family is. You are a spoiled, rich, arrogant, young man. You are used to getting your way. Accustomed to people waiting on you hand and foot. For too long you have thought only of yourself. That must change.”
“Yes, ma’am, but—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. If you want custody of this child, when you return for the permanency hearing, you will have a contingency plan. You will have chosen a guardian for the baby in case something happens to you. You will show proof your environment is safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could do that.
“She is not to be taken on the road with you. She is a preemie and her health is of primary concern.”
He bobbed his head, his mind whirling.
“And, this is only a suggestion, since I can’t force you to quit your highly dangerous job, I hope you will give some serious thought to a new line of work. That would go a long way toward proving you truly want this child.”
What? Rhett’s stomach bottomed out. To prove he was a good father, the judge was essentially forcing him out of the PBR. But how could he give it up? It was his life, his love, his everything.
Not everything. Not anymore. You have Julie now.
“Judge—”
She pointed a condemning finger at him. “You stop right there.”
He nodded mutely, feeling a bit like he’d been hit by a tractor and dragged through a field of rocks.
“Listen to me.” With pronounced exaggeration, she said, “Do. You. Want. Your. Daughter?”
“I—”
“Yes or no, Mr. Lockhart. Those are the only two options I want to hear come out of your mouth.”
Did he want Julie badly enough to hang up his spurs for good?
He threw a glance over his shoulder, saw Tara’s eyes filled with pity. He winced. She knew things were going south and she felt sorry for him.
“Mr. Lockhart.” Judge Brando lightly rapped her gavel. “Eyes on me. Right now, I should be the center of your universe.”
He whipped his head around to face the judge once more.
“Yes or no, Mr. Lockhart. Do you want custody of your daughter?”
He found his voice, said loudly, clearly, “Yes.”
“Then by the next hearing date, you will have done the things I’ve outlined.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Judge Brando raised her gavel. “Review hearing will be set for September 26. Please see the county clerk for details. If Mr. Lockhart has complied with the court’s conditions, we will then establish a date and time for the permanency hearing pending termination of the biological mother Rhona White’s parental rights. Until that time, the minor child shall remain in the custody of her foster mother, Tara Alzate.”
“May I speak to you a moment?” Tara had lingered in an alcove of the courthouse, waiting for Rhett to leave so she could approach his attorney. She’d gone to high school with Lamar, knew him to be a square shooter.
Lamar jumped, and slapped a hand to his chest. “Shoot fire, girl! You scared me spitless. Tie a bell around your neck if you’re gonna sneak up on people.”
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to talk about Rhett’s situation.”
Lamar glanced at his watch. “I have a deposition in fifteen minutes . . .”
“This won’t take five.”
“Okay, if you make it quick.”
“Is this normal for a judge to recommend that someone quit their job in order to get custody of their child?”
Lamar stroked his jaw, looked pensive. “Normal? No. But Rhett has a dangerous career and Julie is a preemie and it seems Judge Brando sees something in Rhett that causes her to doubt his commitment to the child.”