Dixie sighed. “The two of you have to stop acting so unsure. You’re the adults, and all of this uncertainty makes me feel insecure.”
Colt laughed a little. “We’ve got this, Dixie.”
“Do you? I’m not so sure. You left my allergy medicine at Daisy’s. You forgot that I’m eleven and I have to go to school. There’s a lot of responsibility when you have a kid,” Dixie reminded Colt.
“There is definitely a lot of responsibility when you have a child,” Holly said with what she hoped sounded like a measure of confidence. Except she didn’t know if she had a child, not really. She only knew that Dixie was here with Colt, Becky Stafford had passed away, and at home she had a mother who was slowly slipping away from reality.
Her gaze connected with Colt’s and she felt anything but confident. They had a lot to say to each other and none of it easy. They had a past. They had a daughter. And now it appeared they wouldn’t be walking out of each other’s lives anytime soon.
* * *
Colt followed Holly up the driveway to the gingerbread-trim farmhouse that had been in her family for several generations. It had seen better times. The siding had faded, the flower gardens were overgrown with weeds, and the fences sagged.
He drove past the house and parked his truck and trailer near the barn. As he got out of the truck his horse whinnied, thinking he was finally home.
“Not quite,” Colt told the animal.
He headed toward the front yard, his left leg protesting the fast walk that narrowed the distance between himself and Holly. She was out of her car, Dixie at her side. He paused mid-stride because an incredible sense of “this is how it should have been” overcame him. As he stood there looking at the woman he had quietly loved, the woman he’d hurt more than any other, and the daughter they’d given up for adoption, he realized what he’d missed out on.
For a long minute he got caught up, thinking of the past, the present and the realization that a man couldn’t go back in time and right the wrongs he’d created. He couldn’t undo the fact that he’d never been faithful to a woman, including the one who had become the mother of his child.
Guilt pounded against him, relentless and unforgiving like the winds of a hurricane hitting the shore.
Standing in front of him was a second chance to do things the right way. But he had a strong feeling Holly probably wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
“Are you going to wait out here?” Dixie called out. She moved closer to Holly’s side trying to act confident, but he knew better.
“We should go in,” Holly said with a voice that trembled. Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she glanced toward the house. “I should warn you both that my mother, Opal, isn’t well.”
Her words didn’t surprise him. Opal had never been well. Holly’s mother had struggled with mental illness all her life. She’d self-medicated with drugs and alcohol. After Holly’s father had passed away, her mother had worked hard and tried her best to give Holly some stability.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dixie asked. “Is it her heart?”
Holly shook her head. “No, it isn’t. She struggles with depression but now she has some memory loss and balance issues. It makes life a challenge.”
If the dark circles under Holly’s eyes or the weight loss were any indication, he would guess that Opal had real struggles and Holly was doing her best to keep things going.
They walked up to the front door. A faded Christmas wreath hung from a hook; the cedar boughs had turned brown and pine cones hung loosely as if the glue had given up. Holly looked at that wreath and for a brief second her eyes closed.
“I obviously need to spend a day or two on the house,” she said, then smiled down at Dixie. “I can cook, but I’ve never been the best with a dustrag.”
“I’m good at dusting,” Dixie offered. “And I do dishes.”
“Do you?” Holly’s smile brightened her face. “We might make a pretty good team. If...”
Holly looked at him, her eyes narrowing. He knew what she was thinking, that she didn’t know if Dixie would be staying. Unfortunately, he didn’t know their future, either.
Holly pushed the front door open just as the smoke detector began to beep. The shrill sound echoed through the house, accompanied by the smell of smoke.
“Oh no.” Holly hurried through the house to the kitchen.
Dixie and Colt followed close behind. He remembered the house well from his childhood visits. A front living room, a hall that led past a tiny parlor to the kitchen, the dining room in the back, and bedrooms upstairs. At some point a porch had been converted into a sitting room with windows that faced the fields.
They found Holly and Opal in the kitchen. Opal held her hand under running water and in the opposite side of the sink a pan sizzled. Boiled eggs littered the hardwood floor.
“Mom, what were you doing?” Holly rummaged in the cabinet and pulled out a jar. “Remember the signs. They tell you what to eat and they tell you...” Holly shook her head. “Of course you don’t remember.”
“I tried to remember,” Opal said, smiling at them. “We have company. My goodness, is that Holly? It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”
“Mom, I’m Holly.”
Opal seemed confused by that. “You’re Holly. Of course you are. Is my mother visiting today?”
“No.” Holly dabbed salve on her mother’s hand. “This will help the burn.”
“It smells like my tea.” Opal raised her hand. “Dandelions?”
“Lavender.”
“I see. I really hurt myself.”
“Yes, you did.” Holly held her mother’s hand, the skin red from the heat of the burn. “Oh, Mom, what are we going to do?”
“It’s your birthday,” Opal whispered. “I wanted to make deviled eggs for your birthday. I wanted to make kites. The strawberry with strawberry icing.”
“Cake,” Holly corrected.
She ignored the correction and looked around. “I have to clean this mess.”
“No, go sit in your room and I’ll clean up. Remember Colt?” Holly asked her mother as she moved her in the direction of the sitting room.
“He’s a no-good...”
Dixie laughed. Fortunately Opal didn’t finish her description of his personal faults. He obviously had plenty. He guessed it would be wasted breath to tell them he was doing his best, working on being a better man.
As he watched, Dixie introduced herself to Opal and the two moved over to the sitting room, discussing kittens and cake as they went. His gaze slid to the woman standing next to him. She looked like she needed a shoulder to lean on. Probably any shoulder but his.
Her expression shuttered as she grabbed a broom from the corner of the kitchen.
“Let me help you clean this up,” he offered.
“I’ve got it.” She swept, deposited broken pieces of egg in the trash and then returned for paper towels. Ignoring him, she dropped to her knees and began to clean the floor.
“Holly, please let me help.” Colt made the uncomfortable journey to kneel next to her. He took the paper towels from her clenched hand and wiped down the floor, picking up pieces that hadn’t been swept up. She remained next to him, silently watching as he cleaned up the rest of the mess.
“If you had a dog, this would be much easier.” He reached for the counter with his free hand and pulled himself to his feet, feeling a sharp jab of pain in his leg.
“You should have let me do it.” She took the hand he offered and he pulled her to standing. He didn’t let go of her go, instead lacing his fingers through hers. She studied their intertwined hands.
Without asking, he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close, holding her in his arms for a moment until the tension eased and she took a deep breath. Her head rested on his shoulder and he guessed she forgot that he was the last man she should e
ver trust.
Never in his life had he wanted, more than anything, to be the man she could trust. He wanted to be someone she could count on.
“I’m fine,” she said as she slipped from his embrace. She took the paper towels and headed for the trash can. “Colt, I can’t take this. You have to tell me what is going on.”
“I know. Let me check on your mom and Dixie first, then we’ll step outside and talk.”
With a quick nod, she went out the back door. He watched as she stood at the edge of the patio, then she headed toward his trailer. He entered the sitting room, stopping for a moment to watch as Dixie tried to explain who she was to Opal.
“She doesn’t know who I am?” Dixie asked. “Does she have Alzheimer’s? She isn’t that old.”
He sat down on a footstool and smiled at Opal. He’d always liked Holly’s mother. She was different. That’s what most people in Hope said about Opal. She’d had Holly late in life, returning to town with her young daughter to live with her elderly mother. It had been the three of them against the world. Millie, Holly’s aging grandmother, Opal, a woman who had struggled with addiction for most of her life, and Holly. It had never been a normal home, not in the way most people thought of.
“I don’t think it’s Alzheimer’s,” he answered. “Opal has struggled with a lot of things in her life. Opal, do you know that Dixie is your granddaughter? She’s Holly’s little baby.”
Opal smiled and reached for Dixie’s hand. The two sat next to each other, looking more alike than he would have guessed. They had the same dimples, the same quirky smile.
“I know who she is, Colt.” Opal sighed. “I’m so glad she’s here. I’m moving and I wouldn’t want Holly to be alone.”
“Moving?” Colt hesitated, wondering if Opal might be slipping into the past again.
“I’ve talked to your brother and I think I need to go to Lakeside Manor. I’d like for you to help Holly understand. I can’t...” She shook her head. “I don’t know the words, Colt.”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said.
“She won’t listen. She’s stubborn, like her father. He was a banker, you know.”
“Was he?” He wondered if Holly knew.
“I have to plant flowers.” Opal stood. “Will you help me plant flowers, Holly?”
“I’m Dixie.” Dixie rose, her face pale as she looked from her grandmother to Colt.
“Yes, I know. But we have to plant the flowers as a surprise for my mother.” Opal slid her feet into slippers.
“Can you go outside with her?” Colt asked his daughter.
“I think so.” Dixie bit down on her bottom lip, much like Holly did.
“If you need anything, just holler for me.”
She nodded and allowed Opal to lead her from the room. Colt watched them go, then headed for the back door—and Holly. It seemed they had more to talk about than just custody of Dixie.
His empty, selfish life was now about more than the next rodeo. It was about being a better version of himself. For Dixie and for Holly, because they both were going to need him.
Chapter Three
Holly pretended not to notice Colt heading her way. She’d unlatched the back of his trailer and moved inside to back his horse out. The animal greeted her with a soft whinny, turning to rub his big autumn-red head against her shoulder.
“You want out of here, don’t you? Even if it’s for a few minutes.” She moved a panel and the horse stomped, impatient to be free from the enclosure.
“I think horse theft is still a crime in the great state of Oklahoma.” Colt’s voice echoed inside the trailer.
“Consider it animal rescue and not theft,” she returned. The lighter mood settled easily around her heart. She’d needed a few minutes to breathe through the last hour.
It took a person more than a minute to adjust to the appearance of a daughter she’d never thought to see again. In all of her hopes and prayers she’d never thought of Dixie losing the woman who had been her mother. Her greatest hope had been that at eighteen, Becky would allow them to meet.
But Becky had always been Dixie’s mother, even in those dreams.
“Are you okay?” His soft voice ricocheted off the trailer walls.
“Yeah, I’m better.” She led his horse from the trailer, the metal-shod hooves beating a rhythm on its floor. The animal tugged at the lead rope. She spoke gently and he flicked an ear to listen.
“You like her, Bounty?” Colt took the lead rope from his horse and the animal nodded his head. “Is that right? Is she the woman you’ve prayed for?”
He made a motion and the horse knelt with one front leg stretched forward and his head dropped low.
Holly couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s cheesy.”
“But is it effective cheesiness?” he asked. “We can do more.”
“I’m sure you can.” Her expression softened. “I’ve missed you. I don’t even like admitting that, but it’s true.”
“I know.” He patted his horse’s neck and slipped him a sugar cube from his pocket. He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I know that missing me is the last thing you would want to do.”
“With good reason. You really hurt me, Colt.”
“I know and I’m sorry.”
She just looked at him.
“Can I turn him out in the corral for a few minutes?”
“Sure, go ahead. I can’t guarantee the quality of the fences, though.”
“He won’t go anywhere.”
She walked with him as he led the horse to a gate that still latched, but the hinges were rusted and one set had come loose. He eased the gate open and turned the horse into the small area.
“I have so much work I need to catch up on.” She glanced around, sighing because sometimes it was just too much. The fences, the house, the yard. Opal.
She spotted her at the front of the house with Dixie. They were pulling weeds and talking. Her mother laughed and Dixie smiled. What would it have been like, to raise Dixie here?
“Don’t look back,” Colt warned. “It doesn’t do any good. We have to remember why we made the decision we made.”
“There were plenty of reasons,” she admitted. “I was too young and I knew you wouldn’t be the man I needed you to be.”
“I’d already proven that.”
“Yes.” Her heart ached as she said the word, remembering how it had felt to see him in the arms of another woman. She’d just learned she was pregnant and had been eager to tell him. She blinked away the memory, not wanting to evoke those feelings and emotions today. Today was about Dixie. She was the present, not the past.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know. But what about now? What about Dixie?”
He limped to the trailer door. “Let me get the paperwork. I want everything on the table because we have decisions to make.”
“Okay.” Her heart hammered at the seriousness of his tone.
He stepped up into the trailer and motioned her inside. She followed, although her instincts told her to go in the other direction.
“I’m not sure we should be in here. Opal and Dixie might need us.” She stopped talking and turned to take in the opulence of the trailer. “This is your horse trailer? This is ridiculous.”
He pulled a file from a cabinet and glanced around. “Yeah, it’s more of a home than anything else I own.”
“What else do you own, other than the old Miller place?”
“That’s about it.” He glanced at the file.
“Colt?” She tossed him a look.
He sighed. “A condo in Florida and some land in Texas. The condo is an investment. The land in Texas...” He shrugged. “A dream.”
“Dreams are good.” They walked back out and headed for the patio. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, why?”
“I thought you would have recovered from your injuries by now. It’s been a couple of months, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been slow going, slower than I expected.”
“But you’ll go back to work. And then what? What about Dixie?”
“That’s what we have to talk about.”
They reached the concrete patio at the back of the house and took seats at the patio table. He slid the folder across the table.
“You can read it but it’s probably easier if I just tell you. But first, before we have that discussion, I need to tell you what Opal told me.”
“Opal? What could she possibly tell you that is more important than this?” Holly opened the file to peruse the legal documents inside.
“Your mom told me she’s talked to Carson about being admitted to Lakeside Manor.”
She shook her head at the suggestion. “No. I’m not putting her in a nursing home.”
“Holly, I’m only telling you what she told me. I don’t have any advice on the subject. She wanted you to know. I think this is a decision she wants to make while she’s able.”
“She isn’t able. There are days she thinks I’m her mother. There are days she thinks my father, the illustrious banker, has called to tell her he’s coming back to her. He never married her. He didn’t want us. I feel like I’m an instant replay of her life.”
Never really wanted.
Colt pulled back as if she’d physically slapped him. She didn’t care. His hurt feelings were nothing compared to the maelstrom of emotions this day had wrought.
“I think you have to consider her feelings,” he chimed in. She knew she had to consider her mother’s feelings.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to make decisions.”
“I know. But Holly, you can’t always be with her...”
“Then I’ll hire someone,” she snapped at him.
“You’re wearing yourself out,” he continued. He wasn’t making brownie points with observations like that one. She knew very well how she looked and how she felt.
“I don’t want to have this discussion on top of the conversation about Dixie. Let’s refocus on our daughter.”
The Prodigal Cowboy (Mercy Ranch Book 5) Page 3