by Laura Drake
Whatever it is doesn’t have to touch me. He’ll leave and I can forget all this. “Give it here.”
“You can read them at your leisure, but I’ll give you a quick summary.” He hands me the folder. “Mr. St. James has set up two trust funds: one for you and one for the baby.”
I scan the top page and suck in a breath. This is more money than I’d need to live on for twenty years. I flip to the next stapled pages. Sawyer gets the same amount. Enough to raise her and for a Harvard education, should she choose it. And I’m the trustee.
“He can’t buy me or his niece.”
“It’s your choice, of course, but the funding is complete and in your name regardless. It’s irrevocable.”
That jolts me. “What about custody? Is he going to fight me?”
He points to the envelope. “In the back, there’s an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Maybe that will answer your question.” He reaches into his pocket. “Here is my card, should you have any questions. Thank you for hearing me out.”
He takes the stomped-down trail through the grass, gets in his car, and drives away.
I flip past the legal documents to the envelope with my name on it. In Reese’s handwriting.
I could tear it up, never read it.
But can I live with the why?
This envelope is Pandora’s box in a great disguise.
True. But my last relationship ended in me running away in shame. I took it on, but that shame wasn’t mine, dammit. Haven’t I grown up at all? My emotions are agitated. Like sand in the surf, they rub my nerves raw. I have to know.
I sink onto the quilt, feeling like I’ve drunk from a firehose—it’s too much to take in. My brain is waterlogged. I slit the envelope and pull out the heavy ivory sheet.
Lorelei,
I didn’t send that paperwork. I didn’t sign it. It hasn’t been filed with the court. It never will be. My ex-attorney forged it, then sent it, in retaliation for me firing him.
But I didn’t write to tell you that.
You were right. In many ways I am like my father. I promised that I wouldn’t push you—then I started the landslide. But that’s not why I wrote this, either. I don’t expect you to forgive me. You may not even care.
I wrote this because I couldn’t live with myself if you thought that you weren’t wonderful exactly as you are. You are strong and honest and the best mother Sawyer could ever have. I have no doubt that Carson and Patsy are looking down and smiling, knowing Sawyer will have everything she needs to grow up just like her new mother.
See, you taught me so much, not by what you said but by who you are: caring, giving, loving. Seeing myself—my life—through your eyes made me ashamed. I’m making changes going forward, but you probably don’t care about that, either. And that’s okay. I just couldn’t live with myself if you thought less of yourself because of something I said.
I am the man you thought I was. Inside, I am. But when I open my mouth, that doesn’t come out—something stupid does. I know you saw the real me hiding inside. I know it because a woman like you wouldn’t have loved me otherwise. No matter what happens, I’ll always be grateful for that, because you showed me that man is good just as he is. Not a hard-ass, not a hair-on-fire cowboy, but good, just the same.
You and I didn’t get the chance to start small, like most couples do. All the “get to know you” essential things. We didn’t get to because we started big—Sawyer big. I never got to know that you love your job for a lot more than the money it brings in; it’s a part of who you are.
That’s it. That’s what I wanted to say.
My new attorney has given you the trust paperwork. It’s not meant to change your mind or landslide you. It’s free and clear. There are no strings, no qualifiers, no hidden agenda. If you don’t want to take it from me, consider it from Carson. He’d want this.
If you’d rather, I’ll sell the property—your family’s former property. If you want to buy your legacy back, you now have the funds to do it.
Regardless, I’ll continue to love you. Forever.
Reese
* * *
“Holy plot twist, Batman,” Carly says.
It’s dark, the kids are in bed, and we’re sipping wine in their great room. “Tell me about it.”
“I’m no lawyer, but this sure looks legit.” Austin flips pages. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not taking his money.”
“Why not?” He drains his beer. “There aren’t any strings that I can see, and the way it’s set up, if you never touch it, that money just rots there. No way for him to pull the money back. You’d be crazy not to.”
“I’ll keep Sawyer’s. It’ll fund her college if she wants to go. But I don’t need his money.”
“I don’t think he did it because you needed it, Lorelei.” Carly is sitting on the floor, one arm hooked over Austin’s knee.
“I want to believe that, but…”
Carly picks up the letter. “Are you telling me you don’t believe that he loves you? After this?” She waves the paper, and it rustles in accusation.
“I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.”
“Really? Love doesn’t matter?” Austin tips his head. “No, wait.” He holds up a hand. “I’ve got one too many Y chromosomes for this discussion. I’m gonna grab another beer.” He stands. “I’ll be upstairs, studying bovine bloodlines. At least I’m competent to have an opinion in that arena.” He bends to give Carly a kiss.
“See you in a bit, babe.” Carly rests her back against the couch and raises an eyebrow at me. “I remember the first time I met Reese. We were in the beer line at the fireworks, remember?”
Trying to forget that day has been a dismal failure. I nod.
“You were oblivious, but I saw how he looked at you. Like you were a sweating glass of ice water and he was dying of thirst in a heat wave.” She takes a sip of wine. “I could see the road you two were on. That’s why I told him I’d do some serious damage if he hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” How did I miss that?
She nods. “Sure did. And when I see him, he’ll find out it wasn’t an idle threat. But don’t get me off the subject. I saw that day that he loved you. He may not even have known it yet, but when he looked at you, his face went soft. Kind of happy-drunk, you know?”
“You’re reading too many fairy tales to your kids.”
“Nope. Know how I know? Austin had that look when he saw me get crowned homecoming queen. When he saw me at the back of the church in my wedding dress. The day Faith was born.” She tips her head. “Kinda between dreamy and poleaxed.”
“Whatever, Cinderella. He’s only ever wanted Sawyer. It was his goal from the first—”
“Yep. He’s crazy about that baby.” She puts her wineglass down and pushes to her feet. “Just one more thing before I go upstairs and seduce my husband.” She tips her head and her smile is so sad. “I couldn’t help but notice. That letter wasn’t about Sawyer, it was about you. If all he wanted was that baby, why is that letter about you?”
Chapter 24
Lorelei
Carly goes up to bed, leaving me alone, and I’m not enjoying the company. I walk into the kitchen and empty the last of the sangria into my glass. Can’t let it go to waste. Carly’s right. I can’t use Sawyer as an excuse any longer. Or the fake custody papers. Or my grief or his money. Every excuse I’ve pulled has been shot down, like clay pigeons at a skeet shoot. The only excuse left is me.
Why am I searching for reasons not to try again?
I think better walking. Carrying my wine, I walk into the great room, through to the dining room, back through the kitchen, then repeat, my feet following the circular path of my thoughts.
I’m afraid. Of course I’m afraid. But that’s not an excuse, because I’m sure Reese is, too. Yet he had the guts to write that letter, and it might as well have been written in his blood. He laid it out on the page, holding back nothing.
Yet I’m
holding back. Why?
My parents taught me to take care of my responsibilities and obligations. Momma, by how she lived, and Daddy, through his integrity and his love for us. I don’t regret the challenges, because they made my shoulders strong and taught me to rely on my own two feet and hands. That saved me after my first disastrous love affair.
Independence is good. To a point. But I took it further.
I watched friends and acquaintances fall in love, marry, and have families. I troweled over the hole of being left behind with a spackling of pride. I was better than those weak people who needed a spouse. I didn’t need anyone. I’ve worn my pride like Joan of Arc’s armor. For years. Looking back, I wonder if my attitude drove off men who might have been interested if I hadn’t held myself so separate. So superior.
And then comes a man who’s seen the good, the bad, the ugly of me. Reese was right. We haven’t had time for the small things, but we’ve sure had a chance to see the big things. Even so, he stood up, pointed to me, and said, “This one. I choose this woman.”
And suddenly the road I’m on has a fork. I can see a long way down the road straight ahead. I should, because it’s the same as the road behind me—only one set of footprints. I can stay in my golden armor of superiority, looking down on the lesser beings.
Or I can take it off and choose the other road, the one I can’t see very far down.
The choice is simple: the solitary life I know or the human-cluttered messy one I’ve disdained but secretly always wanted?
Now that it’s in black and white, the choice seems easy.
The whirlpool in my mind slackens, ebbing into swirls of calm. Peace rises floating from my heart to settle on my face in a smile.
* * *
Reese
I sit in the kitchen after breakfast, watching the sun come up and feeling like I’ve been in suspended animation since my attorney called to tell me the package had been delivered yesterday afternoon. Ringer on high volume, my phone mocks me from the table. What is she thinking? God, I’d give a lot to know.
The phone rings so loud I almost fall out of my chair. Then I nearly brush it to the floor, trying to grab it.
“H-hello?”
“Hi, Reese.”
She sounds so sad. Oh shit. That can’t be good. I rush in. “Lorelei, I’m so glad you called. I’ve been—”
“Can I talk first?”
“Sure?” What I’ve been sitting here wishing for is happening. Given her tone, I’m not so sure I want to know what she’s so eager to say.
“I was so worried I would screw this up that I wrote you a letter. Is it okay if I read it to you?”
My hand is shaking so bad it makes her voice cut out. I put the phone on speaker, place it on the table, and clasp my hands in my lap. “Of course.”
There’s the sound of paper rustling. “Reese. The first time I met you, I called you a liar. But I need to be honest with you. See, I’m the liar.” She pulls a deep breath in through her nose. “I’ve been jealous and petty and made all kinds of excuses why you and I couldn’t be. I hid behind my pride and acted like I didn’t need you.” Her voice wobbles, and she sniffs.
“It’s okay. Just tell me.” I’m dying here.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you…” Her voice spirals. “I love you. I want another chance to…Please don’t give up on me. I’m prideful and stubborn, and…”
I hear her crying, and God may damn my soul, but it makes me so happy. “Lorelei, where are you?”
She sniffs. “I’m at Carly’s. I’ve got to get ready to go to work, but I had to—”
“I’m on my way. I’ll see you in five hours. Faster, if the Cessna will do it.” I lift the phone to my ear like it’s going to bring her closer, wishing I could touch her. “I love you. I want us to be a family—you, me, and our miracle baby.”
“I do, too. But we still have so many things to work out.”
“And we’ll start. As soon as I get there, okay? In the meantime, close your eyes. Can you feel me, holding you?”
She gives a watery chuckle. “No, silly. I want the real thing. Hurry.”
* * *
Lorelei
I’m at work, but I’m like a caffeinated squirrel, starting and stopping and leaving things half-undone. I told Carly about the call with Reese before I left her house but forbade her to come down here. If she wants reunions, she can watch the Hallmark Channel. I’m nervous enough already.
I check my phone again. He is probably…two minutes closer than the last time I checked.
“Holy crap, Lorelei. Get outta the kitchen, will you?” Nevada, in a backward baseball cap and her BITE THE COOK apron glares at me. “You’re making me nervous already.” She shoos me away with her spatula. “Seriously. Go away.”
I push through the door to the dining area. Sassy makes a cross with her fingers to ward me off. “You already broke two glasses, dropped a tray of dirty dishes, and threw coffee grounds on the floor. No disrespect, but you need to not touch anything else today, okay?”
The midmorning diners ogle me like I’m a new exhibit at the zoo.
“Fine. I’m going to get some air.” I walk out, wrapped in whatever dignity I have left. I feel naked without my pride armor, but I dropped that in the dumpster out back on my way in.
I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but a zillion questions zing around my mind. I wander down the sidewalk, nodding to townspeople I pass. I’m almost to the dime store when the Murphinator squeals around the corner onto the square opposite me. There isn’t a parking space in front of the café, so he makes one, taking the no-parking zone.
My head forgets its questions—my heart takes over. And my heart is all in. I love this man. I run down the sidewalk, my feet hardly touching the ground.
The truck rocks when he throws it in park, the door opens, and he steps out. He’s sexy in jeans, a white broadcloth shirt with the sleeves rolled, and his Stetson. He’s looking to the café as he takes the step up at the curb.
“Hey, cowboy!” I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.
“Whoa!” He laughs. We fall back against the truck and he wraps me up in his arms while I kiss his face all over.
It’s what golden retrievers do.
Epilogue
Lorelei
November, the following year
Our refurbished farmhouse swarms with people; the yard is full of kids in long pants and jackets playing tag or just chasing one another for the joy of it. The smell of crushed autumn leaves and grilling meat comes to me through the open window over the kitchen sink. I pull a tray of deviled eggs from our new stainless-steel fridge and close the door with my butt.
“Let me have those.” Nevada takes them from me. “You go enjoy the birthday girl. We’ve got this.”
“Yeah, get lost, Momma.” Carly’s nana stirs a pot on the stove, a cigarette with a long ash bouncing on her lip.
“I’m going.” I turn away, not wanting to know where that ash ends up. “Don’t start without me. I’ve got to grab her present from upstairs.” I walk through the living room but get stopped by clusters of people.
“Where did you get those window treatments?”
“I love your Momma’s room down here. So homey.”
“Great idea to extend the living room out to where the porch used to be and build on a new porch. It’s modern, but not cold, like something out of a catalog, you know?”
“Thanks…Thank you…Glad you like it…” I keep moving until I get to the stairs. The shadows in that stairwell have ceased to haunt me in the past month. Reese turned Momma’s old room into an office for himself, and we moved Momma downstairs, where she should have been all along.
In our room, I step to the closet and reach to the top shelf, way in the back, and bring down two gift bags, one gold, one pink, spewing glitter and tissue paper. I smile, not even caring that I’ll be cleaning up glitter until next summer. I turn and check the mirror
to be sure I don’t look too harried. The royal-blue sweater Reese gave me shows off my eyes, and excitement colors my cheeks. It’s not every day your daughter turns two. I turn and take in the room that became ours when the house was finished.
My grandmother’s cast-iron bed, covered in her wedding-ring quilt, is centered in front of the huge arched window we had put in. Reese’s briefcase and overnight bag are next to it; he’s flying out for business in San Antonio tomorrow. He sold the Texas house and an acre it sits on to an oilman friend of his. He’s keeping the cattle ranch, but this is his headquarters.
I glance out the window, to the cabin. Reese decided to turn it into a day care for babies of the working mothers in Unforgiven. And it’s free to anyone who can’t afford to pay.
But in the evening it’s all mine. The West Dance Studio opened six months ago, and I’m up to two classes a week. Seems there are folks in Unforgiven who want to learn to waltz. And rumba. And I’m considering bringing in someone to teach ballet to the little ones.
“Lorelei! We’re starving here” comes from below, and I turn and walk out.
Reese walks into the kitchen holding a platter of hot dogs in one hand, hamburgers in the other. “It’s food, people. Come fill your plates!”
Twenty-five people can’t all fit in the dining room. They spill into the living room, the kitchen, and out the door.
“Momma? Sarah?” They step in from the living room. Momma looks wonderful in her new dress. She smiles at Sawyer.
“Here, I’ve saved you seats.” I pat the chair backs.
“Here’s your place, princess.” Reese lifts Sawyer into the chair at the head of the table, where I’m standing.
“Okay, Baba. Cake?”
He laughs. “After lunch. Then we’ll have cake.”
Carly’s kids and the other little ones take the rest of the seats.
“I’d like to say grace first, if that’s all right,” I say, and the room quiets. I take Carly’s hand in my left and Reese’s in my right. Reese takes the hand next to him, and soon we’re a long completed chain.