by Lynne Gentry
Finally Free
Women of Fossil Ridge Series
Book Two
LYNNE GENTRY
Finally Free (Women of Fossil Ridge Series, Book Two)
Copyright © 2018 Lynne Gentry
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination.
Cover photo licensed by Shutterstock©2018
Edited by Gina Calvert
DEDICATION
For my beautiful mother-in-law, Mary Gentry. I’ll treasure your support and unconditional love forever.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
TO MY READERS:
EXTRA BONUS FOR MY READERS
Here’s a peek at WALKING SHOES:
Chapter 1
CHARLOTTE
“Family is not always flesh and blood, Charlotte Ann.” My mother clutches the porch railing and glares at the senior citizen van lumbering up the lane. “Ira and Teeny belong here...on the Fossil Ridge...with us.”
I cast a weary glance at the small U-Haul trailer still hitched to my rental car. Maybe it was a mistake to press a pillow to the face of my dying marriage, pull my daughter away from her friends, and flush my financial stability down the toilet to move home. I wish doing the right thing didn’t give me such heartburn. Like it or not, Momma’s recent accident and subsequent escape from an assisted living facility proves she can no longer fare for herself. There is no one else to assume her full-time care. I’m it.
This is not the first time I’ve completely remodeled my life to do right by my mother, to somehow make it up to her for failing to save my sister. My old college roommate and long-time friend Winnie—at least I think we’re still friends—says I’m a glutton for punishment. She also says there’s really not a sacrifice big enough to make up for not drowning that day.
Winnie’s opinions aside, I moved home for three reasons. One, my daughter deserves a shot at a normal family, if the Slocum women can ever be that again. And two...
“Charlotte Ann, I want them to stay,” Momma repeats.
I can’t allow Momma to pile a couple of extra geriatrics on my plate. The added weight would bury the needs of my thirteen-year-old. I’m not shortchanging Aria again. Navigating my mother’s descent into dependence and my daughter’s ascent toward independence will take everything I’ve got. I have to draw the line at taking on senile strangers.
And two, I tell myself as I mentally review my list, taking care of my aging mother is the right thing to do.
“Momma,” my exhausted sigh pushes out the reprimand I’ve been holding back for two days. “We’ve talked about this...several times.” Guilt immediately swamps me. Condescension is exactly the opposite of what my mother needs. “The director at The Reserve agreed to let Teeny and Ira visit here for a few days, but they can’t stay.”
“I haven’t forgotten what it takes to run a household, Charlotte.” Momma shakes her pointer finger at me like the wooden ruler she once used to control her students. “I’m simply asking you to look beyond how this affects you and help my friends.”
I’m pleased that my mother is finally asking for my help, but the implication that I’ve never done anything for her before nicks my resolve to do the right thing. “Momma, do you realize that I left a very lucrative career on Capitol Hill, pulled my thirteen-year-old away from her school and friends, and drove a U-Haul half-way across the country so that you wouldn’t have to spend your last days away from your ranch?”
“My friends shouldn’t be punished. I’m the one who planned the entire prison break. I won’t let you send them back.”
Momma’s determined expression reminds me of the disapproval she expressed on my wedding day. “Marrying James McCandless is a mistake,” she’d said right before she reluctantly dropped the veil over my face in the stuffy little nursery of the Addisonville First Baptist Church and marched out.
It’s been nearly fifteen years since I walked myself down the aisle. Less than a year after the exotic honeymoon my mother-in-law paid for, I caught James and a beautiful woman model in X-rated affection. Momma was right. James McCandless was a mistake. One of many. Making up for my mistakes is the third reason I’ve circled back to this ranch.
I turn and gently clasp my mother’s shoulders. “Momma, we got lucky this time. Teeny doesn’t have any family left to press charges against you, and Ira’s threatened to disinherit his kids if they even think about taking legal action.”
“Geez, Mom.” Aria sits wedged between Ira and Teeny on the porch swing. “They’re sitting right here.” She strokes the Siamese cat curled in her arms. “Nana’s friends are old, not deaf.” Her hostile stare pushes me deeper into what’s fast becoming a very lonely corner.
No matter what I do, it’s not going to be right for someone. I’m destined to be the bad guy. “Everyone needs to understand the seriousness of this situation.” I’m the only one who blinks. “Leaving your assisted living center...in the middle of the night...in a stolen car was...a dangerous thing to do. You’re all very fortunate that you eventually found your way here and that no one was hurt.” There I go with the reprimands again and, as usual they fall harder on everyone than I intended.
Ira pulls his little lap dogs close to his chest. “How can anyone claim that I stole my own car?”
“When my mother drove your Cadillac off the premises, it was considered stolen,” I explain...again.
“Sara only drove because I can’t see good no more,” Ira points to his thick glasses. “Heck, I gave her the keys and got in...of my own free will.”
“And that’s the only reason Momma’s not in jail.” Bless Ira’s bald head, the fact that he no longer has a driver’s license is obviously a sore spot so I try a different angle. “Ira, your children let you keep your car at The Reserve only—”
“To keep me busy.” Ira sets his dogs at his feet then drags a palm over his shiny head. “Tinkering on an old car ain’t the same as nurturing the land or watching things grow.” His rheumy gaze lights on my mother. “Helping this fine woman fix a few things around here these last few days has been more fun than polishing my whole fleet of antique cars.”
; “Fun.” Teeny’s voice is rusty from lack of use. According to Momma, this Yankee wearing a huge pink hairbow on the side of her snowy-white head has become a chatterbox since Momma planted her in Hill Country soil.
“Mom,” Aria deposits her cat into Teeny’s arms and leaps from the swing. “Nana’s right, why can’t you pull one of your fancy, lawyer tricks? Become their legal guardian or something?”
My jaws clench at how quickly Aria’s loyalty has landed squarely with my mother. Shoring up either relationship is going to be harder than I thought. “How do you know about legal guardianship?”
Aria holds up her phone. “I Googled it.”
“Have you Googled how Texas frowns on lawyers practicing law who are not licensed in their fair state?”
“I did.” She swipes her screen. “Here’s the short version: Until you pass the Texas bar exam, you can get another lawyer to vouch for you.” Aria dramatically waves her musically-gifted fingers in the direction of Momma’s fellow escapees. “You’ve got to do something to make money. While you’re getting your Texas license, Ira can pay you to live here and to represent him. Right, Ira?”
“I can,” he says.
“Ari, let me worry about our finances, okay?”
My daughter’s eyes blaze with the same stubborn streak I’ve seen in the mirror. “If these people are part of Nana’s family, doesn’t that make them part of our family?”
“We’ll visit Nana’s friends often.” I land hard on the differentiation.
Aria jams her hands on her hips. “How often?”
“As often as we can, okay?”
“More than we used to visit Nana?”
The Reserve’s shiny-white-people-mover comes to a stop in front of the porch, but four sets of pleading eyes stay glued on me, waiting for my answer. “I don’t know, Ari. There’s no set plan. We’re going to have to make this up as we go along.”
“Teeny and Ira won’t be any trouble.” Aria’s tears are a tow truck wench on my heart. “Nana and I will do everything. You won’t even know they’re here.”
This child has always had a special attachment to her Nana, but her willingness to hatch a secret plan with her grandmother proves that it’s grown even stronger in just the few days that we’ve been here. No question about it, Aria has always brought out the best in my mother—the softer side—the side that I remember but haven’t felt or experienced since my older sister Caroline died.
I want my daughter to know that woman...the one I lost.
But until this very moment, I hadn’t considered the emotional blow my mother’s inevitable passing will have on my daughter. I was eighteen when I lost my sister. I know the damage of tragic loss at a young age. Allowing Aria to attach herself to my mother’s elderly friends sets my little girl up for two extra heartaches.
The driver pokes his head from the van. “Morning. This the Slocum residence?”
“It is,” I turn, smile, and chirp like we’re all so excited to see him that we’ve baked a cake. “I’m Charlotte McCandless.”
He steps from the folding door dressed in blue scrubs. “I’m the nurse sent to pick up two wayward Reserve residents.”
I don’t know why, but the term wayward doesn’t set well with me. “You’ll be transporting Ira Conner and Teeny McElroy. They’re lovely people.”
“Are they packed and ready?” he asks like that’s all he cares about.
“Yes,” I say.
“No, they’re not.” Aria snaps, then rapidly corrects herself after I shoot her a confused scowl. “Ready to go, I mean.”
The driver’s conflicted gaze jumps between me and my daughter. “Why don’t I get my clipboard...give everyone a minute to say their goodbyes?”
“That would be great,” I smile despite the visual daggers being plunged into my back.
His gaze slides toward my mother. “I have a few papers for you to sign, Mrs. Slocum.”
Momma crosses her arms and presses her lips into a thin, defiant line.
“She’s not signing anything!” Aria shouts.
“Ari!” While the nurse slips back inside the van, I take my daughter aside. “Listen to me.” I assume the exact same parental clasp of the shoulders I’d just taken with my mother. “There’s twenty minutes of dusty road between the Fossil Ridge Ranch and the nearest milk and bread. What do you think would happen if Ira or Teeny needed emergency medical care?”
Aria rolls her eyes at me as if I’d left all of my brain cells in DC. “We’d do the same thing for them we’d do for Nana. We’d call an ambulance.”
“Help could take too long to get here.”
“If it’s so dangerous, why are we letting Nana live out here?”
“It’s her home.” I shake off Aria’s belligerent glare. “Honey, Ira and Teeny deserve to be in a home where qualified professionals can look after them and get to them immediately.”
Momma steps between me and Aria. “Then you might as well send me back, too.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the well-built nurse making his way up the sidewalk. Provoking my mother in front of a muscled, medical professional probably isn’t the wisest choice, but for Aria’s sake I can’t let Momma’s ridiculous demand go unchallenged.
“What do you mean send you back?” At the strain in my voice, the nurse stops in his tracks. I don’t care if this stranger thinks I’m the one who needs a seat on the senile bus, this has to be said. And I’m going to keep saying it until my mother finally hears me, no matter how long I’ve put off changing from daughter to caretaker. “We’re trying to be a family here. Not a retirement village. I can’t raise my daughter, take care of you, and babysit two failing geriatrics.”
Momma sets her shoulders. Her don’t-mess-with-me stare pins me to a porch pillar. “I used to manage twenty-five third graders with varying family lives, IQs, and behavioral issues. And I did it all by myself. I’m more than capable of taking care of two wonderful friends.” My mother marches over to the swing and plops down between Ira and Teeny. “Friends are the family you choose, Charlotte Ann.” She hooks one arm around Teeny and the other around Ira. “We’re a package deal. Take us or leave us.”
“Don’t tempt me, Momma.”
Chapter 2
SARA
Against my better judgment, I concede to Charlotte Ann and allow two of the kindest people I’ve ever known disappear from my life. I dig my nails into the porch railing to keep from running after them.
It’s true that I hadn’t thought through all of the ramifications of adding extra bodies to my household. For once in my life, I wanted to veer away from the safe and expected formulas I’ve always followed:
A + B = C.
Time + busyness = relief from grief.
Mother + return of prodigal daughter = one big happy family.
Lauralee, the bent little candy cane who took me under her wing after I arrived at The Reserve, taught me that happiness wasn’t dependent upon solvable equations. Healing and happiness are found when you give so much of yourself that you eventually have nothing left to give.
After everyone went to bed last night, I gave Lauralee’s theory a go. I begged the Lord to let me keep Ira and Teeny. I’ve squandered so many opportunities to pour into the lives of others, God’s probably a little wary of my real motivation. But having Ira and Teeny around means more to me than simply having someone on my side.
A few days ago, Charlotte and I stood at the river’s edge and took our first steps toward each other in twenty-five years. I was excited and hopeful that we could completely close the gap between us when she offered to move home.
And then she got here.
My daughter didn’t come back to Texas to reconcile. She moved into my house to escape her life and take over mine.
Granted, I may need help stopping a lawn mower or keeping my medicines straight, but it’s up to me to make sure the important things, like Ira and Teeny, do not disappear from my memory. I’m not sure exactly how am I going to do this, espe
cially when I can barely find my way back to the home I’ve lived in for over forty years.
I’m terrified at how quickly I’m losing my ability to hang on to the memories that matter. I’m afraid my love for Ira and Teeny will sink into the thickening sludge filling my head.
I swipe hot, angry tears from my cheeks and straighten my shoulders. Without looking at my daughter, I snatch gardening gloves and pruning shears from the galvanized bucket by the steps. “Well, that’s that.”
Charlotte gently catches my arm, “Momma, please—”
I lift my chin and study this woman trying to mitigate my hurt. Blonde. Early forties. Attractive, even with the worry lines around her beautiful eyes and the sheepish expression on her speechless lips. This hard, heartless woman is nothing at all like the child of my memories. “I thought I knew you, Charlotte Ann. But I was mistaken.”
“It’s for the best, Momma.”
I cram my hand into a stiffened glove. “For whom?”
“Ira and Teeny.”
“No, you did what was best for you.”
Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot me for putting you and Aria first. Momma, we’ve got a lot to get used to. This ranch needs so much work and...” She stops short of saying our relationship is in desperate need of repair. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we not take on extra boarders.”
“I’ll admit I was wrong to fight you so hard about placing me in that rehab center in Austin.” I cram gnarled fingers into the other glove. “The Reserve wasn’t so bad after all.”
Charlotte laps up the admission with a satisfied smirk on her lips. “Wrong? You?”
“Sweet Moses, I’m not so far gone that I can’t learn new things. And I learned something very important in those few weeks.”
“Momma, I don’t think you’re far gone.”
“That’s why you’ve come home, isn’t it? To see this old woman to her grave.”
“Momma, I came home because...because it was time. You’re my mother and you need help.”
Charlotte’s insistence that I accept my decline is a gift I am not yet willing to give. “Do you want to hear about what I’ve learned or not?”