She’s Gone Country

by Jane Porter; Jane Porter

  I lift my head and wipe my eyes and give him a crooked smile. “Sorry, hon. I’m just tired. I was so excited you boys were coming home that I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Neither did I.” He makes a face. “I hate flying. Makes me so nervous. I just keep thinking that any minute the plane’s going to fall out of the sky.”

  “Not a relaxing thought.”

  “No. But I don’t have to get on a plane for a while, so that’s good.”

  “Well, not until after Christmas when you go see Dad for New Year’s.”

  He groans and drops into a chair at the kitchen table, burying his face in his hands. “That’s only a month away!”

  I try to distract him with a different topic. “Tell me about Thanksgiving. How was it? Where did you guys eat? Who was there?”

  He sighs and listlessly rubs his knuckles across the table’s scratched surface. “It was fine. Just the four of us. Dad cooked. The turkey was actually pretty good.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you like best?”

  “The stuffing.”

  “Really?”

  He nods and rubs his knuckles back the other way. “It wasn’t cornbread. But it was good. The mashed potatoes were only so-so, though. They were real lumpy, not fluffy.”

  “But that’s good he tried.”

  He nods again.

  “And Erik wasn’t around?”

  “No. He was supposed to be, but I think they had a fight. Because Erik left and didn’t come back. Dad seemed really bummed, but he tried to hide it. You know how Dad is when he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sad.”

  I do know. John has always tried hard to make everyone happy, even if he wasn’t.

  “When did Erik come back?” I ask, aware that I’m prying, but concerned.

  “I don’t know. He was there Friday morning when we woke up.”

  “Good.” I reach out, ruffle Cooper’s hair. “Hungry? It’s way past dinnertime in New York right now. You must be starving.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Anything. As long as it’s not turkey.”

  After dropping Bo and Cooper at school the next morning, I call Mineral Wells High to let them know that Hank won’t be returning. The attendance clerk asks if this is a permanent or temporary move. “Probably permanent,” I answer, although I don’t really know. He’s never lived apart from me. I don’t know how this will go.

  I do my errands then, hitting first the Department of Motor Vehicles, then the bank, and finally the Verizon store for a new phone. I plug the phone charger into the old cigarette lighter on the way home and check my voice mail for messages.

  There’s a call from Mama wanting to know if I’m okay, a call from Tiana saying she might have business in Dallas next month, and then two calls from Hank—so he did call—and a call this morning from John.

  “Shey, we need to talk today, before Cooper’s home from school. I don’t want Coop working with this cowboy guy anymore. I don’t care how good he is, these rodeo events are dangerous, never mind cruel to animals. Although I rarely put my foot down, I’m putting it down now. If you owe this guy any money, let me know and I’ll send him a check, but otherwise, Coop’s done.”

  Click.

  I play the message again. And again.

  Anger ricochets through me, anger and shame. Who is John to play the tough guy now? Who does he think he is, leaving the family and then laying down the law? He doesn’t know the first thing about the rodeo or roughstock events, and he can’t make these decisions on his own.

  My hand is no longer steady as I delete the message.

  I call John once I’m home, but he’s not available. I leave him a voice message on his cell: “It’s Shey and we do need to talk, because you can’t make that decision for Cooper on your own. We’re both his parents. We both have a say, and I support him learning to ride. He’s not just a Darcy, he’s a Callen, too.” Click.

  I try to work on Brick’s books, which isn’t easy as I’m on pins and needles waiting for John’s call. I’m also beginning to feel overwhelmed by the ranch’s mounting expenses, expenses that far outweigh ranch income. The ranch is in trouble. I’ve tried talking to Brick, but he keeps telling me it’ll work out, that ranching and cattle is always cyclical. But God, it makes me nervous.

  I work through lunch while keeping an eye on the clock. Then, just as I’m getting ready to leave to pick up the boys, my phone rings and it’s John.

  “Shey, are you serious?” he says by way of greeting. “You’re going to fight me on this?”

  “Coop loves riding, and wants to enter his first rodeo later this year.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “John, you can’t just dismiss his dreams—”

  “He’s never been interested in rodeos or country-western music until he arrived there a few months ago.”

  “Five months.”

  “Five. And he’ll get over it. He’s not that serious.”

  “You don’t know that. You can’t say that. You can’t see his face as he talks about riding. You can’t see his face when he walks through the door every day after he’s trained with Dane. He’s so happy, John, he glows.”

  “Bull riding is one of the most dangerous sports in the world. It’s an extreme sport. Every fifteen rides a professional rider is seriously injured. Fifteen. And we’re talking the pros, not kids.”

  “That’s because the pros are riding tough bulls.”

  “But isn’t that what Coop wants to do? Isn’t that what you said his dream is?”

  I’m silent now, and John seizes the opportunity.

  “I love our boys, Shey, and there’s no way I want one to end up in a wheelchair or worse. It’d break my heart, and I know it’d break yours, too.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, and I agree the sport can be dangerous. But can we please include Cooper in this discussion? This is the first time he’s found a sport he loves. He’s so into it, John. He knows the standings of the top ten tour leaders. He can tell you the strengths and weaknesses of the top riders as well as the bulls on today’s circuit—”

  “Shey, it’s no. And you have to back me up on this. Don’t make this get ugly.”

  Is he threatening me? I frown at the phone. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve moved the kids to Texas, a place they hate so much that Hank’s now back with me. I’m beginning to think I’m the fit parent—”

  “You better stop right there, John. You, the fit parent? The man who has been sleeping around with other men for God knows how many years during our marriage? You, the fit parent, when you lie and cheat on me for years on end—”

  “Being gay isn’t a crime. And at least I have the boys’ best interests at heart.”

  “I don’t care that you’re gay! I care that you lied to me. I care that you slept around on me. I care that you married me when you must have suspected somewhere inside yourself that you weren’t straight!”

  “So you do care that I’m gay.”

  “Jesus, John. I loved you. I still love you. But don’t you dare question my commitment to these children, and don’t you dare imply that I’m not fit to be their mother.”

  “Then be reasonable and come back to New York. I’d be able to see the boys regularly, and it’d nip Coop’s rodeo obsession in the bud.”

  “I live here now.”

  “You’re not a country girl, Shey. You’re as urban and sophisticated as they come.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I’m serious about Cooper not riding. Don’t make me take legal action.”

  I hang up with his ominous words echoing in my head.

  I’m late to get the boys, and I grab my keys and purse and jump into the truck to race to Palo Pinto Elementary School for Cooper. He’s the only one in the parking lot when I pull in.

  “You’re late,” he says, climbing into the truck, “and now we’re goi
ng to be late to Dane’s.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I glance at him, see his broad, thin shoulders, the intense blue eyes, the firm press of his lips. He’s going to hate what I have to tell him. “I just talked to your dad.”

  “Yeah?” He looks at me, but he’s barely listening.

  “It wasn’t a great conversation.”

  “Was it about Erik?”

  “No. It was about you.” I can see Coop’s interest perk up, and I dread what I have to say next. “He’s concerned about your safety, and the bottom line is that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue bull riding.”

  “What?” His voice rises a full octave.

  “He thinks it’s too dangerous.”

  “Did you tell him I love it and that I’m not scared?”

  “He’s overruling you, Coop. He’s your dad. He can do that.”

  “But didn’t you tell him that he can’t? You’re my mom. You can overrule him.”

  “It doesn’t quite work like that.”

  Coop just stares at me, and I struggle on. “I don’t want to lose you, Cooper, and if I fight him on this, I’m afraid he’ll try to get custody—”

  “No. I’m not going to live with him. Not ever. It freaks me out being there. Freaks me out to see him sitting with Erik on the couch, holding hands, kissing.”

  “They kiss in front of you?”

  He shrugs. “They kiss good-bye. No tongues, but still. It’s gross. I don’t like it. I mean, Dad used to kiss you!”

  Yeah, there is that.

  “Your dad really loves you,” I say. “He’s not gay to hurt you. He’s not gay to hurt me. It’s just who he is—”

  “Which is why I’m not going back to New York. I’m staying here for Christmas break. I don’t want to see him anymore. Don’t want to be a kiss-ass like Hank just so I can get some money.”

  “Cooper!”

  His blue eyes blaze at me. “It’s true. Erik’s rich. He’s loaded. And he’s buying Hank everything he wants. Why else do you think Hank stayed in New York? It’s because Erik promised him all kinds of crazy shit.”

  “Don’t swear!”

  “Fine. But I’m not going back. I’m staying here and I’m going to be a cowboy. It’s not up to Dad.”

  We drive for a few minutes in silence, and even though it’s chilly in the truck, my hands are damp on the steering wheel.

  By the time we arrive at Mineral Wells Junior High, we’re almost thirty-five minutes late. I find myself praying that Bo won’t be upset, praying that when I pull up in front of the gym, Bo will be the boy he once was, the boy who woke up happy, and energetic, and excited about life.

  I spot him as soon as I turn into the parking lot. He’s the only kid there, and he’s not smiling.

  After pulling up at the curb, I shift into park, and Bo opens the door and climbs into the cab’s backseat.

  “Hey,” I greet him as Bo slouches against the seat back. “How was your day?” I ask, shifting into drive and leaving the parking lot behind.

  “Sucked.” Bo doesn’t even open his eyes. “Big-time.”

  I glance into the rearview mirror. “Why did it suck?”

  “When doesn’t it?” he answers, opening his eyes to fix his gaze on me.

  I’m determined to keep my cool. Things are going to get better. Things are going to improve. “Something happen?”

  “Just the usual. Some kid threw his sour milk at me. Another kid thought I’d like to get a close look at the inside of the garbage can.” His eyes are burning, pink. “It was nice. Smelled real good, too.”

  My stomach rises and my heart falls at the same time. It’s a good thing there isn’t much traffic, because I’m barely aware of the road. “Did you go to the office? Did you talk to Mr. Peterson? What is the school going to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  “There’s no one I can tell. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Yes, there is. Mr. Peterson will help you—”

  “No, he won’t. Yeah, sure, he can talk to the kids who do it, but then it’ll just get worse. The kids will call me a pussy, a snitch—” He breaks off, jaw clenched. “God, I wish I was never born.”

  “Bo.”

  He shakes his head, stares out the window. “I mean it. I hate me. I hate my life. I wish I was never born.”

  We drive home, all three of us brooding in silence. As we reach the turnoff that would have taken us to Dane’s, Coop yelps, “Aren’t we turning, Mom?”

  “Coop, we talked about this—”

  “I can’t ride roughstock. Fine. But I can still ride the mechanical bull. I can rope. I can do other things.”

  “I think you have to talk to your dad first.”

  “Why? You already talked to him and he said I can’t ride roughstock. So, fine. I won’t ride roughstock, but there are other things I can do. Other things Dane can teach me. Please, Mom. Please.” His voice spirals up, panic and desperation making his tone sharp.

  My hands are shaking so badly that I can barely steer. Heart racing, I pull over to the side of the road and press my head to the steering wheel. My heart’s hammering and I’m sweating like mad and I can’t help wondering if maybe I’m having a panic attack.

  Cooper leans over, hugs me. “Don’t cry, Mom.”

  “I’m not…” But my voice is muffled because I’ve got my face hidden.

  “If you don’t want me to go to Dane’s—”

  “But I do. You like going. You’re happy there.”

  He falls silent, and neither boy speaks. After a moment, I take a deep breath. I taste salt on my lip, which is odd until I realize I’m crying.

  I wipe the tears away with a fist and sit up and smile at Cooper and then Bo. “You want to go to Dane’s,” I say to Coop, and it’s a statement, not a question.

  He nods.

  “I’ll take you there, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll stay off broncos and bulls until your dad gives the okay.”

  Cooper’s blue gaze holds mine. “You think he’ll eventually let me?”

  My shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t know. I guess we’re just going to have to wait and see.”

  Dane is waiting for us as we arrive at his ranch. It’s cold enough that bits of wispy fog rise from the ground as he walks over to meet our truck. “We’re late,” I say, rolling down my window. “Sorry.”

  He looks at me and then leans down, forearms resting on the truck door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He reaches out, brushes my cheek with his finger. “I never see you cry.”

  Impatiently I scrub at my cheeks, not wanting to cry now. I’m frustrated, not sad. “I’m not crying. But I do need to talk to you. Could we take a little walk?”

  He opens my door. I get out and step onto the ground, which is hard and cold. Shivering at the chill in the air, I walk with Dane away from the truck toward his fancy corral. “Has the burglar been found?” Dane asks, our footsteps thudding.

  I shake my head. “No. No sign of him.”

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  “I had a call from John earlier and he flipped out about Cooper learning to ride. Doesn’t want him training anymore.” I take another quick breath and stop walking to face Dane. “But Cooper’s devastated. He loves working with you, loves the whole rodeo world, and he thought maybe there are other skills he can learn from you. Calf roping. Barrel racing. Timed events rather than roughstock events.”

  Dane’s hat is low on his head, and it’s hard to see his eyes. “I’m a rider, not a roper.”

  “I’ve seen you rope. You can lasso anything, anywhere.”

  “It’s been a long time.” Dane pauses, thinks. “Now if he wanted to learn bulldogging, I could teach him that.”

  I crack a small smile. “Somehow I don’t think steer wrestling will make John any happier.”

  “So this is about making your husband happy.”

  “It’s about making sure I d
on’t lose custody.”

  Dane is silent now. He studies me, then glances at the truck where the boys wait. “I’ve already introduced him to roping. I suppose there’s no reason we can’t work on it more.”

  “And the mechanical bull? Coop could still practice on that. It’s the live bulls John’s worried about.”

  Dane snorts in disgust. “You married a fancy-pants city boy, didn’t you.”

  “Aw, shut up, Dane.”

  “Can’t have John worried.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please just help Cooper.”

  “I will. He’s a good kid and he’s got a big future.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cooper calls his father that night to tell him he’s not going to ride bulls or broncos anymore but will focus on roping events instead. John immediately asks to talk to me.

  “Yes, John?” I answer, striving to maintain civility.

  “I thought we agreed Cooper wouldn’t pursue the cowboy thing.”

  “You wanted him out of harm’s way. He’s out of harm’s way.”

  “But he still worked with that Kelly guy today?”

  “Yes, and with my blessing.” It’s obvious John isn’t happy that Cooper’s continuing to work with Dane, but this isn’t my problem, it’s his. “I understand you grew up in McLean, Virginia. I understand your family had different values, but I love my country roots and am glad one of my boys wants to follow in the family’s footsteps. So don’t make Coop feel bad for liking trucks and rodeos and country-western music, because I’m proud of him and can’t wait until he’s ready to enter his first rodeo.”

  “I thought you wanted better for the boys, Shey.”

  “Better than what? My brothers are stand-up guys. Dane Kelly’s as solid as they come. This is a good place to raise the boys, and rodeos teach strength and mental toughness as well as practical skills.”

  “He’s going to college, Shey.”

  “Of course he is. Cowboys and ranchers are also smart men.” And then I hang up before I lose my temper with him.

  But John’s not the only one I’m fighting with. I’ve got my hands full with Bo, too. He’s returned from New York short-tempered and withdrawn, and nothing I say or do seems to reach him.

  I’m not sure what’s triggered his latest blue mood, but it seems it started with Hank choosing to stay behind in New York. I didn’t notice a big change in him the first day, as on Monday he merely seemed preoccupied. Tuesday he was emotional. Wednesday he just wanted to be alone. When he still wanted to be alone on Thursday, I knew we might have a problem.