He scoffs, leaning forward so his elbows rest on the table. “Don’t be like that, Ellie.”
“Don’t be like what?”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, but he’s not amused. It’s more irritation, a frustrated huff that his baby girl is a little more like him than he cares to admit.
“Life’s too short for this,” he warns.
“Life’s too short to not want to have an in-depth conversation with someone that broke your heart?”
“You were both young.”
“I. Don’t. Care,” I bristle, knowing he’d take my side in a second if he knew the truth. But I have never told him, and if I’m honest with myself, a part of the reason is I don’t want him to be mad at Ford. I don’t know why I don’t. I just don’t. “I know you’ve always liked him, but you could at least pretend to like me more.”
His laugh this time is genuine and I almost return it.
“He’s a good man. I know you—”
“Daddy, don’t start on this now.”
“Ellie Dawn, listen to your old man for a second,” he says in the way that lets me know I’m about to get an earful. “You are the only person in this world that I love. The only reason why I’m not lying beside your mama right now,” he tells me. “I only want the best for you. I want you to have a full, happy life.”
“I know that.”
He sighs. “I have one regret and that’s raising you to be too much like me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re just like me,” he says with a hint of pride. “You’re as stubborn as a mule and ready to argue for the sake of it.”
“It’s served me well.”
“But once you get to be my age, you realize it’s the setup for a lonely life.”
My heart constricts in my chest as I watch a flutter of memories flicker across his face. I reach out and take his hand, speckled with dark spots and calluses from a life of hard work.
“Are you lonely?”
“Not really,” he lies. “I got my Westerns here.”
Words escape me as I hold his hand, his skin not as warm as it used to be, nor is it as strong as I remember it being when I was young.
“Look at me,” he says finally. “What have I become? Your mama passed away and I just sit here, day after day, wasting my life away. Hell, I’ll die one of these days, and I don’t even have six friends to carry my casket.”
“Don’t talk about that,” I say, blinking back tears. “You aren’t going to die for a very long time.”
He smiles at me in a way that makes me wonder what he’s thinking and feeling. But I don’t ask. I can’t. I’ll start crying and that’s something he can’t handle.
Slipping his hand out from mine, he pats the top of my knuckles. When he speaks, I can hear the lump in his throat. “Why don’t you go on now? My show is coming back on.”
I stand and kiss his cheek, ruffling his hair with my fingers. “I want you to come see Halcyon this week, okay?”
He just nods.
“I love you, Daddy.”
He nods again and points to his television. I squeeze his shoulder as I head to my car, my heart both heavier and lighter than it was when I walked in.
Ford
THE LATE-MORNING AIR IS A little chilly, the golf green still a little wet with dew. There’s an energy to the day though and it’s not just me. My brothers feel it too.
The day started off with a dream about Ellie, something that is becoming increasingly common since Mallory’s matchmaking attempt.
“I do find it amusing that Dani kicked you out of the house.” Graham grins at Lincoln over the hood of the golf cart.
“She didn’t kick me out. Not exactly.”
“No, she just called me and said, ‘Hey, Ford. Come get your brother for the day before he doesn’t make it to see his newborn child,’” I shrug. “Call it what you want.” I slide my driver out of my golf bag and level up to the tee. My brothers pay no attention to golf etiquette and keep talking behind me as I pull my club back and wallop the ball. It goes sailing.
An easy breeze flows around me, the air smelling like pine on a beautiful Saturday morning.
When I turn around, Lincoln is in the driver’s seat typing away on his phone while Graham watches with a smirk.
“Whatcha doing, Linc?” I ask, exchanging a grin with Graham.
“Just checking on Dani.”
“Mallory is with her,” I laugh. “She’ll be fine.”
His head whips to me with a look of bewilderment on his face. “She’s nine months pregnant, Ford. The baby can come anytime. She needs me. She can’t be doing—”
“She can’t be driven crazy by you,” I tell him. “Seriously, brother. Relax a little bit. Enjoy the time outside, breathing in the fresh air. Once the baby comes . . .”
“We’ll never see you again,” Graham finishes for me. He tugs Lincoln’s hat over his eyes, making it impossible for him to see the phone screen.
“Hey!” Lincoln moans. “Fuck you, G.”
Graham and I chuckle as we climb back on the golf cart, a new fancy ride with four seats. Graham takes the driver’s seat from Lincoln and we make our way to the cart path that leads down the green.
“This is the most nerve-wracking situation of my life,” Linc says, not so much to us, just out loud. “I keep thinking of all the wrong ways this can go. I read a book about delivery and shit and if one little thing goes wrong . . .” He pales.
“Look, Linc. That one thing can go wrong,” I say, trying not to keep a straight face as he looks like he’s going to vomit. “But you know what? The majority of the time everything goes perfectly fine. You need to concentrate on the good that’s going to come out of this.”
“That’s hard to think about right now.”
“Okay,” Graham says, looking at Linc as he pilots the cart around a hole. “Let’s talk about the baby. Are you ready for a son or a daughter?”
“I wish I knew what it was going to be, but Dani wouldn’t find out. That just makes it worse.”
“It’ll be fun,” I say, bumping him with my shoulder before climbing out at the next hole. “What are you naming it?”
“If it’s a girl, she’s naming it. If it’s a boy, I get to name it.”
“She trusts you that much?” I joke.
“Yeah, she does.”
“What’s the short list?” Graham asks, trying to distract him.
Lincoln shrugs. “I just want to hold the thing in one arm and Dani in the other and be done with this shit. No more kids for us. I can’t do this again.”
“You realize you’re doing none of the work, right?” Graham laughs. “It’s her that’s going to be split in two—”
Lincoln drops his club, making Graham and I burst out laughing. “I hate you two.”
He gets his ball balanced on the tee after four tries. Instead of hitting it, he stands there fidgeting.
“You think he’s going to be okay?” Graham asks me quietly. “I’ve never really seen him like this.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s just not used to giving a shit about anyone or being serious about anything. I mean, he has you for the serious stuff.”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn’t being funny,” I yawn.
Graham furrows his brows. “Not sleeping well?”
“You’re really going to ask me that?”
“It’s a fair question.”
“No, asshole, I’m not sleeping well thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?”
“Yeah, you. Do you know how hard it is to want her so bad I can taste it, and, yet, I can’t have her.” I think for a half-second. “Yet. I can’t have her yet.”
He grins. “I like your optimism.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I look out over the course. “I like her.”
Graham adjusts in his seat and gets comfortable. “So, have you been working all night then? That’s what I do when I can’t sleep.”
“Some. I also did a couple of hundred push-ups, a couple of hundred sit-ups because I’m not a pussy.”
Graham’s hand clamps down on my shoulder and he gives it a little squeeze. “About the whole Ellie thing—I really am sorry for that.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“You’re right. I’m not sorry I went through with it. But you should know, if you haven’t considered it, that I do nothing without thinking it through—this included.”
I turn to face him. He’s a little shorter and a lot darker than I am. Still, it’s obvious we’re brothers. And when he smiles, the edges of my lips turn up too because I know he’s right. He did think this through. He wouldn’t have thrown me into this without being absolutely sure it was the right decision.
Lincoln breaks the moment with a string of profanities. He swings and misses the ball then proceeds to call it every name under the sun. It’s all we can do not to laugh.
“You know,” I say, “Mallory is usually a giant pain in the ass. But I woke up today kind of appreciating that little fact about her.”
“I bet you did.” He rocks back on his heels. “Have you given any thought how you are going to go about this? Mal said Ellie wasn’t exactly jumping for joy over this whole thing.”
“It’s all I think about,” I respond honestly. “I’ve spent years wondering what happened to her and wishing I’d handled things differently back then. And now—here she is standing in front of me, looking more beautiful than ever, and you know what? When I look in her eyes, I feel exactly the same way as I did then.”
“Wow.”
“Just don’t let me turn into that,” I crack, motioning towards Lincoln.
Graham laughs. “We need to make a pact. If either one of us breaks that hard, we just throw them in the car and toss them in the sea.”
“Deal.”
We watch Linc lean on his golf club, his phone back in his hand. He’s typing away furiously, his forehead marred with lines.
“This was your first time seeing Ellie in all these years? You never saw her on leave or anything?” Graham asks.
“No. I left and did boot camp and . . .” I remember the feeling of her not answering my calls and then the conversation when she did. “I called her a couple of times and she wasn’t home. Then I did get through to her once and it didn’t go well. She was just so pissed off and hurt, and I just figured she was better off if I let her be,” I shrug. “I heard she went off to college and that was that. I didn’t hear from her again.”
I watch Lincoln stand at the tee and tuck his phone back in his pocket. “I love her, G. I’ve always loved her. When I walked in there and saw her in Halcyon, it was like reality just smacked me in the face and said, ‘Wake up, asshole. This is what you’ve been looking for.’ Does that sound stupid?”
“I get it,” he says softly. “I could never love anyone but Mallory. Not now, not after having with her what I do. Even if something happened and she left me, if I saw her again in ten years, I’d still feel this way. You can’t wipe away what we have or,” he says, lifting a brow, “what you and Ellie have, maybe.”
We exchange a look that only brothers can, a look that doesn’t need words to describe it. He gets it. I’m not crazy, although I certainly feel that way.
We quiet down as Lincoln reaches back and smacks the ball with his club. The ball goes wildly off course, hits a tree, and lands in a sand trap.
“Fuck this game,” Lincoln huffs, marching passed us.
“Lincoln,” I say as Graham pulls his phone from his pocket and answers it. “You need a drink or something?” I follow him to the cart and sit next to him. He looks at me with a somber face.
“Ford, I’m going to be brutally honest with you.”
“Okay.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’m scared shitless.”
“I get that. You’re going to be responsible for another human life, one that’s defenseless and vulnerable. You—”
“Not. Helping,” he groans. “So you don’t think I’m a lunatic?”
“No,” I snicker. “I don’t think you’re a lunatic. You’re going to be a dad, man. That’s a big thing.”
I gaze off across the golf course, the greens of the trees and grasses, the blues of the sky shining back at me. I imagine myself in his situation, waiting to have a child with my wife. Two things are clear: One, it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt, and two, it’s only Ellie I can see that with.
I force a swallow as my heart squeezes. “You’re on the cusp of having a family. A family. That’s an awesome thing, Linc.”
He doesn’t answer. I give him a few minutes and when he fails to say anything, I finally turn my head to look at him.
“You know what sucks?” he asks.
“What?”
“None of you are having a family too. I always thought our kids would all play together, you know? Like we did growing up. I figured they’d grow up causing havoc, sneaking out together, lying to us to cover for the other,” he chuckles. “And out of the six of us, I’m not sure who the closest is to being next.”
I look at Graham as he paces back and forth near the tee. “My money is on him. Barrett is too busy politician-ing. Speaking of which, has he talked to you about maybe running for the Presidency?”
“Not really. He made quick mention of it, but I think he knows I’m a little preoccupied right now.” He watches Graham grows frustrated over something on his phone. “Can you imagine Graham as a dad? That would be something to see.”
“Right? Imagine what he’d do when he’d realize he can’t put it on his schedule,” I laugh. “He’d have a complete breakdown when there are toys strung out everywhere and baby puke on his ties.”
We laugh, the sound catching Graham’s attention. He flashes us a look but I wave him off.
“What about you?” Lincoln asks, his voice quiet. “You think you’ll settle down soon?”
My chest rumbles as I feel the seriousness of the question.
“Right,” he says, sparing me from having to answer. He scoots up in his chair as Graham marches towards us. G looks at me and then at our brother.
“That was Mallory,” Graham says too carefully. “We need to calmly and rationally head back to the clubhouse.”
“Why?” Lincoln barks, his eyes going wide.
He takes a deep breath. “Your wife is in labor.”
“Oh, dear God,” Lincoln says, turning white. He pops the golf cart in drive and takes off, Graham leaping onto the back in the nick of time.
“Slow down!” Graham laughs, climbing into a seat. “Labor can take hours, Lincoln. We don’t need to drive like a bat out of hell.”
“She’s in labor,” Lincoln nearly shouts. “And I’m not there.” He looks at me. “Screw you, Ford, for making me come today. I will never forgive you for this.”
He continues on a tirade, cutting through the greens and getting shouts from other golfers for interrupting their game as we head back to the clubhouse.
Lincoln doesn’t even have the thing stopped before he jumps off and makes a mad dash to Graham’s SUV.
“You’re driving,” I tell Graham as we follow our brother. “I need to be free in case he needs restrained.”
Graham elbows me as we watch Lincoln pace back and forth, his arms thrown up in the air. “Maybe just knock him out now. It’ll make for a more peaceful ride to the hospital.”
Ford
“THERE’S UNCLE FORD.” LINCOLN’S WHISPER is barely heard over the beeping of the machine hooked up to Danielle. Mom said they were giving her some fluids. Even though the delivery went quick and fairly easy, she still lost a lot of blood and they want to keep an eye on her.
I close the door softly behind me. Danielle is lying in the bed, her eyes closed. Lincoln sits in the plastic blue chair beside her bed looking into the nest of blankets in his arms, whispering things to his newborn son that I can’t hear. I stand just inside the doorway and take it all in.
The fe
eling in the room is the most peaceful thing I’ve ever felt. There’s so much love floating around among the baskets of flowers on the windowsill that you can almost reach out and touch it.
Lincoln and I have had our fair share of arguments over the years. The two youngest of the boys in the Landry family, the two most athletic and physical out of the bunch, we’ve had moments where we’ve really butted heads. But to see this—my baby brother, the All-Star pro-baseball player with shoulders as broad as a barn, holding this little baby in his giant hands with the tenderness of a parent—is incredible.
Something has changed in Lincoln since I saw him a few hours ago. He’s somehow more ferocious than I’ve ever seen him, yet, at the same time, the gentlest he’s ever been.
He looks up as I wipe the side of my eye. With a grin, he simply nods his head. That’s all he really needs to say.
“How ya holding up?” I ask, clearing my throat of the emotion that’s started to build.
“He’s perfect, Ford. Absolutely perfect.” He lifts the baby’s hand from beneath a blanket. “Look at this—centerfielder hands if I’ve ever seen them.”
I laugh softly, reaching out and touching his little palm. His fingers wrap around mine, not long enough to close around it completely. I look up at Lincoln and he beams.
“With that grip, he may be a better hitter than his dad,” I whisper.
Lincoln chuckles.
“What did you name him?” I ask.
Linc looks briefly at Danielle as she begins to stir. He forces a swallow as he watches her intently until she settles down.
“I can go. She probably needs to rest.”
“Ford,” she says, her lashes fluttering open. She sends me a sleepy smile. “Did you meet our new man yet?”
“I’m getting ready to.” I release my finger from the baby’s grip and walk to the side of her bed. “I can go if you’re tired. Or bring you guys back some dinner?”
She smiles. “Not until you meet Ryan.”
Turning, I see Lincoln standing with the bundle of blankets tucked under his chin. “Wanna hold him?”
“Absolutely.” A few seconds later, Ryan is placed in my arms. He whimpers for a split second before nestling against my chest and falling right back to sleep.
Swear (Landry Family #4) Page 5