Chapter Ten
Talking to Jordan the day before had eased Erica’s stress level by a lot. As promised, his assistant had called to make an appointment for the following week. He’d assured her there would be a job after the baby was born, and in all the years she’d known him, he’d never lied to her. There was no reason to believe he was now. That morning she’d visited Gramps and tried to coax him to talk. Sadly he didn’t say anything. After lunch she was at loose ends and the waiting without anything to fill her time was driving her nuts. She was used to being busy.
Between Malone cooking and hired help with the housekeeping, her mother didn’t need any assistance. So, Erica wandered down to the barn to see what her father was up to. She walked inside and found him cleaning out stalls. The last time she’d seen Morgan, he was doing the same thing. Not too proud to handle a dirty job. Just like her father.
“Hi, Daddy. Don’t you pay people to do this?”
He looked up from shoveling horse manure into a wheelbarrow. “It’s relaxing. Keeps me from thinking too much.” She was probably a big part of what he didn’t want to think about. But burying his head in the sand wasn’t going to change anything, and she wanted to do what she could to repair their relationship. “I’m looking for something to do to earn my keep. Can I give you a hand with this?”
He frowned at her. “Don’t you need to take it easy? With the baby?”
“The doctor says to do whatever I’ve been doing. Except riding horses. Can’t risk a fall.”
“Yeah. I remember that from when your mama was pregnant with Gabe and you.” He smiled, remembering something. “She’s pretty stubborn and missed riding. It was awfully tempting to get on a horse. Lucky she had me to keep her honest.”
The subtext of that was Erica had no one. Well, she had herself and was doing all the right things for her health and the baby’s. And she had Morgan to help her through the birth. Just thinking about him brought a blush to her face. It was involuntary because if she had any control, it wouldn’t happen.
She refused to think about what their relationship would be after the baby was born. Day-to-day survival was her priority now and she didn’t have to worry about a job. Everything was falling into place, so she refused to let her father’s comment bother her.
“How about you let me sweep up when you finish that part. And I can spread out clean hay. If you lift the bale, I’ll just walk back and forth with the pitchfork. Think of it as getting my daily exercise.”
“Sounds okay to me.” He smiled at her. It was almost the way he used to before she decided to have a baby by herself.
They worked in silence for a while and then Erica asked, “Do you think about retiring, Daddy?”
“Why would I?”
“Running a ranch is a lot of work.”
“And if I don’t do it, who will?” He shoveled more muck, then met her gaze through the fence dividing the stalls.
“Gabe will.”
“I suppose.” He leaned on the shovel. “If he doesn’t have me to contend with, he can do it his way. We don’t see eye to eye on how to run things these days. I don’t see any good reason to change. This land has been in the family for generations and we’re doing just fine. Your brother is into his real estate deals. That’s his way of pushing back.”
If Erica was the sensitive type, she would have bristled at that remark. As if her having a baby without marriage and a husband was her preferred rebellion strategy. But, again, she made a conscious effort to let that roll off her back.
“What did Gabe want to do that was so revolutionary?”
Her father stopped working and pushed his Stetson off his forehead a little as he thought about the question and looked down at the wheelbarrow. “Well, take this for instance.”
“Horse poop?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “He had me read an article and the title was ‘What to do with poo.’”
“Catchy.” She laughed. “You compost this, right? And spread it in the pasture?”
“We do. But there’s something called manure share.”
“Do I even want to know about this?” she asked.
“Probably safer than talking about other things,” he said, looking down at her belly. “It’s a program that connects livestock owners who have excess manure with gardeners, landscapers and large scale composters. According to your brother, it benefits the environment and the economy of local communities.”
“Call me crazy, Daddy, but that sounds like a good program.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced. “But I’ve got better things to do than coordinate poo pickups.”
“I think you’re just being stubborn.”
“Takes one to know one,” he said pointedly.
She ignored that and pitched more hay on the stall floor. “We’re talking about you now.”
“Okay. I think the terms old-fashioned and set in my ways have been thrown out more than once to describe me.” He met her gaze. “There’s probably some truth in it.”
“They say recognizing a problem is halfway to solving it.”
“I never said I had a problem. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, I always say. When I’m not running things, this operation will change. And someday this land will belong to Gabe and you and my grandchildren—” He didn’t finish the thought, and the silence was—well—pregnant.
She walked over to the opening of the stall next to hers where he was working. “What is it, Daddy? Something other than the obvious is bothering you. Please talk to me.”
He looked at her. “The baby you’re carrying is my grandchild. Mine and your mother’s. It’s something we’ve looked forward to and prayed would happen for a long time now. We’ve worked hard for all these years to know that everything will pass on to another generation of Abernathys. Whether you want to talk about him or not, that baby has a father. What if he turns up demanding visitation and more? Some cockamamie claim on the Ambling A?”
“That won’t happen,” she assured him. “I guarantee it.”
“How can you? There are stories on the news all the time about courts granting property and all kinds of demands to someone with flimsy paternity claims.”
Her father had just admitted he was set in his ways and had no use for new techniques. Her pregnancy via anonymous sperm donation would, in his mind, fall in that category. This was the absolute wrong time to explain how she could be so certain that no one was going to show up and demand anything.
“You’re just going to have to trust me, Daddy.”
She went back to the stall where she’d been working and finished spreading the hay. Her father didn’t say much more, and the awkward silence persisted. More than once it crossed her mind to leave him alone, but there was a lot of truth to that stubborn Abernathy streak. She stuck it out until the job was finished.
Afterward, Erica want back to the main house, left her dirty boots on the back porch then went up to her room to shower away barn dust. She’d thought the spray of warm water would relax her after the conversation with her father, but it didn’t. She was still feeling a little raw.
On her way to the stairs she passed her parents’ room and noticed her mother was there, looking at something on the bed. “Mama?”
“Erica. Come on in.”
She walked inside the large room and went directly to the king-size, cherrywood sleigh bed.
“Is that your dress?” She looked down at a fancy gown laid out on the duvet. “This is for Denim and Diamonds?”
“Yes.” Her mother picked up the hanger and held the dress up in front of her. It was a long-sleeved black sheath with gorgeous beading. “What do you think?”
“It’s just beautiful, Mama.” She smiled. “That’s going to look fabulous on you.”
“You don’t think it’s too young for me?”
“No way. It’s
classic. Elegant. And besides, you aren’t old. Unless it’s a miniskirt and boots, you can pull off anything.”
“Okay. Good.” Her mother sighed. “I just love it, too. So, what about jewelry?”
“It is Denim and Diamonds after all. Don’t you have some big, honkin’ diamond earrings that Daddy bought you for a significant birthday?”
“Yes. They’d be perfect.” Her mother walked to the mirror over the dresser, held the gown up in front of her and assessed the look. She beamed a satisfied smile.
“You’re going to be the belle of the ball, Mama.” It felt really good to just talk girl stuff. No undercurrents. Just enjoying feminine conversation.
“It should be something,” her mother agreed. She walked over to Erica and started to say something, then pressed her lips tightly together. “So, Malone tells me you had a call from Jordan. Unless you know another one, I assume that’s Jordan Taylor?”
“Yes. I had lunch with him yesterday.”
“Oh?” Her mother’s eyes gleamed with interest. “And?”
“He looks good.”
“Of course he does. They don’t call him Bronco’s most eligible bachelor for nothing.” She waited a moment, then prodded a little. “So you just stared at a nice-looking man over a table at lunch?”
“Funny.” Erica grinned. “We did some catching up.”
“Is he seeing anyone?”
“He didn’t say, so the answer to that question is either no or nothing serious.”
The gleam in her mother’s eyes intensified. It was a spark of hope. “I guess he noticed that you’re pregnant.”
“Yes. He congratulated me.” And didn’t ask any questions, which she appreciated.
“Did you make plans to see each other again?” Angela asked.
“As a matter of fact, we did.” She was going to hell, but Erica couldn’t resist leading her mother on a bit. Served her right for not letting this go.
“Lunch again? Or maybe dinner?”
“I have an appointment to talk to him about a job.”
“And?”
“That’s it. He said they’re always looking for talented people at Taylor Beef, and he was sure there was something for me.”
Her mother looked a little startled. “But you’re going to have a baby.”
“That’s not a news flash, Mama. And that’s why I really need a job.”
“There’s no need to rush into anything, Erica. This is your home.”
“I appreciate that. More than I can say. But—”
“But nothing. What will you do with the baby after it’s born?”
“I’ll find child care.”
“Babies need their mothers.”
“And I will take care of him or her,” Erica protested. “Part of that is earning a living so I can support us.”
“Like I said, you have a home. Your father and I can take care of you both—”
“Mama, please don’t take this wrong. But I only moved in here temporarily. To get on my feet. I appreciate you and Daddy letting me come home so I can do that. Once the baby’s born and I’m back at work, I’ll find a place for us to live.”
“I suppose I can’t talk you out of that.”
“If I hadn’t been fired, that’s what I’d be doing in Denver. It was always my plan, Mama.”
“I see.” Her mother walked past her to the closet. Without turning, she said, “I need to hang this up, then I’ve got some things to do.”
Erica had seen tears in her eyes and heard the break of emotion in her voice. She started to say something, then stopped. It wouldn’t do any good. Angela Abernathy had never come to terms with her daughter going away to school, then having a career somewhere so far from home. Being a ranch wife and mother was her career, and she didn’t understand Erica’s choices any more than her father accepted new ranching ideas. This wasn’t the time to point out that at least she would be living close by this time.
Still she felt awful. She didn’t want to hurt her parents, but she had to live life on her own terms. She’d kept intending to tell them about the baby but put it off. Maybe in the back of her mind she believed if they held their newborn grandchild and bonded, the circumstances wouldn’t be a big deal.
Women plan, God laughs. But she didn’t think this was funny. The only thing getting her through was Morgan. They had childbirth class tonight and she would see him. She was looking forward to that very much.
* * *
“So, Erica is picking you up again this evening?” Deborah Dalton toyed with the mug of coffee in front of her.
“Yeah.” Morgan sat at the round, oak table in his kitchen, eating the stew his mother had brought over. Her excuse was that she always fixed too much, and that was probably partly true. The other part was, feeding him was a way to stay connected. Better known as pumping him for information.
He figured her question was just the beginning of an inquisition. The innocent expression on her still-beautiful face was a dead giveaway.
“Erica insists on it,” he said.
“Usually a gentleman picks up a lady for a date.”
“It’s not a date, Mom. She says I’m doing her a favor. The least she can do is drive.”
His mother looked down for a second, then met his gaze again. “Why did you agree to be her labor coach?”
“Actually I offered. She’s going through a lot and I can help. That’s it.” He shrugged.
“But having a baby is an intimate and emotional experience.”
One that should be shared with the father of said baby. His mother didn’t say that straight out, but it was there all the same. He wished the woman would get off this subject, and he planned to make that happen. “Cops and firefighters and regular civilians deliver babies for perfect strangers all the time. Not that I’m delivering it, but... She’s my friend. It’s the least I can do.”
“You really like her.” That wasn’t a question.
It was a different subject and he was even less comfortable talking about this one. “As a friend.”
“Erica told me that your kindness and sensitivity are the first things she noticed about you.”
“I’m a hell of a guy.”
“Just like your father.” Her unwavering look was a dare for him to convince her she was wrong about the man’s character.
Morgan tried to resist the challenge, but just couldn’t. “I’m not like him.”
She shot an exasperated look in his direction. “There’s no getting around the science. He’s your father. You have his DNA—the good, bad and handsome. It’s been thirty-five years and he still makes my heart flutter and my knees weak.”
“I don’t want to know that, Mom.” He did not like where this conversation was going.
“Tough. If I can forgive him, so can you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He loved his mother a lot. He’d do anything for her and proved that when he moved to Dalton’s Grange because she’d explained how important it was to her. None of that meant his attitude toward his father had or ever would change.
“Morgan, we’re all only human. We have flaws. You. Me. And your father. People don’t always make the best choices when they’re under stress. That doesn’t mean we should disregard the positive parts of them.”
“You made your choice. You have to live with him,” he allowed. “I just have to work with him.” He buttered one of the biscuits she baked and took a bite. It melted in his mouth. “These are really good.”
“Your father said the same thing.” Again the challenge was in her eyes for him to deny the connection.
“There isn’t anyone on the planet who wouldn’t like these. Don’t give me that look,” he said.
“Okay. Suit yourself. But don’t expect me to stop trying.”
“Suit yourself. It’s your time to waste.�
�� He would do almost anything for this woman, but letting his father off the hook wasn’t one of them. “I love you, Mom.”
“I know. And I love you, too. Even though you’re stubborn like your father. Although, in all fairness, you get it from both sides. Truthfully, I’m not sure whether or not that’s a flaw.”
“I’m not stubborn,” he said. “It’s just that I’m always right.”
She rolled her eyes. “When did you say Erica is coming?”
“About a half hour.” Morgan was keeping a close watch on the time and planned to be outside waiting, so she didn’t have to come up to the door and knock.
“I’ll get out of here before that. Otherwise she’ll think I lied about you living with your mother.”
“Maybe I should hire you to cook,” he teased.
“You couldn’t afford me.” Her grin was equal parts confidence and self-satisfaction.
She got up and washed the casserole dish she’d brought the food in. Then she said goodbye and headed to the door. Just before she opened it, there was a knock.
“She’s really early,” Morgan said.
“Hmm.” His mother opened it. “Erica. Hi.”
“Hello.” If she was surprised, it didn’t show. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Dalton.”
“Oh please. Call me Deborah. Better yet Deb.”
“Okay. Thanks. Is Morgan—”
“I’m here.” He moved beside his mom. “Come in. It’s cold outside.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re really early. I was going to wait for you outside so you didn’t have to get out of the car.”
“Oh—” She looked first at his mom, then him. “Sorry. I was ready and didn’t want to wait around.”
He saw tension in her eyes and the set of her mouth. “Is something wrong?”
“No. At least nothing new.”
“Come and sit down,” his mom said. “And tell us what’s bothering you.”
“There’s plenty of time before the class,” he assured her.
The Cowboy's Promise Page 13