by Marin Thomas
“I’ll take care of Mom,” Marsha reassured him. “She’s welcome to live with me and Ryan wherever we are.”
“She never worked a day since we married. How will she find employment? She’ll need to pay for her own health insurance.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. Mom won’t have to fend for herself.”
“That’s why it’s important that you push Ryan to succeed in school and college. He may need to take care of you one day.”
“You know,” she said. “You tell your parishioners to have faith when things go wrong in their lives. You tell them that God has a plan for everyone and they should trust Him. You need to listen to your own advice.”
“As a pastor I believe those things but as a father I fear if you and William end up together, he’ll squander the money you earn. What if he quits working for Ben Wallace and expects you to support him?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Aimee Cash is his mother. She lived off of other men and when she got pregnant, they ran out on her. Then she showed up at the farm, had her baby and left the child with Ely and Ada when she ran off again.”
“Will’s not like his mother. He’s not a user.”
“You haven’t been with him long enough to know that.”
The conversation was going downhill. “You’ve made it clear where you stand with me dating Will. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t share your feelings with Ryan.” She took her cup to the sink.
“Marsha.”
Heart aching, she faced her father. Her need to clear her conscience had brought her a sense of peace, but it had brought her father more worry. This was not how she wanted him to spend his last months on earth— anxious about the future of his wife, daughter and grandson. “What, Dad?”
“Never mind.”
She retreated to her room and sat on the bed, rocking as silent tears ran down her face. Tonight she’d held out hope that maybe there was a path to happily-ever-after for her, Will and Ryan—a dream she’d held close since she’d given birth to her son. Why couldn’t her father see that Will was the right man for her?
She’d be a horrible daughter if she didn’t try to make her father’s last days on earth worry-free but did that mean she had to sacrifice her own happiness?
* * *
“LATE NIGHT?” WILL MOTIONED to the coffeepot when Porter walked into the bunkhouse at the crack of dawn Wednesday morning.
“No, thanks. I’m going to shower then catch a nap,” Porter said.
“I thought you broke up with that Betsy chick?”
“She’s been history for a while. I hung out with Stacy last night.”
“Is that what you call sleeping with a woman—hanging out?”
“We didn’t have sex. We went to a movie and then talked until—”
“The sun rose.” Will chuckled.
“You’re usually not this chipper before you go to work,” Porter said.
“Maybe because last night I was with Marsha...talking.”
Porter hooted. “Are you two making up for lost time?”
Will wouldn’t say last night made up for fourteen years, but it was a heck of a start.
“Where do things stand between you guys?” Porter asked.
Will wasn’t ready to divulge any personal facts about his and Marsha’s relationship. “We’re taking things slow.”
“Does this mean you’ve forgiven her for keeping Ryan a secret?”
“It does.” Will had been hurt that Marsha hadn’t been truthful with him from the beginning, but in all honesty, he’d been living with his own guilt for years and had felt only relief that she’d gone against his wishes and kept their baby.
“You’ve been out of the game for a while, so if you need any dating advice, I’m your go-to man.” Porter headed to the bathroom.
Will set his mug aside, grabbed his cowboy hat and keys then left the bunkhouse. The sun had cleared the horizon and already the temperature was climbing. Ben had called earlier, informing Will that he’d be late to work and for Will to go ahead and begin framing the classroom walls.
Thoughts of making love to Marsha filled Will’s head during the drive to the church. Now that they’d been intimate and the experience had been over-the-top amazing, Will was confident that he, Marsha and Ryan would become the family they should have been from the beginning.
After he parked in front of the church, he glanced at Pastor Bugler’s house. He smiled when he envisioned Marsha asleep in bed, her long blond hair mussed and a dreamy expression on her face.
He took that image with him into the church and surveyed the work he and Ben had done, but his thoughts wandered to Marsha. He admired her beauty, intelligence and independent streak though most men might find those qualities intimidating. He was in awe of her successful career and ability to raise a child by herself. She was an amazing woman and he was nowhere near good enough for her.
Yet when their clothes had come off and it was flesh against naked flesh, they’d been more than compatible. Except for Ryan, he and Marsha might not have a lot in common, but other couples had begun with less and made a go of marriage. Will would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he eagerly anticipated his next date with Marsha.
The sound of a throat clearing made him jump inside his skin. He spun and came face-to-face with Pastor Bugler. He appeared pale and his shoulders slumped forward as if it took too much effort to stand straight.
“’Morning, Pastor.”
“William.”
Will was in too good a mood to allow the man to goad him.
“Ben and I are putting up the framework to separate the classrooms today.” When the pastor didn’t comment, Will took a folding chair and placed it next to him. “Have a seat.”
After he sat down, Will asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“I want you to leave my daughter alone.”
Will stared, at a loss for words.
“I know what you did with Marsha last night.” Color flooded the old man’s wrinkled cheeks, making his face appear feverish.
Feeling like a teenager being taken to task, Will said, “Your daughter and I are adults. What we do is none of your business.”
“I’m her father and a father’s duty is to protect his child. You wouldn’t care about that, because you were never there for Ryan.”
Will forced himself to speak calmly. “Your daughter didn’t give me an opportunity to be there for Ryan.” As he spoke the words, he knew Marsha’s father was right. No matter what he’d liked to think, he’d been wild and young back then and he wouldn’t have been there for his son even if he’d known about him.
“Marsha should never have told you about Ryan.” The pastor’s hand shook when he rubbed his brow.
Will was torn between defending himself and worrying about the old man’s health. “I know you don’t approve of me or my family, but that doesn’t change the fact that I fathered your grandson and I have a right to be involved in his life.”
“He doesn’t need a man with little education. A man who doesn’t attend church. A man whose mother was wild and—”
Will sliced his hand through the air. Everything the pastor said was true, but it didn’t mean that Will had to listen to it. “I get that you don’t believe I’m good enough for your daughter, but Marsha’s and Ryan’s opinions of me are the only ones I care about.”
“I helped raise my grandson. Ryan is a decent young man with a bright future. He needs to be with people like him and his mother—educated, intelligent and ambitious. You’ll drag them down.”
“Then it was all an act?” Will said.
“What are you talking about?”
“The day you came to the farm and socialized with my family. Pretending to get along with my brothers and spending time w
ith my nephews?”
“I have no quarrels with your brothers and their families.”
“Only me.”
“Yes. As I said before—”
“I heard. I’m not good enough for your daughter or grandson.” Anger sizzled in Will’s gut.
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the church lot echoed through the construction site. Ben had arrived.
The pastor pointed a finger at Will. “I will go to my grave fighting to keep you away from Marsha and Ryan.” He stood then shuffled off, leaving Will feeling more insecure than ever before.
The hours passed slowly as they framed the classrooms. If his boss sensed Will’s bad mood, he held his tongue. Will contemplated bringing up the pastor’s visit with Marsha, but what if he was right—Will wasn’t the best man for her and Ryan? How could he continue seeing Marsha when he knew how badly it would upset an ailing man during his last days on earth?
When the workday ended, Will packed up his tools. He needed to put together a plan, but before he drove off, Marsha came out of the house and waved. He watched her hurry toward him, feeling that familiar ache in his chest that exploded each time he saw her.
“Will.” Her smile hurt his heart.
Today she wore her hair pinned to her head in a messy bun and he longed to remove the clip and run his fingers through the gold strands.
“Did my father talk to you today?”
“He did.”
“I was hoping I’d have a chance to prepare you first.” She stared into the distance for a moment then shook her head. “He’s upset that we...”
“I got that impression,” he said.
“Please don’t take this wrong or think last night wasn’t special, because it was.” She rubbed her forehead as if their conversation was giving her a headache. “Because of my father’s health, I don’t want to upset him further.”
Will’s heart skidded to a halt. “What are you saying?”
“I think we need to cool things off between us.”
“Meaning...?”
“We probably shouldn’t go on any more dates.”
She might as well have punched him in the throat—he’d rather feel physical pain than the excruciating ache ripping his chest apart. Stupidly he’d hoped Marsha would defy her father and insist on being with Will. “Do I have to keep my distance from Ryan, too?”
“Of course not. I want you guys to do things together.”
So this was it—another one-night stand with Marsha and they were finished. He hopped into his truck and shut the door. At least this time he knew for sure that he hadn’t gotten her pregnant.
He drove off, refusing to look in the rearview mirror, fearing if he saw Marsha’s face, he’d stop and beg her to take him back—the pastor be damned.
As he sped down the highway, Will’s thoughts drifted to Buck. He’d treated his brother like crap, forcing him to leave town and for what?
Will had lost the girl again before he’d ever really had her.
Chapter Eleven
“Mom, can I come in?”
“Perfect timing, Ryan.” Marsha’s Friday-morning tutoring session had ended and the students were logging out of the chat room. “What’s up?”
“I found a book that gives tips on how to help dyslexic people. Can I buy it?” He sat in the chair across from her desk. “It’s half price on Amazon.”
The past week her son had researched dyslexia more than he’d read on his e-reader or played chess with his grandfather. Marsha wished she’d had the courage to stand up to her father and continue seeing Will, but she’d gone to bed the night after they’d argued in the kitchen and she’d lain awake until dawn. Her father had been the reason she’d achieved her goals. If not for him and her mother adopting her and providing her with a loving, nurturing childhood, who knows what would have become of her. In the end, she’d decided that she’d sacrifice her dream to be with Will if it set her father’s mind at ease during his last months on earth.
She was proud of Ryan for wanting to help his father, but wasn’t sure how receptive Will would be after she’d cooled things off between them several days ago.
“I know what Will’s problem is. When he read that sign in the prison, his eyes kind of jerked back and forth. The jerkiness is called tracking. There are a bunch of exercises Will can do to force his eyes not to move so much when he reads.”
Her heart ached at the excitement in Ryan’s voice, but if he spent too much time with Will, her father would get upset. Marsha didn’t want anything to come between grandfather and grandson, but she also didn’t want to interfere with Ryan and Will developing a relationship.
“Can I go to the farm with Will after he quits for the day?”
Will. Marsha walked across the room and stood in front of the window facing the church. After she’d shut Will out, she’d resorted to spying—right now he and Ben were installing windows. “Where’s Grandpa?”
“Grandma drove him into Yuma to that old folks’ home,” Ryan said.
A handful of her father’s church members were residents of an assisted-living facility. Since they were no longer able to attend Sunday services, her father ate lunch with them on Fridays, then read scripture. With her parents out of the house, Marsha didn’t have to worry about her father seeing Will and Ryan together.
What about when he discovers Ryan took off with Will?
“So can I go to the farm or not?” Ryan asked.
She opened her mouth to say not, but stopped short. She’d made the decision to spend the summer in Stagecoach in order for Will and Ryan to become better acquainted. As much as she yearned to be an obedient daughter, she refused to sacrifice her son’s relationship with Will to please her father.
“It’s all right with me if you go, but ask Will first. He might have plans.”
“Okay.” Ryan bolted from the office.
Marsha returned to the desk and made notes on the students she’d tutored, wishing all the while she could go to the farm with Ryan, too.
* * *
“LOOK WHO CAME out here to check on our progress,” Ben said.
“Hey, Ryan.” Will forced a smile.
“Hi, Will. Hi, Ben.” Ryan nodded to the power tool in Will’s hand. “Are you almost done putting in the windows?”
“We will be after this one.”
Ben’s phone went off and he said, “Excuse me a minute.”
“What have you been up to?” Ryan hadn’t been out to the farm to work on the model rocket in a while and each night when Will walked into the bunkhouse and saw the parts strewn across the table, he was reminded again of Pastor Bugler’s warning to keep his distance from his grandson and daughter.
“I’ve been doing some research,” Ryan said.
Will’s gut clenched. He knew what was coming—Marsha had warned him. “Research on what?”
“Dyslexia.”
“Oh?” The urge to flee dug its claws into Will, but he forced himself to make eye contact with his son.
“Remember when you had trouble reading the sign in the prison?”
No father wanted to appear weak in front of his child, but he reluctantly admired Ryan’s courage for bringing up the subject. “Yes.”
“I saw your eyes move a lot.”
“I have trouble focusing when I read.” No sense acting as if his problem wasn’t a big deal.
“We can fix it.” Ryan smiled.
We? The heavy feeling in Will’s chest lightened.
“The condition is called tracking,” Ryan said.
“You sure it can be fixed?”
“There’s lots of stuff you can do to keep your eyes calm when you read. I can help you, Dad. If you’ll let me.”
Dad.
Will’s throat tightened
—Ryan had called him Dad for the first time. He’d done nothing to earn the title, yet his son was offering him a chance to fill the role. Swallowing hard, he glanced toward his boss, who was still talking on his phone. “How can you help me?”
“You need to exercise your core.” Ryan pointed to Will’s stomach. “Do sit-ups and stuff.”
“My eyes are in my head, not my stomach.” Will grinned.
“Good posture helps you sit still and focus better when you read.”
“What else should I be doing?”
“Use a ruler or piece of paper to cover up all the words in a sentence, except the one you’re reading. It makes your brain slow down and your eyes won’t jump as much.”
“That sounds logical.”
“When you get good at keeping your eyes steady, you’re supposed to read out loud, ’cause if you hear your voice, it forces your brain and eyes to work together better.” Ryan pointed to himself. “You could read one of my books on my e-reader and I’ll listen to you.”
Ryan’s intentions were heartfelt and Will didn’t want to dampen his excitement. Shoving aside his embarrassment, he said, “When do you want to show me these exercises?”
“I can go to the farm with you after you’re done working.”
“As soon as Ben and I put this window in, I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll get my Kindle.” Ryan took off and a minute later Ben ended his call and they finished installing the window.
“The plumbing fixtures arrive on Monday,” Ben said as he gathered his tools.
“You want me to pick them up at the store in Yuma?” Will asked.
“I’ll get them. We’ll meet here a little after ten Monday morning.”
“Sounds good. Enjoy your weekend.” Will started the engine, then turned on the air conditioner to cool the cab. Ryan came out of the house with Marsha. She was a sight for sore eyes in a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a blue tank top and her blond hair blowing in the breeze. All he had to do was look at her and his testosterone level shot through the roof.
“Hi, Will.”