Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7)

by Debra Salonen

  Amanda looked at Tucker, surprised and not the least bit certain how to answer either of those questions. Who would answer these for him? Tucker or the Full Mountie?

  “Love brings people together,” Meg said. “There are no strangers here today.”

  “Well, this will be interesting,” Tucker said, rubbing his hand across her bare forearm. “Shall we grab a table and see who joins us?”

  With so many guests, the tables filled up quickly.

  “May we?” Pastor Sam asked, introducing her beautiful, mixed-race daughter, Makayla, as they took two chairs to Amanda’s right. Flynn, his girlfriend, Kat, and her son, Brady, claimed the seats directly across from them. And to Tucker’s left, Justin and an older man who had been introduced as a photographer friend of Ryker’s joined them.

  “Shouldn’t the Best Man be at the bride and groom’s table?” Amanda asked Flynn, as the servers started dropping platters of barbecued beef ribs, blackened chicken, delicately fried fish fillets, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, green salads and decadently aromatic garlic bread up and down the tables.

  “There isn’t one. Mia and Ryker wanted everyone to mingle, and they decided that included them.” He nodded toward the next table over. “But it looks like my mom and stepdad and Mia’s parents nabbed spots on either side of the newlyweds, so I’m not sure that really worked.”

  Flynn grabbed a platter of fish to serve himself and Amanda before offering a piece to Brady, who shook his head. “Grandpa wants two pieces,” he said, indicating the empty plate beside him. “He says OC Jenkins’ fish is the bomb, but I don’t like fish.”

  Flynn took the serving dish back after Brady slid the golden fillets onto the plate beside him.

  “One of these days I’ll take you fishing. There’s nothing like pan-fried trout that you’ve just pulled from the river,” Flynn said. “Talk about life-changing moments. It struck me recently that spending the summers with my dad in Montana was exactly that life-shaping moment Meg asked us to talk about. Who knows where I’d be now if not for Dad’s love of Montana.”

  Kat lifted her Mason jar filled with iced tea. “To dads.”

  After the toast, Flynn looked across the table and asked, “What about you, Amanda? Who was that person in your life?”

  Amanda felt the heat rise in her cheeks when the others turned her way. She kept her hands busy passing bowls while trying to keep Tucker from piling more food on her already overflowing plate. “I haven’t given it much thought, actually. My older sisters locked me in the cellar of our summer cottage in the Hamptons when I was seven or eight, and I still feel claustrophobic at times. But I’m thinking Meg was looking for something more positive, right?”

  Everyone spoke at once to sympathize and offer sibling horror stories of his and her own.

  “Way to deflect,” Tucker whispered, leaning sideways till their shoulders touched.

  “Thanks.”

  She picked up a ten-inch, slightly blackened rib bone as she’d seen the others do. Using both hands, she took a bite of the juiciest, sweetest meat she’d ever tasted. The flavors of charcoal, smoke, seared fat, and sweetly hot barbecue sauce exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh, my word, this is delicious.”

  When she glanced at Tucker, she read the sweetly hot look of desire in his eyes. Her blush was probably as red as her western kerchief napkin.

  “Amanda, tell me how Molly’s doing?” Kat asked a few minutes later. “I meant to drop by the rehab center before our trip, but I ran out of time.”

  “We went to Disneyland with my Grandpa Roger,” Brady said before Amanda could reply. “I’m saving him a spot. He’s in charge of the fire—”

  Kat put a finger to his lips.

  “He’s in charge of a surprise.”

  The fact that today was the Fourth of July, Amanda didn’t think fireworks would be a huge surprise, but the excitement in Brady’s eyes made her smile.

  Eventually, someone—Pastor Sam, Amanda thought—brought up the first question Meg had asked the diners to discuss.

  “How did I meet my forever love?” Flynn repeated, his grin as genuine as she’d ever seen. “Over a box of doughnuts. How’s that for romantic?”

  Amanda had heard bits and pieces of his and Kat’s romance at the bar, so she only half-listened until she heard Flynn say, “And I want to go on record and say that even though my dad was the most influential person in my life growing up, I wouldn’t be here today if not for Tucker Montgomery and Justin Oberman.”

  He acknowledged his friends with a serious nod.

  Amanda set down her fork to clap.

  Tucker stood and bowed, forearm at his waist. Mr. Showman. Was she the only one who saw the ruse for what it was—a way to deflect the praise his best friend was trying to heap on his broad shoulders?

  “Notice it only took us ten years to wise up,” Tucker said. “I believe this is the first July Fourth that we’re not in full gear humping ten miles from a drop zone.”

  “Hear, hear,” Justin said, lifting his water glass.

  “Who needs another beer?” Tucker asked, motioning for a server passing out pitchers of beer.

  Another? Don’t you have to drink one first before you can have another?

  A waiter brought a pitcher of frothy golden brew and filled Tucker’s glass, but Amanda noticed Tucker barely took a sip. The party boy shows his true colors.

  Once the majority of the dinner plates and fixin’s had been cleared, Meg returned to the stage to introduce the band. “May I have the bride, her groom and their parents up here, please, for the traditional dances?”

  The photographer sitting beside Justin pushed back in his chair and stood. “That’s my cue. A pleasure, everyone.”

  As Meg waited for Mia and Ryker to reach the stage, she told the audience, “After the traditional dances, we’ll be treated to a special children’s dance ensemble directed by Tucker Montgomery. I’ve been told the title of this presentation is ‘We Love You to the Moon and Back.’” She scanned the audience, pausing to nod at cast members. “And after the performance, we’ll be serving cake, along with a special treat from Uncle Roger.”

  Tucker leaned past Amanda to look at Brady. “Shall we, young thespian?”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “I know what that is. It’s another word for actor.”

  The adults chuckled as Tucker put his lips to Amanda’s ear and whispered, “Wish me luck.”

  “Break a leg,” Flynn said. “Wait. No, don’t do that.”

  “Have fun,” Amanda said.

  Tucker looked skyward, crossed himself, and then motioned for Brady to follow him.

  Amanda watched the two jostle each other playfully as they made their way to a small tent near the river’s edge. But the moment the band started playing, her gaze went to the dance floor.

  Amanda found herself dabbing her eyes when Mia’s father waltzed his daughter across the floor to meet Ryker and his mother, who was over-dressed in a silver beaded, floor-length gown that must have been hotter than heck. Ryker smoothly transferred the older woman to her husband, a portly man in a gray suit with a dark plum shirt and navy blue tie.

  The whole audience sighed when Ryker swept Mia into his arms and the two spun in wide, beautiful circles from one side of the dance floor to the other. They made such a spectacular couple—young, vital, and evoking joy.

  The music changed to an up-tempo beat a few seconds later. Amanda exchanged a look of surprise with Samantha, who said, “I know this song. The Kongos. Our inner city youth group did a flash mob to it.”

  She turned her chair and began to clap and stomp her feet. Ryker and Mia stepped apart at the exact moment a dozen youthful bodies adorned with neon lighted necklaces, headbands, ankle bracelets and armbands swarmed across the dance floor. Two of the bigger kids escorted the bride and groom off the stage to seats of honor.

  After the first fanciful, energetic dance that got everyone’s attention, the music turned slow as Frank Sinatra cr
ooned “Fly Me to the Moon.” That’s when the magic happened.

  A tiny sprite actually lifted above the others and spun in graceful circles across the stage, moving in and out of the other dancers. Only those close to the stage could see the man dressed totally in black carrying her.

  Tucker. Of course.

  Amanda’s heart swelled and constricted and tears returned to her eyes. She couldn’t say why, but that was the moment she knew he was so much more than a summer fling.

  When he returned to her, breathing hard and favoring his good foot, she wrapped her arms around him and didn’t let go—even when the most spectacular fireworks she’d ever seen burst overhead illuminating the mountains and the entire big sky.

  Chapter Ten

  The Tuesday after Mia and Ryker’s wedding, Paul Zabrinski gave Amanda the “all clear” to show Molly the changes that had been made to her house. “What do you think, Grandma? Isn’t it beautiful?” Amanda asked.

  She held her breath as she watched Tucker push her grandmother’s wheelchair toward the newly completed ramp. The old one, which hadn’t been to code, they’d discovered, had been torn down and replaced with a longer, more user-friendly approach to the newly enclosed laundry/mud room.

  The remodeling job had wound up taking nearly a month longer than projected and several thousand dollars more than originally bid. Amanda’s parents had taken some convincing, but after talking to a realtor, Andrew decided the nominal investment would come back triple-fold when the house went on the market.

  Now came the second big hurdle: getting Molly’s approval.

  Tucker paused at the base of the ramp. “We had a crew come in and trim the hedges, too, Molly. You can actually see the guesthouse from the deck, now.”

  Molly coughed into a linen hanky and then wiped her lips. Had the old woman shrunk when Amanda wasn’t looking? The past few weeks had been hectic and distracting—in a good way. But Amanda hadn’t been spending as much time with her grandmother as she had when she first got to Montana.

  Molly still possessed a sharp tongue and biting wit, but recently Amanda felt she was nothing but confusion, depression and moments of complete disconnect.

  Amanda blamed the depression on the second letter from her father’s lawyers. This one informed Molly that her daughter, June O’Neal Heller, was petitioning the state to declare Molly incompetent so June could become her legal guardian. Amanda had been surprised by the letter but not shocked. She’d known her parents’ plans from the beginning, but she hadn’t expected them to act so quickly.

  Since that day last week, some of the fight had gone out of Molly. Is that when Molly stopped asking about her motorized cart and her cat, Amanda asked herself. She couldn’t remember.

  “Wow. This heat,” Amanda said, plucking at her loose sleeveless blouse. She couldn’t believe she’d been complaining about the cold a few short months ago. “Should we go inside?”

  The dramatic shift in the weather never ceased to amaze her. The warmth of the days nearly matched the heat of her nights with Tucker.

  Molly pointed one shaky finger at the guesthouse and said, “I should have known she wouldn’t come. Nothing I did was ever good enough.”

  She. My mother.

  Over the course of their conversations, Amanda had come to see her mother in a completely different—and unflattering—light. A shallow, vain, and needy child who, for reasons Amanda had yet to figure out, had spurned her teacher mother’s attempts to connect in favor of the attention of her father—a man not unlike Amanda’s father in many ways.

  In one of her more lucid days, Molly had shared the story of taking June back east to look at colleges. “I hoped she’d fall in love with Oberlin the same way I did. She looked around and said, ‘Too many women with unshaved armpits.’” They’d shared a good laugh, and briefly got sidetracked by some memories of the 1970s. “So, why’d Mom pick Barnard?”

  “The husband pool of Columbia held the greatest potential for a rich catch. My June was no dummy. I’ll give her that. She knew what she wanted and set out to get it.”

  No surprise there, Amanda thought, bringing her mind back to the present. That was still how her mother operated. And, for some reason—one Amanda had yet to figure out—June had decided her long-distance micromanaging wasn’t getting the job done. She’d made plans to attend the Family Court hearing to decide Molly’s ability to control her own destiny in person.

  Amanda looked at Tucker and Molly who were still discussing the clever configuration of the hedge and fence. She hadn’t told them about her mother’s planned arrival the next day. Coward.

  She shook off the cold shiver that passed down her spine. She touched her grandmother’s bony shoulder. “The guesthouse wasn’t a waste of money where Tucker and I are concerned, Grandma. We’ve enjoyed living there, haven’t we, Tucker?”

  He looked at her above Molly’s neatly tamed silver curls. “It’s a great place, Molly. I know my ankle wouldn’t be doing this well if I’d been camped on top of the mountain. I really can’t thank you and Amanda enough.”

  The amusement in his eyes held a promise of another night in his arms. She’d given up trying to justify, marginalize or make peace with what was happening between them. Their feelings for each other existed. Enough said.

  Molly leaned over the arm of her wheelchair to look at Tucker’s feet. “Your foot’s all fixed?”

  “One more week before the doc gives me the all-clear.”

  “When do I get out of purgatory?”

  Amanda wasn’t clear whether Molly was asking her or Tucker. “Do you mean rehab? I thought you said the nurses take good care of you there.”

  Molly made a gesture of frustration that Amanda had seen a thousand times—like a snap but her gnarled fingers couldn’t quite remember how to produce the sound. “I just want to sleep in my own bed one more time. Is that too much to ask?”

  Her defeated tone broke Amanda’s heart. “Everyone’s been working as quickly as possible,” she said. “But remodeling a house the age of this place isn’t a straight line to success. Nearly every day, Paul would run into some kind of roadblock, either poor craftsmanship from years gone by or substandard materials that needed to be replaced for your health and wellbeing.”

  Molly looked up. “Or to put more money in your mother’s pocket when the place goes up on the auction block.”

  Amanda couldn’t meet Molly’s eyes or Tucker’s. “What do you mean?”

  Molly slumped in the chair. “Oh, don’t bother pretending you don’t know, girl. Let’s get this over with.”

  Tucker’s head cocked in a what-gives look, but she didn’t have an answer so she pointed toward the house, indicating it was time to move on.

  In all honesty, Amanda wasn’t sure what had prompted her mother’s new hands-on approach. If something had changed between her parents on their trip, nobody was talking about it. Of course, that was the Heller way. Amanda felt as fatalistic as Molly at the moment.

  As she followed the wheelchair up the ramp, Tucker looked over his shoulder and said, softly, “I thought Molly was moving in next week?”

  “Molly’s insurance only wants to cover a portion of the home health care time, even though Molly’s doctor says she can’t be left alone anymore.”

  The truth as Amanda knew it, but that didn’t take into account what would happen when June got here.

  “I have a call into a lady Kat Robinson heard about. She’s supposed to be reliable and affordable.”

  Kat had been a great sounding board and resource these past few weeks. Having waged battles on behalf of her late mother, Kat knew tons of shortcuts and roundabouts to get things done. But Kat was swamped, too. She’d recently finished an SAR audit for the Sheriff’s Department that wound up getting one long-time employee fired for misappropriation of funds. Amanda knew the whole business had been tough on Kat, which was one reason she’d decided to accept a job with the Zabrinski family’s new non-profit called the Big Sky Mavericks inste
ad of continuing to work for the Sheriff’s Office.

  Amanda had submitted some logo ideas for the large and ambitious charitable coalition last week. To her surprise, some of her most creative ideas came to her after making love with Tucker. She’d accidentally called him her “muse” one morning, and he’d teased her ever since, hinting that he was indispensable and pretty soon she’d want him to travel with her, just to be sure she didn’t lose her mojo.

  Molly appeared to be ignoring them so Amanda asked, “What’s happening with the zip line? Is the grand opening still a go?”

  He flashed his familiar, relaxed, all’s-well-with-the-world grin. She called it his Louisiana Bayou smile. “Believe it or not, they’re putting the finishing touches on the final run as we speak.” He leaned over so Molly could see him. “Do you want to be the first person to zip on my new zip line, Molly?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  He gently chuffed her shoulder, which, despite the heat, was clad in a pink cotton sweater. “You’re one cool old gal, Molly. I wish you could meet Ona, my grandmother who raised me. She doesn’t travel much these days. But, maybe she’d come if I told her there was another badass octogenarian zipping in Montana.”

  Amanda didn’t hear her grandmother’s answer as she was busy opening the home’s lovely, energy-efficient new screen door. She braced the outer door then crossed the practical tile flooring to the kitchen. She inhaled deeply, smiling as the scent of baked apples came wafting out. Kat’s idea. “Buy a ready-to-bake apple pie and have it in the oven when you bring Molly in. Never underestimate the memory-inducing power of the olfactory sense.”

  Running the air-conditioning and the oven may have seemed contradictory but Amanda didn’t care. The small extravagance would be worth it if Molly found some pleasure from visiting her home. She checked on the pie. Ten minutes left on the timer.

  When she returned to the laundry room, she found her grandmother frowning. “Where’s my old wringer? It’s the only one that actually works worth shit.”

  Tucker squatted opposite Molly. Amanda knew squats still bothered his ankle, but you couldn’t tell from looking at his face. “Ona says the same thing. That’s why we left your old machine in the basement. Still hooked up. It’ll be there any time you need it. But—,” he said, taking one of her hands in his so she’d look him in the eyes. “It’s not safe for you to go into the cellar. You’ll have to teach a new generation how to operate a wringer washing machine. Think you can do that?”