by Trish Milburn - The Texan's Cowgirl Bride (Texas Rodeo Barons)
“You found a lump? What did the doctor say?”
Savannah gripped the edge of the table, and Travis wanted so much to pull her into his arms. But this was between her and Carly. Truthfully, he should leave, but he suspected it would be more awkward for her were he to walk away in the middle of all this than to stand silently on the sidelines, waiting to give Savannah support if she needed it. He fought the old need to distance himself from potential loss. He wondered if he’d ever truly conquer it or if it would always be there, whispering to him to shield his heart, to keep others at arm’s length.
“I had a biopsy on Monday.” Savannah glanced his way and gave him a little smile. “Travis was kind enough to go with me.”
“You took a stranger instead of your sister?”
“Carly,” Savannah said, sounding for a moment like the scolding older sister. “Travis isn’t a stranger.”
Carly shot him a look filled with anger, but as he watched he saw it drain away.
“I know. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
Savannah pushed away from the table and faced her sister. “I didn’t want to worry you or anyone else in the family. And I didn’t want to have to answer a million questions. You know how I am. I prefer to deal with things on my own.”
“But you’re okay, right?”
Savannah pressed her lips together for a moment. “I don’t know yet. I’m still waiting for the biopsy results.”
“You’re okay.” Carly sounded as if she knew for certain, or at least was trying to will Savannah’s good health into existence. Travis understood the need to do that.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am.” Carly crossed to her sister and took Savannah’s hands in hers. “And I’m glad you’re looking for Mom. I want those answers, too.”
“I need you to not tell anyone else. I don’t want to have to deal with that right now.”
“Don’t worry. I know Dad would crap a brick.”
Carly’s accurate assessment of their father’s reaction sat there in the air for a moment before Savannah snorted. In the next beat, they were all laughing. It was just what they all needed.
* * *
SAVANNAH HAD THOUGHT she was doing the right thing by keeping her health condition and the search for her mother secret, but she felt loads lighter after she spent a couple of hours telling Carly everything.
“Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I remember even less about Mom than you do, but I feel as if I should do something.”
“Beyond keeping it under wraps for now, no. I’m really relying on Travis at this point.”
“Yeah, about Travis. I also heard that part about him asking you to go away for the weekend.”
Savannah hadn’t had time to process that tidbit before Carly had walked in on the conversation. A weekend at the beach, alone with Travis? That sounded wonderful.
“I could deal with another hot brother-in-law.”
Savannah laughed. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you do him. And you get all jittery and flushed when he shows up.”
“Because I always wonder if he’s found Mom yet.”
“Oh, please. I’m not a little kid you can fib to anymore. You have the hots for him just as much as he does you. I’d even place good money on the fact that you’re falling for him.”
Savannah didn’t confirm or deny, but she knew her sister was right. Every day, a little more of her heart became his.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you should go to the beach with him. Even if the lead on Mom doesn’t amount to anything, it’s still a beach weekend with a hot guy. Not that I think you’ll be leaving the cottage much.”
“Carly!”
“What? Tell me you haven’t thought about it? Wait, have you done it yet? Because he looks like he’d be good in bed.”
Savannah’s face flushed what had to be tomato-red, which of course only egged Carly on.
“Look at you!”
“You’re being a twit.”
“So, have you or haven’t you?”
Savannah sighed. “No, we haven’t.”
Carly shot up from where she’d been sitting cross-legged in the comfy living-room chair. “Well, then, we need to get you packed.”
“I can’t just up and run off for the weekend. I have a business to run, one that Dad is half convinced is going to fail anyway. I don’t need to add fuel to that fire.”
Carly waved away her concern. “Don’t worry about the store. I think Gina and I can handle it.”
“And what if someone asks where I’ve gone?”
“Easy. I tell them you’ve gone away with a friend for the weekend.” Carly started walking toward the bedroom, ticking off a list of everything Savannah needed to pack. “A razor, some nice-smelling lotion, a sexy nightie.”
“I don’t even own a sexy nightie. The sexiest sleepwear I have is an old T-shirt that’s so worn that it’s nearly see-through.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “Well, grab your purse then.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m taking you shopping.”
The next thing Savannah knew, Carly had dragged her out to her car and they were headed to a lingerie store in Dallas.
“Text loverboy and tell him to pick you up bright and early in the morning.”
Savannah started to object, feeling the need to regain some control of her suddenly runaway life.
“Do it or I’ll pull this car over and do it myself. You and that eye candy are going to the beach, and when you come back you’re going to tell me all about it in minute detail.”
Her fingers shaking, Savannah texted Travis. She’d barely taken a breath before the return text hit her phone.
See you then was followed by a smiley face.
By this time tomorrow, she was going to be alone with Travis where no one could interrupt them. She turned her face toward the passenger window so her sister couldn’t see the wide smile that she could no longer keep hidden.
Chapter Eleven
Savannah watched as Travis effortlessly carried her luggage up the wooden steps to their beach cottage. She was halfway afraid that he could see through the suitcase to the sexy blue nightie Carly had forced her to buy the night before, not to mention the three new sets of underwear.
She took a deep breath of salty sea air and hoped she could relax and enjoy herself. She’d hoped to have news one way or the other on the biopsy by now, but she was still waiting. Still didn’t know whether cancer was growing inside her at that very moment. Was it fair to Travis, or to herself, to allow their relationship to take the next step until she knew her prognosis?
She’d posed the same question to Carly. In a moment of more maturity and seriousness than her sister usually displayed, she’d said, “Travis is a grown man. Let him make his own decision.”
If the way he’d looked at her and held her hand all the way to the beach was any indication, his decision had been made. And yet, she still sensed a wariness in him that he might not even be consciously aware of himself.
“You coming in?” he called down from the landing.
She did her best to shove away her worries and smiled up at him. “Yeah. Be right there.”
The cottage was adorable, and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to live somewhere like this all the time. She loved the ranch, but there was something about the ocean that was so relaxing. It was as if the waves were there solely for the purpose of washing your cares out to sea.
“Are you hungry?” Travis asked as he came up behind where she was staring out the glass balcony doors.
“Starving.”
“Good. There’s a little place right on the beach not far from here.”
They ate at a quaint, open-air restaurant then took a short walk on the beach before her anxiety got the better of her and stopped her in her tracks.
Travis turned toward her. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m going to be very good company until we follow up on this lead you have.”
If she had to wait on her test results, she didn’t want to wait to take the next step in the search for her mother.
He looked as if he wanted to put it off for a while longer, and she understood why. They were having a nice time, and that might change if this lead on her mother’s whereabouts proved as useless as the first one.
But Travis had seemed excited by it, had said that it was a more solid lead. She was hanging on to that knowledge with both hands and had to see this through. She had to have an answer to at least one of the questions hanging over her head.
“Okay,” he said as he took her hand and turned them back toward the restaurant parking lot.
It didn’t take long to get from the Crab Hut to a short street off the beaten path lined with small, pastel-colored mobile homes. The whole street had a retro fifties vibe. Travis pulled up in front of one of the trailers that had a faded pink exterior. The sandy yard was filled with flowerpots overflowing with colorful bougainvillea and at least half a dozen other types of flowers.
“So this is where she lived?”
“Somewhere on the other side of the street,” Travis said.
On the drive that morning, he’d told her everything he’d learned so far. About a year after her mother left Oklahoma, she’d settled here. The only person who still lived on Conch Lane from that time was Phyllis O’Donnell, evidently the resident of the pink trailer.
Savannah placed her hand on her swirling stomach.
Travis clasped her other hand and squeezed. “You ready?”
She nodded once. “Ready as I’m ever going to be.”
She allowed Travis to lead the way up the flagstone path to the front door. He only had to knock once before an elderly lady with pink curlers in her hair answered.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. O’Donnell, my name is Travis Shepard. You talked to a colleague of mine, Matt Ferguson.”
“Oh, yes. You wanted to know about Dee.”
The name threw Savannah for a moment until she realized that if her mother had wanted to stay hidden, she might have changed the name she went by. And Dee was simply a shortened version of Delia and thus easy to remember.
Mrs. O’Donnell opened the door. “Come on in.” She shifted her hand to her hair. “Sorry about the curlers. I’ve been running a bit behind this morning. Got behind one of those super couponers at the store. Took her half an hour to check out.”
“It’s okay,” Savannah said. “A gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do.”
“Ain’t that right?” Mrs. O’Donnell giggled and waved them into the living area. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table. “I just made those lemon cookies this morning. Now can I offer you both a cup of coffee? Water or soda maybe?”
Both Savannah and Travis accepted a cup of coffee, and Savannah grabbed a cookie just to have something to do with her free hand. But when she took a bite, she was surprised by how good it was.
“This is delicious.”
Mrs. O’Donnell smiled. “Why, thank you, dear. I’ve been making those for probably fifty years. Was my mama’s recipe. I’ll give it to you if you like.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Speaking of mothers,” Travis said, shifting the conversation. “The reason we wanted to know about your neighbor Dee is that we believe she’s the same woman who went by the name Delia Baron, Savannah’s mother.”
Mrs. O’Donnell turned her gaze toward Savannah. “You know, I can see the resemblance now.”
Excitement sparked to life inside Savannah, replacing the anxiety. “What do you remember about her?”
“Well, now. I’ve been thinking on that since I talked to your friend, Matt. Nice boy, that Matt.” Mrs. O’Donnell scratched a spot on her head between two of the rollers. “I guess it’s been between fifteen and twenty years ago. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember exactly. My memory isn’t what it once was. But I remember Dee was a sweet thing, but sad. I just wanted to give her a hug and tell her life was full of beautiful things to enjoy. Even though she was always kind to all her neighbors, I don’t think the sadness ever went away.”
Savannah had the uncharitable thought that it wasn’t a surprise that abandoning one’s family might make one a little sad.
“I only saw sadness like that one other time, after my sister lost a baby. Even though she went on about her life, she never got over that loss.”
Savannah glanced at Travis, who looked in her direction at the same time before shifting his attention back to Mrs. O’Donnell.
Could her mother have experienced the same thing even though she hadn’t lost a baby but had instead walked away from her children? Then why walk away? Why not come back?
“Did she ever talk about her family?” Travis asked.
The elderly woman shook her head. “No, I got the sense she was alone in the world. I never saw anyone come over to her place other than those of us who lived on this street. We’d switch up going to each other’s places to play cards or board games. Oh, I remember Dee made the absolute best peach pie you’ve ever put in your mouth.”
Savannah sucked in a breath.
Travis reached over and took her hand, giving her a much-needed anchor.
“Do you know where she is now?” Savannah knew she sounded desperate, but this was the closest she’d been to her mother since the day she’d disappeared from her life. Her heart sank as she saw Mrs. O’Donnell shake her head.
“I’m sorry, dear. Dee lived across the street, in the little mint-green trailer, for maybe three years. Then one day she moved away in the middle of the night without telling anyone. But she left all of us a peach pie on our porches. I thought that was so nice, but I wondered about her for a long time.”
“You never heard from her again?” Travis asked.
“No. I don’t even know where she went. We often wondered afterward if she was hiding from someone, and the someone got too close.”
Savannah wondered if her father had looked for her mom. That didn’t seem likely considering he wouldn’t even speak Delia’s name now, pretended as if she’d never existed.
Though her heart sat heavy in her chest, Savannah nevertheless soaked up the stories about her mother that Mrs. O’Donnell shared. Tales of rowdy ladies’ poker games, helping each other evacuate ahead of a hurricane, of donations of baked goods to every local charity imaginable.
When Mrs. O’Donnell had finally exhausted what she could remember, Savannah leaned forward and took the older woman’s wrinkled hands in hers. “Thank you for sharing your memories with me. They mean a lot.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more. You seem like a sweet girl.”
As Travis drove them back toward the beach cottage a few minutes later, Savannah fought against the encroaching sense of sadness and despair. While she’d discovered information about a slice of her mother’s life, she also had come away with more questions. Why had her mother picked Galveston as a temporary home? Why had she been so sad, especially when she could have done something about it? And why did she leave here as suddenly as she had her home at the ranch?
Travis seemed to understand she needed quiet. He simply held her hand as he drove. When they reached the cottage and walked inside, he finally pulled her into his arms.
“We’ll find her. We’re closer than we were this morning.”
“Are we?”
“I’m not going to tell you that you’ll get your answers quickly, but you’ll get them. We’ll find your mother.”
She smiled at him, at least as much as she could manage at the moment. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll go take a nap.”
She saw the worry in his eyes, but he didn’t force her to talk more. He simply dropped a light kiss on her forehead and stepped away. For a moment, she wanted to pull him back to her, to take him to bed, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. She didn’t want to use him to feel good in the face of heartbreaking news.
Despite a fatigue that she suspected had more to do with the weight on her heart than the limited sleep she’d gotten the night before, she couldn’t fall asleep. After tossing and turning for more than an hour, she got up and slipped out the door from the bedroom to the balcony. The soothing sound of the waves beckoned, so she headed for the beach. Part of her knew she should tell Travis where she was going, but she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
She walked slowly through the edge of the surf on the packed sand, letting the salty water roll softly over her feet. All the details Mrs. O’Donnell had shared about Delia replayed in Savannah’s mind. The thought of her mom making peach pies for her neighbors actually helped her smile.
She remembered the day about a year after her mother had left that she found her mom’s peach pie recipe in the kitchen. She’d baked it for her dad, thinking it would make him happy. It’d had the opposite effect, and Savannah had hidden the recipe away in her room for fear her dad would destroy the note card on which her mother had written it. At that time, she’d still held out hope that her mother would return, if Savannah just held on tightly enough, wished hard enough. Even though all her wishing hadn’t worked, she still had that card, used the recipe every day to make the pies she sold in the Peach Pit.
Her gaze lit on a snowy-white seashell half buried in the sand, and she leaned over to pick it up. It turned out to be an intact angel wing. She ran her fingertips along the delicate ridges and felt the oddest sensation that it was a sign. A sign of what, she had no idea.