Rodeo Father

by Mary Sullivan

  “Yes, I do. It surprised me, but you know what? It works.”

  His frown eased.

  To match the cherry-red cabinets, he had placed a few red-and-white-checked items around, a tablecloth and napkins on a large pine table and a couple of dish towels hanging on a rod.

  Other than that, very little cluttered the countertops. A toaster designed to look like an old-fashioned radio sat beside a swan-like stainless-steel kettle.

  The clean lines served to balance the frivolity of the ornate wood trim, again stained dark here in the kitchen. Surprisingly, it all worked.

  She would gladly cook and bake in this kitchen...and that surprised her. She would have gone more traditional to suit the house, but Travis had gone 1950s and had pulled it off.

  “I love it.”

  He exhaled as though he’d been holding his breath.

  Tori stepped into the room. “When are we going to decorate?”

  “A better question is,” Rachel said, “what are we going to use for decorations?”

  “I’ve been looking online for ideas. I never had much of an example when I was a kid.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets and, again, Rachel had the sense he was looking for approval. “I thought I could go a little old-fashioned. Plus I don’t want to spend a lot of money.”

  He jerked his chin in the direction of the cabinets. “This renovation stuff is expensive. I need to put a lid on it for now.”

  “So, what do you have in mind for decorating?”

  He opened the plain white refrigerator and pulled out a couple of bags of fresh cranberries. From a cupboard he took a bag of popcorn.

  Rachel perked up. “Popcorn and cranberry chains? I love it. So unusual these days.”

  “Not too old-fashioned?”

  She shrugged and held her hands palm up. “Who cares? It’s your house, Travis. No one else’s. Do what you want.”

  The side of his mouth quirked up. “Glad it meets with your approval. C’mere.”

  He left the room, talking over his shoulder. “You liked that Lady Whoever china so much, I think you’ll like what I found in the attic.”

  Small, yellowed boxes sat on the dining-room table, a plain black rectangle with leather parson dining chairs. Again, it wasn’t her style, but it wasn’t her house, either, was it?

  He opened one of the small boxes, and Rachel’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Ooooh, Travis. You have glass ornaments?”

  Jewel-toned balls decorated with hand-painted sparkles nestled in bits of tissue paper.

  With his attention on her reaction, Travis said, “It gets even better.”

  “How can it possibly get any better?”

  “Look at these.” He lifted the lid from a box, and she was speechless.

  Delicate glass birds were nestled into paper muffin cups inside the sectioned box. The intricacy of the painting on the birds left Rachel in awe.

  “Travis,” she whispered. “Do you realize what you have? These things are worth a fortune.”

  “I figured since they’re so old. I don’t want to sell them, though. I want to use them.”

  Oh, this man. His head was screwed on so right she could hug him. She smiled instead.

  “Right answer, Travis. These will be amazing on the tree.” She frowned. “You are going to have a tree, right? I didn’t see one.”

  “Bought it yesterday. It’s thawing in the back porch. Figured you could help put it up.”

  Again he seemed to be proud of himself, but stumbled when he glanced at her belly.

  “On second thought, if you want to start popping corn and stringing it with cranberries, I’ll do the heavy lifting with the tree.”

  She grinned. “I can do that.”

  She put out her hand, and Tori took it. “Let’s go make popcorn, honey.”

  Travis’s kitchen was warm, not drafty like the trailer’s, and a pure delight to work in. Every element on the new stove worked.

  Tori ate more popcorn than she threaded and broke too many popped kernels when piercing with the blunt needle Rachel had given her. Her lower lip trembled.

  “Know what I need you to do, honey?”

  “What?”

  “What do you see on Travis’s walls?”

  Tori studied them. “That painting.” She pointed to the old-fashioned oil of golden fields.

  “What else?”

  “Nothing, Mommy.”

  “Right and that’s a real problem. Know why?”

  Tori shook her head. “Why?”

  “Don’t you think it would be nice if Travis had a few pretty drawings to decorate the place?”

  “Like in our house?”

  “Yes, exactly. Do you feel like coloring a few angels for him?”

  “Yeah!” She ran to Travis. “Do you gots paper and crayons?”

  “I have computer paper. No crayons, though.”

  Rachel stood and donned her coat. “I’ll get some stuff and be right back.”

  “It’s a bit icy out there. Are you okay crossing the road?”

  “I might be eight months pregnant, but I can still walk.”

  Travis grinned ruefully. “Sorry. I’m working on doing better, Rachel.”

  With a jaunty wave, she set off for the trailer.

  Minutes later, she returned with construction paper, children’s scissors, crayons, glue and glitter. Travis was going to hate her for that last item, but what were Christmas decorations without glitter?

  After removing her coat, she entered the living room and stared. Like something from a Christmas painting—or from one of her daydreams—Tori sat in the big armchair beside the fire, eating popcorn with Ghost curled on her lap, while Travis, tall and capable, put the finishing touches on the Christmas-tree container. He turned the tree this way and that to find the best aspect.

  “What do you think? Is this best?” He turned to her with a smile, and just like that she lost the last of her heart.

  She was a goner, completely head over heels in love with a man she couldn’t have.

  Shaken and stirred, she gripped the back of the sofa and tried to smile.

  Chapter Nine

  Frowning, Travis took a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

  Rachel raised a hand to halt his progress. If he touched her, she might disintegrate into a puddle. She wasn’t strong right now. Vulnerable and yearning, she needed to get on more solid footing if she were to survive this day. Or, even more, if she were going to enjoy it.

  Travis had given her this gift, and she refused to squander it.

  Tamping down on rampant emotions and her most unreasonable desires, she said, “I’m okay, Travis. Just a bit of indigestion. Beth does that to me sometimes.”

  Didn’t that just underscore how unprepared she was for romance...talking about indigestion and pregnancy, of all things. If all of her unrealized daydreams hadn’t pierced her heart so badly, she might have laughed at her foolishness.

  She smiled, albeit shakily, but rallied and said, “You’re right. That is the best aspect of the tree. I like it.”

  He rubbed his hands. “Okay. Now what? What goes on first?”

  “You usually start with threading the lights through the branches, and then we’ll add decorations afterward. Do you have lights?”

  He picked up a pair of bags from the corner of the living room. The local hardware store’s logo graced the sides. “I’ll show you what I bought.”

  Like a magician with a bottomless magic hat, he pulled out boxes of Christmas lights one after another, smaller boxes of white fairy lights, big red pillar candles, a fake greenery wreath and fake snow for the windows.

  “Fake snow? Really, Travis?”

  She might as well ha
ve crushed him. A crestfallen expression crossed his face.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, rushing to reassure him. “I’m joking! This is going to look awesome in the windows.”

  He brightened, leaving her to wonder why her opinions were so important to him.

  “Here,” she said, handing him the lights for the tree. “Start with these.”

  While he did that, she settled Tori on the floor with the construction paper.

  She drew and then cut out a couple of angels, pink and yellow, and handed Tori the crayons to color them.

  “Okay,” Travis responded. “What do you think of the lights?”

  He was on his knees plugging them in, his behind sticking out through the bottom branches. Rachel didn’t usually notice men’s butts, but Travis had a good one. A great one. Maybe the best male butt on the face of the earth.

  Rachel picked up a piece of Tori’s construction paper and fanned her face. What was she to do with herself and her inconvenient desire?

  The lights on the tree came on, and all thoughts of sex and heat fled.

  “Oh, Travis,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “It’s enchanting.”

  There wasn’t a better word for it. Blue lights twinkled in the greenery.

  Tori jumped up and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his legs.

  “It’s pretty, Travis!”

  He ruffled her hair. “Glad you like it, sprout.”

  “Here.” Rachel carried over one of the strands of popcorn and cranberries, and they hung it across the front, looping back once.

  “Let me get the other strand.”

  Travis was there ahead of her. When he returned, they looped it across the tree twice below the first strand.

  They all stood back.

  Blue lights winked behind the red-and-white strands. Even without further decorations the tree was already pretty.

  “Let’s start adding birds,” Rachel said, as excited as a child to see the finished tree.

  They were attached to small clips that hooked onto the tree.

  “Me, too, Mommy. I want to hang birds.” Tori reached for one, but Rachel held back, torn. She didn’t like to deny her daughter new experiences, but the birds were fragile, old and valuable.

  Travis must have noticed Rachel’s hesitation and understood the reason, because he said, “I have a special job for you, Tori. Look.”

  From one of the hardware store bags he pulled a large gold angel. Tori squealed and clapped her hands.

  “Putting this angel on the top of the tree looks like the kind of job you would do just right.” Travis asked her to hold it.

  She handled it with reverence.

  While Rachel clipped birds onto the tree, Travis lifted Tori so she could place the hollow angel right onto the top spire.

  They stood back and admired it.

  Rachel had finished the birds and had started on the equally delicate glass balls.

  To preempt Tori from touching them, Travis asked, “Hey, weren’t you making angels for me? Where are they?”

  “Here!” She gathered her angels and handed them to him.

  “Well, now, these are beautiful, but you’ve left me in a real quandary.”

  “What’s a quand?”

  “In a real jam. I don’t know where to hang them. Help me out here and show me the best spots.”

  Tori rose to the occasion and had Travis hang them around the room. The fact that every spot was only three or four feet off the floor, in other words, at Tori’s level, didn’t seem to bother Travis one bit.

  The way he valued Tori and considered her opinions was another of the things that Rachel lov—liked about him.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She loved him.

  There was no denying her heart’s desire, but boy, did it hurt that life hadn’t turned out differently.

  Why her life had ended up the way it had was a mystery to her. All she could do was hold on tightly to her belief that she would survive, and she would raise her daughters to be the best people they could possibly be.

  One way or another, she would give them a good chance. She hadn’t figured out how yet, but their lives would be better than hers.

  There would be no fighting in their home. It might be only a tin can, temporarily, but with Cindy shacked up with the new man in town at the moment, there was peace.

  By late afternoon, they’d finished decorating.

  “I guess it’s time for us to go home.” Rachel didn’t want this glorious day to end. Not yet. Soon enough she could return to the reality of her life alone.

  Travis glanced out of the window toward her trailer, sitting in the falling darkness. Dusk came so early at this time of year.

  “We could, you know, maybe have supper together,” he said.

  Was it possible that he didn’t want things to end so soon, either?

  “I could pick us up a pizza.” Travis interrupted her thoughts. “What would you think of that?”

  “Pizza! Yeah!” Tori clapped her hands.

  How much did she have in her wallet? Could she offer to help pay? Payday wasn’t until next week.

  As though reading her mind, he said, “It’s my treat. You helped me decorate.” He glanced around his living room. If she weren’t mistaken, Rachel would almost think he looked emotional. “The least I can do is spring for pizza.”

  He pulled up short. “Darn. It’s Thanksgiving. Everything will be closed.”

  “The pizza shop next to the new mall is open every day.”

  “Good.” Travis rubbed his hands together.

  “How about if Tori and I go home and get her bathed for the night while you drive into town? That way she’ll be ready for bed when I get her back home later.”

  “Perfect. I’ll leave the front door open. C’mon back when you’re ready.”

  They discussed toppings and Travis drove off.

  Rachel and Tori went home and did their thing. With Tori clean and dressed in warm flannel pjs, they put on their coats and headed back to Travis’s house.

  Kneeling by the fireplace in the living room, Rachel stirred the ashes to life and built the blaze back up again.

  They’d done a great job of decorating the mantel with fake greenery threaded with fairy lights and red pillar candles. A good day’s work. Satisfaction and happiness flooded her.

  Travis had given her a real gift today.

  Whistling, she carried the milk and hot chocolate she’d brought over to the kitchen to make hot chocolate for Tori.

  Ensconced in front of the fire and covered with a colorful afghan from the back of the sofa, Tori curled up with Ghost.

  Just as Rachel put the half-full mug of warm chocolate into Tori’s hands, the doorbell rang.

  “Who on earth?” Maybe Travis had his hands full and couldn’t turn the doorknob.

  Rachel opened the door and stared. A beautiful woman stood on the veranda.

  Tall and slim, in a long, white, wool coat, she might be the most sophisticated visitor to ever come to town.

  A white scarf shot with gold thread cradled a firm jawline and a white-fur hat framed a heart-shaped face.

  The only color, her bright red lips, popped against all of that stunning white.

  She looked like a model from a magazine.

  Rachel combed her fingers through her hair, aware that she came up short in comparison to this goddess.

  “Oh!” the woman said. “I thought this was the address for Travis Read.”

  “It is. This is his house.”

  A tiny frown formed between dark brows. “You live here?”

  Rachel shook her head. “We’re visiting.”

  “Is Travis home?”

  “Not at the moment. He’ll be back soo
n.” Should she invite her in? Rachel liked to be polite, but this wasn’t her home.

  “I’m a friend of his,” the woman said.

  When Rachel vacillated, the woman continued, “A very good friend. I’m anxious to see him again. It’s been a couple of months.”

  Rachel understood immediately, but Travis hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend.

  A light bulb went off. Her thoughts traveled back to the day Travis had kissed her so sweetly and thoroughly after crashing his bike.

  This paragon of womanly sophistication must have been who Travis was really kissing, not Rachel with her late husband’s clothes and big belly.

  She stepped aside and the woman entered.

  “I’m Rachel McGuire. I live across the road.”

  “Vivian Hughes.” She took off her coat and hung it on one of the hooks. Next, off came the hat. Long, straight, jet-black hair hung down her back.

  Beside her Rachel felt gauche. Funny, until Travis had come to town, she’d never worried about her appearance. These days, it seemed that was all she did.

  The realization bothered her.

  Pull yourself together, Rachel. You aren’t that shallow.

  No, she wasn’t, but sometimes her pride smarted.

  “This is my daughter, Victoria.”

  Tori stared wide-eyed and lifted her hand in a tiny wave.

  On closer inspection in the living-room lighting, the woman wasn’t so perfect, after all.

  She was older than Rachel had thought at first, closer to Cindy’s age than to her own. Tiny wrinkles radiated from the outer corners of her eyes. The black of her hair was just a shade too dark for the woman’s eyebrows. So not real.

  Vivian sat on the sofa and checked out the room, her eyes resting on Tori’s crude but colorful angels hung around the room.

  “Cozy,” she murmured, and Rachel wasn’t sure whether she referred to the room or to a perceived relationship between her and Travis.

  Travis entered the house.

  “Hey, who owns that sleek little BMW in the driveway?”

  “Travis,” Tori called. “You got comp’ny. We been taking care of her.”

  Rachel heard him toe off his boots. She held her breath. Just who was this Vivian to him? Just how very close were they?