Fighting For Love - A Standalone Novel (A Bad Boy Sports Romance Love Story) (Burbank Brothers, Book #5)

by Naomi Niles

  Kirk was a very good baby, as babies went. He slept in a tiny bassinette someone had given me, next to my bed. I awakened every few hours when his tiny hands balled up and he cried from hunger. He became quite the rage with the customers as I took him downstairs with me and his carrier sat in a protected booth at the back of the restaurant. Diners would tiptoe over and peek at him, remark at his gray eyes and black hair, and then leave me a twenty as a tip. If there ever was proof of the expression, “It takes a village,” then Kirk was proof of having been raised by so many aunts and uncles he would never be alone in his life.

  I continued to write blogs at night, rocking his bassinette and eventually holding him on my lap as I one-hand typed. He grew quickly, his rotund body lengthening into long, lean legs that wanted to stand so he could explore the world.

  It was late November, Thanksgiving to be exact. We’d been invited to many homes to take part in holiday dinners, but I wanted to build the feeling that Kirk and I were a family unto ourselves. I’d taken him downstairs and put together a plate of turkey and mashed potatoes that were left over from what we’d been serving all week. I spoon-fed bits of potato and he cooed and clapped, wanting more.

  He needed a nap afterwards and I decided to spend the quiet time writing some blogs ahead for the times when I was busy and tired and not up to it. I was in a mellow, almost sad mood as the sounds of families coming and going could be heard around me. I felt I was finally up to it. I looked up Blake’s name.

  I was not prepared for what I found.

  Chapter 14

  Blake

  It was Thanksgiving, at least I was pretty sure of it just because there was nothing but football on the television. The television had become my life ever since I’d broken both legs.

  When Silver left, I pretty much lost it. I felt deflated and listless and the only way I could lessen the sense of loss was to drink. And I did plenty of it. My morning juice was half vodka, lunch was two martinis, and dinner was the beginning of the night shift of the really intense consumption of whiskey, rum, and tequila. I looked forward to the nights, full of oblivion and absent of regrets. When these ended I fell into mindless sleep and hated to wake up and start over the next morning.

  I never climbed aboard Cain again; the owners wouldn’t permit it after I’d fallen into this hole. Word spread that I was washed up; some said I’d found fear and others decided I’d never been much more than a fluke. I let them say it, and get away with it. Who knows … maybe they were right. Maybe I was never as good as everyone let me believe I was.

  She was the only one who believed in me. She had gotten down to the roots of my soul and hadn’t flinched. She believed I could be the best in the world and was willing to stake her reputation and her efforts on it. No one had ever believed in me like that before. I didn’t take that lightly.

  Jill hadn’t been able to find her. I went over there every week and although she’s hinting at wanting more money, I was not going to give her anything until I got something in return. She was liable to send me on a goose chase and that would only make things worse.

  Jason came to the ranch and dragged me out to an event while I was still hung over. I sneaked a few gulps of whiskey to take the edge off and when I climbed onto the bull, he knew I wasn’t in control. The gate opened and the bull not only threw me off, but doubled back to stomp on me, particularly my legs. They couldn’t pull him off me.

  I ended up in the back of an ambulance and while my body was broken into pieces, it was my soul that was really damaged. I no longer had any will to succeed, to compete, and often questioned whether I even wanted to live. I had completely given up.

  Silver had represented so much more than just a woman in my bed. She believed in the part of me that was most vulnerable; most susceptible to public judgement. She championed me and the simple smile she had bestowed on me meant more than all the trophies and money I had earned to date.

  So, there I was, stuck in bed and with a helluva lot of physical therapy in my future, and it wasn’t going to be the kind of physical connection I wanted. I was a shadow of my former self.

  I had a private nurse to look after me and she confided in the doctor that I was fighting recovery with depression. She did her best to improve my mood and they brought in a therapist to analyze my childhood. It wasn’t my childhood that needed analyzing; all I needed was one woman.

  Then came the day that changed everything. The nightstands were piled with get-well cards and flowers, but it was dots on a computer screen that got my attention. I was balancing the laptop on my quasi-lap, playing a game when an email came in.

  I had to leave, and I have to stay away. You, on the other hand, have to pull it together. You not only owe it to yourself to take your own bull by the horns, but you owe it to me. Someday I might explain, but you’ll never know unless you’re standing on your own two feet. ~Silver

  It was a cryptic message, but she was alive and well and out there somewhere. I felt a pain in my chest as strong as that first morning she left. One thing remained clear, though: she still believed in me.

  My life changed at that point. The next morning, when the nurse came, I was awake and had pulled myself upright with the overhead bar. “Bring my breakfast, please and then get that physical therapist in here. I’ve got things to get accomplished and they won’t get done with me in here.”

  She was shocked by the sudden turn-around in my behavior, but didn’t dare question it. I could see in her eyes that she wondered what had happened. She did just as I told her to do, though and within an hour, a therapist was by my bedside going through the motions of the recuperative exercises. Within two weeks, I was vertical and on crutches. Within a month, I was out of the casts and in supportive braces. A month after that, I was at the gym and had begun lifting weights with my legs.

  There were no more messages, although I checked constantly. I tried to track the origin of the one she’d sent, but the header information just traced back to Google’s Gmail. There was no way to know where she was and it was killing me. But I knew she was watching, and for now, I had to settle for that. I would make her proud of me again.

  My doctors had no clue of the impetus behind my drive to recover. I stopped drinking entirely; there wasn’t even a beer in my kitchen any longer. I was eating better and exercising daily. I’d begun hanging around the arenas and followed the circuit.

  I wanted to get a message to her so I took a chance. I sponsored a banner that was hung right next to the chute at the next event.

  Silver Call were the simple words I posted.

  I’d waited for a month and there was no call. Was this a sign that she would never come back to the surface? Would I ever see her again? I vacillated between longing and anger with her. She owed me an explanation. She owed me my life back.

  There was no call from Silver. I was forced to accept that her note to me had been meant as a kick in the butt and nothing more. She wasn’t coming back. I wondered where she was and what kind of life she’d made for herself. Was she working in something she loved? Was she happy? Did she have someone new in her life?

  These questions tore me up. I felt it was my responsibility to look after her; had since the day I first saw her. Whether it was God or destiny, I just knew my role was to look after her welfare. I’d thought about hiring a detective to find her but then I knew there was nothing I could do to make her come home with me if she didn’t want to. I wouldn’t want her that way, regardless. If she was to come back to me, it would be because she wanted to.

  After a few months, I gave up. I was back to full strength but I’d lost my nerve to climb onto a bull. Every time I thought about it I got dizzy and my legs felt weak, even though they weren’t. My incentive was gone.

  I felt as though I was in limbo. I hung around the arenas and helped some of the other guys, almost going back to what I’d done as a kid. But I would not climb up onto a bull. Just to keep my hand in things, I tried my hand at calf roping and broncos, although
these were child’s play compared to the bulls. I stayed on the fringes. I was stuck. I wasn’t happy.

  The riders were leaving soon to travel a yearlong circuit. I thought I’d go along, just to do some bronco riding. It was, after all, the only life I really knew. It was not, however, the life I wanted.

  Chapter 15

  Meli

  Our lives had settled into a routine. Kirk was growing quickly and toddled around nearby as I worked. He knew he wasn’t permitted near the grills but otherwise wanted to help me. It had become a bit too dangerous for my liking to have him underfoot, so I decided to find a daycare for him where he could be with other kids his age and remain safer than he was at the café.

  I asked around and heard about a woman named Marie Luiton who lived at the edge of town and kept a few children along with her own son, Louis. One evening after we closed, I made my way to her place and found her rocking in a white chair on her porch, a child playing in a sandbox in the front yard.

  “Are you Marie?” I called to the woman.

  She smiled and motioned me forward. “You’re the young woman who works for Maudie,” she said without preamble.

  “How did you know?”

  She laughed in a very musical sound. “Everyone has heard of you, my dear. You are quite unique.” She had an accent that I suspected was French in origin, but not quite. “I’m Cajun,” she said before I even voiced my question. “And yes, I have the power.”

  “The power?”

  Rather than answer me directly she stood up. “Come, put your son down to play with Louis and I will get you a lemonade. Sit here in this chair and I will return in a moment.” She went inside and Kirk was already fascinated with what Louis was doing in the sandbox. I put him down into it and he picked up a shovel and the two were sizing one another up. “Here we are,” Marie handed me a tall glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon on its rim.

  She took a seat on a porch swing facing me. “So, you come looking for a place to leave little Kirk while you work?” she asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been expecting you.” She smiled and it was kind and knowing at the same time.

  “I don’t understand …”

  “I have the sight, as we call it. It is inherited from my mama and grandmamma, and many before them.”

  I’d heard of such things in books, but had never met anyone who actually professed to really have it. “Tell me about that?” I invited.

  “Not much to tell. Some people here call us sensitives and yet others call us witches. No, no … don’t take that in a negative way. We just have an extra sense that tells us things others may overlook. Sometimes I can pick up on the energy of the person near me, and yet other times it becomes a clairvoyant sight. Nothing to worry about and certainly not scary. It’s a gift and it can come in very handy at times,” she sipped her lemonade calmly and I felt nothing that suggested she was strange in the least. If anything, I sensed she was very comfortable in her own skin and awareness and that gave me a subtle feeling of security.

  I nodded and sipped my own lemonade as we watched the boys playing together.

  “I’m told there are a great many secrets in your life,” Marie began. She saw the look on my face and probably the way I tensed. “No, no … do not fear. You may keep whatever secrets you hold dear. I have no intention of prying into your life.”

  She looked at me and I could see a sparkle in her eyes. It was a sparkle of deep intelligence and compassionate understanding. She looked from my face to where the boys are playing in the sandbox and then back before she said to me, have you considered how you will raise your child while living above a tiny café?”

  “Yes, I’ve given that some thought, but it becomes too much to consider the distant future, so I take one day at a time.”

  “Very wise,” she agreed, “but I have a suggestion for you, if I may?” she said.

  “What’s that I asked?”

  “You and I are very similar in many ways,” she said. “We are both young women with young children and no father or husband to stand by. Perhaps it would be to each of our mutual benefit to look out for one another? I would be your back up and you would be mine. In this way, we would both be stronger and have companionship but yet we could live our own lives. Would you consider such a thing?”

  “I’ve never thought of anything like that.”

  “Would you and your son be interested in living here with me and Louis?” she asked in a gentle voice.

  “Do you have room?” I asked her, looking around the place.”

  “Yes, I know from where you sit, it looks very small, but the building is very deep and I have four bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and the living room. I feel it is too large for Louis and myself alone, but should do quite nicely for four people. We would share a bit of the payment and you could call it your home, just as I do. I would watch your child for you while you were at work, and from time to time when I wish to go somewhere, you could watch my son for me. How would that sound to you?”

  I had never given such an arrangement any consideration. Primarily because there was no one who offered me such a situation. I thought about it a few moments and it made total sense. The upstairs over a restaurant was too reminiscent of how Jill and I had grown up. It offered too many dangers in that space for a child and too many ways for the child to be ignored. Kirk had no one to play with.

  This seemed to be the best arrangement possible for all of us concerned. “Yes, I would like very much to live here with you and Louis. Could you figure out the details and let me know and I’d especially like to know when we could move in?”

  “Of course I could. It would be my pleasure to have you both with us. We could share the expenses, share the cooking and cleaning and the laundry, and it would be as if you had your own home. You could move in immediately. Do you have linens for beds? If you don’t, I have plenty.”

  It was if my prayers had been answered. I would no longer be alone, but neither would I need to go to Blake, to Jill, or to anyone else and ask for help ever again. I was excited to get started and picked up Kirk and put him on my hip. I waved goodbye to Marie and called back to her, “Be back this evening with our things. We really don’t have that much. Thank you so much for the idea and for the welcome. I truly look forward to this.”

  Kirk and I headed back to the restaurant; I was very excited to tell Maudie about what had happened. As I entered the building, I was shocked to see her feet were all that were visible from behind the counter. Setting Kirk down on the chair, I ran to see what had happened to Maudie. I could tell as soon as I looked at her, that she was dead. Tears began to pour down my cheeks and I went to the phone and called the sheriff’s office. I told him what happened and then took Kirk upstairs to put him down for a nap while I dealt with the authorities who were on their way.

  There didn’t seem to be any doubt as to what had happened. The coroner was part of the group and as he and the sheriff looked over Maudie’s body, the sheriff said, “She had a good, long life and now she’s gone to her reward.”

  As hard as I tried, I could not find a silver lining to what had happened. There lay the only person who had truly ever cared for me, unselfishly. She had given me and my son a life we would not have otherwise found. It then came to me that I no longer had a job, either. Obviously the café would be closed down. That put into jeopardy my plans with Marie. I had to trust that something would happen that would make everything the way it should be.

  It was the day of the funeral when everything came together. Kirk and I dressed in somber clothing and walked with most of the people from town up the hill to the old cemetery behind the church that Maudie loved so well. We sang the hymns and we cried along with everyone else. The town had always known Maudie to be there and it came as a shock to realize that her boisterous voice and wisecracks would no longer be a part of our lives.

  I let myself back into the café and prepared to go upstairs and pack our things. I r
eally had no idea where we would go. Although I did have a bit of money saved, I did not have a job and therefore could not accept Marie’s offer.

  As I started up the stairs, the café door opened and a man dressed in a dark suit came in.

  “I’m sorry, we are closed,” I called him.

  “I’m not here to eat,” he said. “I’m here to see you. You are Meli Christian, correct?”

  “Yes, I am.” I wondered where he had come from as I had not seen him in the café before this.

  “How can I help you?”

  “It’s more about how I can help you, Ms. Christian. I am Matthew Stevens,” he said. “I represent Maudie’s estate. She asked me to come and see you directly after the funeral. She knew that you would immediately begin packing to leave. There is no need for you to leave.”

  “Why is that, Mr. Christian?” I asked. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

  “You are Maudie’s beneficiary.” He set a briefcase on the lunch counter and opened it slowly, withdrawing a manila folder. “She had no other family and has left everything to you.”

  “To me? Why me?”

  “She said you might ask me that. She told me to tell you that you were the closest thing she ever had to a daughter.”

  “Surely, you cannot be serious. She was well loved in the community and many people have helped her over the years. Why would she have chosen me?”

  “Again, because she loved you. The café is yours. There’s also the matter of $300,000 in a bank account and another $500,000 in a life insurance policy.”