Texas Roads (A Miller's Creek Novel)

by Bryant, Cathy

  She watched a young mother help a tow-headed toddler balance on ice skates. Like a leaf spiraling downward, Cecille’s heart fluttered. How long had it been since she and Danielle were that close? Had her daughter forever closed and barred the door between them?

  Now Danielle was in Miller’s Creek. Anger billowed inside, washing ever nearer to the surface. Somehow Beth had once again managed to worm her way into the picture. Little Miss Perfect. The one everyone admired and respected. The one she could never compete with, not even in her parent’s affections.

  Would Beth win Danielle over too? The thought blasted immediate panic through her body.

  With a deep breath, Cecille closed her eyes and tented her fingers in front of her lips. It wouldn’t be pretty or nice, but she had no choice. She’d do whatever it took to keep Beth out of Danielle’s life. Forever.

  ~~o~~

  Was Mama Beth going to keep him waiting forever? Steve flopped back in the leather office chair, his arms across his chest, and brought his feet up to rest his boots on top of the desk. An overloaded brain and underfed belly made work a wasted effort. Hunger set off a grumbling complaint in his belly and moved his gaze to the clock. Seven o’clock. What was taking her so blasted long?

  A familiar heaviness pushed aside his frustration. Its well-timed attack hit every evening when he was tired and alone. Would there ever be a day when he didn’t think of Lauren and wonder what might have been? He leaned forward to punch the power button on his stereo, the haunting strains of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor wafting through the silence. It relaxed his tense nerves and muscles, but only intensified the loneliness. God, help me get through this. Again.

  He rose to his feet, moved to the window, and peered toward the main ranch house. The Texas spring storm had passed, and one small light glistened from a window on the ground floor, Mom’s room since Alzheimer’s made stairs too dangerous. His heart constricted, and a wad of guilt lodged in his throat. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, but with good reason. Every visit only reminded him of what would never be. No more chances to have a real relationship. Not that it had ever been likely.

  An ache took up residence behind his eyes, pounding out an aching rhythm. Part of him knew his mother’s lifelong unhappiness had nothing to do with him and everything to do with being a city girl transplanted to his father’s small and close-knit community. Another part—the little boy in him—still longed to be close to her. He rubbed a hand across his neck and banished the painful thoughts from his mind. Enough. Time for another stab at work. After all, the grant proposal for the renovation project wasn’t going to write itself.

  Steve jumped when the ringing phone split the silence half an hour later. He grabbed it and brought it to his ear. “It’s about time.” He growled out the words, but not as loud as the growling wolf in his belly.

  Mama Beth sighed. “You’ve got to get a life.”

  “Forget my life. What about supper?”

  “Omelets okay?”

  His mouth watered. “You’re on. I’ll be there in a few.”

  Within fifteen minutes he let himself in her front door, the aroma of sautéed bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms triggering another rumble in his stomach. He followed the smell to the kitchen, his favorite room in the house. Original bead board paneling served as a back-splash to the country white cabinets, and the heart of pine floors spread their honey-colored warmth across the room. A sudden childhood memory flooded his mind. The one of Mama Beth offering him gooey-warm chocolate chip cookies every time his frequent bike rides landed him at her door.

  The sizzling skillet and Mama Beth’s happy hum mingled in an impromptu concert and brought him back to the present. She flashed a smile from across the room and bustled to the cabinet where she kept the plates. His eyebrows shuffled up his forehead. Mama Beth looked better than she had in weeks. Fresh color tinted her cheeks and happiness sparkled in her eyes. His heart lightened. She must be feeling better. He sauntered over and kissed her cheek.

  She wiped her hands on her apron and beamed at him. “How was your day?” Her voice lilted in the sing-song fashion he’d grown to love.

  “Good. Finally got the fence finished on the east side of the ranch.” He straddled an old stool at the counter, and it wobbled under his weight, another item for his to-do list.

  “I know you’re glad that’s over.” She cracked open an egg with one hand and emptied the contents into an antique bowl, tossing the shell into the trash with one hand while she reached for another egg.

  “Yep. As warm as it was today, I can’t imagine mending it in the summer heat.” Steve scanned the counter for a snack. At this point grass would taste good. He spied a few pieces of chopped bell pepper, popped one in his mouth and crunched it, the sweet flavor rolling over his tongue.

  Mama Beth’s humming resumed while she whisked the eggs, forcing his eyebrows to climb higher. “You sure seem happy.”

  She smiled but didn’t comment, the whisk whirring and scraping against the side of the bowl.

  What was she hiding? “How was the doctor’s visit? Did he say what was causing the dizziness and headaches?”

  Her eyes clouded over. “No, he just ran a bunch of tests and told me to start acting my age.”

  Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I could-a told you that.” He waited for her to elaborate, but she went back to humming instead. “Did he say what was wrong?”

  Mama Beth poured the egg mixture into the skillet where it sizzled and popped, sending vapor spiraling toward the vent hood. “Nope, but he wants to run more tests.”

  His pulse quickened. “More tests? Why?”

  She raised a shoulder and made a wry face. “You know doctors. They think they have to poke and prod every square inch of you.” Her infernal humming started again.

  Time to get to the bottom of this. “Okay, what’s up?”

  “What’s up?” Her eyes widened.

  He crossed his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you this cheery in forever. Now you’re prancing around the kitchen like a filly—”

  “I feel so much better, Aunt Beth.” The words sang out from the top of the stairs. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

  That voice. No, it couldn’t be. He whipped his head around so fast his neck twinged.

  A creature descended the stairs, clad in pink from head to toe. A turban-style towel encircled its head, a frilly bathrobe wrapped the body, and fat furry house shoes covered the feet. The only visible part of the creature was a face. One he had hoped to never see again.

  When she noticed him her mouth flew open, and she stopped in the middle of the stairs, frozen. A charming pink tinge christened her cheeks. Except for her baby blue eyes, the city woman reminded him of a big sticky ball of cotton candy.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She pivoted and headed up the steps. “I’ll go upstairs until my car gets here.”

  Mama Beth snorted. “You’ll do no such thing. Supper’s ready and you need some hot food. Dani, this is Steve Miller.” She held one hand toward him like he was some kind of prize on a game show. “Steve, I’d like you to meet my niece, Dani Davis.”

  Niece? What niece? “We’ve already met.” His voice sounded flat in his own ears.

  “Mr. Miller was kind enough to give me a ride into town.” A polite smile rested on Dani’s face as she descended the last step.

  “Why, Steve Miller! Why’d you just dump her at B & B like a stack of wood?” Mama Beth waved a wooden spoon in the air, nothing righteous about her indignation.

  His jaw flapped open, and he fumbled words. “B-but—”

  Dani stepped forward. “It’s my fault, Aunt Beth. I asked him to let me off. I didn’t realize he was your friend.”

  Well, at least she was honest. Or was she?

  Mama Beth clicked her tongue like she always did when she scolded. “That’s no excuse. He could’ve at least gone in with you.” She faced him, hands on
her hips. “My goodness, Steve! Didn’t you stop to think about how nervous she must’ve felt going into a store full of strange men? I thought I taught you better than that.”

  He stared over Mama Beth’s head at the city woman and clamped his jaw shut. Dani’s gaze held triumph. Or was it a challenge? Either way, he wasn’t about to let some petite piece of cotton candy make a fool out of him. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I apologize for my behavior, Mrs. Davis.” There! He could be cultured too.

  She took his outstretched hand, wide-eyed, her mouth rounded to an O.

  Steve glanced down at her dainty fingers, so small in his big paw, like a child who needed protection. The soft scent of a fruity soap swirled in the air around his head. He gulped in air and struggled to concentrate on her words, his mouth as dry as the creek-bed in July. Dani’s inquisitive gaze sent a jolt of electricity from his eye sockets to his toenails, leaving no doubt the woman could see straight to his soul.

  Mama Beth bustled past with a basket of biscuits. “Steve, would you ask the blessing?”

  He swallowed the cotton in his mouth as they gathered at the sturdy farmhouse table. “Dear Lord, thank You for Mama Beth and for, uh . . .”

  “Dani,” whispered Mama Beth.

  “. . . and for Dani. Give her a safe trip home.” And soon. “Thank You for the food. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

  He lowered himself into the ladder-back chair, grabbed the basket, and yanked back the blue- and white-checked towel. Steam drifted from the hot bread, and his salivary glands went into over-production. Nothing like Mama Beth’s biscuits to feed a half-starved man. He claimed three and moved to deposit them on his plate.

  “Why do you call my aunt Mama Beth?” Dani’s bell-like voice raised his head. Her clear blue eyes focused on him.

  “Uh . . .” The biscuits began a slow burn, and he dropped them on his plate, tempted to blow on the tips of his fingers. He tried to answer, but her eyes got in the way. Good grief, she was married. What was wrong with him?

  Mama Beth shot him a questioning look and chimed in with the answer. “My name’s actually Mona Beth, but when Steve was little he thought people were calling me Mama Beth. The name stuck. Now that’s what everyone calls me.”

  Dani angled her head and directed a dazzling smile his way. “What a sweet story.”

  A flash of heat rushed to his face, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt. Food. Focus on the food. Why were his palms so sweaty?

  Silence made the tick of the clock ear-splitting. Thoughts barrel-rolled in his head, and he grabbed at the first one that tumbled by. “What brings you to Miller’s Creek, Mrs. Davis?”

  “Please call me Dani.”

  “Okay, Dani. What brings you to Miller’s Creek?”

  “I already told you. I came to visit my aunt.”

  He cast an accusing glance at Mama Beth. “I didn’t even know you had a niece.”

  Mama Beth smiled, but not at him. “We haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know each other, but hopefully that’s all about to change.”

  A silent communication took place between the two women. Time to break up the city woman’s game, whatever it was. “Dani sure is an odd name for a girl.”

  Stern furrows plowed their way onto Mama Beth’s forehead, but the younger woman chattered away and added a biscuit to her plate. “My name’s Danielle, but that’s a little too pretentious for me. The only one who calls me by that name is Mother.” Her face momentarily darkened.

  A steady stream of conversation soon ensued, and Steve could only marvel. Women could talk about anything. He pushed a puff of air through his mouth. Dani hadn’t been near as chatty with him on the drive into town. More like tight-lipped.

  What would make a city woman like her want to visit an aunt she didn’t even know? He studied the question from different angles while he shoved down the hot food, no closer to understanding than before. His fork clattered to the plate and he leaned back to rub his full belly. There might not be a way to decipher Dani’s intentions, but he wasn’t about to let Mama Beth get suckered into a scam.

  Steve stood and carried his plate to the sink, not certain why the city woman came here or how long she planned to stay. But one thing he knew for sure. He was ready for her to leave.

  ~~o~~

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hard Questions

  If she had to rate the effectiveness of her visit thus far on a scale of one to ten, she tipped the charts at minus twenty. Of all the dumb luck. Dani sank into the cushioned softness of her aunt’s overstuffed sofa, the smell of supper still permeating the air. How could she have possibly guessed the dirty cowboy who chauffeured her into town was her aunt’s friend?

  Aunt Beth peeked through the open doorway into the living room, her youthful face aglow. “How ’bout some hot chocolate while we talk?”

  “Sounds great. Anything I can do to help?”

  Her aunt waved a hand. “Nah, made it earlier today, so I’ll just warm it up. You sit there and relax.” Aunt Beth’s shoes clicked against the hardwood floors in the kitchen.

  Relax? Easy to say, but not so easy to do. She gnawed her bottom lip. Miller’s Creek might prove to be the escape—no, the home—she longed for. Away from memories. Away from the pain. Away from her mother. Had she already mucked it up by alienating Steve Miller?

  Dani viewed the high ceilings, exquisite moldings, and antique furnishings. A place that felt like home, unlike the house she’d grown up in, a museum of a place used to impress and intimidate.

  She rose from the sofa, made her way to an array of photographs displayed nearby, and picked up a barn wood frame. Steve’s handsome face grinned back. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of the ride into town. Judging by his demeanor at dinner, he had no intention of forgiving her for being so snarky on the trip. Not that she could blame him.

  With his thick dark hair and eyes the color of cinnamon, he seemed a completely different person than the smelly man who brought her to Miller’s Creek. She returned the photograph to its place and repositioned herself on the couch. A thirty-something man friends with a fifty-something woman? Wasn’t that a little odd?

  From the kitchen came the slam of a cabinet door and the rattle of dishes. A minute later her aunt entered, carrying a tray with a teapot and two steaming teacups.

  “I love your house, Aunt Beth. It’s so warm and inviting.”

  The older woman placed the tray on the coffee table and handed her a cup. “Thanks, sweetie, it’s home to me. One of the oldest houses in Miller’s Creek.”

  Dani inspected the contents of her cup, taking a deep whiff of the creamy mixture. “Is this white chocolate?”

  A smile carved her aunt's face. “Yep. My secret recipe.”

  She shut her eyes as she sipped, savoring the warm rich liquid, her tangled nerves unwinding. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

  “Thanks. Want to move outside and enjoy the beautiful evening? I think the storm has finally passed.” Aunt Beth picked up the tray and moved toward the door.

  “Sure.” As they stepped onto the wraparound porch, a fragrant breeze caressed Dani’s skin. She inhaled deep and let out the breath in audible delight. “What’s that heavenly smell?”

  “Honeysuckle.” Her aunt moved around the corner of the house. “You can smell it better over here.”

  Aunt Beth sat the tray on a nearby table, and they both settled onto the cushioned porch swing in comfortable silence. The gentle rocking motion, in combination with the hot chocolate, scented air, and soft chirp of crickets, lulled Dani into a state of relaxation. She leaned her head back. This is what she wanted. What she needed. Home.

  She lifted her head and took a sip of the chocolate mixture before turning to face the older woman. “I apologize if I offended Mr. Miller at dinner. He seemed . . .” What word should she use? Distant? Aloof? Downright icy?

  Aunt Beth swatted the air. “Don’t worry about it. Steve’s pretty complex. The deep-thinker type. I’ve known h
im all his life, but I still don’t know what’s going on in that head of his most of the time.”

  The deep-thinker type? Really? More like moody. Friendly one minute and sullen the next. Either way she had the distinct impression he disliked her. A question rotated in her mind, and she searched for the best way to ask it. “You two seem very close.”

  A tender expression softened her aunt’s features. “His parents brought him and his sister to the daycare where I worked, and we saw each other at church. When he got older, he rode his bike to town for my homemade cookies. He’s like a son.”

  A picture of a young Steve formed in her mind, and piercing envy stabbed deep. She could almost see him, sitting in Aunt Beth’s kitchen, devouring fresh-from-the-oven cookies. The Leave It to Beaver life she’d dreamed of every day of her existence.

  Her aunt’s cup dinged against the saucer. “I haven’t had a chance to ask how everyone’s doing.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. The moment she’d dreaded. Crossing an arm over her waist, she clutched the opposite elbow, her dangling foot twitching. “The past couple of years have been a little crazy.”

  Aunt Beth slurped a sip, smacked her lips, and rested the cup and saucer on her lap. “What do you mean?”

  Dani studied her aunt. She seemed almost oblivious. Surely her mother . . . well, maybe not. “You knew Father died?”

  Her aunt’s eyes registered shock, and she brought a fluttering hand to her chest. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought Mother would have told you.”

  “No.” The word came out in an agonized whisper.

  Why hadn’t her mother called? The two sisters might not be close, but a death in the family deserved at least a mention.