McKettrick's Pride

by Linda Lael Miller

  *

  RIANNA’S FACE LIT UP WHEN Rance walked through the front door at the Curl and Twirl. “Daddy!” she whooped, and flew at him. “You’re back from Taiwan!”

  “Sure am.” He lifted her up, swung her around once and gave her a smack on the cheek. “How’s my girl?” he asked.

  “Bored,” Rianna said. “Granny’s putting up posters all over town, and Maeve spent the night at her friend Suzie’s. They got to have pizza and stay up all night and watch DVDs.”

  “Your grandmother is putting up posters?”

  “For the dance,” Rianna informed him.

  “What dance?”

  “The Summer one. It’s this Saturday.”

  “Oh,” Rance said. Now that he had the information, he didn’t know what to do with it. Not an uncommon experience when it came to things that interested those of the female persuasion.

  He set Rianna back on her feet.

  “Are you going to invite Echo?” she asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” Rance admitted. It was true. He’d thought about plenty else, though.

  “Do you like her, Daddy?”

  Three women with goop on their heads peered around the portable wall separating the waiting room from the main part of the shop.

  Rance felt his neck heat up. “Yes,” he said. “Of course I like her.”

  “Then ask her to the dance,” one of the women said.

  Rance glared at her.

  The trio retreated, but he knew they hadn’t gone far.

  “I’ll go with you if you’re scared,” Rianna offered, looking up at him with huge, hopeful eyes.

  Rance put out a hand to his daughter. “Okay,” he said.

  The portable wall wiggled.

  He shook his head.

  Rianna pulled him out the door, onto the sidewalk. “Ready?” she asked.

  Rance stifled a grin. “Yeah. Any last-minute pointers?”

  “Tell her she’s pretty.”

  “Got it.”

  Rianna tugged him into Echo’s shop. The bell tinkled over the door.

  Echo, busy unpacking a box of books, looked up and then looked down again.

  “My daddy wants to ask you to the Summer Dance,” Rianna announced.

  “Thanks, coach,” Rance said.

  “I was afraid you’d chicken out,” Rianna replied in a stage whisper.

  Echo turned roughly the same color as her car, then smiled.

  Ayanna, watching the whole exchange, beckoned to Rianna. “We just got a new shipment of pop-ups,” she said. “Wanna see?”

  Whatever “pop-ups” were, Rianna seemed delighted by the prospect.

  They disappeared into the back room.

  “I’d understand if you said no,” Rance told Echo when she didn’t jump right in there with a yes.

  She studied him. “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay ‘yes,’ or okay ‘no’?”

  She grinned. “Okay, ‘yes.’”

  Rance felt ridiculously happy, and his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. Since he couldn’t speak, he nodded.

  “Was there something else?” Echo asked.

  “Jesse and Keegan ran a background check on you,” he said, half expecting her to throw something.

  “I know,” she said.

  “You know?”

  “Rance? Don’t echo.”

  He laughed, and it felt almost as good as making love to her on the bathroom floor.

  “They told me. Keegan and Jesse, I mean.”

  “Oh.”

  Most of what he knew about Echo, he’d gotten secondhand, either from Cora or his cousins. It was amazing how much that bothered him. He wanted to know everything all of the sudden. If she’d been lonely as a kid, for instance, and how her aunt and uncle had treated her.

  He couldn’t ask, because things like that had to be offered. So he just stood there, like a fool, wondering what to do next.

  She tried to let him off the hook. “See you Saturday, then?”

  “Saturday,” he agreed hoarsely. He’d hoped to see her a lot sooner than that. Like tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that, but it was probably better to take things slowly.

  She took in his boots, jeans and work shirt. “Looks like you’re back to ranching,” she said.

  He nodded, stuck where he was as surely as if he’d planted the soles of his boots in a spill of superglue.

  Rianna saved him by bursting out of the back, carrying a book. She held it up to him, opened the covers with a flourish and laughed with delight when a fully formed paper horse jumped to life right before his eyes.

  “Can I have it, Daddy? Can I? Please?”

  Rance studied the horse, fascinated. At the same time, he reached for his wallet.

  Rianna relayed the money to Echo, who rang up the purchase and sent back change.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” Echo asked, resting her forearms on the counter and leaning a little, so her plump breasts pushed together under the fabric of her frothy sundress.

  Rance shifted, pulled his feet loose from the invisible superglue. “Pretty amazing,” he replied.

  A knowing look sparked in her eyes. “I meant the pop-up book,” she said.

  “That, too,” he responded.

  She laughed.

  “Wait till Maeve sees this!” Rianna cried, in little-sister triumph. She dashed out the door, waving the book in the air.

  “I’d better make sure she doesn’t run all the way to Suzie’s place,” Rance said, and turned to follow his daughter.

  Echo laughed again.

  Or was it the little bell over the door?

  *

  THE PACKAGE WAS BULKY, and it had been forwarded at least once. The wrapping was coming undone, the return address was smudged, and the handwriting, though vaguely familiar, didn’t bring any names to mind.

  Echo set it on the counter and stood back from it, frowning.

  “Do you think it’s going to explode?” Ayanna asked, only half joking.

  Snowball rose on her hind legs and sniffed the wrapping.

  “No,” Echo said, after biting her lower lip for a few moments. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

  “You get packages all the time,” Ayanna reasoned.

  “From companies,” Echo told her. “This looks—personal.”

  Snowball dropped back to all fours and strolled away.

  “Well,” Ayanna said, “the bomb dog doesn’t seem alarmed.”

  Echo gave her a nervous glance, approached the package again and tried to make out the return address. There was no name, just a post office box and a Chicago zip code.

  That eliminated one possibility—that Justin had found some of her stuff at his place, tucked away and forgotten in a box or a drawer, and decided to send it back. He still lived in New York.

  “Open it,” Ayanna urged.

  Echo’s hands trembled slightly as she tore away the ruined paper.

  Whatever it was, it was gift-wrapped. Little bears and balloons, something the worse for wear, but determinedly cheerful. A card was taped to the top, with her name printed in block letters.

  A birthday present?

  Her palms grew moist.

  Ayanna appeared at her side. Elbowed her lightly.

  Echo pulled the envelop free, opened it. The card was cheap, the kind that comes twenty to a box, and it looked as forlorn as the bears and balloons.

  There were flowers on the front, along with a generic “Happy Birthday.”

  Holding her breath, Echo opened the card.

  “I’m sorry if this is a little scruffy,” the inside read. “I found it on eBay. Hope you’re okay. Uncle Joe.” A phone number was scrawled beneath.

  Gently, Echo tore away the wrapping paper, and there, looking tired and tattered from her long journey, still smiling and holding her wand with the star at the top, was the doll she’d been waiting for since she was seven years old.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ECHO DIDN’T M
OVE. She simply stared at the doll, speechless.

  Ayanna elbowed her gently. “Echo?”

  “How could he possibly have remembered?” she whispered, putting one hand to her throat.

  “Who?” Ayanna asked. When she didn’t receive an answer, she reached for the card, opened it. “Your Uncle Joe?”

  Echo nodded.

  “There’s a number here. Why don’t you call him?”

  Echo nodded again. And stayed right where she was.

  “What a pretty doll,” Ayanna said, probably trying to resuscitate the conversation.

  “Her name is Margaret,” Echo said. Tears stung her eyes.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Ayanna suggested kindly.

  “I’m all right,” Echo lied.

  Ayanna took Echo’s elbow in one hand and the unexpected birthday gift in the other, and walked her to the steps. Echo plopped down.

  Snowball approached, sniffing the box again.

  “What does this mean?” Echo asked, very softly.

  “I haven’t a clue,” Ayanna answered. “That’s why I think you should call your uncle.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to say,” Echo lamented. “We haven’t spoken since the day I left for college.” Once or twice, she’d asked a friend to drive her past the house where she’d grown up, and, later, when she had a car of her own, she’d made the pilgrimage herself, every Thanksgiving and Christmas. She’d never stopped, and the last time she’d gone, the place had changed hands. A strange man had been in the driveway, scraping the windshield of a strange car.

  Ayanna sat down on the step below Echo’s, wrapped her arms around her knees. “Hello might be a good start,” she said. “Followed by, thanks for the doll.” She paused. “Unless this isn’t the kind of gift I think it is.”

  Echo drew up her own knees, rested her forehead on them, and drew several slow, deep breaths. “I can’t believe he remembered,” she murmured.

  “Odd things stick in people’s minds,” Ayanna said. “Tell me about the doll, Echo.”

  Echo lifted her head. Sighed. Explained, as best she could, how she’d gone to live with her aunt and uncle after her parents were killed, how she’d seen the doll and worked up the courage to say she wanted it for Christmas. When she looked at Ayanna, she saw that her friend was crying.

  “It’s his way of saying he’s sorry, Echo. Your uncle’s, I mean.”

  Echo swallowed. “My parents had a small life insurance policy,” she said. “A lawyer sent me the check, out of the blue, right after I turned eighteen. Just before I got on the bus to leave for college, my uncle told me I was ungrateful. That I should give him the money, to make up for all the expense they’d gone to, raising me like one of their own.”

  “There must have been social security payments for that,” Ayanna said.

  “There were,” Echo said. “And they certainly didn’t raise me ‘like one of their own.’ But I still felt guilty, turning my back on him and getting on that bus. I knew if I didn’t, I’d never get out of the neighborhood.”

  Ayanna patted her hand. “You did the right thing, sweetie.”

  “Did I?” Echo asked softly. “They weren’t much of a family, but they were all I had.”

  “You need to call home,” Ayanna reiterated firmly. “Tell you what. I’ll take Snowball out for a walk. You lock up behind us, get on the phone and find out what’s what.”

  “I’m not sure I want to open this can of worms,” Echo said. “Maybe, at this late date, a relationship—”

  “It’s not a relationship, Echo. It’s a phone call. Nobody’s saying you have to go back there and fall into their arms.”

  Echo nodded. “You’re right.”

  Five minutes later, Echo was alone in the storeroom, with her cell phone in hand, thumbing in the numbers written at the bottom of her birthday card.

  “Hospice,” a woman answered on the fourth ring.

  Hospice? Echo’s heart stopped, started again. “I must have the wrong number,” she said. “I’m sorry—”

  “Who are you looking for?” the woman broke in gently, as though she was accustomed to calls from confused people.

  “Joe Wells.” Suddenly, she knew she didn’t have the wrong number. “This is Echo Wells. I’m his niece.”

  “He’s been hoping you’d call,” the woman replied.

  Echo squeezed her eyes shut. “Is he…? I mean, if you’re a hospice—”

  “I’ll let him tell you, Miss Wells. I will say that Joe has been hoping you’d call. Hold on a moment, please.”

  Echo nodded miserably and waited.

  “Echo?” Her uncle’s voice sounded just the same. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Uncle Joe,” Echo said. “H-how are you?”

  “Not so great,” he answered. “I have good days, and bad ones. This is a good one.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “You got the package?”

  Echo nodded, remembered he couldn’t see her and croaked out, “Yes.” Stopped to clear her throat. “Yes. How could you possibly have remembered?”

  Joe Wells chuckled, but it was a sad sound, used-up and broken. “I’ve still got a few brain cells working,” he replied. “This cancer ate up a lot of them, though.” He paused, and a soft stillness trembled between them. Then he went on. “I went back for the doll, honey. They were all gone. You were so little, and you still believed in Santa Claus, so I figured it was better not to mention it to you. Put it right out of my mind. Didn’t think of it again, until you went away to college. Then it started bothering me.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “No,” he insisted. “It’s not okay. You were my baby sister’s little girl. She wanted a doll once, when we were kids, and our dad was out of work, so we got charity stuff for Christmas that year. Maureen never got over wanting that doll—”

  Maureen. When was the last time Echo had heard someone say her mother’s name out loud?

  “So I figured maybe you didn’t get over wanting yours, either.”

  “She’s beautiful, Uncle Joe,” Echo said. “Thank you. H-how is everyone else?”

  “Laura and I got divorced a long time ago,” Joe Wells answered. His words were coming harder now; he was getting tired. “The kids took her side, and I don’t see much of them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Echo told him. Brain cancer. The man was dying of brain cancer, but he’d still managed to track down both her and the doll. “D-do you need anything?”

  “I got good insurance,” Joe said. “You married, honey? Got any kids?”

  “No husband, no kids,” Echo said. “But I’m happy enough.”

  “Good.” The word was gruff.

  “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do?”

  “Nothing anybody can do,” Joe answered, with a complete lack of self-pity. “I’m not suffering, Echo. Just fading away.”

  Echo’s face was wet. “I guess you’re probably getting tired,” she said.

  “Tired,” Joe said, “isn’t the word. I wish I’d done better by you, honey. My baby sister’s baby girl. But the plain truth is, back in those days, I had all I could do to keep the rent paid and put food on the table. If you’d say you understand, even if you don’t, well, that would mean the world to me.”

  “I do understand,” Echo said. “I do.”

  “That’s good, honey. You have a nice life, now. Time for me to get off this phone and rest a while.”

  You have a nice life, now.

  “Goodbye, Uncle Joe.”

  “Goodbye, honey.”

  There was a clunking sound on the other end of the line, then a dial tone.

  Echo hung up, set her cell phone on the step, grabbed the doll and went upstairs. There, she lay down on the bed and cried in earnest.

  *

  “I SHOULD HAVE ASKED FOR a key,” Ayanna told Rance, watching as he unlocked the door of Echo’s shop. She and Snowball preceded him, and the dog headed straight for the stairs as soon as Ayanna unhooked
her leash.

  Rance followed. Ayanna had gone to Cora when she couldn’t raise Echo either by knocking or calling, and Cora had called him. He’d driven in from the ranch at top speed, called Wyatt on the way, just to make sure Willand was still in police custody. He’d imagined all sorts of possible scenarios, even after he knew old Bud wasn’t a factor.

  Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head.

  Maybe she was sick.

  He took the stairs three at a time.

  Echo was curled in a ball in the middle of the bed, with her shoes on and her dress in a twisted fluff around her thighs. Snowball, having made the jump from the floor, was trying to lick her face.

  “Hey,” Rance said when Echo opened her eyes.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  He approached, sat down on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to gather her up and hold her the way he would have held Rianna or Maeve. Instead, he touched her forehead.

  “He sent me the doll,” Echo told him. She didn’t move, otherwise.

  “Who sent you a doll?” Rance asked quietly.

  “My uncle. He’s dying of brain cancer. He said, ‘Have yourself a nice life.’”

  Rance decided not to stand on ceremony and drew her onto his lap. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt a slight shudder go through her. “Brain cancer,” he repeated.

  She nodded.

  “You want to talk about this, or shall I just hold you?”

  Echo nestled closer. “Just hold me,” she said. Then, in that peculiar, paradoxical way of women, she went right on talking. She told him about her folks dying, and going to live with her aunt and uncle, and wanting the doll so badly that she waited for it for five Christmases before she finally gave up.

  Rance listened, absorbing it all, his eyes hot with sympathy.

  It would have been easy to judge Joe Wells, but on another level, Rance couldn’t help drawing a few parallels. Sure, he gave Maeve and Rianna the best of everything—at least, everything money could buy. But what secret hopes were they harboring? What, when his time came, and it was too late, would he wish to God he could go back and do over again?

  “I should be downstairs taking care of the shop,” Echo said when she’d poured it all out.

  “Ayanna’s got it handled.” He tugged off her shoes, tossed them aside. Then he, Echo and the dog stretched out full-length on the bed. He kept his arms around Echo, loved the way her soft hair tickled the underside of his chin. “You going back there? To see your uncle?”