As Keith explained, Kim’s face fell, her shoulders slumped, and then she buried her face in Brett’s shoulder. She couldn’t speak, so Brett asked for her, “Can we see her? Do they allow visitors?”
“Of course,” Keith said. “That’s why we wanted the two of you to know.”
“Peyton already knows? She didn’t tell me,” Kim found her voice again.
In an instant, confusion flooded her face. “Wait a minute. She was here all weekend and you didn’t call me, Keith?”
“We told Peyton not to tell you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
Kim stifled a sob.
“Kim,” Keith said gently. “She isn’t the same as before. She even looks different.”
“Then how do you know—”
“Trust me,” he said. “I’d know my wife.”
My heart swelled and broke a little. I’d made a choice to accept all of this. It didn’t make it easier. I sat on a nearby sofa.
Kim looked sober, sad. She stood and I couldn’t help but admire that woman. She was strong. Her prior anger at me had vanished. Poof! Just like that, I was no longer the enemy. I like a woman who is able to put her priorities in the right order when it comes right down to it.
Later, after I managed to stand back up without the help of a crane, we walked them out to the car. As the men talked, I handed Kim a card.
Violet Judith Black, Cottonwood Manor, 232 East Stockard St., Pillar Bluff, Tennessee.
“Thank you,” she said. “And, Mandy, I’m so sorry for how I acted back there.”
I waved my hand in the air. “All’s forgotten.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I was wrong. All this time I’ve been blaming Keith and disliking you, and it turns out it was something totally different. It all makes me so sad.” Her eyes glistened in the moonlight.
I touched her shoulder. She was small like Judy.
“We all say and do things we don’t mean when we’re under pressure. I’m probably the worst.”
“And please,” she whispered. “Forget what I said about Keith. I was just being mean.”
“You mean it’s not true?” I hoped she would say it was a big fat lie.
“I… I… No—it’s not. Of course, it’s not.”
After they were gone, leaving Pia to stay the night, I tucked Stevie into bed and asked the girls to keep an eye on him while Keith and I did some checking on the horses. Keith’s eyes lit up, because going to the barn to check on horses used to mean something special, but tonight, he was in for a surprise.
I let him help me out to the barn. We entered a regular sized side door that led into a kind of office. Keith’s barn wasn’t like most barns. Where the barn at the orchard was filled with hay, and chickens, and a few milk cows, Keith’s barn was sleek and fancy. It was kept immaculate, for a barn, and one could walk over concrete along the stalls on most days and not step in any horse poo. Even the smell wasn’t too bad, but tonight we didn’t walk around. I sat behind the makeshift desk in the little office and Keith leaned against the wall. I didn’t waste any time.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Adri’s sister?”
His eyes widened, but after the shock wore off, his eyes narrowed.
“The girl I dated in high school?”
“The girl you cheated with.”
“Is that what Kim was telling you in the kitchen?” He paced the tiny room a few times. “I could tell you were upset.”
I tried to read his face. He’d always been my perfect cowboy, courageous and wild on a horse, and steady and true as my husband and the father of Peyton and Stephen.
“Is that true or not?” I asked. “Did you have an affair? Is that what you were apologizing to Violet for?”
His face turned white and his eyes filled with regret. That was all I needed to know.
“You cheated on Violet.”
“Listen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can explain.” He shifted his weight to one booted foot, one hand shoved halfway into his jeans pocket. He stared around the room, working his jaw back and forth, trying to thinking of what to say. I ignored how strikingly handsome he looked when he was mad.
“So,” I said. “Is all this taking care of Judy and being glad we found her, an act to redeem yourself?”
“No, of course not.” His eyes welled. Not what I was expecting. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe about the last part. I don’t know.”
“I guess the good thing for you is that Judy can’t remember it anymore. That works out well for you, doesn’t it?”
He crossed his arms, paced the room some more, pausing occasionally to speak. “First of all, Kim doesn’t know as much as she thinks about my last marriage.”
“She was her best friend.”
“I was her husband.”
I flinched.
“And second,” he said. “What does my last marriage have to do with you?”
I shrugged. He had a point. What did it have to do with us? Except that if he cheated once, he might cheat again, like my last husband.
“I guess I just thought you would never do something like that to anyone. And it makes me feel like I don’t know you.” I paused, letting the truth form on my tongue. “Like maybe if you could do it to her, you could do it to me, too.”
His face grew sad, but as I watched him pace the room, hoping he would say something to make me feel better, he suddenly turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I heard the truck start up, so I fished the flashlight out of one of the desk drawers and wobbled my way to the house. A part of me couldn’t believe he let me walk back to the house alone. He was always overly protective. I guess that was how frustrated he was.
When I looked in on the girls, they were smiling and giggling over a new poster of their latest boy band group. How many times had Marta and I done the same thing? If only we could go back to those days, but then when I thought about getting grounded, all those heartbreaks, and then losing Momma, I remembered that “those days” weren’t always as great as we remembered. I only hoped Peyton’s were better, and that finding Violet didn’t bring more sadness than joy to her teenagerhood.
Once I had climbed into bed wearing my roomiest jammies, I grabbed my cell phone from the night stand. First I texted Marta that Keith and I were in an argument and he was still gone, knowing I would get sympathy from her, although I left out the part about Adri’s big sister.
“Honey,” Marta said when she called back. “I’m sure all will be well tomorrow. Just so you know, he’s over here having a cup of coffee with Daddy. They’re talking business.”
“Really?”
“Really. He’ll be home soon. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?
“Not right now,” I said.
“Okay. I love you.”
Next, I texted my husband.
“I still love you.”
I didn’t receive a love you, too, but then again, we weren’t in high school. It might not have meant anything at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Keith and I went on as if nothing had happened. Prom was getting closer and in a small town like Castle Orchard, it was a big deal to the kids. Heck, it was a big deal to the grownups. People were already talking about which kids were going together and who was going stag. Since Peyton and Pia had both been invited by junior boys, they joined the prom committee. One evening, I found them both practicing their dance moves in the living room.
“This will be the best prom ever thanks to my dad,” Peyton said. Keith had pulled a few strings in the rodeo community and helped them find a country act that was a perfect blend of Lady Antebellum and Florida Georgia Line. For the past week, Peyton and Pia had been practicing their country dance moves, even roping poor Estefan into practicing the two-step with them. They were all three pretty good, but I was especially surprised to find that Peyton could dance her little boots off, mastering not only the two-step, but also the waltz and the West Coast Swing. Estefan seemed impressed, too, I noted.
“Wh
ere did you learn to do all that?” I asked. “You’re really good.”
“There’s lots you don’t know about me.” But she said it with a smile.
“I am sure of that,” I said.
It seemed that her mother’s condition should have made her depressed, but Peyton seemed to be making lemonade from lemons. She’d hadn’t stopped talking about her mom, sharing little memories she’d never told me about before, and I found I didn’t want her to stop.
“Actually, we learned a lot on the Internet,” Pia said. “There are how-to videos everywhere. I bet you could even learn how by next week.”
“Just like with knitting,” Peyton said. “All you need is a how-to-dance video.”
I didn’t tell her that I knew plenty of country dance moves from my partying days before I’d met Keith. Keith and I’d also done our share of two-stepping.
“If you’re going to be a chaperone, you need to know.”
I gave her a smile. “Honey, don’t forget there’s a good chance I’ll have the baby by then, or be about to. I might have to have your Aunt Marta switch places with me as chaperone.”
“Nothing she hasn’t done before, I’ve heard.” Peyton grinned. My escapades involving switching places with Marta were legendary.
“In case I don’t go, how about I dance now? Come here, Estefan. Let’s just practice a little. Show me some steps, girls.”
“Are you sure you should be dancing?” Peyton asked.
“I have to stand up a little bit,” I said. “And I just have to move slowly.”
I stepped forward, smiling at the careful way Estefan placed his hand on my very round waistline.
“Don’t worry, honey. You can’t hurt the baby.”
He blushed.
The last few months had passed with no incidents. My pregnancy was going great, and bed rest wasn’t necessary. I was tired, which was to be expected so close to delivery, but sitting around was as bad as standing up. I couldn’t get comfortable.
Next to us, Peyton and Pia partnered up and went through the basic two-step. Estefan and I followed at a more gingerly pace.
“Great job.” Pia congratulated us. Peyton looked cynical.
“Now, try this.” Peyton jumped right to the West Coast Swing.
This must be Peyton’s competitive side.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll give it a go.”
“Take it easy on her, Estefan.” Peyton crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t let her lose her balance.”
I smiled at Estefan, gave him a wink. He grinned, quick to catch on, and we boogied like we had been dancing together for years, but very carefully and not exactly keeping time with the music. I probably looked like a mix between a giant toddler and a very, very old lady. Behind us, the girls squealed and clapped until pretty soon, Keith was standing behind them in the doorway, grinning like we were seeing each other for the first time. As Estefan and I twirled, Keith caught me up and gently spun me around. We danced slowly, like we used to, before we were married, when we met in the dance tent after the rodeo.
“You’ve still got it, cowgirl.” But he noticed my panting for breath and gracefully lowered me to a couch to rest. Then he moved on to Peyton, spun her around for a few minutes at a much faster pace, and then passed her to Estefan while he moved on to dance with Pia. I waddled over and switched Peyton’s music to a faster song and sat back down to watch.
Peyton, no time to be embarrassed with the pace of the music, matched Estefan’s steps perfectly. Keith noticed, and instead of looking angry like a dad might do, he smiled. It was good to see Peyton having fun. That smile on her face was worth the discomfort of seeing her dancing with a boy. Besides, what harm could come with Estefan? I’d known his parents for years. He was a good boy.
That evening after dinner, Keith and I climbed into bed, Keith stretching in his boxers, lean and beautiful. I touched my tummy, wondering what he was thinking when he looked at me.
“I love your body right now,” he said, and I smiled. He always seemed to read my mind.
“Are you tired from all that dancing?” he asked.
“Yes.” I was quiet for a moment. “What was I thinking? Dancing?”
He scooted closer. “Cowgirl, you weren’t doing back flips, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you weren’t doing all that much dancing, either.”
“As if I could in this condition.” I joked.
“I think the fact you felt like dancing and forgot to worry about the baby is proof that everything’s okay. There isn’t a rule that you have to be worried every minute of your pregnancy. When Peyton was born—”
“What happened when she was born?”
“Never mind,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. She is your baby.”
“Well, I’ll tell you the story another time.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, when are we having Judy back, so that Peyton and Stevie can see her?”
“After the baby comes,” he said, placing his hand over my stomach and rubbing softly back and forth.
“I just don’t want to wait until Judy’s memory worsens. Maybe if we won’t wait too long, there might be a chance she will have a moment where she remembers Peyton. That would be good for Peyton, to have that affirmation.”
“She might also break Peyton’s heart, if she never recalls. What if she doesn’t remember her at all? What if she launches into the kind of tirade she has when her brother visits? That kind of event would break her heart.”
The thought of that happening to Peyton made me shudder, but I wondered if it had something to do with the truth about his first message. He felt guilty. We hadn’t spoken about it since that night.
“Honey, are you afraid to see Judy again?” We hadn’t talked about Kim’s announcement about his affair since that night.
“I’m not afraid,” he said.
He moved his hand up to my shoulder and pressed his lips for a moment against my cheek. We were both quiet and after a while I thought he was asleep, but then his voice, serious, broke into my thoughts.
“What Kim told you, is still bothering you, isn’t it?”
“What makes you think that?” I snuggled against him.
“I can just tell.” There he goes, reading my mind again.
“I’m sorry. Yes, I guess I have been insecure ever since that night.”
He was silent for a while. “It’s in the past,” he said, his voice low. “And it didn’t really happen the way Kim described it. She likes to act as if she knew Violet better than I did, but she didn’t. She doesn’t, and I didn’t have an affair.”
In the past, that was what my ex always said.
“Then what? If not an affair.”
“Honey, it’s in the past. It has nothing to do with us.”
I truly hoped not, because there wasn’t much worse in a marriage than being married to a cheater. That much, I knew for sure.
“Let’s concentrate on our family,” he said. “And on this baby.”
He didn’t add, “And making sure all is well with my previous wife who isn’t in her right mind anymore.” That would have been too weird, but it was in everything, in the walls of this house that she lived in, in her friendship with Pia’s mom, and in this room. Not the bed, of course. I’d had that switched out, but lately I’d become very aware that Judy – no, Violet – had spent a lot of time in this very same room. And while I could never be jealous of Judy, sometimes I still got jealous at the thought of Violet. Call me shallow, or just call me pregnant, but it bothered me.
When Keith reached his chin in to nuzzle my neck, I pulled back.
“I want to sleep in a different room.”
“What? Why?” He did nuzzle me then. “I like sleeping with you.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. All jealous fears aside, being married to Keith was like having my own cowboy character from a romance novel, so he always knew how to coerce forgiveness, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, I wondered if
it was this side of Keith that made me so jealous of other women. Who wouldn’t want to marry a cowboy?
“I don’t mean separate rooms, silly. I mean us, together, in a different room.”
I could see him smiling at me in the half-darkness as he reached out to smooth a curl behind my ear. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
My heart grew bigger for him because he understood what I was saying. What more could a woman ask for? A hot cowboy for a husband, and an understanding one, too.
“Right now,” he said.
“Now?”
“Why not? It’s our house. We can sleep where we want to.”
He climbed out of bed, slipped his jeans on. That always amused me, Keith walking around shirtless in an old pair of jeans instead of sweats or pajamas. Then he scooped me up. I waited for him to groan. I’d always been curvy, but now I was much rounder.
“You shouldn’t carry me. I’m pretty heavy now.”
He snorted. “Cowgirl, I ride wild horses for a living. I think I can lift little itty-bitty you.”
He had a point, and he called me itty-bitty. How could a girl not love that?
I reached down and grabbed one of the covers as we walked out, down the stairs, and into a room flooded with moonlight. I’d nicknamed it my garden room and filled it with all kinds of flowers and herbs. I pretended not to hear him grunt a little as he sat me on a wicker chair, disappeared, and came back lugging a futon mattress that I recognized from the den and a pillow underneath each arm.
“Just for tonight, will this room do?”
“That depends, is it, you know, Violet free?” It was a fair question.
“This was a mud room before you came, sweetheart, and as you can see from all these smelly flowers, it has your fingerprints all over it now.” He scooped me up again. “And no Violets. Now, come to bed.”
He helped me onto the mattress like I was sleeping beauty, only suddenly I wasn’t sleepy anymore. The dancing, it seemed, had not worn me out after all and a new sense of energy glowed through my limbs. I watched him undress, admiring his body in the moonlight, lean, scarred, and muscular from years of riding bucking broncos. Seeing him every day, I sometimes took for granted what a specimen of fitness he was. I scooted closer to his warmth as he settled himself beside me, kissing my shoulder, moving one hand in soft, slow circles along the curve of my belly. I let out a deep sigh when his hand circled over the thin silky fabric of my nightgown just below my breasts. Testing the waters, he passed one hand over each breast, circling from one to the other, finally resting on one, cupping gently until I moaned for more contact. He then leaned over, pressing his mouth on the fabric, his kisses hot, until I cried out.
The Real Thing Page 18