Hometown Girl

by Courtney Walsh

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Beth could tell by the look on her face—the nurse knew she’d heard the conversation. She should tell Jillian and her friend exactly what they could do with their high-and-mighty attitudes. She should—but she wouldn’t. She didn’t have the courage or the energy, so she chose to ignore it. Never mind that its sting had already done its damage.

  “Sorry, I was just looking for Dr. Berry.”

  “He’s back with your mom.”

  Beth straightened. “Thanks.”

  “We’re all pulling for her,” Jillian said. “We’re hoping for good results.”

  Beth started back down the hall, trying not to think of the day her perfectly planned-out life had taken a turn for the worse. The very worst.

  Some days she wished she was still blissfully unaware of the truth about the man she’d devoted so many years to. Her first—and only—love had broken her heart.

  She wondered if she’d ever find all of the pieces.

  She could practically smell the tulips he’d sent in an effort to win her back. Cards attached to bouquets had gone unread and were thrown away until finally, one day, the flowers stopped coming.

  He’d gotten the hint.

  And it was on that day Beth realized she’d wasted years of her life building a relationship with a man who could never really love her. The only person Michael really loved was himself.

  When she reached the closed door of her mother’s exam room, Beth barged in on Dr. Berry talking in hushed tones the way doctors always seemed to do.

  “What’s wrong?” she said as soon as she opened the door.

  The doctor turned to her, a puzzled look on his face. “Hi, Beth.” He smiled. He had a fatherly way about him with his gray hair and glasses. He wore a blue dress shirt rolled at the sleeves and a nice gray-and-blue tie. He was handsome with caring eyes, the kind that danced a little.

  “Sorry,” Beth said. “I just assumed . . .”

  “She assumes a lot, Dr. Berry. It’s not her best quality.” Her mom tossed a smile over her shoulder toward Beth—a smile that faded in a reprimand as soon as their eyes met.

  Beth sat, shaking off the effects of the conversation she’d overheard in the hallway.

  She’d been so confident once. A high performer, an overachiever. She’d grown up believing her father when he’d told her, “Beth, I don’t care if you’re a woman in a man’s world. You were born to lead.”

  Michael had taken that from her.

  Leaving should’ve made her stop loving him. It sickened her to think of how many times she’d wished she’d never found out the truth. It would’ve been easier to go on believing everything was fine.

  Her own weakness disgusted her. She’d never been this woman before. Or maybe she’d never had occasion before for her weakness to show through.

  But here she was. Still running the office at Whitaker Mowers. Still living in Willow Grove. And still completely unwilling to even consider putting herself out there again.

  Most days she was fine with the way her life had turned out, but lately—and always when she ran into old friends from high school, especially the ones who’d moved away—she had this disheartening sense of discontent.

  She should’ve made more of herself by now.

  And now she was stuck. Her father’s death had left her with a responsibility to carry on the family business. Did it matter that she didn’t love it? No. She didn’t get to be choosy after the mistakes she’d made.

  Still, sometimes it gnawed at her—this idea that maybe she’d lost herself along the way. Had she become the opposite of what her father had wanted her to become?

  Had she become the kind of woman who wanted a man to bring her flowers?

  She shook the taunting thoughts away. She didn’t want to think about her poor judgment right now.

  Beth forced herself to focus on Dr. Berry’s assessment of her mother’s condition. The words “miraculous recovery” and “near 100 percent” caught her attention. Did Dr. Berry know that her mother hardly moved from her chair in the living room? Did he know she still required help in the shower? Mom still needed her. Otherwise, Beth would’ve moved out and into her own apartment. Maybe even finally found a job in the city like she’d always intended.

  Wouldn’t she have?

  In the car on the way home, a soft smile rested on her mother’s face.

  “You look happy,” Beth said.

  Her mom glanced at her. “Why does it sound like an accusation when you say it?”

  Beth kept her eyes on the road. “Obviously the doctor was a bit optimistic, don’t you think?”

  She could almost hear her mother frown. “No, I don’t. I agree with everything he said.”

  “Near 100 percent? Mom, you still need help walking around the house. That’s not a full recovery.”

  Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t actually need help? But that I’m not going to turn it down if you offer it?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You heard Dr. Berry. I’m better, Beth. A little slow, maybe, but the day of my stroke, we didn’t even know if I’d be able to speak again.”

  Beth remembered. She’d been so filled with panic, so full of guilt. She couldn’t help but think that if her father were still alive, none of this would’ve happened.

  And she couldn’t help but think that her father would still be alive if it weren’t for her.

  “Well, I still think you’ve got a ways to go.” Beth turned onto their road, a private, tree-lined drive that took them to the front of the large white house out on the edge of town. Daddy had done well for himself and continued to take care of his family even after his death.

  What she wouldn’t give for just one more conversation with him. Would he have still pushed her toward the big dreams—the city life—if he’d known he wasn’t going to live? Or would he have changed his tune, telling her to take care of their family business, to watch over everything he’d spent his life building?

  Beth killed the engine in front of the garage, but before she could get out, her mother rested her hand on Beth’s.

  “Are you happy, Beth?”

  She hated it when her mom took on this serious tone. It seemed like Lilian Whitaker was plenty lighthearted with everyone except Beth these days.

  Beth made her mother’s brow furrow.

  “Of course, Mom.” She laughed the question off.

  “When was the last time you felt genuine happiness?”

  Beth’s mind spun, trying to recall a moment of pure joy. How sad that she came up empty. “My work makes me happy. I like knowing I’m carrying on the Whitaker name.”

  “In a job you’ve never loved.”

  “Where’s this coming from, Mom?”

  Her mother gave a soft shrug. “I guess I have a new perspective is all. A new lease on life. And I don’t like seeing you this way.”

  “What way? I’m fine. I have responsibilities here.” I have to make up for the things I ruined. I owe that to him. “Don’t you want Dad’s legacy to go on?”

  “Not at the expense of your happiness.”

  “I’m fine. I just—”

  “You’re not happy. And you haven’t been for a long time. The life you used to dream of—it’s not the one you’re living. And that concerns me.”

  Beth looked away. Her mom didn’t get it. Things changed. People, plans, dreams—they all changed. Once upon a time, Beth had dreamed of art school and paint-covered hands. A healthy dose of reality had changed her. What was to say that hadn’t happened again?

  “Don’t use my health as a reason to stay here, Beth. Not if this isn’t what you love.”

  Beth sighed. “I can’t imagine leaving you now, Mom. I don’t care what Dr. Berry says, you’re not strong enough.”

  Her mother’s smile waned. “I appreciate that, and I appreciate you helping me, but I’m getting stronger now. It’s time for me to get on
with my life.” She stilled a moment. “And time for you to get on with yours.”

  Her mom squeezed her hand, then turned toward the car door.

  “Here, let me—”

  “No, Beth.” Lilian stared at her own hand on the door handle. “I need to start doing things for myself again.”

  Beth watched as her mother opened the door gingerly, still in pain. But she didn’t jump in to help. Instead, she sat in the car while her mom inched her way out, closed the door and then walked toward the house, a smile lighting her face.

  A smile that was less optimistic and more triumphant.

  A smile that told Beth that while she’d been trying to help her mom recover, what she’d actually done was get in the way.

  Her mother’s words hung in the stale air of Beth’s closed-up Audi. Her mother didn’t understand. Beth had tried to be genuinely happy once, and it hadn’t panned out. And now, the only thing on her mind was making amends for the things she’d done.

  Happiness wasn’t in the cards.

  Chapter Two

  “My horse won’t go faster.”

  The whine seeped under Drew Barlow’s skin. He’d led a lot of trail rides, and he could usually tolerate the complaining, but if this kid dug his heels into Juniper’s sides one more time . . .

  “The horse isn’t supposed to go faster, kid,” Drew said. “She’s trained to stay behind mine.”

  “This is boring.”

  Drew blew out a stream of hot air. He took in a fresh breath and cast his eyes toward the Rockies. There. That was the reason he stayed on at the dude ranch every year. That and the seclusion of the off months.

  “Are we almost done? My horse is broken.”

  Lucky for the kid, they were almost done. Otherwise, Drew might’ve swatted Juniper on the backside and sent her off to show him how not-boring horseback riding could be.

  Up the hill and around the bend, Elkhorn Ranch came into sight. Elkhorn had been his home now for four years, and the owners, Doug and Cheryl McClain, liked Drew so much they made room for him year-round. He didn’t make much money, but he didn’t need much. He enjoyed managing the rest of the staff, he loved the horses, and his room and board were part of his salary. Every now and then, he even enjoyed the guests, though sometimes Drew wondered if he’d do better to find a profession where he didn’t have to talk to anyone at all.

  Quiet suited him just fine.

  They reached the stable, and the other ranch hands met them and helped return the horses to their stalls.

  “Tough ride, Boss?” Dylan Hauser took the reins as Drew removed his cowboy hat, ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

  “That obvious?”

  “I had that kid in a private lesson yesterday.” Dylan shook his head and led Mabel, Drew’s favorite horse, into her stall. “He’s a pistol.”

  Mabel whinnied.

  “That’s one word for it. I’m assigning out all of his activities from now on.”

  “I’ll clean up here,” Dylan said. “You’ve got a visitor up at the lodge.”

  Drew frowned. A visitor? Anyone he considered a friend was there on the ranch with him.

  “It’s your mom.”

  His heart dropped. “My mom?” He hadn’t talked to his mother in months. She’d give him the guilt trip, then the lecture, then ask him to imagine a world without her in it. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t miss their chats.

  Dylan shrugged. “She didn’t exactly look comfortable when I left her. Good luck, buddy.”

  Drew walked through the stable and past the guesthouses until he reached the lodge. His mother sat on the porch, clutching her purse, looking exactly like what she was: a former beauty queen on a dude ranch. How long had she been waiting?

  She stood at the sight of him, and a forced smile washed over her face. “You look rugged and handsome,” she said, holding her hands out. She pulled him into a hug, clapped him on the back a few times and then stepped back to look at him. “And maybe a little bit dirty.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I would imagine so. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anything from you. I had to make sure you were still alive.”

  And it began.

  “So you drove two hours into the mountains? Why didn’t you just call?” He sat down on the stairs of the lodge.

  “I did.” She faced him. “You never called back.”

  He vaguely remembered that.

  “Well, you’re here now. You want to get some dinner?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Here?”

  “We have a five-star chef, Mom. It’s not like we eat C rations out of a tin can.”

  She drew her lips into a thin line. “I admit that is a little more what I imagined.”

  He secretly hoped she’d decline his offer. He didn’t much care for small talk, and with his parents, that’s all it had ever been.

  “I won’t keep you, Drew. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

  Shower. Eat. Go for a run. Sit in front of the television. Sleep. Same as every other night.

  “I just came because I wanted to show you this.” She handed him a newspaper clipping. “Harold Pendergast died last week.”

  Drew looked at the obituary, the photo of the man—a lot older than Drew remembered and with sadder eyes, but still the same man they’d known all those years ago. He glanced at his mom. “That’s too bad.”

  Why did his mother think he’d care whether Pendergast was dead or alive?

  “I was hoping it’d bring you some closure, maybe.”

  Drew looked out over the yard and up toward the mountains. He knew every square inch of those foothills, almost up to the peaks. He’d put his past behind him—why’d she have to come out here and dredge it all back up?

  “I’m doing fine, Ma.”

  Her eyes had filled with tears.

  This is why he stayed away from her. The emotion she carried so close to the surface made him uncomfortable. She swiped away a tear. “You think you’re fine, Drew, but you’re not.”

  She was convinced of his brokenness, but how would she know? She could only assume what he thought—he’d never let her into that part of his mind.

  “You’re living in some strange denial of what happened, and I think it’s kept you from ever really enjoying your life.” She hugged her slick black bag a little tighter. “You seem to keep everyone at an arm’s length, and I’m worried about you. Worried you’re going to end up alone.”

  Had she practiced this speech in the car? Something about it felt rehearsed.

  “When was the last time you went out on a date? And do you have a single person in your life you’d call a friend?”

  He stood, filled with the sudden urge to get as far away from her as possible. “What makes you think I’m not enjoying my life?” He had Mabel and Juniper and the other ranch hands. He didn’t need society’s idea of a good life in order to be happy.

  His mother laughed. “You’ve got yourself so far removed from anything real—what kind of life is this, hiding away up here in the mountains, living in a dingy old cabin? It’s not a real job, and it’s not a real life.” She looked at him and sighed. “Don’t you see I’m worried about you?”

  Worried or disappointed? Because he felt nearly certain that was disappointment all over her face.

  Drew resented the words. She’d never understand his career choices—never understand why he didn’t want to live in some big city or wear a suit and tie to an office every day. If she expected those things from him, she didn’t know him at all.

  She made assumptions about him, and for that, he stayed away. He didn’t have the energy to dissect his every choice. He came to the ranch because it promised him the one thing he wanted more than anything else—peace. His family would never understand that.

  His mother cleared her throat. “Drew. You’ve been running away your whole life. How much longer are you going to hold on to this?”

  She thought he should b
e over it by now. But time didn’t heal all wounds, did it?

  Drew handed the newspaper clipping back to her. “This doesn’t change anything, Ma. I’m doing fine out here. I don’t need you stirring up the past.”

  The sound of laughter drew his attention. Two of the other staffers rounded the corner. “Hey, Drew,” one of them said. “You heading in for dinner?”

  Drew glanced at his mom, then back at the girls. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  His mom stood, still clutching her purse. “Go. It’s fine. I said what I came here to say.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay?” He didn’t mean it. Surely she’d sense that.

  She put on a phony smile. “I have to get back.” She set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

  He watched her get in her Lexus and drive away.

  As was customary after a conversation with his mother, Drew now had a pit in his stomach that rivaled the Grand Canyon.

  He didn’t feel much like socializing. Inside his cabin, Roxie sat at attention. He rubbed the German shepherd behind the ears, and she stood as if she knew something was wrong.

  “Why do I need friends when I’ve got you, Rox?”

  She licked his hand.

  “Let’s go for a run. You’re looking a little hefty in the middle.”

  She lay back down, letting out a soft growl as Drew changed into a pair of loose athletic shorts and a T-shirt, pulled on his running shoes and opened the cabin door.

  “You comin’?”

  Roxie, always quick to forgive, ran outside toward their favorite running trail. Drew preferred to run without music, focusing instead on the sounds of his breathing and the great outdoors. He’d grown to love the ranch and everything it had taught him. He oversaw the daily operations and managed the staff, but he’d worked the schedule out so he could also spend time alone. That time had never haunted him until today.

  With every familiar tree he passed, the memories crept closer to the surface of his mind—memories he’d buried long ago in the hope of never reliving them again.

  Drew turned a corner and ran along the creek at the back of the ranch property, his mind spinning. Closure. His mother made it sound like it was something he could buy at the drugstore. He knew better. It had been twenty years, and he’d never found it.