Prodigal Cowgirl

by Lacy Williams

  The door opened maybe another inch. But it was enough to let sunlight stream in. The older woman inside was more stooped than Courtney had imagined for someone living alone.

  "We're delivering Christmas cookies today," Lily piped in.

  "They're homemade," Courtney added when the woman just stared at her daughter suspiciously.

  "Made with love," Lily chirped.

  Courtney wasn't watching Eric, but could see his smile in her peripheral vision. Lily could make anyone smile. How anyone could converse with her daughter and not love the six-year-old, Courtney couldn't fathom.

  But Mrs. Edwards didn't seem moved.

  And then Lily piped in again. "Want to hear a Christmas song?" Without waiting for an answer, she launched into a rendition of Jingle Bells at the top of her lungs.

  Mrs. Edwards still hadn't reached for the cookies, and Courtney put her hand out and touched Lily's shoulder. It was time to go.

  But before she could urge Lily to turn and leave, the woman opened the door all the way. Her eyes had gone suspiciously moist. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. "That was my daughter's favorite Christmas song. She used to be a performer, like you."

  Mrs. Edwards reached out and accepted the cookies from Lily. She used her other hand to quickly swipe beneath her eyes. "Thank you, dear."

  "You're welcome." Lily beamed as she turned away from the door.

  The woman met Courtney's eyes. "And thank you, too."

  The unexpected gesture made Courtney's breath catch in her chest.

  And she met Eric's eyes as they traipsed down the walk together. The seedling of hope wouldn't be quashed.

  And it seemed he wouldn't let anyone step on it, either.

  7

  January

  Courtney had been determined to be present for Lily's first session with the counselor, even though it meant taking an afternoon off work, one she could scarcely afford.

  Her determination wavered at the threshold to the administration wing. The dismissal bell had rung as Courtney had entered the building, and the semi-private corridor seemed deserted except for the administrative assistant who sat behind a counter straight ahead.

  Courtney knew the principal and vice principal helped with dismissal, so it wasn't a surprise to find the office area so quiet.

  She was a little surprised by the shame that filtered through her. She felt cold, even wearing her winter coat. She hadn't been a great student, even in elementary school. She'd reacted to her reading problems by causing trouble in the classroom, talking with her friends or drawing detailed pictures instead of doing the reading assignments.

  She would do anything to keep Lily from having the same learning issues she'd had.

  But she hadn't even been able to admit to her handicap to Jake. How did you say to someone who was as intelligent as Jake was, I can't read?

  They'd patched up their relationship since Lily's pre-Christmas meltdown, but sometimes she still felt as if she were walking on eggshells around him.

  The assistant nodded tightly to Courtney, and she found the gumption to move past the threshold to a small seating area outside the counselor's office. She could see through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that Lily and Bea were seated cross-legged on the floor, with the counselor, also on the floor, forming a triangle.

  Courtney herself sat on a child-sized chair. The admin assistant tapped away on her computer, the counter tall enough to hide everything but the top of her head. Every few moments, the noise stopped, and Courtney had the sense that the woman was watching her, making sure she didn't steal any pencils or something.

  Or it could just be Courtney's own memories pushing forward into the present.

  The door to the front office opened, and the sheriff walked in. Of course. Because it couldn't have been his brother's day to pick up the girls. The younger girl, Piper, followed behind her uncle.

  He stopped to greet the secretary, propping one hand on the counter.

  Courtney looked away from the smile he turned on the secretary, her stomach balling up. She hadn't seen him since the cookie delivery day. Almost a month. They'd texted a few times, but she couldn't help wondering if he'd figured out how much work he'd have to put in to being her friend. Was that why he was putting distance between them?

  Or maybe she was painting him with her own expectations, too.

  The little girl marched right over to Courtney. "Hi."

  "Hi."

  Even though there were probably fifteen other chairs in the space, Piper sat in the one right next to Courtney. She started unwrapped a fuzzy pink scarf from around her neck, then dropped two matching mittens on the floor. Her backpack came off next with a huff, and she finally unzipped her coat.

  She looked up to see Courtney watching her. "I was all ready to go but uncle Eric said we gots to wait for Bea."

  She didn't want to think about Piper's uncle too hard, but of course he was right there, his larger-than-life presence raising the hair at the back of her neck.

  "Hello, Courtney."

  She nodded at him, quickly averting her gaze.

  Thankfully, he chose a chair caddy-corner, which put several feet between them. Maybe she could breathe if he stayed over there.

  "Did you have a good Christmas?" he asked easily.

  "Yes."

  "Didja get lotsa presents? I got a glitter-hair Barbie and so did my sister. And we got a big house to play Barbies in!"

  The girl paused for a breath, and Courtney figured she had two-point-three seconds to get an answer in.

  "I did get some lovely gifts." Lily had presented her with a series of hand-drawn pictures. They were framed—Jake must've done that—and now they hung on the wall in Courtney's bedroom.

  Jake and Stevie had given her a gift certificate for a massage and facial. And Eric had been right—she'd worked hard to create experiences for Lily. They'd gone ice skating in Weatherford and laughed at each other all bundled up—and even more when they'd fallen over on the ice.

  Lily hadn't had another meltdown since the epic bedtime blowup. Although Courtney had been disappointed not to give Lily a crazy-big Christmas, the small moments of the season had been heartwarming.

  But that didn't mean she wanted to sit across from Eric and exchange pleasantries. She still felt like she'd been punched in the gut when she remembered his thunderous expression from the teacher meeting, and it confused things when she balanced that against the warmth she'd seen in his expression the last time she'd seen him.

  With the new distance between them, her little seedling of hope had begun wilt.

  * * *

  Eric read the tense set of Courtney's shoulders, but it didn't stop her from chatting with Piper.

  He'd missed seeing her. The Christmas season was a busy one for law enforcement. Families that didn't get along suddenly spending time together brought more domestic disturbance calls than normal. Add to that burglary sprees, even fires that he had to respond to from people messing up the turkey and setting their kitchen or backyard on fire.

  He hadn't wanted to scare Courtney off. It was far too soon to allow her to see exactly how taxing and time-consuming his job could be.

  That, and James had expressed concerns about how starting something with Courtney might affect Bea in the classroom. Eric thought he was nuts, but he'd been support for his brother since everything had happened with Janice and the girls, and he didn't want to mess that up.

  His initial attraction hadn't waned. But James was right. Eric couldn't only think of himself, of his wants. He had to think about his nieces. They'd been through so much. And he was responsible for some of their tragedy.

  He had a responsibility to them, too.

  The office door kicked open, and the girls' teacher stuck her head in. She smiled briefly at Eric, but her gaze settled on Courtney. She entered the office. "Good, you're here. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Courtney stiffened. It was minute, but perceptible. She stood, and he shook his head at
Piper when she started to follow.

  Courtney met the other woman near the secretary's desk, both of them in profile to him. He could still hear their conversation. Good hearing was a hazard of his job, or so he told himself when he eavesdropped.

  "Is everything okay with Lily?"

  "Oh, yes. She's been fine in class, participating and friendly, as usual."

  But it was clear the teacher had more to say. She took a deep breath, and he saw Courtney visibly brace herself.

  "Your brother filled out the parent volunteer sign-up sheets on the first day of school and he signed up to read to the class next month, but..."

  Surprise and something else flitted across Courtney's expressive face as the teacher paused.

  "I've had several parents voice concerns about your presence in the classroom."

  Courtney remained perfectly still, but Eric felt the blow along with her.

  But she was silent when he expected her to protest. She nodded slowly, the expression on her face carefully blank.

  "Is there something else I could do...? Make cookies or cut out papers...?"

  The teacher's relief was palpable. "We've got things covered. Thanks, dear."

  The teacher turned and left in a hurry—no doubt she was ready to be done for the day after dealing with six-year-olds for eight hours—and didn't see the crestfallen expression that quickly passed over Courtney's face.

  She stood for a moment as if she felt lost, then seemed to remember he and Piper were there.

  Courtney glaced at Piper, who was fiddling with the zipper of her coat and didn't seem to have overheard. Courtney's eyes turned to Eric. Poignant emotion boiled in her eyes before she shuttered her gaze.

  He wanted to talk to her, wanted to reach out and touch her, but before he could do anything, the door to the counselor's office opened.

  The girls filed out in front of the counselor, who motioned to Courtney and Eric.

  "Sit and wait for me for just a minute," he told Bea and Piper. He pointed a finger at them. "No funny business." He winked.

  In the office, Mrs. Partridge leaned against the front of her desk.

  "Is there a problem?"

  Couldn't the counselor hear the fragile tone in Courtney's voice?

  "The girls are giving the answers as if it's a pop quiz. They're telling me what they think I want to hear."

  He shared a glance with Courtney.

  "I guess I don't see the problem with that," he said slowly, still trying to process.

  "If they tell me what they think I want to hear instead of what they really feel, I can't get to the root of the problem."

  Courtney's hand was shaking. He saw her trembling before she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her winter coat. A glance at her face showed the clench of her jaw. This couldn't be easy for her. But he wanted to make it easier.

  "James's girls have had a difficult time." He didn't have to say more. James had had some intense conversations with the school administrators when everything with Janice had gone down.

  "I understand," Mrs. Partridge said. "And I've taken that into consideration. But the fact remains that we must get to the emotion beneath if we want to affect the surface emotion."

  "They're six," Courtney said with a trembling voice. "Not adults. How much can they really have beneath the surface?"

  The counselor leveled a serious look on her. "A lot. Grief over absentee parents. Stress from difficult home lives. Comparison with other children. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

  Courtney flinched as if struck. He knew Mrs. Partridge was likely talking about Janice, but it was obvious her mention of absentee parents had hit Courtney hard.

  "I'd like to consult some of my colleagues in other schools to see if they can suggest an activity or series of sessions that can help us dig deeper. But I also wanted to bring you in to the conversation so you understand where we are with the girls. Eric, I trust you can take this back to James?"

  He nodded.

  The counselor rifled through the top of her desk and presented them both with a piece of paper that had some open-ended questions that might spark home conversation with the girls.

  Courtney was quiet as they took their leave, rushing Lily out the door.

  And although Bea was suited up in her coat and scarf, Piper's scarf and gloves littered the floor, and her coat remained slung over the chair.

  * * *

  In the parking lot, Courtney was still reeling from Lily's teacher's request—order?—that she stay out of the classroom. She'd heard the counselor's concerns but had only limited brain power to process them.

  Both conversations had hurt.

  Was Lily angry that Courtney was back in her life? Was there a deeper reason she'd gotten so angry she'd gotten into a fight with Bea?

  Or was it simple childhood anger that the other girl had called her Mama a name?

  She opened the sedan's rear door for Lily, who'd been quiet and subdued since the meeting.

  A car door creaked several spaces over, and across the top of her car she could see Eric hurrying the girls into the back of his SUV.

  She ducked her head before he could catch her watching. She couldn't believe he'd witnessed her humiliation today.

  She checked that Lily was buckled and then pushed the door closed. But before she could get in the car, Eric called out to her. "Wait!"

  She crunched her eyes closed briefly. Was it too much to ask for an easy escape?

  He jogged around the front of her car. "I had an idea. What if we get the girls together for supper tonight? My place, six-thirty. Maybe some time together—supervised, but outside of the school environment—will get them to open up."

  "I don't know if that's a good idea." She had a hard time looking him in the eye, after everything he must've heard inside. Humiliation heated her cheeks.

  "Is Jake expecting you for supper?"

  "No, but..." Her mind spun, but she couldn't grab onto any concrete reason to refuse.

  "C'mon. It's for the girls. I'll even cook."

  "Fine."

  But it wasn't fine as she got into the car and headed for home.

  How could she spend an hour or more with Eric and pretend everything was normal when she felt so broken inside?

  8

  Courtney hadn't told Lily their destination until they were already in the car.

  It was a good thing, too, because the girl pitched a screaming fit.

  By the time they arrived across town at the sheriff's small bungalow, Lily was red-faced, and her eyes shone from building tears.

  Courtney got out of the car, but Lily made no move to exit the vehicle. Through the rear window, Courtney could see her daughter perched in the booster seat, seatbelt still across her chest, her arms crossed and a stubborn tilt to her chin.

  With a prayer for patience, Courtney opened the door. "Get out, please."

  Lily offered a mutinous glare.

  The front door opened, and Eric appeared. He was in his sock feet wearing a pair of faded jeans and a soft maroon sweater. He jogged outside and down the steps. "Good, you're here."

  Courtney looked over at him, unable to keep the pinch from her lips. "You might not be so glad to see us."

  His forehead wrinkled as a look of confusion crossed his face and then cleared. "She's mutinying?"

  She nodded.

  His lips twitched. "Can I talk to her?"

  "Be my guest."

  She stepped back as he squatted beside the open car door.

  "Hey, Lily."

  The girl huffed a little and turned her head to stare in the other direction, though from where Courtney stood, she still had a side view of the girl's face.

  He wasn't fazed. "I'm really glad you're here, and Bea is too."

  Lily rolled her eyes. When had she learned that? What was Courtney going to do when she became a teenager?

  "I made my world-famous spaghetti and meatballs. Don't you want to come in and eat some?"

  A tight sha
ke of her head was all the response Lily gave.

  "Are you upset about eating dinner with Bea?"

  Now Lily's head turned slowly toward him. She wore what was almost a look of...contempt? How did a little girl learn such a look?

  "I don't wanna eat supper with you," Lily spat.

  "Lily!" Humiliation swept through Courtney.

  But Eric only winked at her over his shoulder. He turned back to Lily's petulant pout. "You don't like me, squirt?"

  Lily's chin jutted out. "My name's not squirt. Why don't you leave my mama alone?"

  "What do you mean?" He didn't look over his shoulder this time, kept his focus on the girl.

  "You keep following her around everywhere. At school. And in town and everywhere. I know you're just waiting for a chance to 'rest her again. But she ain't no jailbird!"

  Eric flicked a glance at Courtney. Were the tips of his ears turning pink?

  "That's not why you see me with your mama. I'm not waiting on her to do something wrong." Another quick glance in her direction. "I like spending time with your mama because she's special."

  Courtney's face went hot.

  Lily's shoulders relaxed slightly, but her expression remained suspicious. "You mean like you want to marry her?"

  Hot? Her face was an inferno.

  But Eric didn't miss a beat. "Well, first I'd like to get to know her a little better. And maybe when she got to know me, she might find some things she doesn't like very much."

  Lily tilted her head, her expression softening. Of course she was getting into this now. Her arms came uncrossed and she clicked off her seatbelt. "Like what? You're a good guy, ain't you?"

  "Sometimes I have to work late. I work a lot. My brother says I have some kind of hero complex."

  Lily squinted at him for several long seconds. "I guess we can come in for dinner."

  He straightened up and stepped back just before Lily jumped out of the car. The girl raced past both of them to the front door.

  Courtney clutched the open car door with a white-knuckled grip.

  He stepped closer, though with the door between them, he could only get so close.