The Rancher's Second Chance (Martin's Crossing Book 3)

by Brenda Minton

  “I’ve thought about it. That’s in the five-year plan.”

  Footsteps in the hall ended the conversation. He stood when Grace entered the kitchen. For some reason he couldn’t speak. He felt as if he was sixteen again, when Lacy Dodson had asked to sit next to him at lunch. He hadn’t believed life could be so good.

  She hadn’t wanted him for long, either. The memory brought him back down to earth. He cleared his throat and managed to be a grown man.

  Barely.

  “I thought I’d drive you to Fort Worth to see your grandparents.”

  “You don’t have to.” She smoothed her hands down the sides of the floral dress she wore. It looked like one from Oregon’s shop—a combination of peasant-style and 1960s hippie. He didn’t know much about fashion, but he knew that this style softened the woman who could be a hard-as-nails cowgirl into a woman who looked easy to hold. It hugged her rounded form. It brought color to her cheeks. Somehow it made her brown eyes the color of chocolate and her hair the color of moonlight.

  He let out a sigh because those thoughts, about moonlight hair and chocolate eyes, proved that a woman could make a man lose his mind.

  “I know I don’t have to drive you. But I’m going there anyway, so you might as well ride with me.”

  “You’re going?” She said it sweetly, getting what he meant. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to do this, Brody. You’ll be glad, too.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” He cleared his throat, looking down at the tile floor. “And prayed about it.”

  “Then, we should go,” she said, plucking at his sleeve, holding the fabric between her fingers. “Before you change your mind.”

  “I’m not changing my mind,” he insisted. He’d been the one pushing this, wanting to know where Sylvia Martin was. Now that he knew, he was going to face her.

  “You’re not the only one who has something to face,” Grace told him as they headed down the road a few minutes later. “I have to face myself and my grandparents. I have to face God with the horrible mess I’ve made of my life.”

  “I think you’ve done that already.”

  “Yes, maybe God, but my grandfather is another matter altogether,” she said with a teasing tilt of her lips.

  Brody eased onto the main road. “I look forward to meeting him,” he said.

  She laughed at that. “He isn’t as bad as I make him sound.”

  “I’m sure he’s not. As a matter of fact, I think we’ll see him first.”

  “That isn’t fair,” Grace protested. “You should let me go last.”

  “No, this trip is yours. I’m just along for the ride, remember?”

  She rolled her eyes and reached for the radio. Brody felt the tension breaking free inside him. He knew it would rebuild later, when he faced Sylvia. For now he could pretend they were on a nice country drive, headed anywhere but to their respective fates.

  * * *

  The big house loomed ahead of them. Grace felt everything inside her tense. “This is it.”

  “It isn’t the inquisition or a firing squad,” Brody reassured her, reaching for her hand.

  “No, it isn’t. I know my grandparents love me, so this isn’t really about them. It’s more about me. It’s about facing my mistakes and not hiding from them.”

  “What would we learn if we were perfect, Gracie?”

  She reached for her door as he parked. “I like when you call me Gracie. It’s as if I’m still that person. And you, Brody, you’ve always known who you are.”

  “I think you know who you are, Grace,” he assured her. “I think you just had to take a detour on the journey. If you’d stayed here, you would have always wondered.”

  “But the baby, this poor baby didn’t ask for all this.”

  He shook his head. “What, to be born to a mom who will love him and take care of him?”

  “But he won’t have...” Her baby wouldn’t have a father.

  “He’ll have everything.”

  She stepped out of the truck. “She.”

  They walked to the front door of the house and she hesitated before hitting the doorbell. Brody pushed it. Twice. His hand rested on the small of her back, comforting her even if it was meant to hold her in place.

  The door opened and her grandmother blinked a few times before her lips turned in a blinding smile.

  “Grace, honey. Since when do you ring the bell?” her grandmother admonished as she glanced from Grace to Brody. “And who is your friend?”

  “This is Brody. I’ve been staying with his soon-to-be sister-in-law. Brody, this is my grandmother, Betty Thomas.”

  “Well, come in, both of you. We were just getting ready to have lunch. Your grandfather has to visit a few church members this afternoon, but he’s going to be so glad to see you. And your mom sent a necklace back for you. It’s beautiful. The beads are hand painted.”

  The conversation continued in an easy way as they walked through the house to the kitchen and breakfast nook, where Grace’s grandfather was fixing a sandwich. When he saw Grace, his eyes widened. He put down the knife and rounded the counter to take her in a hug.

  “My Gracie girl. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

  “Granddad, I’ve missed you.”

  “We’ve missed you, too. It’s been too long.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.” She leaned against his shoulder.

  He held her away from him, his gaze sweeping, acknowledging and then he hugged her again. “This isn’t something you can’t get through, Gracie. You’re made of strong stuff and that little baby of yours is going to be loved. And you’re loved. Isn’t that where all things begin, with love?”

  “Yes, Granddad, but...”

  “But nothing. You made a mistake. If you were the first person to make a mistake, that would be newsworthy. Is this how I wanted things to go for your life? No, probably not. After all, we’re grandparents and we wanted the fairy tale for our granddaughter. But this is your story to write, and this is the chapter where you learn lessons about yourself.”

  Her grandmother put plates, bread, lunch meat and a tray of fruit on the counter. “And what you do next matters.”

  “I’m going back to college and I’m going to get my nursing degree.” She put bread on two plates. One for herself and one for Brody, who stood on the other side of the island, watching out the French doors. “I’ll probably move home soon.”

  Her grandmother circled an arm around Grace’s waist. “Now that we’re home, you could come home tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I could. I just...” She glanced at Brody. He’d turned from the window and their gazes locked. “I’ve thought about staying in Martin’s Crossing. I enjoy small towns.”

  “I can understand that,” her granddad said as his attention drifted to Brody. “You’re a Martin?”

  “Yes, sir.” Brody held out his hand to her grandfather. “Brody Martin.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Brody. I’m Howard Thomas. We’re grateful to you and your family for looking out for Gracie.”

  “We were happy to do it.”

  Grace pushed the sandwich with a helping of fruit across the counter to Brody. “Sandwich, Sir Galahad.”

  He arched a brow and took the plate. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  She joined him and her grandparents at the table where they held hands and her grandfather said a blessing. They ate, their conversation focusing on her parents in South America and the short mission trip her grandparents had taken. At one point she thought her grandfather might bring up what happened with Lincoln, but her grandmother shot him a warning look and suddenly he shifted the conversation to the weather.

  After they ate, Grace’s grandmother took her for a walk. They exited through the side door of the house hand in hand, her gr
andmother cautious on the stone steps that she’d fallen on the previous year.

  “Nan, before you say it,” Grace started to say as they stopped at the edge of the patio. “Before you tell me that God has forgiven me, I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

  “Grace, what I don’t understand is why you keep apologizing to us?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I feel as if I’ve let my family down. I’ve let myself down. I’ve let God down. There is a long list of people I’ve hurt.” Including Brody, but she left him off the list. “Apologizing seems to be something I do a lot of these days.”

  “Well, stop. You’ve apologized enough, and now it’s time to make a plan and move forward. What we’ve learned in ministry is that when people feel like they’ve failed, they tend to get stuck in the mistake and dwell in it. Every day becomes about that wrong choice or mistake. They relive it. They repeat it. Start with action. Pick a goal that you can achieve and move forward with a plan that will change things for the better.”

  “I can do that,” she assured her grandmother.

  Her grandmother guided her forward. They were heading toward the vegetable garden, although there wouldn’t be much to it this time of year. Her grandmother had grown up on a farm and wanted the connection with her past. She put out a big garden every year and spent weeks canning vegetables for winter. She said it kept her young.

  “I blame your aunt for this,” her grandmother said as she looked the garden over, reaching to pull a few weeds. “Jacki has always rushed through life and away from God. I know she filled your head with nonsense about your gilded cage, because that’s how she felt as a teenager. She felt as if the whole world was watching every move she made. So she made sure they watched.”

  “Aunt Jacki did encourage me to live a little, but she also warned me to stay away from Lincoln Carter. I tried to break things off.” Her hand stole to her belly. She closed her eyes. “When he found out I was pregnant, he tried to make me get an abortion. And when that didn’t work, he resorted to violence.”

  “I’m so sorry we weren’t here. I’m also sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us.”

  “I got away.” She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the twinge in her back, the telltale sign of a growing baby. “I got away.”

  “There is no gilded cage,” her grandmother repeated. “Yes, there are expectations. Your parents have them, we have them and I know the church has some. But in the end what matters most is that you have expectations for yourself, and you know you’re doing what God called you to do.”

  Grace hugged her grandmother. “Thank you, Nan.”

  They broke apart and began their walk again. “About the young man in the house...”

  Grace kept a straight face. “He’s just a friend.”

  Her grandmother gave her a pointed look but didn’t comment.

  “He’s helped me through a lot,” Grace added.

  “I’m glad he was there for you.”

  So was Grace. It hadn’t been easy for him, but she was thankful he’d opened the door and let her in.

  She and her grandmother picked the few green beans that still clung to vines. They put them in their pockets the way they’d been doing since Grace was a little girl. Her grandmother found a cantaloupe hiding beneath wide, yellowing leaves and held it out to her. Grace lifted it to her nose and inhaled the earthy sweetness.

  “Dessert?” her grandmother asked as they turned and headed back to the house.

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  “Do you have to leave today?” Nan asked as they neared the house.

  Grace nodded. “Yes. Brody is going to visit his mother in a residential facility here. And then we head back.”

  “She’ll come home when she’s ready, Bet,” Granddad called out from a nearby glider. Sitting next to him was Brody, hat in hand.

  Grace held her grandmother’s arm as they approached the men. Brody stood, pushing his hat back on his head. She was struck by his presence, by her reaction to him being there, in her world. She had two worlds, she realized. She always had. She had lived in this world of privilege, but her heart had yearned for something else, something more basic. Her gaze connected with Brody’s and her heart answered the questions for her, what it was she’d been looking for, what she’d been missing.

  If only the answer had come sooner. If only she’d recognized it earlier.

  “Grace?” Brody’s voice eased into her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. I got a little lost in thought. We should go.”

  “So soon?” her grandmother asked. When Grace nodded, Nan continued, “Then, come home soon. If not, we’re going to drive down there to see you.”

  “We can do both, Nan.” Grace hugged her grandmother. She hugged her grandfather. “I love you.”

  With goodbyes said, she turned to Brody. “Ready to go?”

  His expression altered but he nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They left, walking together to the truck, the heat of late September beating down on them. In the distance she heard the drone of traffic, a jet flying overhead. Familiar sounds. But she’d gotten used to the quiet of Martin’s Crossing.

  As they headed down the highway, the GPS giving them directions to the facility where Sylvia Martin lived, Grace thought about the past six months.

  “I tried breaking things off with Lincoln. More than once.”

  Brody gave her a quick look, then directed his attention back to the road. “Okay.”

  “I don’t even know why I went out with him.”

  “He has a way of convincing women that he’s charming. From a man’s point of view, I can’t say that I get it.”

  “There’s nothing charming about Lincoln Carter.” She left it at that because now wasn’t the time to tell everything about a relationship she should never have started.

  The GPS announced there was one mile until their destination would be reached. Grace thought about destinations and where she was going. Her grandmother had said to pick a goal, something to work toward.

  After this, where did she belong?

  Chapter Eleven

  The facility was long, brick with multiple windows down each side and an entrance in the center. Several people sat under a covered patio. Brody parked, then sat in the truck for a minute looking at the building, not really seeing it. He definitely didn’t want to get out and face the woman inside.

  “We should go in,” Grace said eventually.

  Brody nodded, agreeing but not wanting to agree. He’d rather start his truck and head back to Martin’s Crossing. He couldn’t, though. He’d spent a lot of years wondering where Sylvia had gone and wanting to ask her why she’d left. Today he would face her, but he didn’t know if she would remember. He didn’t know if she’d be able to answer his questions.

  “Let’s go,” he said, getting out.

  Grace walked with him to the front of the building. One of the older men sitting on that patio smiled up at them, and then winked at Grace.

  “Thank you, son, for bringing her with you. You just made my day.” The old gentleman chuckled and elbowed his friend, who sat next to him in a wheelchair.

  The friend glanced up, nodded a little and then dropped his head to resume his nap. The other man shook his head.

  “He misses everything. What are you two doing here today?”

  “I’m here to see my...to see Sylvia Martin.” Brody reached to push the buzzer that would unlock the door and allow them to enter.

  “Guess I don’t know her. Well, you have a good visit.”

  Brody opened the door and he and Grace entered the facility with its gold carpet and light brown walls. Once they were inside, he didn’t really know what to do. Grace took over, leading him down the hall to the nurse’s station. A woman at th
e desk looked up.

  “Can I help you?”

  Brody had a lot of answers for that question. Most had to do with why he was here and how he could get out of this mess. He let out a breath and managed to cowboy up.

  “I’m here to see Sylvia Martin.”

  “Are you a relative?” The woman’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, then Grace.

  “I’m her son.”

  “I only have one relative listed, a daughter.” The woman hit a few buttons on the computer. “Yes, just a daughter.”

  “I’m not sure why you only have my sister on the list. There are five of us. Well, four now.”

  “Okay.” The woman clicked a few buttons. “I can fix that. Your name is? And can I see ID?”

  “Brody Martin.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. She slid a clipboard across the counter to him.

  “Sign here, Brody Martin. I’ll walk you down to her room.”

  “Will she know me?”

  She shrugged. “Does she know you? She has some issues but usually remembers people. Kayla was here the other day and she knew her.”

  “Kayla?”

  The nurse cocked her head to the side and looked him over.

  “Your sister?”

  A small foot made contact with his shin. “Oh, of course.”

  The nurse gave him a curious look. “Well, let’s go see how Sylvia is doing today.”

  “If you just give me the room number, I’m sure we can find her.”

  He didn’t want this woman to walk with them, to witness his first visit with his mother in over twenty years. He wasn’t even sure he wanted Grace with him. But then, he couldn’t imagine doing this without her. That was the problem with Grace. He wanted her with him. He wanted her gone. His emotions went back and forth like that about a dozen times a day.

  Now, in this moment, he needed her.

  The nurse came out from behind the desk. “I don’t mind at all.”

  They walked down a back hall to a room near the end. The door was partially opened, and from inside they heard an afternoon talk show. “She likes her talk shows,” the nurse said.