Something softened inside Elsa, the child’s words and pleading expression pushing her toward a new normal of caring. Joining. “I’ll absolutely think about it. Wouldn’t you prefer a regular teacher though?”
Cheyenne made a face. “No.” She folded her arms around her middle, still glum but not as angry, and led the way out the door. She didn’t say a word to her father. She walked past him, climbed into the truck using the small step on the side, sat down, and fastened her seat belt silently.
Nick looked her way, then back toward Elsa. “Half an hour?”
She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Okay.” Concern deepened his features. Regret shadowed his gaze, and for a brief moment Elsa was tunneled back to another rainy day, another child, another father.
This is nothing like that, her brain scolded instantly. Stop drawing parallels. Run inside and put something else on. You’re meeting Nick Stafford for coffee in twenty-eight minutes. Do something with yourself.
Like this was a date?
It wasn’t. It was a consult with a distraught father about his obstinate daughter. She did take time to clip her hair back and apply mascara to darken her fair lashes.
It might not be a date…but there was no rule that said she needed to look pale and washed out.
The bird woke up long enough to stare at her, disapproving, but he kept his opinions to himself, a rarity. Achilles slept on, curled on his rug in complete comfort, a serene moment, well deserved. She let herself out the door, climbed into her car, and headed for town for the second time in a week and felt almost normal doing it.
Nick drove back into town, frustrated with himself, with Cheyenne, and with the whole situation.
Elsa had reminded him to be patient.
Patience had never been his strong suit, and he grimaced, remembering, as he walked through the Coffee Shack’s front door. The scent of fresh-roasted beans and rich vanilla welcomed him, and when he spotted Elsa scribbling notes in a booth, his universe seemed to right itself slightly. “Hey.” He slid into the worn oak booth and refused to examine why it felt good to be there. “Am I late?”
She shook her head, finished whatever she was writing, and looked up.
Beautiful.
Soulful eyes, shining tonight. She’d clipped her hair back, away from her face, but the long blond mass had spilled over her left shoulder as she wrote, like an old-world painting, all blond and rose and pale.
“You’re building a house, I hear.”
“Hoping to,” he replied. “Hey, Mavis. Just coffee for me. Elsa, what about you? Coffee, tea? Dessert?”
“An iced mocha would be perfect,” she told the waitress. “And if Mr. Stafford is buying, then a piece of lemon cake would make me happy. Somehow spring and lemon cake make a nice pairing.”
“That does sound good.” He turned toward Mavis again. “Make it two lemon cakes, and can you pack one to go for Angelina?”
“And not your brother?” Mavis frowned. “Troublemaker.”
“Make it two,” he conceded, smiling. “I’ll call it a wedding present and be done with it.”
“Your brother’s getting married.” Elsa sat back as she made the observation.
“As soon as we have that church built.” He indicated the construction area down the road. “We pledged to help put this town back together after the fire, and the church is the current focus.”
“Noble.”
“Long overdue,” he argued, as they waited for their order. “My father kept us separate from the town for a long time. Except for basketball with Coach Irvine. That was our one major connection with the town growing up. School and shooting hoops.”
“Rancher elitism.” She made a face. “Who knew that was a thing?”
“Yeah, well, it was kind of the feudal lord and the peasantry and preposterous,” Nick replied. “Colt and I don’t agree on a lot of things, but we agree on this. We want to change people’s perceptions of the Double S, and surprisingly my father has arrived at a similar conclusion. I’m not sure if it’s guilt, illness, or a blast of faith-based common sense from my future sister-in-law, but I’ll take any improvement I can get. For the first time in a long time, we’re almost on the same page. Some of the time.”
“Families are a tricky business,” she agreed as Mavis brought their cake and coffee. “What made you decide about this new house now?”
Would it sound weird to confess that he’d never been at home in his own home? That he’d been out of place for a long time? He decided it would and stuck to basics. “Availability of labor. It’s construction season and the girls have been pushing to learn more about the ranch. To do that effectively, we’d be smarter to live on the Double S. I’ve been in trouble with Cheyenne for over a year because all the area ranch kids can ride and work in the barn. Most of them have been sitting saddle for years, and my father brought us up that way too. So in trying to do right by building us a home there so they can learn the things they want to learn, I’m clearly doing wrong, but let me just say”—he leaned forward, dismayed —“there is nothing clear about raising girls. Not one thing. Girls and women are the most confusing creatures known to man. And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.”
She laughed, sipped her iced coffee, and shrugged one very pretty shoulder. “You have a valid point, and of course it’s not the new house that put Cheyenne into a tailspin. It’s leaving the old house, the one she shared with her mother.”
“But Whitney’s been gone for three years.” He frowned, not understanding. “She doesn’t want to leave the memories? Because that last year wasn’t all that memorable from what I recall, and how much can Cheyenne remember from back then? She was little.”
“Have you noticed that Cheyenne keeps things nice and neat and clean?”
He nodded.
“And that she’s trying to be helpful with chores?”
“I figured that’s what kids do as they mature. They take on responsibility.”
“They do,” she agreed. “Especially when they’re hoping to impress their mother when she does come back.”
“No.” Did he look as surprised as he felt? Dumbstruck? He hoped not.
She hauled in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“She thinks Whitney’s coming back? She hasn’t breathed a thing like that to me since the first year.”
“She wants to be ready when that happens. Her mental scenario is that Mom walks into the house, sees how helpful Cheyenne has become, and stays forever.”
Nick’s heart sank.
He’d felt exactly like that when she first left. Angry but hopeful. Sad and yearning. Bitter but longing. He’d spent months filled with unanswered questions from an untraceable wife, except when she sent him the divorce papers. And even for a short while after that, he wondered when she would come to her senses.
She didn’t.
He did.
But not sensible enough, because how could Cheyenne be harboring these thoughts and never share them? “Why hasn’t she said any of this to me?” he asked Elsa. “Is it that she doesn’t trust me?” He braced his forearms on the table, leaned forward, and spoke more softly. “Or am I the bad guy in all this? Why would she be waiting and hoping and never say anything?”
The common sense of Elsa’s answer tweaked another nerve. “Because if we say unbelievable things out loud, other people’s expressions can chase the dream away. So we keep it safely tucked inside until we’re ready to give it up.”
He’d done the same thing with his father years ago, hoping his mother would return. Did he hide it as well? Was this a case of like father, like daughter?
“I can’t believe this.” He studied his coffee cup, then sighed. “How do I fix it?”
“You can start by talking to her openly.”
“Ha.” He sent her a bemused look. “You’ve seen how far that’s gotten me.”
“I know.” She made a face of sincere sympathy, but Elsa had no kids. Could she really understand that he felt
pretty much like a failure as a dad? “It’s really the best way. Usually kids have two parents to play against each other after a marriage breaks up. That way they can dole out the guilt, grief, and blame. But in this case you’re it, Nick. You’re all she’s got, and she doesn’t know how to resolve the mental and emotional issues hitting her. And of course by messing up the school year, she’s under greater pressure now. The school has offered her a chance to do summer school and stay in her grade.”
“Or be tutored.” Nick nodded. “Mrs. Willingham e-mailed me today, and this is really decent of her. Getting Cheyenne to summer school wouldn’t be easy, and finding someone with the patience to tutor her won’t be a piece of cake either. Speaking of which, this cake is pretty darn good.”
“It is.” She hesitated, ate a forkful of cake, then set the fork down. “Actually, she’s hoping I’ll do it.”
“You?” Nick stopped the fork and stared at her. “You’re a psychologist. Why would you spend your summer tutoring a kid, even a really cute one like my daughter? I’m pretty sure most therapists don’t grab tutoring side jobs.”
“Because she needs it?” She pressed the back of her fork to the last crumbs of cake, forcing moist crumbs to fill the tines. “I’m not exactly practicing my chosen profession at the moment. Hence the gratis work with Cheyenne.”
“I’d noticed. Do you want to tell me why?”
She hesitated slightly, then shook her head. “Nope.”
“I see.” He didn’t see. He didn’t see at all. To have someone come waltzing into the ranch, being part of the daily routine, and know little about her?
You knew nothing about Angelina, and that’s worked out to everyone’s benefit. You knew a lot about Whitney and got blindsided. What’s wrong with giving this idea a chance? She’s the principal’s sister and Cheyenne likes her. So do you, actually.
“There is a problem with this idea.”
Nick shoved the mental nudge aside. “I’m listening.”
She set her fork down. “I have to be careful not to get involved with my patients and their families. I have to maintain a professional distance, and I’m concerned that I won’t be able to do that effectively if I’m working with Cheyenne on her feelings and her schoolwork.”
“Hard to maintain a sense of personal detachment,” he said slowly.
“Exactly. And while I’d love to help Cheyenne and she’s already beginning to trust me, I don’t want to mess up our counseling relationship.”
“Become attached.”
“Yes.”
“Is that so bad?” She started to reply, and he held up a hand. “Elsa, we don’t know each other.”
She conceded that by dipping her chin slightly.
“You were a ranch kid. When you see the Double S, you’ll notice I don’t do anything without a plan of action. But right now my plan of action with the most precious thing in my world is failing. I don’t fail.” He lifted his shoulders. “It’s not in my genes. And yet my wife left me and our kids, my oldest daughter is mentally spinning in circles, and I don’t know how to fix any of it. So yes, I’d like to take a chance on you. I’d like for you to come and work with Cheyenne, if you wouldn’t mind and if you have the time. This is the first time Cheyenne’s asked anyone for help. For her to ask you is a big deal. Huge. And I’m going to be honest here. I think we’re supposed to form attachments as we go through life. I’m pretty sure half of my father’s problems were from lack of attachment to people, so if we can break that cycle too?” He raised his coffee mug in salute. “I’m all in.”
She stared beyond him for long, slow ticks of the café clock, then stuck out her hand. He shook it lightly, and when he did, a warm feeling stole over him, as if her hand in his was right somehow.
She pulled her hand back and stood, then waited while he paid the check. When he’d squared up with Mavis, Elsa moved forward, ahead of him, and a spiced scent drifted back his way. Delicious. “So. We have an agreement?”
She turned on the café steps and looked up at him with a gaze that mixed hope and something else. Something winsome and indefinable, the same feeling he got at her eccentric woodland home.
“You think spending my days with a bunch of hard-driving, cattle-herding, church-building roughnecks sounds like a good idea?”
It did, and he couldn’t resist saying so. “From where I’m standing?” He aimed an appreciative smile in her direction, and when the blush rose to her cheeks, he knew he’d made his point. “Absolutely. And if you’ve got time on Saturday, why not start right away? No sense wasting time, is there?”
She hesitated, then nodded. He walked her to her car, and when he swung the door wide, she looked up at him and smiled, surprised. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Elsa.”
She started the engine and drove off. He watched her go, more hopeful than he’d been for a while. She’d gotten Cheyenne to open up. That had to mean something. And she seemed comfortable with both girls, as if their well-being was important.
He’d spent a long time wondering why their mother hadn’t felt that way, but hearing Elsa talk about Cheyenne held up another reflection. His.
He’d been guilty of the same things. Trying to steer the girls in the direction Whitney had laid before them. He’d tried to maintain a sense of normalcy in an abnormal situation. If he stopped living in the past, perhaps Cheyenne’s emotional attachment to it wouldn’t be such a stumbling block.
Elsa’s taillights blinked out of sight over the rise.
Something stirred inside him. A sense of hope, rekindled.
He drove back to the ranch, picked up the girls, and hustled them home to bed. As he passed the curve where he planned to put the new house, peace flowed through him.
Cheyenne might not like the idea of a new home, but Nick knew it was the right thing to do. And the thought of having Elsa help out over the summer might make the whole thing less confrontational.
As he came downstairs from tucking them in, his phone signaled a text. He pulled it up and smiled instantly when a picture of Achilles popped up. Underneath the shaggy dog’s photo was a caption. “He is, of course, part of the summertime deal. Have dog, will travel.”
His grin deepened as he texted back, “We’ve got two pregnant Aussies, a proud father Aussie, cats, and chickens. As long as he doesn’t mind sharing the barnyard, it’s an open invite.”
“Deal.”
Just that. Nothing more, no wasted words.
He liked that. It was unusual to have a quiet woman around, wasn’t it?
Unusual in his experience. But nice.
June first. Elsa walked by the wall calendar and refused to turn the page. She couldn’t stop June from coming, but she could pretend it hadn’t arrived in the privacy of her little home. Would she ever be so busy and vital again that she wouldn’t notice? She hoped so.
Her phone buzzed and Nick’s number flashed in the display. “Nick. Good morning.”
“We’ve got a problem here.”
A single dad, a lot of work, two kids, and a wide assortment of angst sprinkled liberally. Problems were going to be a given. “Explain.”
“Dakota wants to come to Cheyenne’s session tonight. I told her no, and I explained the situation before they got on the bus this morning, but she looked sad and Cheyenne looked triumphant.”
Besting her little sister sounded pretty normal in Elsa’s book. “Bring Dakota with you when you drop Cheyenne off this afternoon. I’ll tell Dakota that I’ll be there on Saturday and that we’ll work together then. That will prep Cheyenne for sharing me with her sister.”
“You’re okay with starting Saturday?”
She was, and that surprised her as well. Being around Nick Stafford and those girls made her feel alive again. “How’s nine thirty in the morning? We’ll give it a couple of hours this first time and see how that goes.”
“And then lunch, here at the ranch.”
“I don’t want to be a bother, and we might want to keep my
roles separate,” she argued, while a part of her thought lunch at the ranch sounded lovely. “We don’t want to create a dependency.”
“Well, now, I think you create some kind of dependency any time folks develop a relationship or feelings, don’t you? I’m not sure how you can get around that.”
“Nick, I —”
“Cheyenne trusts you,” he continued. “Dakota thinks your bird is cool, and I can’t remember the last time I could carry on a comfortable conversation with a woman who didn’t have her own agenda in mind the whole time. Can’t we just leave it at that? Friendship with professional benefits? And we never settled on a pay rate for the tutoring. Is twenty-five dollars an hour acceptable?”
“I don’t need money.”
Silence greeted her words, and she could almost see him weighing her old car, the odd house, the dated clothes, but he didn’t need to know that she existed on a government subsidy to offset her loss of income when she left the well-heeled practice. That wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that inspired confidence in parents of needy children.
“I have to pay you. It would be wrong not to,” he argued. “I appreciate that you’re not practicing therapy now and that you’re not taking pay for seeing Cheyenne, but this is different. If you don’t do it, I have to hire someone who will, and I don’t want to do that because Cheyenne talks to you. That in itself is a step forward. We’ll compromise.”
Learning to compromise was a big part of a healthy emotional base. “I’m listening.”
“I pay for the tutoring, with food thrown in.”
“Nick, I —”
“Every decent job comes with a benefit package attached, and when you taste Isabo’s cooking, you’ll realize that the benefits outweigh the paycheck. Can we do three hours a day on the clock?”
Three hours was a reasonable amount of time to spend on missed schoolwork. “Three should be plenty. And I like benefits as well as the next person,” she told him. His answering laugh chased more shadows away.
A new day. A new season. A new time.
Home on the Range Page 7