“So how did your little meeting with Whitney go?” Colt spun a chair backward and straddled it after they tucked the girls and Noah into bed, just like he did when they were kids. “Did you do what Ange suggested and keep it in a public place?”
“The park, yes. I bought her coffee and explained she’d be welcome to see the girls here twice a week after their lessons, she went ballistic, and a great time was had by all.”
“Ouch. Sorry.” Angelina’s regret sounded real. “What about clothing?”
Nick frowned. “If you mean was she dressed in normal, appropriate, mother-friendly clothes, then no. Same kind of getup we saw yesterday, only the shirt was tighter. If that’s even possible.”
“So she needs a shopping trip.” Ange made a note on a small pad. “And what about food?”
Nick stared at her. “What about it?”
“Well, we can’t starve her, and she can’t be underfoot here every day or Elsa will never make progress with the girls. So you either move in here and let her use the house for a short-term contract, or you pay out of pocket for food and the inn. And she might be more likely to accept changes or make changes if she’s in a familiar environment.”
“But then she’ll want the girls to visit her there.” Nick shook his head. “That can’t happen, Ange. Not when we know she’s been drinking, and who knows what else?”
“Did you bring up the drinking?”
“Yes.”
“How’d she take it?
“Angry, bitter, antagonistic. The new normal, it seems.” Nick folded his hands and for the first time in a long time, he asked his brother for help. “What do you suggest?”
Colt stared, surprised. “You’re asking me?”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, yes. I’m too close to the whole thing. I can’t see straight to know which way to go. You’ve got a better perspective.”
Colt worked his jaw, then met Nick’s eyes. “Surprise her.”
“Huh?” Nick frowned. “With what? Flowers? Never mind, I’m sorry I asked.” He started to turn toward Angelina but paused when Colt smacked his arm. “Hey!”
“You asked, I’m answering, so pay attention,” Colt ordered. “Treat her kindly. Be caring. Provide for her. Do what Ange said—let her use the house for the time being. Tell her she needs to go to AA and regain her self-control if she wants to see the girls, and then offer to pray for her. Invite her to church.”
“Whitney was never a churchgoer,” Nick reminded him. As much as it pained him to admit it, he glimpsed a hint of truth in Colt’s advice. “You want me to go all ‘let bygones be bygones’ on her when what I want to do is run her out of town and pretend she did it of her own volition?”
“Kindness breaks down anger and oppression.” Angelina drew his attention with her words. “Your brother’s right, and I’m proud of him.”
Colt grinned and winked her way. “That’s my goal, schnookums.”
She pierced him with a fierce look, then smiled. “You’re such a boy.” She shifted her attention back to him. “Nick, Jesus ate with unbelievers, lepers, and tax collectors. He challenges us to do the same.”
“The whole ‘preach the gospel without words’ thing, right?”
“Exactly that. Teach by example. Live in love.”
“Says the woman packing a Glock,” Colt noted.
She shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being prepared, and not everyone plays by the rules.”
She stood and stretched. “I’m going to bed. Morning’s coming early. I’m glad the term is ending and we can adjust the schedule accordingly. And then I’ll be happy to have school start again at the end of summer and get back to a routine.”
Nick and Colt stood too. “You won’t hate it if I move in here for a while?” Nick asked because he and Colt might be brothers, but they hadn’t exactly been best buddies.
Colt faced him, serious for once. “This is home, Nick. And it’s time for you and me and Trey to realize it. Besides, it will be good for you to be around all the time once they start building the new house. And with Dad and Hobbs unavailable, you being here makes the most sense.” He studied the ranch image through the big plate-glass window. “You’ve worked hard to build this. Nothing wrong with being on hand to protect the investment.”
“You’re being nice.” Nick wasn’t sure what to make of this new and improved version of his know-it-all older brother. “It’s a welcome change.”
Colt pretended to scowl. “Don’t mess with my persona. I’m the mean one, remember?”
“You sure looked all mean and gruff when you were reading Noah his bedtime story tonight.” Angelina kissed him good night and started down the hall to the north wing of the broad house.
“I make occasional exceptions to the rule.”
She sent him an over-the-shoulder smile, and when Nick looked back at Colt, the look of sheer love on his older brother’s face gut-twisted him. Had he ever gazed at Whitney like that?
He didn’t think so. Maybe he’d never really loved her in his youthful stupidity. Maybe what he’d loved was the idea and image of a perfect family, to show his father that it could be done with a beautiful woman at his side
Epic fail.
Colt’s advice niggled him as he drove back to West Chelan Pass for the night. By giving Whitney a chance, he was living his faith, not just spewing it. He didn’t need the money from the sale of the house in town to start the new house rolling, which meant it was available if he and the girls moved to his father’s house.
Did he want Whitney to stay in Gray’s Glen?
No, he admitted honestly to himself.
But if she could clean herself up, then it would be in the girls’ best interests if she stayed. At least he hoped that was the case, but the thought of Johnny Baxter living drunk and disorderly all those years weighed on him. What if Whitney chose that instead? How would he deal with that? How would the girls deal with that?
He went to bed grim and woke up the same way. He didn’t stop to check the time or his appearance. He simply got into the truck, swung by the café, and grabbed two coffees in town. He drove into the woods to see Elsa. He wasn’t her patient, but he could use some insight, or maybe he just wanted to see her. Talk to her. In any case, he pulled into the woods long before the sun had a chance to dry the dew and rapped on her door.
The knock startled Elsa, woke the bird, and set Achilles into a tail-spinning frenzy. He let loose with a series of woofs as he bounded in circles, determined to protect her. The crazy bird marched sideways on his roost, back and forth, scolding the world for waking him too fast and too early. “Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!”
“You are in, hush! Oh my gosh, what in the world is happening? You, stop.” She signaled Achilles, but the mottled mixed breed only stepped up his game. She looked through the side window, spotted Nick, and sighed.
He looked good, even first thing in the morning, and she hadn’t even run a brush through her hair. He spotted her in the window and held up the two coffee cups, and the lost-puppy look on his face was a deal clincher. She moved to the door, swung it open, and let Achilles out and Nick in.
“Sorry.” He looked truly apologetic as he handed her a coffee. “I should have called.”
“You think? Gimme.” She reached for the tall sleeved cup with two hands. “I might have at least combed my hair and washed my face if you had.”
“You look beautiful, Elsa.”
His words trip-hammered her heart. She hadn’t been called beautiful in a long time, and she certainly hadn’t had any early morning male visitors. The combination delighted her emotionally. Mentally, she wanted a ten-minute warning so at least she could be out of her Snoopy and the Red Baron pajama pants. “Buttering me up won’t work, not until I’ve inhaled this coffee at least. Come in, sit down, and tell me what’s going on. But this is not a professional visit.”
“I don’t swing by the Coffee Shack for most doctors,” he admitted. He sat on the chair as she curled into a corn
er of the small sofa. “I never looked at the clock. Sorry.”
“Which means the girls weren’t with you.”
“They stayed at Dad’s.” He splayed his hands, set his coffee on the small table, and almost didn’t jump when the bird scolded.
“He’s a jerk! He’s a jerk! He’s a jerk!”
“Oh good grief.” She stood, crossed to Hoyl’s cage, and unlatched it. Then she opened the door and let the bird go free. “Come back, you hear?”
The bird fluttered to the floor, hopped to the door, then took flight.
“What happens the day he doesn’t come back?” Nick wondered, and Elsa raised her shoulders as she went back to the couch.
“I’ll miss him like crazy, but I’ll know he had a good life. A mix of two worlds. Risk costs.”
“Exactly why I’m here.”
She sat back, sipped the coffee, decided the hometown barista needed a raise because this was the best mocha she’d ever had, and waited.
“I’m thinking of moving into my father’s house for a few months,” he began. “Letting Whitney have a short-term contract for the house in town, and telling her she needs to go to AA if she wants the girls to visit.”
Mental red flags made Elsa put her coffee down. “What’s your reasoning on all this, Nick?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his reasoning because this was a big turnaround.
Did Whitney’s return offer Nick hope of reconciliation? And why did her head jump straight to that as if it was the worst idea ever? Because her heart was involved, that’s why. Remember, he’s not here as a patient. He’s here as a friend.
“Colt’s idea, actually.”
She almost spewed her coffee because that was the last answer she expected to hear.
“I know.” He paused while she coughed and waited until she’d stopped before tossing her a napkin from his front pocket. “He surprised me too, but it makes sense.”
“How, exactly?”
“You told me to put the girls first.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands. “Having your mother walk out bites, and it bites for a long time.”
Statistics and her experience agreed, so she nodded.
“If I make an effort to help her and she takes off again on her own, then at least Cheyenne has a chance to see the reality of both sides.”
“True.”
“If I roadblock her, then it looks like I’m the bad guy.”
“Sometimes parents have to be the bad guy to keep kids safe.”
“And that’s why I’m here.” He huffed, glanced down, and cringed. “What do you think, Elsa? Is she safe to be around the girls? Even with supervision?”
Whoa.
She did not want to be asked this. Not now. Not ever.
Tell him. Tell him why you won’t offer an opinion on this. Isn’t it better to know his reaction than presume it?
She couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she was feeling like a strong, healthy person for the first time since losing those children. For now —at least for a little while more—she wanted to be considered normal. The fact that being around Nick and the girls made her feel more than normal, even special, wasn’t anything she intended to minimize. “I can’t offer advice on that, Nick. I don’t know her well enough, I don’t know you well enough, and it’s out of my league. I’ve worked with kids, mostly.”
“And families.” He looked right at her, and for a moment she thought he must have run an Internet search, but then he added, “Your sister told me that when she suggested you.”
She sighed inwardly, partially relieved, but maybe it would be better if he stumbled on her past through an impersonal online search engine.
Chicken.
Yes.
She didn’t want Nick feeling sorry for her, and she sure didn’t want to lose his trust, because she loved working with the girls. But next to the relief came the realization that she couldn’t let him accidentally discover her past. It was up to her to tell him, and she needed to do that soon. But not today. “That wouldn’t work in this case, for obvious reasons.” She stared point-blank at him, and when he smiled, she knew she’d made her point.
“A conflict of interest goes both ways,” he told her.
“But here’s what I think.” She faced him directly and waded in. “I believe in being nice. I believe in sharing blessings. But there are givers and takers in this world. Most of us are a fairly normal combination, but when a taker goes to extremes, their effect on those around them can be dreadful.”
“A narcissist.”
“Along those lines of behavior, yes. The lack of satisfaction, no matter how much they’re given.” She wrinkled her brow, not wanting to discourage him but wanting to hike his awareness. “True narcissism is a rare disorder, but selfishness and self-absorbed natures are running rampant in modern society. So you’ve got to be careful while being kind.”
“Is this the therapist or the woman talking?”
She frowned and shrugged. “It’s hard to draw a hard line because I’m both.”
“How’s your coffee?”
The change of subject made her smile. “Perfect. How’s my hair?”
He laughed, and she should have been insulted. She wasn’t because she felt at ease around him, as if messy hair wasn’t a huge deal, although she was glad she’d taken time to brush her teeth when she got up. A girl could only stand so much embarrassment. “I think it’s a good thing to do, Nick. If you’re strong enough to set parameters and mean them.”
“She likes to push the envelope.”
Elsa conceded that with a grimace. “Typical for selfish types, bending rules because they don’t think they really apply to them.”
“That’s Whitney.”
“You need to write things down, like a contract. Give her a copy.”
“You mean have her sign it?” Nick scoffed. “That’ll never happen.”
“No signature needed. Her promises probably don’t mean a lot right now anyway. But if you put things in black and white, concrete rules of engagement, then she can’t plead that she misunderstood or something wasn’t clear. Because it is clear.”
“That’s actually a great idea.”
She shrugged pretend modesty. “Every now and again I have one.”
“I’ll set it up.” He stood, glanced at his watch, then made a face. “I had no idea it was this early. I’m sorry, Elsa.”
She raised the coffee cup, then stood. “It got me coffee I wouldn’t have had otherwise, so we’re good.”
“Are we, Elsa?” He looked down. Met her gaze. Held it. His attention shifted from her eyes to her mouth, as if wondering. And when his arm circled her shoulders, drawing her in, his next words sealed the deal. “Let’s find out.”
He kissed her. He kissed her long and slow as if they had all the time in the world, as if kissing her meant something wondrous.
Her toes went tight while her heart sped up, and when he deepened the kiss, rational thought dissolved into sweet emotional bliss.
“Elsa.” He held her close, sighed, and pressed his cheek against her messy hair. “I didn’t come here to do this, but maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to see for myself if kissing you would be as wonderful as I kept imagining it would be, and that’s a stretch because I really don’t have much of an imagination.”
“Was it?”
He laughed softly. “It was on my end. On a good-better-best rating scale, I’d give it an outstanding.”
“Off the charts.”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled against his chest, then sighed.
“Hold the lecture, Doc, I know what you’re going to say.”
“Add mind reader to list of interesting qualities,” she muttered as if making a list.
“We need to hold back, go slow, make sure the girls are first and foremost.”
“Yes.” She handed him his hat and pointed to the door. “You’ve got work to do.”
“And a better frame of mind with which to do it,” he teased, smiling. “I�
�ll call you later.”
Such simple words to put bright expectation on her heart. “I’ll look forward to answering.”
He left, but when he turned and tipped the brim of his hat in her direction, she realized anew what a good, solid man Nick Stafford was.
He deserved to know the truth. Would he be able to see beyond the obvious, that she’d stumbled emotionally?
Or would a man who’d already been failed by the two most important women in his life run for the hills when he realized her frailties?
Either way, she had to come clean. Honesty in a relationship wasn’t an option; it was a basic need.
She hadn’t always been overly careful. She’d accepted life joyously and worked her way forward. That all stopped on a warm, damp June day three years before.
In her self-prognosis, she wanted that part of herself back again. The spontaneous woman who listened well and embraced life. She’d shrugged off any kind of embrace since losing those children. Meeting Nick and the girls had highlighted just how much she missed it.
Nick came in from cutting hay midday, knowing the house would be a whole lot busier once school was out. Then there would be at least three kids running up and down the stairs, and all the noise and mess that came along with parenthood. As long as he could get through this week’s first grade graduation, the upcoming dance recital, and maintain the increasing clutch of daily work on short help…and the alcoholic ex-wife…he’d be fine. He strode through the kitchen door, saw Colt holding Angelina, and stopped. “What’s happened? What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?”
Colt drew a deep breath before he turned, and that was Nick’s warning. “It’s Dad.”
Nick darted a look down the hall to the first-floor bedroom Sam had been using for months. “What’s wrong? Is he worse? Is he—?” He couldn’t say the words out loud because, for all their tempest, he wasn’t ready to lose his father. Not until they’d settled a few more scores, and that might take decades because settling scores seemed to take record time in Stafford-land.
Home on the Range Page 14