“It was marvelous and cute and reminded me of all the reasons you and I focused in on working with kids. They’re an absolute pleasure, most of the time, which is why I printed off the job posting for you. But that’s not the reason I called.”
“Then what?”
“I’m having second thoughts about you working with Nick’s girls.”
This was about the last thing Elsa expected to hear. “A little late now.”
“It’s not too late. It’s never too late, Elsa. I shouldn’t have pushed it. There’s no reason a well-off guy like Nick Stafford can’t take his kids into the city for treatment. I really think it would be better if you didn’t see them anymore.”
“Why?”
“A number of reasons. He likes you. You like him. Let’s just cite conflict of interest and be done with it.”
“How about we don’t cite that at all,” Elsa replied. “Nick and I are working well together, and that’s been a positive for his kids. I’ve made a promise to Cheyenne to tutor her, and I’m not going to break that promise. Especially now, with her mother’s unexpected return. For Cheyenne’s sake, I think continuity is in her best interests and outweighs other factors.”
A moment of silence yawned between them, and in its wake Elsa sensed the truth. “Whitney makes you nervous.”
“I don’t want to get into this, Elsa. I just want —”
“You’re afraid she’ll tip me over the edge. Or worse, that she’s a danger to those girls and I’ll feel responsible.”
“There are plenty of therapists around. He can get someone else to counsel them. And someone else to teach Cheyenne. Honestly, Elsa, it’s for the best.”
“A few weeks ago you thought this was a great idea.”
“I was wrong. Not the first time, won’t be the last,” Rachel admitted.
“But if not now, when? If not me, then who?” Elsa asked, and when Rachel started to answer, she interrupted. “I’m being rhetorical, Rach. I hear what you’re saying. I understand your concerns. But if I don’t step out and take hold now, I’m afraid I might never do it. And besides, who better to be observing than someone with my experience? Maybe I’m here for just that reason. Have you considered that?”
“And if she messes things up? If she does something rash? I knew her years ago,” Rachel pressed. “And this Whitney is like a shadow of the former one. A dark shadow. Looking at her today I got weird, menacing vibes, and I don’t want anything to happen to you, Elsa.”
“Me either,” Elsa assured her. “But I don’t want to slip backward again. No more living in the shadows. I intend to stick with the plan to help Nick’s girls, and I’m filling out the middle school application as we speak.”
“The application is fine. Testing Whitney Stafford’s claws is probably not the best idea. Please remember that when I suggested all this, she was nowhere in sight. That’s a game changer.”
Rachel’s concern had the opposite effect. Instead of worrying Elsa, it empowered her. “I’ve made a commitment, Rach, and I intend to keep it. What can go wrong in a house full of Staffords? As discordant as that family can be on the outside, they’ve got a solid internal bond. Real family. Like ours.”
“You’re sure, Elsa?”
“Positive. Now stop mother-henning me. I’ve got papers to fill out.”
“I’ll hound you daily.”
“If you do, I won’t answer,” Elsa replied. “Treat me normally please. At least that way I feel like I’ve regained ground. Okay?”
Her reply didn’t sit well with Rachel, and she didn’t like that her sister picked up bad sensations from Whitney. But Elsa understood what Angelina and Rachel couldn’t see: those early days of coming off addictive habits drove the self inward. If Whitney got through the first few weeks of sobriety and still sent off stress-inducing vibes, then Elsa would take the warnings more seriously. For the moment, the woman needed a chance.
Wasn’t that why Christiana and Braden’s mother brought civil charges against you? For giving Will Belvedere too much of a chance?
It was.
But she’d done nothing wrong in her recommendations or her treatment. She’d come to understand that. What Will did wasn’t her fault. But how she wished she’d followed her instincts that day.
She hung up the phone and moved into the wide patch of late-afternoon sun.
She could help Cheyenne and Dakota. She loved being around Nick, and he seemed to reciprocate the feeling. But could she differentiate the rest of the family dynamics enough to assess Whitney?
She didn’t know, but it came down to this: she believed the kids were safer with her around, and that made the decision to stay involved a no-brainer.
Nick faced Whitney across the porch the following week and stared in disbelief, certain he’d heard wrong. “You want what?”
“I want the girls to come live with me. That way I can come and go with them as I please. If they want to go shopping, we go shopping. If I want to take them to a movie, we go to a movie. That’s the way it should be, Nick. I’m their mother.”
Nick had to bite back the host of reasons that wasn’t about to happen, and it wasn’t easy. “Have you talked to your sponsor about this?” When she hesitated, he sighed. “Between the church halls and the community centers here and in Cle Elum and Roslyn, there are AA meetings every single day. I know because I checked. Morning, afternoon, or evening. You said you’d go.”
“I’m not like the people in those meetings. Have you been there, Nick?”
He shook his head and replied, “I think they’re people trying to get back on their feet, day by day. Maybe not so different, Whitney.”
“It’s not the place for me.”
Arguing over it would get them nowhere. She’d agreed to go, but she was staying sober, and Nick was pretty sure it had been a rough eight days. “You’ve been sober for just over a week, Whitney. I’ve given you a house to live in, food, and clothes. But that’s just the beginning of getting healthy. The next steps are up to you, and they don’t include the girls living with you. And besides, how were you expecting to pay for all these little excursions?”
Her blank stare indicated she expected him to foot the bill.
He started to turn away, then didn’t. If she needed a reminder, he’d give her one. “You signed over sole custody to me over two years ago, as part of your quickie divorce, remember? And you stayed out of their lives for three long years. Your youngest daughter doesn’t even remember you, so no. They’re not coming to live with you. End of discussion.”
“It’s not the end of anything,” she shot back. She moved in front of him to block his path. “You let Cheyenne get on a horse and get hurt. I heard all about it, Nick. And I saw her working her routines at dance class this week. She’s not practicing hard enough, she’s not nailing her numbers, and that’s because you’ve let her slack off.”
“Or it’s because she doesn’t like dancing and she’d rather ride herd with her dad,” Nick countered. “She’s already made the decision to stop taking dancing and gymnastics lessons. Dakota too. Once the recital’s done, they’re done. We’re going to spend the next year learning about horse care and riding. The girls want to explore their heritage on the ranch, and I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“That’s Colt talking. Not you. You wanted them safe and sound, just like I did.”
“And then you disappeared,” he reminded her.
“We’re talking about the here and now.” She shot a dark look at the house. “There was nothing for me there, Nick. I was always the outsider, and that’s a wretched place to be when you’re up against Team Stafford. Your father might be sick, but he’s still formidable. He doesn’t like that I’m here, and that makes my time with the girls uncomfortable. It would be better for all three of us for me to have time with the girls at my house. We’d all settle in more quickly.”
Surprise pushed Nick’s brows higher. “Your house?”
She flushed as if hoping he wouldn’t c
atch the slip. Oh, he caught it all right, and Whitney needed to realize that she wasn’t claim-jumping the house in town. “You do remember I bought you out of that house for the cool sum of a hundred-and-ten grand two years ago, right? I don’t want to know what you did with the money, Whitney.” He held up both hands to stop any explanation she might want to throw his way. “That’s your business. But don’t forget you’re in that house temporarily. The excavators are scheduled to break ground for our ranch house here next month. If you want to buy the house on West Chelan, I’ll be happy to sell it to you. But first you need a job. If you’re staying in town, you’ve got to be able to make your own way.”
“It’s always easy for the rich to pass edicts on the poor.” She gave him a cold hard stare. “When you’re born to a life of ease, I guess it’s hard to see the struggles of the little people you Staffords crush beneath your feet on a regular basis.”
“Nobody crushed you, Whitney.” If anything, he’d given sway too often until nothing he or the girls did satisfied her. “Nobody wants to crush you. But you’ve made choices, and you can’t just pick up where you left off. We’ve had a lot of hurt and heartache to deal with here. So get that notion out of your head. The girls are living here, you’re welcome to visit them here, and I’ve got cows to tend.”
She swore under her breath, but Nick kept walking.
She needed cooling-off time.
So did he.
Her audacity galled him. Stripey dashed past as he strode to the barn, which meant Dakota was probably chasing the kitten. He paused, and when his youngest daughter raced around the corner of the house, she ran right into her cowboy father. “Are you supposed to be playing over here?”
She gulped. “No. But Stripey—”
“But Stripey nothing. Cars come in and out of this area. Big tractors come down from the fields. I do not want my little girl hurt because she won’t follow directions. Now go play on the other side with the rest of the kids or I’ll have Angelina put you under house arrest.”
She made a tortured face. “Not that!”
“If clipping your wings is the only way to keep you safe, I’ll do it, ’Kota. And you know it.”
“I’ll be good. I promise!” She hugged his legs and dashed back toward the wide, grassy front slope, totally ignoring her mother on the side porch.
Whitney stared after her, but he didn’t see a sad mother, anguished by the lack of relationship with a beloved child. He saw a chasm, as if any bond they’d once shared as mother and infant had dissolved. Could that happen? Could a rift of nothing form from what had been something? He understood Dakota’s end; she was a preschooler when Whitney left. But Whitney’s lack of emotion formed the puzzle piece. Isaiah’s words flooded him as he moved toward the barn, God’s promise to remember his children, even if their mothers forget them.
He didn’t get it.
He’d lived his life wishing for a mother. Praying for a mother. Angry at Sam Stafford for his mother’s abandonment. But Whitney’s facial expression was a wake-up call.
Maybe not everyone was meant to be a mother. Putting kids’ needs first wasn’t an easy deal. He didn’t mind it because it felt right to him, but what if you hated making the daily sacrifices, and resentment grew?
He moved into the barn realizing that maybe his father wasn’t always the bad guy, and that was a revelation nearly thirty years in the making.
Elsa had assigned Cheyenne earbuds and a skill-building math website with graduated tracking. Once Cheyenne mastered mental addition and subtraction in the allotted time-per-problem ratio mandated by the program, she’d move on. In the meantime, Elsa was glad the girl hadn’t heard the heated discussion just beyond on the side porch.
Angelina heard it though. She came into the house through the front door and indicated the open back door with a nod. “I wasn’t about to walk into the middle of that,” she said softly as she brewed a fresh cup of coffee. “And I can’t believe she had the nerve to push to have the girls come into town her second week here. In Nick’s house.” She looked at Elsa, then frowned. “Sorry, I don’t mean to put you in an awkward spot. You’re easy to talk to, which is probably a plus in your profession, but it loosens my tongue.”
“We’ll classify anything you say as confidential,” Elsa told her as Whitney slammed the door of her car without poking her head in to say good-bye. Of course, she treated Angelina and Elsa like hired help, so why should she bother with pleasantries? “Nick said there’s a buyer coming in from Montana today and one from Wyoming tomorrow.”
“This is the time of year when deals are struck,” Angelina explained. “They buy and sell in advance of pregnancy. This year’s calves are all sold.”
“Ranchers preorder calves?”
“They sure do.” Angelina raised her coffee cup. “Coffee? Tea? Iced tea?”
“I brought some, actually.” When Elsa withdrew the tall bottle of premade tea from her bag, Angelina groaned.
“That’s not real. That’s…something else entirely. I have a whole pitcher of fresh lemon tea in the fridge. With no weird things in it. Put that away.”
“Nick is right; you are bossy. But I can see why the whole family loves you. And obeys you instantly.” Elsa plunked her tea onto the counter, opened it, and drank. “I like this stuff, chemical aftertaste and all. Perhaps it’s an acquired taste.”
Angelina squealed, then dashed around Elsa and threw open the back door. “Another prodigal comes forth! Hail the missing son!”
A cowboy stepped in, grabbed Angelina in a hug, and spun her around. “Thank you for your constant updates and for sacrificing your life by marrying my stupid brother. If being married improves Colt’s disposition, we will be forever in your debt, Angelina.”
“Oh, you like him and you know it.” She smacked his arm, then hugged him again. “I’ve been praying you’d get things wrapped up, because we need you here. Colt and Nick won’t admit it, but with Sam and Hobbs both down and trouble on the home front”—she tipped a look Cheyenne’s way —“and rebuilding a church, we’re swamped.”
“How is Dad?” The cowboy met Angelina’s worried look and sighed. “Okay. That says enough.”
“Did you get tested as a possible donor match?” Angelina asked softly. “Or do you prefer not to?”
The cowboy looked surprised. “Of course. They said they’d send the results to the medical team here.”
“You’re a good man, Trey.”
He shrugged that off, then noticed Elsa. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Trey Stafford. The youngest son.”
Elsa put out a hand in welcome. “Nice to meet you. I’m Elsa. I’m working with that one.” She pointed toward the table. Trey poked his head around the corner and grinned. Cheyenne caught a glimpse of him, tossed her earbuds aside, and jumped up from the chair. “Uncle Trey!”
“Shh. Grandpa’s sleeping,” Elsa cautioned her, but it was good to see normal, happy emotion in Cheyenne’s instant reaction.
Trey hugged Cheyenne tight, but when he shot Elsa a look over the girl’s head, she read question in his eyes. “So who is this nice lady, Cheyenne? She’s mighty pretty.”
“This is Elsa.” Cheyenne turned toward Elsa while clinging to her uncle. “She’s helping me do schoolwork this summer.”
Trey looked right into Cheyenne’s eyes and didn’t scold her for needing help or tease her about blowing off the year. He just gently bumped his forehead to hers and smiled. “I’m glad, honey.”
Nick had told her Trey was the easygoing brother. His gentle interaction with Cheyenne proved it.
“Me too.” Cheyenne whispered the words and hugged him again as if his acceptance meant something. “Are you staying this time? And are you staying here?”
He stood, accepted the mug of coffee from Angelina, and answered both questions. “I am staying to help with things, and no, this house is a little crowded right now. I’m going to stay in the cabin that Isabo and Noah used before they moved in here. I need
things a little quieter when I’m writing songs.”
Elsa looked closer. Her mouth dropped open. She shut it, but not before Angelina caught the look and laughed. “You didn’t realize that Trey Stafford and Trey Walker were one and the same.”
“Not a clue,” Elsa confessed. “But this family is full of surprises. Why not one more?”
“Not everyone’s a country music fan.” Trey’s smile said he understood.
“But I am,” Elsa told him. “Huge. I have every one of your CDs, and my iPod loves you.”
“And you live in Gray’s Glen.” Trey made a face of total disbelief. “So much for the hometown lovin’ on one of their own. We’ll change that up while I’m here.”
Elsa was pretty sure everyone else in town knew who Trey Walker Stafford was. Two years of reclusive living kept her out of the local gossip stream. “I’m probably the only person in central Washington who didn’t know, so don’t go too crazy. Besides, once your brothers see you, the only thing you’ll be seeing is a saddle, I expect. Or the front seat of a Mule. Welcome home, Trey.”
“Trey!” Hobbs’s excited voice broke in as he came by the open window and spotted Trey in the broad kitchen. He pivoted back toward the barn, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “Nick, Trey’s here! We’ll be okay now!” Then the weathered cowboy crossed the porch, threw open the screen door, and rushed inside as Trey moved toward him.
“That’s a tall order for a guy who’s been doin’ more singin’ than ridin’ these past few years,” Trey told the older man as he grabbed him in a hug. “But I expect I remember most everything you taught me, except how to get along with two know-it-all big brothers.”
“Same as always,” Hobbs proclaimed. “Ignore ’em and do it right, like I showed you when you were a pup. Them others got nothin’ you don’t got. Never did. Never will.”
“Stop babying him, Hobbs. He’s richer than any man has a right to be, and if we give him a little baptism of fire, it’ll toughen him up. Hey.” Nick’s words sounded gruff, but when he clapped his brother on the back, then pulled him in for a hug, Elsa read the affection in his eyes. “Welcome home. You have no idea just how badly we need you right now and how happy I am that you made it back this week. Have you seen Dad?”
Home on the Range Page 19