Karissa felt like someone had just reached into her chest and pulled out her heart. “What? What does that mean?” She’d heard of the disease but had never known anyone who had it. How could her parents possibly help her care for her son if her mother was sick? How could Karissa deal with day-to-day life if she lost her mother? She quickly shunted that thought to the background, unable to deal with it.
“It means medications, testing, taking it easier than she’s used to,” Robert said. “She has to be covered up to protect her skin from the sun, and there are potential heart issues and osteoporosis we need to guard against.”
Karissa looked at Hank and saw the surprise on his face. “They didn’t tell you, either?”
“I knew she was sick, but I didn’t know the details.” He glanced at his parents. “How long have you known?”
“We got the test results a couple days ago. We’ve been pretty sure about it for a little longer. We wanted to tell you together after the results were official.”
“And Bo?”
“He called last night,” Beth said. “You know how he seems to have a sixth sense about these things. He just knew something was wrong.”
That sounded like Bo, all right. Karissa couldn’t help but smile, even though she felt her insides tightening like a vise. “And I’m bringing Paul here and asking for your help when you’re having problems. I’m sorry. I can find somewhere else soon.”
“No. There will be days that I’ll need to take it easy, but it’ll be fine,” Beth reassured her. “If I have a bad day when you’re not here, I’ll call Mary down the street and have her watch him for a few hours. We’ll work it out, honey.”
Tears clogged Karissa’s throat and worry filled her heart. “Okay, and when I’m not at work, I’m here for you.”
“I know it, dear.”
A few minutes passed as they discussed what was coming up. Marsh didn’t say anything during the conversation but paid attention to everything the others said. As much as Karissa wished it was different, he’d been an accepted part of her family since he was still in Cub Scouts and was terrorizing den leaders with her twin brothers.
Soon her father stood from the table. “We’d best get on with the milking. Those cows won’t take care of themselves.”
Hank rose as well and joined him out the back door. Karissa took the moment to escape into the front yard. The sun had already set behind the mountains, but twilight was long on the east side of the Rockies, and half-light surrounded her. She just needed a few minutes to let it all go and not have people watching her, feeling bad that she felt bad.
When the storm door slapped, indicating that someone had followed her out, she wiped at the tears starting to escape from her eyes and glanced back to see Marsh leaning against the porch column.
“Hey. That was quite a bombshell. Wasn’t it?” He studied her face, then slowly approached her, his hands in his pockets. “You gonna be all right?”
She sucked in a breath. “Yeah. I just need a good night’s sleep, some time to settle in and get a handle on how this affects Mom and the rest of us. I just, I need her, Marsh.” Especially now.
“I know.” He touched her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
The last person she wanted to have a tender moment with was Marsh, even though she appreciated the gesture. She sucked in a deep breath and shifted away from him. “Thanks. I ought to get back and put away some of my things.”
“Karissa, this isn’t cancer or a failing organ or anything, you know. It’s going to be hard, but she’s still going to be here for you. Be glad that you’ll be here for her too. Maybe you were supposed to move home now to make things easier for her around the farm.”
“Right, because a preschooler isn’t stressful at all.”
His low chuckle shivered down her spine in an annoyingly good way. “You’ll be fine. Just take it a day at a time, and it’ll all work out. I better go lend a hand with those cows. Your brother’s gotten all soft riding the desk at the firm.”
“So says the school teacher.”
“Hey, I’ve got to stay in shape—basketball season starts soon, and if I don’t run with the guys, they’ll slack off.”
That made her smile, but she kept her back to him as she listened to his footsteps retreat toward the milking shed. She didn’t know if she could handle her life getting any more flipped upside down than it was now.
Life on the farm hadn’t changed much since Karissa was a teen. The last hay cutting was weeks in the past, and everything was battened down for winter—which came early in the Rockies, even in the foothills. The cows still needed twice-daily milking; the chickens needed fresh food and water in the morning and egg collection in the afternoon. And, despite the fact that Hank and Marsh both lived in town, they spent a lot of their weekend helping with farm chores.
Karissa stuck close to the house, keeping an eye on her mother, and preparing the place for her son’s arrival. Having raised three children, her parents didn’t have a lot of breakables, but there were still a few things she wanted out of reach of her son’s curious fingers.
Karissa was kneading biscuit dough when Hank and Marsh came into the kitchen Sunday evening. She’d heard a truck pull up a while earlier and peeked out the window in time to see them get out of Hank’s truck and turn toward the barn. It was apparently standard procedure for Hank to take care of the livestock before dinner, but they seemed to have finished up faster than usual. “Are the cows milked already?” She eyed the tall metal milk jug Hank carried.
“Yeah, Dad started on them before we got here.” Hank slid open the pantry door, where the milk would sit and separate in the artificially-cooled space until morning. The rest of the milk would go straight to the local processor, but this jug would be skimmed for cream in the morning for the family’s use.
“Don’t you look domestic?” Marsh leaned one hip against the table and surveyed Karissa’s flour-streaked face and hands.
“Once in a while.” She pulled out the rolling pin and began to flatten the dough. “Mom’s taking a break—because I threatened to tie her to the bed if she didn’t. She looked tired. Dinner’s in the oven; these’ll be done in twenty minutes.”
Hank came out of the pantry and slid the door closed behind him.
“And, since you boys are already finished with the livestock,” she continued with an innocent smile, “you can get the eggs. I haven’t had a chance to get out there for the last of them.”
“Don’t you know it’s not good manners to send dinner guests out to get their hands pecked by those vermin?” Hank asked. The chickens had always seemed to hate him, even when he tried to avoid the occupied nests.
“If you were a bit gentler, they wouldn’t peck you. But you’re right; you handle the chickens and I’ll have Marsh set the table.”
Hank grumbled and went outside. Marsh grinned as he turned toward Karissa, who was opening a cupboard door. “You don’t need to tell me where things are. If I haven’t figured it out after all these years, I’ve been blind and deaf. Besides, your mom keeps telling me I’m like one of her sons.”
Using a Mason jar ring to press out circles of dough, Karissa kept her eyes averted from Marsh’s. “That she does. In which case, you can go help him with the chickens if you’d like.”
“No, I’d rather stay here. Just five places for dinner?”
“Yes.” She listened to him move around the room, setting out plates and glasses, knives and forks, and napkins while she finished the biscuits and popped them in the oven to bake. She pulled the potatoes from the sink, where she had set the pressure cooker to cool when they were done, and prepared to mash them as Marsh pulled a clear glass pitcher from the cupboard and a tray of ice cubes from the freezer.
“Paul not back yet?” he asked.
Karissa’s eyes went to the clock, and she noted it was nearly six. “No, not yet.” Not that she was surprised. There was still another hour until the designated time when Dennis was supposed to have Paul back.
“It must be hard having him go away.”
Karissa’s chest tightened but she kept her voice even. “It can be. But his dad loves him, and Sheryl seems competent.” It took everything in her not to say what she really thought of a woman who would knowingly go out with a married man. But the betrayal was Dennis’s, not Sheryl’s, so Karissa fought to keep her voice even.
“I imagine that makes things harder in a lot of ways.” Marsh’s voice came from right behind her now, and he set his hand on the counter beside her.
The kindness and understanding in his voice had tears threatening to spill out down Karissa’s face. She sucked in a deep breath, fighting to stay in control, but didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk about it. If you’re done, you can go help Hank.” She felt his hand on her shoulder and shook it away. “Go on. I can handle what’s left here.”
He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I’m sorry to poke where I’m not wanted.” Then he walked away.
When she heard the back door close behind him, Karissa put her hands over her face, pressing at her eyes with her fingers and willing the emotion to go away. This wasn’t productive and, not only did she not want to cry in front of Marsh, she didn’t want to be red-eyed when Paul came home. With Dennis.
When the men returned ten minutes later, Karissa was back in control. She told them to wash up and asked her father to let Mom know that dinner was ready. She set out the rest of the food, pleased with the way the biscuits turned out.
“Isn’t Paul going to be here for dinner?” Hank asked.
Karissa shook her head as they sat at the table. “He should be here in about half an hour. Dennis will no doubt feed him before they arrive. They’ll stop for a burger or something.”
The family gathered round, her parents across from her, Hank to her right, and Marsh to her left. Though the booster seat sitting empty on the other side of Marsh seemed somehow lonely, it felt good to be in her family home, surrounded by people who loved her—and Marsh, who had been a big part of her childhood.
When the doorbell rang as dinner was nearly done, Hank jumped up and was halfway out of the room before Karissa could begin to react. Knowing it would be Dennis, she sucked in a steadying breath before moving to greet her son. The sight of not only Dennis and Paul in the doorway, but Sheryl as well, caused Karissa’s step to falter, if only for a moment.
“Mommy!” Paul tossed himself into Karissa’s arms. She held him close, grateful to see him whole and happy. Dennis always took good care of him, but Karissa still worried.
“Hey, baby, did you have fun?” she asked him.
“Yeah, we went to a Chuck E. Cheese yesterday and had pizza and played video games. It was fun!” His eyes drifted to someone behind her. “Oh, hi, Uncle Marsh.”
Karissa popped a kiss on Paul’s cheek and set him down.
“Hey, squirt. We missed you around here.”
Karissa turned and watched Marsh ruffle her son’s hair and listen with interest as Paul showed him a souvenir from the pizza arcade.
“What are you doing here?” Dennis asked, his eyes darting past Hank and Karissa to land on Marsh.
“You know Uncle Marsh,” Paul interrupted. “He’s one of Mommy’s friends.”
Karissa was about to correct him when Marsh touched her shoulder, then extended his right hand to Dennis for a shake. “You’re Dennis, of course. I was at your wedding. Marshal Willmore. And you must be Sheryl.” He nodded to the woman with vague politeness.
“Yes.” The look in her eye was full of sharp edges and speculation, and one of her hands gravitated toward her swollen stomach. She was nearly seven months pregnant, and showed it.
“Uncle Marsh, huh?” Dennis seemed to size Marsh up, and returned the handshake warily. He glanced at Marsh’s possessive hold of Karissa’s shoulder, and she had to fight not to squirm. She knew a power play when she saw one; she’d been raised with two brothers, after all. She just wished she knew why one was going on now. It wasn’t as though either of the men actually wanted her.
“He’s practically one of the family. Always has been,” Hank added. “How was the road south of here? Any rain?”
“No, just clouds. It’ll rain on the way home, though.” Dennis looked uncomfortable.
“You won’t want to hang out here too long then. The roads could get slick. You know the dangers, I’m sure, as a police officer.” Marsh slid his hand further up Karissa’s shoulder to cradle the back of her neck. He ran his thumb along her spine in one slow stroke, causing tingles to fan up her scalp and down her back. If Dennis hadn’t been standing there, she would have pulled away. Karissa hated being used as a pawn, even if the touch felt good. Was he trying to make Dennis jealous or something? And, if so, why?
“Yeah, we’ll head out. You’ll bring Paul back for the next visit?” Dennis asked Karissa.
She forced a thin smile. “Of course. I’ll let you know when I expect to arrive. Paul, give your dad a hug goodbye.”
Paul ran over and hugged his father, then turned to Sheryl and gave her a hug and kiss as well. The sight of that made Karissa’s blood boil, but she held her tongue and waited until they were headed down the front walk before speaking again.
“Paul, we’re just finishing dinner. Did you eat already?”
“Yes, we had hamburgers at McDonalds, and I got to play in the balls.”
She smiled tightly and wondered which illness he’d catch this time. He always got sick when his father took him to those play places. “We’re about to eat dessert. Let’s go put your things up in the room, and then we’ll get some cake.”
“I’ll take him.” Hank picked up the bag of clothes Dennis had set inside the front door and ushered Paul upstairs.
“Thanks.” She shook Marsh’s hand from her lower back, where it had gravitated after Dennis had shut the front door. “What’s with pretending you’re more than Hank’s friend? I don’t need you guys to protect me, you know. I can take care of myself.”
She refused to look at him as she turned back toward the dining room, humiliated by the way he had acted and shamed by the bright and fresh beauty her replacement had exuded. Karissa knew she didn’t compare to a woman like Sheryl, and she knew Marsh couldn’t have missed the fact. Not that she cared what Marsh thought, she just felt so dowdy compared to the delectable other woman. Even seven months pregnant, Sheryl was one of the most beautiful women Karissa had ever seen. She probably spends half her income on wrinkle cream. The thought may have been catty, but it made Karissa feel oddly better.
“Yeah, you’ve made that clear. You’ve always been independent.” Marsh’s voice was low and thoughtful. He followed her back into the dining room where her parents waited for them to return, their eyes carefully studying her and Marsh’s face as they sat.
“Hank will bring Paul down for dessert in a minute.” A glance at her plate, and Karissa knew she didn’t want to eat anything else; she was suddenly not hungry anymore. She stood again and began clearing the table, taking the dishes into the kitchen, relieved when no one followed her.
Paul’s excited chatter filled the house as he entered the dining room talking about the fun things he’d done with Dennis and Sheryl.
Karissa cut the cake and set it out on individual plates, then carried it back into the dining room, grateful for the time to regroup without interruption. Once everyone had a piece, she gathered the rest of the plates and returned to the kitchen.
She was adding detergent to the dishwasher when she heard footsteps on the kitchen floor.
“Not going to have any yourself, Kar?” Marsh never was good at giving her space.
“I’m not very hungry. Go back and finish your man talk with Hank and Dad. I can finish up in here. I don’t want any help.” She turned to glare at Marsh—her only defense when she really wanted to crumple up instead.
He took a long, measured look at her. “You don’t want any help. That about sums it up.” He set down the food he’d brought in from the table and
returned to the dining room.
Karissa pushed back the hot tears that fought to fall from her eyes. She tried to be angry about Dennis’s betrayal and the way he practically paraded his girlfriend in front of her—anger was easier than hurt. But all she felt was grief. How had she not realized he was cheating? And why hadn’t she been enough for him?
The bell rang, signaling the end of the last class on Wednesday, and Marsh sighed. It had been a long day, especially since he had wanted to talk to one of these students one-on-one since before school started. Now he reached out and set a hand on the arm of a tall redhead as the boy tried to slip out of the room. “Craig, hold on for a minute, will you? I’d like to speak with you.”
Craig gave Marsh a worried look, then shrugged. “Sure, Coach.”
When the last student left the room, Marsh shut the door and turned back to Craig, the six-foot three-inch senior who had been on his basketball team the past two years. His star player—if he could keep out of trouble long enough to make the team this year. Marsh sat on the edge of his desk and gave Craig a long, appraising look, but didn’t say anything. He waited until Craig glanced away and slouched down, uncomfortable with the silence, before he spoke. “I heard some news today. You want to talk to me about last night?”
Craig turned to the blackboard and picked up the eraser sitting on the ledge below it. He flipped the eraser end-over-end for a minute. “What about last night?”
Playing dumb. Marsh wasn’t going to put up with that. “I heard about you being caught out after curfew last night—with alcohol on your breath.”
Carefully, as if it were fragile, Craig set the eraser back down and turned toward Marsh. “Coach, it wasn’t a big deal. I only had a sip.”
“That’s not what I heard, and even if it were true--” Marsh cut the boy off when he saw Craig open his mouth to protest, “I can’t accept that. Basketball tryouts are next week, and I can’t have you on my team if you aren’t clean. You know that.”
“It’s not like I drink all the time. I haven’t had one in months,” Craig protested. “But Larissa dumped me yesterday and…” he trailed off as if realizing the excuse was lame.
Second Chances: Love in Juniper Ridge (Carver Ranch Book 1) Page 2