Texas Girl Grit

by Shelley Stringer

“Hello? Anyone home?” Ethan’s voice called from the foyer.

  “In here,” Liam called back.

  “Wow! Ellen said ‘a farmhouse!’” Chelsea exclaimed, setting Sammy down on the floor. Our niece ran to Liam, who scooped her up in his arms.

  “Whews my Masee?” she asked adorably.

  “He’s sleeping, sweetie. But I think it’s time to get him up. Let’s go wake him,” Liam answered, winking at Chelsea.

  “Masen is all she talked about the entire drive. She’s missed him.”

  “He’ll be glad to see her too. Although he might be a bit cranky. I’m afraid we wore him out today,” I cautioned her as she hugged me.

  “I hope you didn’t wear yourself out as well,” Ellen said as she followed Davis through the front door. “I worried all this would be too much for you, but Liam insisted you would want to have Thanksgiving dinner here. I just hope you didn’t overdue it,” she worried, rushing to fold me in her arms. “Happy Birthday,” she said.

  “Happy Birthday, dear girl,” Davis echoed, leaning to kiss me on my forehead.

  “Thank you both! I can’t believe you did all this and kept it a secret,” I told Ellen, turning back to her.

  “It was my pleasure. When Liam told us what your family had done and you talked about the farm all the time, Davis and I drove over here the next Sunday afternoon and checked it out. When we drove up, I called Liam and told him he simply had to do some checking and buy it back for you. As soon as he found out we’d seen it, he got the ball rolling.”

  “It’s the best present he could have given me. He gave me my childhood memories back,” I told her truthfully.

  “I’m glad, sweetheart. And I had fun with what I got to do. The ladies at your grandmother’s church are quite a crew,” she stated, laughing.

  “Yes, they are. As a matter of fact, one of them is bringing homemade egg noodles tonight,” I told her. “We ran into her today when we were shopping downtown.”

  “Well, from what I could tell, they all loved your family and miss your grandmother.”

  Ellen turned to Davis as she dropped her purse on the sofa. “You and Ethan need to unload the food. We need to get those pies in the refrigerator, and I need to get that bird in the oven tonight.”

  The front door opened, drawing everyone’s attention. Allison breezed in, decked out from head to toe in biker-chic black and grunge, baggy jeans, her phone in her hand.

  “Have you been out there on your phone this whole time?” Davis barked at her as he passed her in the foyer. “Why don’t you pass that to me. I think a weekend without any electronics would do you some good,” he barked, holding his hand out to her.

  “Dad! Why? What did I do?” she shrieked.

  “Nothing yet. I’m determined to get you out of your mood and back into this family.”

  Glaring at him, she slapped the offending device in his hand. Davis closed his hand around it, turning to Ethan. “Coming, son? Let’s get this done.”

  Ethan followed his dad, stopping in the foyer. “There’s worse things than being without your phone for a few hours. Humor him, and he’ll give it back before the night is out. He just wanted to get your attention.”

  “Whatever,” Allison rolled her eyes and walked toward us.

  “I’m glad you came this weekend. I’d love to show you around,” I began, walking toward her.

  “Great. Show me around,” she muttered, cutting her eyes to her mother.

  “Allison, really. Try to be a part of the family, at least tonight and tomorrow. Friday, you can go back to your normal snark,” Ellen said, exasperated.

  I’d decided after the wedding I’d try to get to know Allison better. There was something there, just under the surface. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Her attitude was a façade. The bite of sarcasm was a defense, a wall against something. I was good at recognizing it, because I’d done it myself. I couldn’t imagine her defensiveness having anything to do with her family. Her mother and father obviously loved her, and both her brothers did too.

  I led her through the house, hoping something would spark a connection I could latch on to, something we could bond over. As we ended the tour of the house in the kitchen, I found no such luck.

  “My grandmother and aunt taught me to cook in this kitchen…on that stove, as a matter of fact. Do you help your mother cook?” I asked, hoping we had that in common.

  “No,” she muttered, obviously bored.

  “Well, not everyone likes to cook. Have you thought anymore about college?”

  Allison rolled her eyes and turned sharply toward the back door. “Nope. No plans.”

  My plan was going downhill fast. “Come with me to the barn. I’ve been meaning to check it out ever since Liam brought me here, but we’ve been so busy in the house. I used to play out here all the time with my sister,” I said, urging her out the door. We crossed the backyard in silence. I pushed the old wooden gate open, and it fell to the side off the top hinge.

  “Forgot to fix that,” Allison commented dryly.

  “I figure there is a lot of things to do yet. I think that will be part of the fun.”

  I led her, reluctantly at best, beyond the fence and across the short space to the front of the old wooden barn. The paint was worn, chipped and faded, the red barely showing. But the structure was still sturdy. I pushed one of the barn doors open and stepped through.

  “I thought farmers had animals,” she said, shrugging as she flicked her foot across the stone floor.

  “My aunt used to have goats, and my grandparents before her had cattle and horses too. But I don’t think there have been any animals here since my aunt passed. My cousins only wanted the place for the house to live in.”

  Allison turned to me, making eye contact for the first time I could remember. “My mother said your family turned you out after your aunt died, before you were even eighteen. She said they took the farm away from you when it was yours all along.”

  I was shocked she’d paid that much attention. “Yes, they did. But Liam and your mom and dad got it back for me,” I answered gently.

  “I’m glad,” she answered hastily, turning to look up at the loft. “Anything up there?”

  She seemed interested in exploring the barn. Eager to engage her, I answered, “I don’t know…let’s find out.”

  She tried the first couple of rungs on the wide ladder, and when she decided they were sturdy, she began to climb. I followed behind her and climbed onto the wooden platform. She immediately moved to explore two large trunks pushed against the back wall.

  “Be careful…watch for spiders and stuff,” I cautioned. She pushed the first lid open and propped it against the wall. Kneeling beside her, we began to stack the contents beside us on the floor. A couple of old, tattered quilts, two boxes containing some old odds and ends of dishes were removed, followed by four old hat boxes.

  “These are neat. Putnam’s Millinery. What is a ‘millinery?’” she asked, smoothing her hand across the top of one of the boxes.

  “It was a store that sold hats,” I replied. “I figure the box itself is worth something, being in such good condition, and from Austin.” The box she held in her lap was decorated in green, brown and blue, the writing in Victorian script, and the pictures were of men and ladies garbed in clothes from that era.

  “Wonder if the hats are in here?” she asked, looking at the other boxes.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. My grandmother had all kinds of hats and dresses in the house when I was little,” I said as I shrugged. “Only one way to find out,” I teased, bumping her shoulder. She grinned back and drew her breath in dramatically as she pulled the lid away. Underneath layers of thin paper and cloth, there was a frilly, faded hat with rows of lace and ribbons nestled in the bottom of the box.

  “Wow,” she said, gently pushing her hand under it and lifting it for inspection. “This is neat.”

  I studied her profile. Who would have thought teenager, electronics-obsessed bratty-sister A
llison would be intrigued by vintage clothing?

  “Do you like antiques?” I asked carefully, almost afraid she would shut down again.

  “Yeah, I do. Papaw Whelan has a lot of them in his house. I love the things he kept from my great-great grandparents. They were some of the first settlers in the hill country, and they built their house themselves out of limestone and adobe. It’s still standing on his ranch. The old pot-bellied stove and homemade rope bed are still in there. I used to play in there.”

  “That’s a cool memory, Allison. Do you know a lot about your family’s history?”

  She shrugged. “Only what my mother has told me.”

  “Ever thought about getting into genealogy?” I asked. “If that interests you, you might even get into something history related for college.”

  “I don’t want to go to college.” Her tone was final, her comment more of a decision, not a passing thought thrown out by an undecided teenager. She continued thoughtfully, “I love old clothes. I think it would be fun to own a boutique that only carried vintage clothing, and new clothing that mimics different periods. Maybe costumes too,” she said, studying the hat.

  “I think that would be fun. You could do a lot with a vintage shop. Maybe while you are here we could go to some of the stores here in Fredericksburg. I think you will like them. There is also the Nimitz museum. I haven’t been since I was a child, but I remember them having Santa Anna’s full dress-battle uniform on display. I think you’d enjoy it.”

  “That would be cool, thanks,” she said, looking to me again. She placed the hat back into the box, and we reloaded the trunk.

  “Baby, you in here?” Liam called up from the barn doorway.

  “Yeah, be right down,” I called back.

  “There you are. Mom’s been looking for you,” Liam said as Allison appeared at the top of the ladder.

  “Well, you found me,” she commented, scurrying down the ladder.

  “What are y’all up to?” he asked, helping her down the last couple of rungs. He looked up at me as I started down the ladder. “Be careful! You have no business climbing ladders while you’re pregnant,” he scolded, reaching to grab me when I was only half-way down.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged her up there. I didn’t think about the baby,” Allison offered. She was surprisingly sincere and not the least bit sarcastic. Liam turned with me in his arms, as if he was puzzled by her tone as well.

  “It’s alright, Allie. I wanted to go up there. And I’m fine,” I argued, looking back at Liam. “Your brother is a bit overprotective.”

  Liam leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Well, it’s my job. And momma would have my ass if I let you do too much. She already let me have it in the house about everything you’ve done today. She and Chelsea commandeered your grandmother’s kitchen, by the way. And that lady dropped off a bunch of Ziplocs full of homemade noodles. I put them in the ‘fridge.”

  “Yay!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands. Then I frowned at him. “I realized, though, I’m not sure how to prepare them.”

  “No problem. She left a notecard with hand-written instructions for what to do. I left it on the kitchen counter.”

  “That’s good. Otherwise, we’d be digging through more boxes, looking for my grandmother’s recipe books,” I said, turning to Allison.

  “Okay with me. More treasure hunts,” she said, skipping through the barn door.

  “Okay…who is she, and what have you done with my bitchy sister?” Liam asked as I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “We’re bonding, that’s all. I discovered your sister has a love for history and antiques, and we did a bit of treasure hunting in some old trunks in the loft. All it takes is finding what she likes and sharing it with her.”

  He eyed me warily, as if I had two heads. “That simple, huh? I think my mom’s therapist and the rest of the family would love to know your secret. That’s more in five minutes than I’ve heard her say in months. And she smiled.”

  “I think she’s happy for me, about getting the farm back and all. I think it’s good for all of us. Thank you again,” I said, sliding my hand against his cheek as I caressed it.

  “Anything to make you smile, beautiful,” he murmured. He placed me on my feet as we reached the back porch.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I winced as I sank down into the beautiful new bed linens in our room. Liam placed the book he’d been reading on his bare chest, his gaze fixed on me.

  “You overdid it today,” he growled, reaching over to rub my shoulder.

  “I’ll be okay. My legs are aching. I’ve been on them too much,” I admitted, slipping under the covers. Liam adjusted my pillows as I sank into them, then pulled me into his chest as he reached to turn off the bedside lamp.

  “Mase go down okay?” I asked.

  “He fought it, knowing Sammy was still up downstairs. And I think he slept too late this afternoon. But he finally went down. I think playing with Sammy wore him out.”

  “Mmm,” I hummed, agreeing with him.

  After several moments, Liam sat up, the moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains on the windows, illuminating his silhouette. Leaning over, he murmured, “You’re hurting.”

  “What?” I asked, looking up at him. He began to pull the quilt and linens down my body, uncovering me.

  “You haven’t stopped moving your legs since you got in bed. And you can’t get comfortable,” he observed, rising. “I’ll be right back.”

  I heard him descend the stairs, then return a few moments later. Sinking down on the bed beside me, he held a bottle of lotion and a glass of water, two pills pinched between his fingers.

  “Here, take these,” he urged, adding, “Tylenol.”

  I threw the pills back and chased them with sips of the water. After taking the glass and placing it on the nightstand, he squirted lotion in his hands, worked them together and grasped my right ankle.

  I raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Massage,” he answered with a sly grin. “For me as much as for you,” he teased with a wink. The moment he caressed my calf, pressing and rolling the muscle with his lotion-slicked hands I relaxed, sinking further into the bed. He worked his way up my leg, working his hands behind my knee, then up the muscles of my thigh. I could tell from the tension in the muscles I was going to be sore in the next few days. I moaned as he hit a particularly sore area.

  “Sorry,” he said, watching my expression as he worked. His eyes twinkled in the darkness, the blue so much more vivid in his eyes in the moonlight. I reached up and pushed a wayward tuft of hair off his forehead.

  As he finished with my legs, he relotioned his hands, moving my gown up over my swollen belly and placing his hands there. He’d watched me moisturize my tummy every night since I’d been pregnant, and he’d chuckled when I’d told him I’d started doing it when I heard vitamin E lotion would keep the stretch marks at bay. But tonight, his expression as he caressed my skin was serious, as if it were the most important thing in the world. After he had the lotion worked into my skin, he lowered his head to place a soft kiss on our baby-bump. My eyes watered at his tender display.

  “I need to take better care of you,” he murmured, pulling my gown back down over my belly.

  “You take excellent care of me,” I breathed, pulling him down to kiss him. His lips moved softly over mine, his kiss tender. But when I teased his lips with a stroke of my tongue, he deepened his kiss, his tongue stroking over mine, taking over as he pulled me under him.

  “I need you,” I whispered up to him.

  Before my next breath, he’d pulled my gown over my head, and slipped his hands down the inside of my panties, drawing them down my legs.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he whispered in my ear, moving his lips softly over the edge of my ear and sliding them down, whisper soft, over my neck and down to my collarbone.

  “Yes,” I hissed in approval.

  He maneuvered his body over
mine, adjusting to the side to keep his body weight off my belly. Even with my awkwardly changing body, he still managed to easily enter me, filling me so completely and working me to new heights of arousal as he made slow, sweet love to me.

  As he watched me, I gasped out loud. He followed me a moment later, shuddering as he filled me. We lay gazing at each other in the moonlight for several moments, neither one of us wanting to break the moment. He finally reached up, sliding his hand across my neck, teasing my jawline with his thumb as his fingers curled into my hairline.

  “You are achingly beautiful,” he said, his voice strong and clear. “This shadow always passes across your eyes when I say that, as if you don’t believe it. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I want you to see yourself through my eyes. And so help me, one day, you will,” he swore, making my eyes fill with unshed tears.

  I lay for a long time, listening to Liam’s breathing as it slowed in rhythm, finally evening into deep slumber. Nestled in his strong arms, my head on the toned muscles of his chest, I felt loved and protected. My last thoughts as I finally drifted were of the precious new life he now covered lovingly with his strong hand, a show of protecting us even in sleep.

  I pushed through the sage brush and mesquite trees, the claw-like limbs and small thorns tearing at my arms and snagging my jeans. Finally making it through a clearing, I stopped abruptly, my feet precariously close to the edge of an outcropping of limestone and rock. Below me, rocks, boulders and shelf-like formations of limestone made a rugged, narrow and steep staircase down to the water’s edge. Waves of panic rushed over me, settling sickeningly deep in my gut. The need to move back spurred me to turn and retreat to a safe distance, but I was shoved forward, my feet sliding and finding no purchase among the loose rocks. I was falling…grasping at sharp rocks and gnarled branches as I fell down the steep ravine.

  And then there was blood. It ran in thick rivulets down my belly, between my legs, pooling under me. I sobbed out loud as I watched my tiny baby, helpless and unmoving in the mass of blood and tissue…