Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02]

by Home Fires

  “Is it Colt?” Linette asked.

  Casie’s chest felt tight, though she was sure she wasn’t holding her breath.

  Sophie shook her head, craning her neck to peer out the kitchen window. “It looks like a woman.” She scowled. Somehow the expression was obvious even from behind. “We’re not expecting any new guests, are we?”

  Casie shook her head. “Not until next week.” She took a step toward the window. “Maybe it’s the mail carrier. I heard we were getting a new one.”

  “She doesn’t seem to have any mail.”

  “Is it Mrs. Dickenson?” Emily asked. “She was going to drop off some fiber … you know … since it’s twenty times warmer than wool.”

  “Is Colt’s mom thirty years old?”

  Emily raised one shoulder. “She would have had to give birth when she was about ten if she is, but some of us don’t like to procrastinate.”

  “I don’t know who it is,” Casie said, but she had a bad feeling.

  Emily stepped up beside her. “Oh.” She nodded, set her worn oven mitts aside, and headed toward the door. “That’s just Mrs. Avery.”

  Casie turned on her with a scowl. “What?”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Avery.” Emily retrieved her backpack from the kitchen floor and stepped into the foyer. “From the adoption center,” she said and was gone.

  It was almost noon by the time Emily returned home. Casie had been hoping to see her alone, but Murphy’s law was still in force, it seemed, since Linette was making herself a sandwich near the sink when the girl chirped a hello and headed for the stairs.

  “Emily,” Casie breathed. “Where have you been?”

  She shrugged and gave a half smile. “Just went for a drive. Listen, the kid’s calisthenics have been wearing me out. My spleen feels like a punching bag. I’m going to catch a couple zz’s before I start dinner.”

  “Emily!” Casie said, but the girl had already disappeared into the stairwell.

  Casie exchanged a quick glance with Linette.

  “Excuse me,” she said and hurried up the stairs, but Emily was already shutting the door by the time she arrived on the landing. “Emily,” she said, putting a hand on the knob. “Can I come in?” She could just see Emily’s left eye through the open door.

  “I’m dogged, Case. Sorry. But I’ll get started on—”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Oh,” Emily said and stepped back. “Okay. What’s up?” she asked and slipped the backpack from her shoulders.

  “What’s—” Casie gestured toward the front yard. This had been the longest day of her life and it wasn’t even noon yet. “Where have you been? Who’s Mrs. Avery? And what is this about an adoption agency?”

  “Listen, I told you I was thinking of giving the kid up for adoption, right?”

  Casie huffed a laugh and waited for the punch line, but when none was delivered, she shook her head and struggled for equilibrium. “What are you talking about? You’re not serious … are you?”

  “Well, I’m sure not joking,” she said and plopped down onto the bed. “I mean …” She shook her head. “Who am I kidding? I’m not mom material. Holy shorts …” She laughed and made a silly face. “I’m barely human material.”

  “Em …” Casie shook her head and sat down on the bed beside her. “You’re not really thinking about giving her up, are you?”

  They stared at each other.

  “No,” Emily said and let her shoulders slump. “I’m not thinking about it.”

  Casie closed her eyes and felt the breath leave her lungs in a rush of relief. “Thank heavens.”

  “I’ve decided for sure,” she said, and jumping to her feet, shoved a book into one of the neat rows on her shelves. “I mean, seriously, raising a kid’s not for wimps. It’s like … a job for Superman or something.”

  “Emily, you can’t just—”

  “Listen, this is going to work out great. The agency will pay all the hospital bills this way. I mean, do you know what it costs to have a kid these days?”

  “If it’s just the money, we’ll—”

  “But it’s not just the money, Case. It’s everything!” she said, sweeping an arm sideways to encompass the world. “I’m just figuring out this gardening thing. I want to learn to knit and spin and weave. You need help around the farm, and you know … who am I kidding? I’m not cut out to be a mother. I don’t have a career. Hell, I can’t even decide on a name. If it stayed with me, it would probably turn out to be a juvenile delinquent or something.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  She paused. Something passed over the girl’s face, something painful and desperate and so hopeful it almost made Casie cry, but it disappeared in a flash. “You’re so great, Case. And I owe you so much. But how am I ever going to pay you back when I’m strapped with a kid? It’s hard enough getting stuff done around here the way it is.”

  “Emily …” She was at a loss for words for a moment and shook her head. “You can’t do this.”

  “I already have,” she said and gave one quick shrug. “Listen, it’s no big. Women give up babies every day. My mom gave me up and look how well I turned out.” She laughed. The sound was short and high-pitched. “I know you’re worried, Case, but you don’t have to be. I’m fine. The baby doctor said so, and I didn’t even have to sleep with him to get a clean bill of health. Although he was kind of cute. Anyway, I’m doing great, I’m just super tired. Do you mind if I just—”

  “Is it because of me? Have I made you work too hard? Are you—”

  “What? No. Casie, are you kidding? You’re wonderful. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Then what?”

  “Like I said, I just realized that this isn’t my gig. I mean, it’s been a blast fantasizing about it, but shi … shoot,” she corrected, and managed a laugh. “I’ve run out of big vocab words to feed it and—” Her voice broke. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Casie moved closer, heart aching. “Emily, what’s going on?”

  “I can’t do this.” The words were barely a whisper. “Geez, Casie, it’s a baby! A new life! I can barely be responsible for myself. I can’t possibly take care of someone else. I’m a liar, Case. And a thief. Did you know I’m a thief?”

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” Casie said. “But what’s past—”

  “It’s not in the past,” she whispered. “Not very far past, anyway.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I stole your can opener.”

  Casie raised her brows. “My … can opener?”

  Emily nodded.

  “Honey,” she said and ran her hand along the girl’s arm. “I used it just this morning.”

  The girl shook her dreadlocks wildly as if frustrated by Casie’s inability to follow her thoughts. “Two weeks ago I was thinking of bugging out, so I took the opener. You know … just in case. But then I realized I’d have had to walk all the way to town and …” She shrugged, smoothed a palm over her belly. “I put it back.”

  “You were going to leave? What—” Casie began, then shook her head, trying to get back on track. “It’s just a can opener, Em. It costs about two dollars brand new and believe me it’s not brand—”

  “But that’s just the thing. I barely have two dollars.” Her gaze held Casie’s. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. And in their depths Casie saw a fear so deep it could suck her in. “I barely have a dime. And even if I did … even if I was as rich as Judas … or … or Jaegars …” She shook her head and exhaled a laugh. “Holy shorts, I mean, he has more money than God and even he messed up his kid.”

  “I don’t think money’s the determining factor here, Em.”

  “Then what is?” she snapped and jerked out of Casie’s grasp. “Having two parents?” She turned back. “The Jaegars had that. Good jobs? They had that, too. So what makes it work? Maturity? Stability? Extended family? I don’t have any of those things. They had them all, and they’re still at
each other’s throats, Casie. Like wolves, like … like everyone I’ve ever known.” Her voice caught. “I can’t do it,” she whispered.

  “But you’re not them,” Casie said. “You don’t know what’s gone wrong in their relationship. You can only hope to do better in your own.”

  Emily’s eyes searched Casie’s for a second. Then she snorted. “Hope?” she said. “I’m supposed to bring a life into the world and hope it works out. That’s probably what my mom did,” she said, then exhaled heavily and straightened her back as she turned to look out the window toward the quiet pastures. “Mrs. Avery promised to find a good family.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Two parents. With a stay-at-home mom and a dad that’ll teach him to hit a baseball. A traditional family.” She nodded. Her expression was somber, her eyes as old as forever. “Like Father Knows Best or Leave It to Beaver or—”

  “Emily—”

  “Although …” She laughed. “I guess that last one has some weird sexual connotations these days.”

  “Just wait,” Casie pleaded, rising carefully from the bed lest she frighten the girl. “Everything’s all messed up right now. You don’t have to make a decision immediately.”

  For a moment Emily seemed to waver, but then she laughed. “If I wait much longer, the kid’ll be able to choose his own parents.”

  “You can’t—” Casie began, then drew a deep breath and made herself count to three. “Just tell me you’ll think things through. Promise me you’ll—” she began, but Emily shook her head.

  “The papers have already been signed.”

  Casie felt the blood drain from her face, felt her heart clench in her chest.

  “I’m sorry, Case,” Emily said and turned away. “But I really am beat. When this is all over I’m sure I’ll be able to get a lot more done. But for right now, I’d better rest up. I don’t want the kid’s new parents to think I deprived him somehow.”

  “Emily—”

  “Please,” she said, and there was such desperation in her voice, such mind-numbing hopelessness, that Casie nodded once and turned away. The door felt heavy when she pulled it open.

  The stairs groaned as she made her way down them.

  Sophie had joined Linette by the sink. They turned toward her in unison.

  Casie blinked, dazed. “Did you know anything about this, Soph?”

  “About what?”

  “This.” She gazed sightlessly at the stairs. “The adoption.”

  Sophie pulled her perfect features into a scowl. “She’s not really going through with it.”

  Casie drew a deep breath, searching for balance. “She says she signed the papers.”

  Sophie shook her head. “She’s lying,” she said. “That’s what she does.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?” Linette asked. Her face was crumpled with worry. “Why now?”

  Casie stifled a wince, but couldn’t quite manage to keep her gaze from straying back to Sophie.

  The girl’s eyes went wide even before Casie managed to shift her own away. “It’s because of me,” she said.

  Casie shook her head, ready to deny, retreat, lie, even though she would never have the talent Emily possessed.

  “It’s because of my dad and me, isn’t it?” she demanded.

  “No. She’s just …” Casie struggled with a denial. She was sure there was far more to the situation than witnessing one simple argument. Hell, if she had made life-changing decisions based on her parents’ fights, her entire life would have been dictated by arguments. Then again, maybe it had been. “She’s just scared. I’m sure she’ll change her mind once she gets some sleep,” she said, but she was just spouting platitudes. She had no reason to believe such tripe. Emily was as predictable as a tornado.

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” Linette said, but her eyes looked haunted.

  They turned toward her like she’d grown a spare head. “What?”

  “Parenting isn’t easy. Who’s to say this isn’t the best thing for Emily and the baby?”

  They said nothing.

  “I mean, she’s so young.” She winced. “Maybe she wants a career. To be an attorney or … something.” Her voice had gone very soft. Her hands were shaking. “She’s very bright. She deserves to have a life.”

  “Linette …” Casie said and took a step forward, but the older woman backed away.

  “I think Colt’s here for my lesson,” she said and escaped out the door.

  CHAPTER 27

  Maddy stood like an equine angel at the hitching rail behind the barn while Linette tacked her up. The equipment was heavy, and Linny was short; she had to hoist the saddle over her head to settle it onto the mare’s broad back. But she liked the challenge, appreciated the strain it put on her biceps, enjoyed the puzzle of cinching it up right. She’d made Colt show her a dozen times a day how to tie the knot in the latigo. Committed to memory how tight to make the cinches.

  The bridle came with its own set of problems, but Linette wrestled her way through them, slipping the short-shanked curb between the mare’s teeth, buckling up the throatlatch. Through it all, Maddy waited patiently, reins drooping, tail swishing gently from side to side, banishing the few remaining insects that had survived the first frosts.

  Autumn had come in earnest in the last week or so. Out east the apple orchards would be bustling with leaf peepers. But the heart of the West had its own rhythm. The cool, dry weather was perfect for harvesting corn and branding weanlings, for digging root vegetables and mending fences.

  Linette inhaled sharply, drawing in every second. She could have tacked Maddy up inside, but she had always liked fall. In her mind it was the time for new beginnings. Other people, she knew, thought of spring that way, but not her. Heidi had been born in the fall. In her wallet was a dog-eared photograph of her toddling through the oak leaves outside their little house in suburbia, but the modest little split level had never been right for her. She wasn’t the domestic type. Not the kind to sit around and bake cookies. Not even the kind to eat cookies. She was a doer. Always had been. She’d been sure her daughter would understand that once she was grown. She’d been sure all her hard work would be worth the sacrifices. Because that’s what she’d done. She had sacrificed. She had sweated. And she had achieved. That’s the kind of person she was. That’s why she was here. To learn something new. It didn’t matter that she was sixty-four years old. She was still learning. And she would learn this, even if Colt was late and her surgical sites were on fire.

  She put a hand to her right hip, took another deep breath, and closed her fingers over the reins near the bit. Maddy followed her willingly into the outdoor arena. Mounting was always a challenge. The stirrup seemed to fall straight from the sky and land practically at her shoulder, but Linette pulled her knee to her chest, shoved her newly purchased Ariat boot into the near leather hoop, and heaved herself into the saddle. That accomplished, she felt better. Hurdles were her thing. She’d cleared a thousand of them in her lifetime, and she’d clear a few more no matter what the doctors said. She wasn’t the type to sit around and mope. Neither was she the sort to suffer through another bout of debilitating treatment in the hopes of gaining a few more weeks spent flat on her back.

  Maybe things hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped with her family, but that chapter wasn’t over, either. If they knew her better, they’d know who they were dealing with. They’d know she wasn’t the kind to quit once she set her sights on a goal.

  Looking ahead, she hugged Maddy with her calves. The big mare moved into a slow walk, beginning her first circle. Linette was tempted to take her down the road, but she was no fool. She knew her limitations. Instead, she would practice here, learn what she could on her own, and show Colt her accomplishments when he arrived.

  Those decisions made, she clicked twice, urging Maddy into a trot. That felt good, right, exhilarating. They did a few circles as Linette screwed up her nerve. The lope was scary as hell, but she threw
the mare a kiss, and finally, on the second try, the mare rocked into an easy three-beat gait, gliding along. The rhythm was like magic. The crisp air felt like salvation against her face. With little more than a thought, the mare took the cue to cut through the middle of the ring and change direction. There was a moment of panic as she lurched into a down transition, nearly jolting Linette from the saddle. The extended trot was a bugger to ride, but she’d discovered years ago that easy was not for her. Pushing the mare back into a lope, Linette felt the soaring euphoria of accomplishment once again. She was riding. She was doing it. After dreaming of this since childhood, she was making it happen. Because that’s what she did. She set her eyes on an obstacle, she studied the obstacle, she overcame the obstacle. Just like that jump. Shifting her gaze, she eyed the makeshift obstacle Colt had set up along the north rail of the arena. It wasn’t tall, just a long branch perched between two hay bales a foot or two off the ground. She’d ridden over it more than a dozen times at a walk and a couple at a trot. Maddy tended to drag the branch down at both gaits, causing Colt no end of entertainment.

  Linette narrowed her eyes at the jump. The problem was, it seemed to her, they didn’t have enough speed to clear it easily. There wasn’t enough lift during the walk and trot to make an effortless arc over the thing.

  She licked her lips, urged the pinto back into a lope, and watched the obstacle. It was just a little thing. She could jump it herself. She pushed the mare past it a few times, making sure Maddy knew it was there, building up her own confidence. Then, after passing it for the fourth time, she screwed up her courage, leaned into the center of motion, and urged her mount toward the rail with her inside leg. The mare went easily, picking up her pace a little, and shifting her ears forward.

  The challenge rose up in front of them, but Maddy was game. She gathered herself like a champion, thrust off with her powerful hindquarters, and soared. Exhilaration burned through Linette like a flare gun. It was like flying. Like being truly free for the first time in her life. Like being unshackled. But suddenly her mind flickered, just a little misfire of neurons her doctors had warned her about. For an instant, blackness filled her head, and then the earth came flying toward her like a meteor. There was a moment, just a wild second in time, when Linette was sure she could correct herself, could find her balance. But the ground was coming up too fast, hurtling at her, a world of changes in its wake.