by Becky Wade
As if a heavy weight had been lifted from her, Addie popped to her feet and motioned for him to follow. Slowly, she took him around the garden, introducing him to one flower after another as if they were people. He listened, asked a few questions, cracked a few jokes.
Just like when he’d thought about his future kids and pictured boys, when he’d thought about himself as a future dad, he’d imagined that he’d be like his own father. Practical, patient, stern when the situation called for it. Instead, it looked like he was going to be a real pushover. He’d just agreed to buy Addie a car. If she turned that sunray of a smile on him again and asked him to buy her a boat or a pony or a swimming pool, he’d probably buy those, too.
Celia might not like it.
Once Addie had finished the garden tour, she led him on a tour of the apartment. Celia watched them like a grumpy hawk from her post at the kitchen counter.
Addie saved her own room for last. It was tidy: the twin bed made, the majority of the kid stuff organized in a tall bookshelf. Celia had decorated the room in baby colors: pale yellow walls, light blue curtains, and a watery scene of a nursery rhyme he couldn’t remember the name of on the bedspread. But judging by the dolls and doll clothes that Addie had been playing with on the floor, the girl herself liked hot pink.
She lowered onto the carpet in the middle of the dolls and crossed her legs. Ty sat nearby, his back against her plastic toy kitchen, one leg stretched long, the other knee bent up. Addie picked out a doll, and in her serious way, started talking. For the next hour straight, she hardly stopped. It turned out that the dolls were princesses. She told him each princess’s story, what they liked to wear, and how they did their hair.
Celia came in and out a couple of times. Clearly, she wanted him to leave. He ignored her hints.
Ty didn’t know squat about the Disney princesses. He’d never even heard the names of most of them. Jasmine? Belle? Tiana? Fairy tales weren’t his thing, and he sure as shootin’ didn’t care how the princesses dressed or did their hair.
But the man who’d grown jaded couldn’t remember when he’d spent a better evening. Addie fascinated him. Enchanted him. Wrapped him around her pinkie. It entertained him just to listen to her voice.
He expected that it would take him a good while to win her heart. But it hadn’t taken her long at all to win his.
This father-daughter bonding session was taking forever. Celia checked the time and decided to put an end to it. She’d already attempted to get Ty to leave twice via subtle comments, but he was either too obtuse or too ornery to react to subtlety. She neared Addie’s bedroom.
“. . . and Rapunzel had long magical hair.” Addie held up her Rapunzel doll for Ty’s examination. “When her mom—the evil one not the good one—would comb it and sing, then it would glow.”
“That’s cool,” Ty said.
Celia made her way into the room. “Addie, it’s time to start getting ready for bed.”
“Already?”
“Yep.”
“Well, crud.” Ty glanced at Celia. “I haven’t finished learning about Rapunzel.”
“Mommy, I haven’t even gotten to the part where Flynn—”
“Addie,” Celia warned.
Addie gave a long-suffering sigh. Both she and Ty pushed to their feet.
“I’d like to talk to you for a minute before I leave, Celia, if you don’t mind.”
“Um. . . .” She did mind. “Sure. Let me get Addie in the bath, and I’ll be right back.”
It only took Celia a minute to start the water running, add a squirt of liquid bath soap, and oversee Addie’s entry into the water. She returned to where Ty waited and gestured for him to follow her into her bedroom—a space she loved and had filled with twenty shades of blue, ten shades of white, five patterns, and too many throw pillows to count. She shut the door, closing them in.
Ty looked to the bed, then slowly back to her. He lifted one eyebrow. “Isn’t this a little forward?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I mean, we’re married and all, but I’m not exactly ready for romance.”
“As I’m sure you know, I brought you in here for privacy’s sake. I don’t want Addie to overhear.”
“Overhear . . . what?”
A blush burned her cheeks and forehead. She planted her fists on her hips. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”
He had the bad taste to laugh.
“Well?” she demanded, livid.
He laughed harder. “You really don’t like me, do you, Celia?”
“What was your first clue, Ty?”
“You used to like me.”
“That was before I married you.”
He gave her an unrepentant grin. He wore his usual uniform—a well-fitting T-shirt and jeans. He looked like living, breathing temptation, like a red-blooded male who drove a truck, had a strong appreciation for women, and drank testosterone for breakfast.
Her apartment had minimal privacy options. Even so, Celia realized she’d been wrong to invite him here. As he’d been crass enough to note, standing inside her bedroom with him brought to mind the personal things that happened on beds. She hadn’t anticipated this truth because she hadn’t had a man in here before.
“What don’t you like about me?” he asked.
“You know what.”
“Is it my personality?”
“Flaky.”
“My career?”
“Preposterous.”
“My looks?”
She pondered him for a moment. “Slightly effeminate.”
“What?” He glanced down at himself. Humor and challenge glowed in his eyes. “Now that’s just mean, not to mention untrue.”
Mean? Yes. Untrue? A hundred times yes. Ty Porter was the antonym of effeminate. “I’m surprised to learn that you know what effeminate means. I didn’t think you understood words longer than two syllables.”
“Well, I do. I’m many things—”
“—that’s for sure—”
“But I am not effeminate.” A glint of purpose in the set of his jaw, he extended his fingers toward her forehead.
She hissed and swatted his hand away. “No touching.”
“I was just going to put a curl back in place.”
“No.”
“Shoot, Celia.” He stuffed his hands into his back pockets and regarded her with amusement. “What fun is this relationship going to be if there’s no touching?”
“This relationship isn’t going to be any fun. It’s going to be torturous.”
His dimple made an appearance. She hadn’t expected anything about Ty to resemble Addie. But that dimple, just on the one side, matched Addie’s precisely. And Addie’s hair was just a few shades lighter than his. “Is this why you needed to speak to me?” she asked. “To hear all the reasons why I dislike you?”
“Just for the record, I dislike you, too.”
“Fine. Is that why you wanted to speak to me? To tell me that?”
“Nah, I actually wanted to say thanks for letting me come over tonight. I think it went well between Addie and me.”
It had certainly looked that way to Celia. While she was glad that Addie seemed to be taking the situation in stride, it had also chafed to see admiration in Addie’s eyes when she’d looked at Ty. Celia had no reason to believe that Ty would prove himself worthy of Addie’s admiration. Her daughter’s feelings for him may well end in heartbreak.
“As soon as Addie found out that I have horses in Holley, she suggested that the two of you move there.”
His words hit her like a bucket of ice water. “Not a chance.”
“I told her I’d speak to you about it.”
“We’re absolutely not moving. Corvallis is our home.”
He considered her, taking his time. Right when she was about to launch into a tirade and list all the reasons why she’d never leave Corvallis, he lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “Okay.”
His capitulation made her sus
picious.
“I’m leaving town. I have to be in Colorado tomorrow night for an event.”
She’d known it! Unreliable wretch—
“Don’t give me that look,” he said.
“What look?”
“That look that says you knew I’d disappear the first chance I got.”
“Are you providing evidence to the contrary?”
He whistled under his breath. “Man, you’re sassy.”
“With everyone else I’m perfectly agreeable.”
“I told Addie why I had to leave, and I told her I’d call her every night while I’m gone. Is that all right with you?”
“From now on, I’d like you to ask me first before you tell Addie you’ll do something.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s the best I’ve got. Can I call and talk to Addie?”
She sighed. “Yes, but you’re going to have to call between six and eight. Any later and she might be asleep for the night.”
“Got it.” Before she could blink, he swiped out a hand and moved the curl he’d tried to reposition earlier. There and gone, quick as a flash.
She yelped. “No touching!”
He chuckled and strode down the hallway as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “A man’s got to have some perks in a relationship, sweet one.”
“And don’t call me that!”
“I’ll try to remember that, too.”
Chapter Seven
Celia had given Christianity a try. More than once.
Her parents had taken her to church occasionally when she was young. As she’d gotten older, extracurricular activities had squeezed out the majority of Sunday services, but even so, she’d gone to church camp with Lacey two different summers and shown up at high school Bible studies whenever her friends invited her. Those influences had motivated her to recommit herself to her faith several times across her teenage years. Each time, she’d determined to read her Bible and pray daily like she knew she was supposed to. Each and every time she’d failed. The whole thing had left her with plenty of guilt and very little peace.
Midway through her college years, she’d set aside religion like a coat she’d outgrown. She’d clicked along, happy and secure in her own capabilities. She’d graduated with honors. She’d gotten a job as a sous chef, rented an apartment, enjoyed her network of friends.
And then Las Vegas had happened.
“What is it, Mommy?” Addie asked from the bus seat next to Celia.
Celia looked down at her and raised her eyebrows.
“You just made this sound.” Addie did a mad face and mimicked an angry sigh.
“Oh, sorry.” Ty’s fault! His return and his visit with Addie last night had stirred up thoughts that had been lying dormant at the bottom of the pond of Celia’s brain for years. “It’s just been a long day, Punkie. That’s all.”
Addie patted Celia’s forearm consolingly.
Celia adjusted the sack of groceries on her lap, covered Addie’s hand with her own, and returned her attention to the view out the bus windows.
When she’d come home to Corvallis after having her sliced-up heart handed to her on a platter by Ty in Vegas, she’d spent a month wallowing in depression and devastation and fury. It had been an awful, awful month. So bad, she hadn’t thought things could get any worse.
Until she’d begun to suspect that she might be pregnant. The possibility of a pregnancy had struck her, a then twenty-four-year-old without a husband, as a whole new level of worse.
In desperation, she’d turned back to the God she’d left behind. She’d prayed on her knees each morning and night for a week straight before finally screwing up the courage to take an at-home pregnancy test. While the test had been processing, she’d knelt on her bathroom floor and prayed with everything she’d had. She’d wept and shivered with abject fear. She’d begged God not to be pregnant.
When the timer had gone off, and she’d stood looking down at the positive result on the test stick, she’d known that God had heard her prayer. Heard it and refused to have pity on her. She’d not been a good Christian, and He’d held her mistakes against her.
Celia, in turn, had held His unforgiveness against Him. Some people were DIY with home renovation. Since the day that test had confirmed her pregnancy, Celia had been DIY with life, work, and motherhood.
Truthfully, she hadn’t missed Christianity’s rules or the sense that she wasn’t—and never would be—worthy enough to satisfy God. Religion’s departure from her life had left nothing behind but a small and benign emptiness. Most of the time the hole within her existed in such a quiet state that it didn’t even bother her.
Ty’s return had upset her mental equilibrium, though. Having to deal with him had placed a new and heavy layer of stress on her, causing the space within her that God had once occupied to grow large. Noticeable.
Times like these made her wish God was someone she could rely on. Even for a week. Goodness! Even a day.
The bus arrived at their stop with a shrieking of brakes and a prolonged shudder. Celia ushered Addie out. In unison, the trek to River Run and Addie’s familiar complaints about the trek began.
“Mommy, I’m tired.”
“I know. We’ll be home soon.”
A few minutes later. “My feet hurt.”
“Uh-huh.” Try wearing shoes other than cowgirl boots.
Later: “Do you have a drink? I’m really thirsty.” Addie took a few weaving steps. “I need a snack.”
Later still, a tortured groan. “I can’t walk so far.”
“If I can do it carrying groceries, Addie, you can make it the rest of the way.”
As usual, Celia had to take Addie’s hand and tow her, tugboat style, across the final stretch to their apartment. Celia lowered the sack and was rummaging in her purse for her keys when she spotted a small box hanging from her doorknob. Its pink paper and purple ribbon matched the wrapping on the gift that Ty had given Addie the night before.
Celia paused. A surprise gift for Addie from anyone else would have been wonderful to receive. But a gift from Ty made Celia’s stomach knot. What was he doing? Trying to buy Addie’s affection with presents?
Addie had seen the box, too. She turned excited eyes up to Celia.
“Looks like someone left you a present.” Celia tried to sound less resentful and worn out than she was.
“That’s not my name.” Addie moved aside a section of ribbon to reveal that Celia had been written on the tag attached to the package.
For her? She couldn’t imagine Ty wanting to give her anything except a lecture. Celia freed the box. As she removed its wrapping paper she noticed that Addie was bobbing up and down on the balls of her boots, pressing her hands together and smiling. “Do you know anything about this?” Celia asked.
“No, Mommy.” Her tone held such solemn honesty that Celia knew she was lying.
The paper gave way to a plain, unmarked white box. She removed the lid and uncovered a key ring. The silver charm attached to it formed the shape of a peace sign and had been stamped with the words Give Peace a Chance. Hilarious. The ring held just one other item. An electronic . . . smart key? It reminded her of the kind of gadget people used to activate alarms remotely or to start new-model cars—
Oh no. No.
Addie hadn’t told Ty about their broken-down car, had she? Mortifying thought. Even if Addie had grossly humiliated her by spilling the beans, Ty wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, done anything about their car situation. Surely.
Celia pointed the smart key in the direction of the parking lot and pressed the Unlock button. A car parked just a few spots away beeped and flashed its lights.
She could not believe it. Could. Not.
Her eyes bugging out and mouth ajar, she moved toward the car.
Addie dashed ahead of her. More bouncing. “It’s this one, Mom!”
Celia stopped directly in front of a brand-new
light teal Toyota Prius. Teal was exactly Celia’s bright and happy kind of color. And though she’d never told this to a single soul, the Prius was the make of car that she’d have chosen for herself if money had not been a concern. Oh, the safety ratings, the outstanding fuel efficiency.
How could Ty Porter, of all people, know her so well? It bowled her over, this gesture. Was it generosity or foolishness or a bribe or lavish craziness? What? It must be a mash-up between craziness and a bribe.
“Mommy, let’s get in it. Let’s drive it.”
“Let’s maybe just get in it for now.”
As the two of them slid inside, the new-car smell welcomed them. Celia couldn’t spot a speck of dust on anything, not the dash, the console, the seats. She’d never had a new car in her life. She had no frame of reference for such a flawless and shiny interior.
“Do you like it?” Addie beamed at her expectantly.
Celia couldn’t recall when her even-tempered girl had ever looked so elated. “I do.”
“Now we won’t have to take the bus.”
Celia remembered all of sudden what Addie had said the night their old car kicked the bucket. “I’m going to buy you a new car, Mommy.” At the time Addie had planned on raising money through a lemonade stand. It appeared she’d found something a lot more lucrative.
So many misgivings crowded into Celia’s brain, she couldn’t begin to unravel them all.
“Isn’t this car awesome? I think it’s brand-new!”
“I think so, too.”
“Wasn’t it nice of Ty to get this for you?”
“Yes, it was. But, Punkie . . . it’s not good manners to go around asking people to buy you things.”
“I didn’t, Mommy. He asked me what he could do.”
“He did?”
“Yes. You’re going to record his show tonight, right? I really, really want to watch it.” Addie had voiced this sentiment no fewer than ten times today.
“Yes, I’m going to record it.”
“And I can watch it in the morning?”
“Yes.” She’d refused to let Addie watch Ty’s bull riding live. For one thing, it would air past her bedtime. For another, Ty might be gored by a bull at any moment, and she didn’t want her child to see that and be traumatized for life. She planned to screen the rodeo herself this evening and make sure it was fit for a pre-kindergartener’s consumption.