by Becky Wade
She couldn’t see her anywhere. The surroundings looked all wrong—peaceful and normal and sunny. People were going about their business as if everything were fine. As if the world weren’t caving in.
“Addie!” she yelled, hoarse with alarm.
Still no answer. Celia’s instincts urged her to go in the direction of the drive that led away from River Run toward the road. She and Addie almost always went that way when they left their apartment. Holding her robe closed with her hand, she ran, her bare feet pounding the grass.
Maybe she should have gone to the river first. Her steps slashed to a halt. She looked behind her. Addie might be washing away in its current while she was dashing in the wrong direction.
No, she’d check the street first. She was doubting herself, didn’t know what to do, but she should at least check the street. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Addie!”
She couldn’t see her little girl. Where was she? Where? She couldn’t hear her.
Crying now, tears and gasps fighting their way from her, she started forward again. She began to dial her phone. 9-1. A car passed. “Help,” she called to the driver, but the word came out as a wheeze. Her imagination barreled forward with nightmare images of police arriving, men and dogs searching, investigators asking her questions. Life without Addie.
Sticks and rocks scored the soles of her feet. Her chest burned with exertion. She tried to dial 1, but hit 2 instead. Just as she groped to backspace, she caught sight of something pink. There, ahead, through the trees and shadows. Her hope rose almost painfully. She craned forward, squinting. She ran toward the road and her view of the sidewalk opened.
Addie, unharmed, sat on the bus stop bench fifty yards away.
Relief poured through her. She’d found her. Addie was fine, thank God. She’d pulled a backpack on over her pajamas. The slippers that hung off the edge of the bench swung slowly. She was looking forward at the two-lane road carrying cars at high speeds just inches in front of her.
Had she been intending to catch the bus? Alone? She sure didn’t appear worried about the mother she’d left behind. “Addie Porter!”
Addie’s face jerked toward her. She froze for a moment at the sight of Celia bearing down on her. Then slowly she unfolded from the bench.
Celia took hold of Addie’s upper arms and sank to her knees on the sidewalk. “You scared me to death!”
Addie’s expression went slack and fearful.
“I didn’t know where you’d gone. You’re not allowed to leave the apartment like that. Not ever! You know that. I’ve told you so many times.” Celia became aware of her robe and her dripping hair and tear-wet cheeks. “Wh-why did you leave? What are you doing out here?”
“I’m going to Texas,” Addie answered, so quietly that the wind almost took it. “To see my daddy.”
Her use of the word daddy jolted Celia. She studied her daughter, trying to understand. Before she’d gotten into the shower, she’d refused to take Addie to see Ty. So Addie had . . . stuffed a backpack and decided to set off alone for Texas? Daddy was someone that Addie would run away from home for? Since when? But Celia knew the answer. Since the moment Addie had learned of Ty’s injury. “You can’t go anywhere without me, do you understand? You’re four years old.”
“Almost five.”
“What have I told you about leaving the house by yourself?”
“That I’m not to do it.”
“Then why did you?”
She blinked a few times. “I want to live in Holley, Mommy. More than I’ve ever, ever wanted anything in my whole life.” She spoke the words without anger or pouting. She simply stated them, stark in their heartfelt honesty. “Daddy’s hurt, and he needs us. We have to go to Texas.”
Celia opened her mouth, voiceless.
“We have to go, Mommy. Don’t you see?”
Celia was not going to reward Addie’s runaway attempt by agreeing to move to Holley. Yet, kneeling there on the sidewalk with cars blaring by, Celia did see. Her destiny had turned. Despite her own misgivings about Ty and the fact that Addie had only known him a short time—Addie loved him. So much that she’d risked her safety and Celia’s anger to go to him.
Was Celia ever going to be able to shower again without her child fleeing for the bus stop? “Leaving the apartment by yourself is not the way to get what you want, Addie.”
She expected her sweet child to apologize. Instead, Addie’s chin hardened into a mutinous line.
“Can you say you’re sorry?” Celia asked. “You really scared me.”
Addie hesitated for a long beat, then shook her head.
“Addie?”
Addie frowned, then gave another small, tense shake of her head.
The out-and-out terror she’d just experienced had probably shaved five years off her life. Five years! And Addie didn’t seem to care. Angrily, she took hold of Addie’s wrist and led the way back.
Addie’s backpack bobbed. “Mommy, if we moved to Holley—”
“I’m trying to get ahold of my temper. I think it would be better if we didn’t say anything more right now.”
Once they were both back inside the apartment, Addie set down her backpack and went to her room. Celia stood in the foyer, trembling. She wished she had a friend or boyfriend she could rush to, hug, and cry all over. If she had someone like that in her life, then she’d have launched into a tirade against Addie and Ty’s screwball notions of living in Holley, Texas. She’d have shaken her fist and vigorously defended her decision to stay in Corvallis. She’d have pointed out that common sense was heavily on her side.
Right? She looked around at her brightly colored, eclectic apartment.
After high school she’d come to Oregon because she loved it. That love, and perhaps the security of the familiar, had kept her here. Their home, her job, Addie’s day care, Uncle Danny, their small circle of friends, and the only hairstylist in the country who could layer her curly hair properly—everything was in Corvallis.
Everything except Ty.
Ty’s absence shouldn’t matter so much to Addie. He hadn’t even been a part of their lives three months ago!
She lowered onto a chair, pulled a throw pillow onto her lap, and toyed with its fringe. Should she have considered Holley more seriously? Looking at it impartially, she had to take into account that Ty had offered her a free house, which would be a windfall for her budget. He’d promised to find her a job. In one of their phone conversations he’d assured her that he’d add her and Addie to his health insurance if she quit her job in order to move.
Even so, she hadn’t given Holley any real thought. For one thing, Ty traveled most of the year. It had seemed ridiculous to move to a town Ty didn’t actually live in. That argument had changed. He’d probably live in Holley year-round now that the bull riding had ended.
So. She was left with just one great objection to a move: She did not want to live in Texas.
Wow, Celia. Selfish much?
For years she’d held herself up in her own mind as unselfish because she was a single working mom whose life revolved around her child. But she had been selfish in some ways, hadn’t she? She hadn’t told Ty about her pregnancy. She’d kept the baby and toddler versions of Addie to herself. And she’d written off the option of Holley because she liked Corvallis better.
What she liked wasn’t the crux of the issue, though. The crux? Whether it was best for Addie to live near both her mother and her father.
It might be, possibly. Which terrified her.
Shoot, she thought. Seriously! This sacrificial stuff bit.
On her way to her bedroom to change out of her robe, she spotted Addie’s backpack. Pausing, she lifted it and sifted through the contents.
Addie had packed her favorite dress. A Rapunzel doll. Her ivory blanket. Two crumpled dollars. A handful of change from her piggy bank.
And a matched set of pink cowgirl boots.
Other than the morphine drip, Ty liked nothing about hospitals. He’d p
ressured his male doctors and charmed his female ones until they’d discharged him. His parents had arrived in Boise yesterday and pushed his wheelchair across three airports in order to catch the flights that had returned them to Texas earlier today.
Thus, just forty-eight hours after his accident, Ty was sitting in his leather desk chair in his own home office, his leg propped on an ottoman. If he kept the leg still, it throbbed with pain. If he moved it, the pain turned so needle-sharp it sucked away his breath.
After the day he’d had, he should be asleep in bed or stretched out on his living room sofa watching NASCAR. Instead, something like obsession had pulled him to his office to search the Internet for details about his accident. He’d read every article he could find and studied photos until his brain had gone dull with exhaustion. Hardest of all to take were the YouTube videos of his ride on Meteor.
When his mom delivered dinner to him, he clicked away from YouTube and switched to ESPN. She and his dad had insisted on staying at his place tonight even though he’d told them he didn’t need them to. When she left the room, Ty ignored the plate of food and went back to YouTube.
He stared at the screen in fierce concentration and watched himself go down again and again. He viewed the clips in frame-by-frame slow motion, trying to understand why he’d come off Meteor. Even with all his years of experience, he couldn’t see a reason. The people from the BRPC and the commentators and riders who’d been interviewed in the articles all said the same thing. He’d been balanced. His form had been right. And then he’d been in the air, caught between riding well and losing everything.
His life as a bull rider was over. Maybe he could stomach that if he understood what he’d done wrong.
The doorbell rang. Ty eyed the clock on his computer. It was after nine. He felt like dirt and could only hope his mom would follow instructions for once and turn visitors away.
He heard feminine voices, then the sound of footsteps nearing his office. Swearing under his breath, he filled the screen with ESPN again.
His mom knocked quietly, then peeked into his office with a smile. “You have a visitor. I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything.”
“’Kay.”
His mom disappeared, and Tawny stepped into the doorway.
Ty stilled.
Her chocolate syrup–colored hair fell over one shoulder almost to her waist. She had on a pink and green dress and high-heeled sandals. She held a casserole dish in her hands.
Ty saw Tawny regularly when in Holley and communicated with her a fair bit over Facebook and text when away. None of that lessened the effect of her up close and personal. She was homecoming queen pretty with exactly the look he’d always liked best on women: straight hair, shining blue eyes, long legs that made certain he didn’t dwarf her the way he did Celia. “Well, well.” Ty smiled and leaned back in his chair, making it creak. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I’d get up to greet you, except I can’t stand.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here. Have you dumped the pediatrician yet?”
“No.” Her expression lit with amusement. “Vance and I are doing very well. Here, I brought you this.” Gently, she set the dish on top of a low bookcase. “It’s that egg and sausage breakfast casserole you like. I thought it might make things easier on you and your parents in the morning.”
“You see, Tawny, this is just one more example of how thoughtful you are. You’re nice. You’ve always been nice.” It was true. Even when they’d had that big fight when she’d said she wasn’t ready to marry him, even when she’d told him they were done for good after he’d confessed what had happened in Vegas, she had not slapped him or screamed or cursed his name. “Thanks for bringing me food.”
“You’re welcome.” She folded her arms lightly. “Are you doing okay? Really?”
“Yep.”
“In a lot of pain?”
He shrugged, lied. “No.”
“What have they told you about your recovery?”
“Just that I have a lot of physical therapy in my future.” He flicked his fingers across the top of the big brace that covered most of his left leg. “I’ll have to wear this for several weeks, then they’ll switch it to something thinner.”
She nodded, full of sympathy. “Will they let you exercise?”
Tawny knew him well enough to know that he needed his running. “The only cardio they’ll let me do is swimming. I’m allowed to do upper-body weight lifting.”
“What can I do to help you?”
“You can get yourself single. You’re really still dating Dr. Amateur?”
“Dr. Amsteeter and I are still dating, yes.”
“He hasn’t bored you silly yet with all that talk about himself?” He’d bored Ty silly with it the two times he’d met the guy.
“Not yet.”
“How long have you been together?”
“About a year.”
“Huh.” Ty scratched his jaw. “You usually stay with your boyfriends between fourteen and eighteen months. The doctor’s running out of time.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve been patient for years, but as soon as you break up with Amateur, I’m going to put a ring on your finger.”
She regarded him with such open feminine speculation that he forgot about the pain in his leg.
“Are you divorced yet, Ty?”
“I can be tomorrow if you’d give me a reason.”
She held his gaze for the length of a few heartbeats, then broke the moment with an airy laugh. “Go ahead and stay married. Vance and I are happy together.”
The pain in his leg returned. “You’ll continue to be happy for two to six more months. Then it’ll tank.”
“I think he might be the one.”
“I’m the one. As you well know.” He tugged at his T-shirt, then spread his hands. “Me.”
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling like your usual self. I’ll be praying for you, and I’ll call your mom tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”
“Stay.”
“I can’t. Vance is baking me peach cobbler for dessert.”
“What man does that? Is he even straight?”
She waved and walked out of sight in the direction of the front door.
“Thanks for coming,” he called.
“You’re welcome,” she called back.
Tawny Bettenfield had been raised on fried okra and good manners. Her dentist father and stay-at-home mother had sheltered her and done all the things small-town southern parents should do with their daughters: take them to church, teach them to ride, encourage them to be cheerleaders, and pay for sequin dresses so they could compete for Miss Teen Texas.
Ty had met Tawny in the first grade. Back then she’d had two perfect brown pigtails and worn ironed dresses. She’d been sweet and easy to get along with. When he’d gotten out of the service and they’d started dating, she’d still been sweet and easy to get along with.
She loved Holley as much as he did and wanted to live here all her life.
She was a lady.
She was a Texan, for pity’s sake.
Ty had known since their very first date that the two of them were destined for each other.
He swiveled his chair to face his computer and went back to the videos of his final ride. He watched them long after his mom’s attempt to get him to go to bed. Watched them past midnight, then one o’clock.
When at last he shut down his computer, he was no closer to understanding what had caused his fall. He used his arms to push himself to standing, hissing at the pain. Blasted knee. He set his crutches under his arms and made his way slowly down the hallway and through his master bedroom. Crutches, foot, crutches, foot, agony knifing up his leg into his hip and ribs.
By the time he reached his bathroom, his hands were shaking. He fumbled through the medicine bottles the hospital had given him as a party favor. Anti-inflammatories. Antibiotics. Cursing, he grabbed a bottle
off the counter and squinted at it through the headache pounding the front of his skull.
Vicodin. Don’t mind if I do.
He couldn’t remember and didn’t care how long it had been since his last dose. He cared even less about how many pills that pansy doctor in Idaho wanted him to take each time. He drank water from the sink’s spout and swallowed two.
If he’d had the strength for a shower, he’d have showered. Turned out it was all he could manage to get himself from the light of his bathroom to the dark of his bed. His knee screamed at him as he lifted it onto the mattress. Once he’d gotten it settled, he peeled off his shirt and rested against a stack of pillows with a groan.
His house echoed with emptiness. His future had turned gray, his purpose grayer.
Where was Celia? That he knew the answer didn’t stop the question from coming. Since he’d wrecked his knee, the fact that she and Addie lived in Oregon irritated him constantly. Which must be why he thought about Celia so much. Every time he woke: her. When out of it with drugs: her. When tired. When surrounded by his family. When the pain was worst.
Her. Her. Her.
Tawny had been here a few hours ago, yet as soon as he’d stretched out here on his bed, who had he thought of?
He wanted Celia and Addie to move to Holley more than he wanted pain meds or sleep or even health. It wasn’t logical.
He bent an elbow over his eyes. A while back, Celia had lectured him about trying to buy them stuff. He’d heard her. But in his experience, money got things done. He’d never been a patient man. It wasn’t in him to sit around politely, doing nothing except hoping that Addie and Celia would move to Holley.
He needed to get them to Texas.
He knew exactly what gift he’d purchase Addie for her birthday.
And tomorrow, he’d buy Celia a house.
We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Celia thought, staring at her online bank account. This weekly date of ours depresses me to no end.
Planting an elbow on the kitchen table, she dropped the side of her head into her hand. She still needed to pay the electric bill, and Addie would need school supplies—