"Okay, see you there.”
The call was disconnected and I frowned. I imagined that he wanted to talk about the ranch, but I was sure by now he knew everything there was to know. The entire family would. I felt incredibly guilty for having been part of Frank’s deception, but I had been nothing more than his employee and obligated to abide by his wishes. I didn't know if Lisa, the girls, or Cameron or Shane would be upset with me, but I figured they would. After all, that was a pretty big secret to keep. I expected it, and wouldn’t blame them a bit. I’d have felt the same way if the shoe was on the other foot.
I drove to my small apartment. It was quiet, so I quickly unloaded my groceries and put them away. After doing chores around the house I had about twenty minutes before I needed to leave to meet Donovan at the restaurant, and glanced down at my clothes, wondering if I should change. I wore my usual attire - jeans, cowboy boots, a tee-shirt, and unbuttoned flannel shirt over the tee. I snickered. Since when had I dressed up for any date with Donovan? He knew me and my clothing preferences. I certainly wasn't going to get all gussied up for him. In fact, I wasn’t going to do or hope for anything, knowing that he would be blowing out of Stinnett as soon as he possibly could. Come to think of it, perhaps it was a good idea for us to have a few of these dates. I had my own set of questions to ask.
*
Around seven o'clock, I pulled off the highway onto the dirt parking lot of the Chit Chat restaurant. I glanced around at the nearly empty lot and then spotted Donovan's beat up old F250 at the far side. I drove my own truck over, parking close to his truck. I recognized Violet’s sun and sand-damaged Corolla a short distance away. As I approached, he climbed out of the cab of his truck and made his way toward me as I parked, turned off the engine and climbed out. Once again, I felt a betraying tingle as his gaze passed over me and a brief grin flashed over his features.
"Thanks for meeting me," he said.
I shrugged. "That’s the rules," I stated. "Meet me here, and drop me off here."
"Do we have a time limit?" he asked, the grin broadening.
"That depends on how things go," I said, gesturing toward the restaurant. "Want to go in for a bite?"
He shook his head. "No, but I sure could use a drink. You?"
I frowned. "So you’re going to try and get me drunk, huh?"
"One beer certainly won't hurt," he said. "You game?"
I shrugged, thinking that maybe having a beer wasn't a bad idea. I was already nervous, not only about the upcoming conversation about the ranch, but about more personal aspects that might come up along the way. I followed Donovan into the Chit Chat, where a slow crowd had gathered. Being a Monday, it was one of the slower days of the week, so I hadn't expected many people in here, and there weren’t. Two older couples sat in small booths near the front corner, while a young couple sat at another in the opposite corner. Donovan made his way toward a booth near the other front corner, where we would have some privacy. Over his shoulder, I noticed Gina standing near the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a towel. She gave me a wide-eyed look, winked, and then grinned as we sat ourselves at the table. She walked over, order pad in hand.
"Well, if it isn’t Donovan Sanderson," she said, giving him an obvious once over. "Didn't take too long to claim your first date with Memphis, did it?"
Donovan looked up at her and smiled. "How you doing, Gina?"
She was obviously surprised that he remembered her. She shot a quick glance at me, and then back to Donovan. "Just fine, as you can see. Still workin’.”
Donovan nodded, and then gestured. "Two beers, please."
Gina lifted an eyebrow at me and I merely shrugged.
"Bottle, can, or glass?"
"Give us two frosty glasses, Gina," I sighed.
Gina offered a slight chuckle and then retreated to the bar, where she removed two frosted glasses from the freezer under the bar. She took her time pouring two draft beers and then walked back to our table, unable to stop grinning at me. I gave her the eye as she set the beers down. “Thanks, Gina,” I said, effectively conveying that enough was enough. With each of us cradling beer mugs, Donovan and I stared at each other.
"Can I get you anything else?" Gina asked.
Donovan shook his head, and Gina looked at me. I shook my head as well. She lingered for a moment, and then turned and strode back into the kitchen. I turned to Donovan. "Okay, spit it out."
"Why the hell didn't you tell anybody that the ranch was going under?"
I didn't suppose he would beat around the bush, but the brusque quality of the question, and the tone in his voice did take me by surprise. "Because Frank asked me not to," I said simply.
"Dad asked you to keep it a secret?" He frowned. "Why?"
I sighed. "I don’t know, Donovan, I was only an employee, not his confidant. I can only surmise that he didn't want Lisa to worry," I paused. "Donovan, you haven't been around for years, and I doubt if you've noticed anything untoward, but your mom isn't as strong as she used to be." He opened his mouth to disagree, but then closed it. I continued. "For the past five years or so, your mom has grown a little less able to handle stress," I explained. “About five years ago, Frank started noticing some subtle changes in her personality—"
"What do you mean, her personality?" Donovan asked. "I haven't noticed anything."
I merely lifted an eyebrow at him. "Donovan, you haven't seen your mom in what, almost ten years? Are you telling me you don't think she's any different?"
He frowned. "We'll of course she's older, she looks older, and right now, she's under a great deal of stress what with Dad’s passing. But I haven't noticed anything—"
"Well I have, and I can assure you that everyone else in your family has as well. At any rate, Frank didn't want your mom worrying, so he swore me to silence."
"How long has this been going on?"
"By the time I took over the books, probably a year or so before that."
"But how—"
"A bad crop year here, low yields on beef prices the next, needed repairs on equipment, new equipment purchases, repairs to the barn, repairs to the irrigation system, you name it. Donovan, the ranch has been bleeding money for years."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Why? How?" I demanded, striving to keep my voice down. "Donovan, you walked away eight years ago. You made it clear that you didn't want to have anything to do with the ranch, running the ranch, or anything else associated with the ranch. What did you expect anyone to do?" I shook my head, my ire growing. I took a sip of beer to calm my emotions. "Frank always thought that the next year would be better, but there was always something else that needed fixing, feed prices were up, bad weather… you know how life is for ranchers and farmers out here.” I paused, turning my mug around in front of me. “At first, he was able to keep up all right… robbing Peter to pay Paul, that kind of thing. He’d take the money for hay and put it toward repairs, or take money he’d tucked away for a new tractor and put it toward grain, seeds for the new crops, or repairs. Still, the debt just grew to the point that neither he, nor I, to be completely honest, thought it could ever be repaid."
Donovan sat silent, took a sip of beer as he gazed out the window. "I wish I had known," he said simply.
"And then what? You would've rushed back to fix everything?" I asked. "That's not how it works and you know it. Your dad would've been the last one to accept charity from anyone, especially you. Even if—" I didn't even want to get into it. I had started to say even if he had come back or had known about the problems. He and his dad had been estranged for years, and I knew Frank well enough to know that he never would've taken a dime from Donovan. No sense in rubbing Donovan's nose in it though.
"I could've helped," he sighed.
"Be that as it may," I said, taking another sip of beer. "Frank still wouldn't have accepted it from you."
Donovan said nothing for several moments, but merely continued to sip this beer, staring out the window, a frown of concentrat
ion furrowing his brow. "What are you thinking?" I asked, while at the same time wondering why I even cared.
"Honest?"
"That would be nice," I remarked.
"I regret leaving the way I did. I regret not making an effort to smooth things over with Dad. Now, it's too fucking late. I can’t fucking turn back time."
I said nothing, realizing that his regret was genuine. Donovan would never have a chance to make amends, to reunite with his dad and enjoy a future with him. I did feel some empathy for him over that, but at the same time was not yet ready to forgive him completely for just turning his back on everything, and everyone, that he had left behind.
"I also regret leaving you like I did," he said.
He looked at me, his expression serious, his eyes riveted to mine. "I've been a fucking fool. It's as simple as that. I've thrown away some of the best things, the best people, that I've ever had in my life. There's no coming back from that."
I felt a surge of emotion and swallowed hard. I blinked back the warm tears that flooded my eyes. He could have no idea the impact his words had on me at that moment. Perhaps I was just feeling vulnerable. Perhaps it was the beer, which, I realized quite to my surprise, was almost gone. I glanced down at the glass, then up at him, but there was really nothing to say. He finished off his beer and looked at me, eyebrows raised.
"Another?"
I thought about it a moment and then shrugged. "Why the hell not?" He wasn’t the only one burdened with regrets. His words had caused me to take a good look at myself and my poor decisions of the past – and present. Donovan caught Gina's attention and made a motion for two more beers. Gina was quick to respond, and in moments had placed two new frosted mugs of foaming beer on our table. She glanced pointedly at me. I made a slight gesture with my head, indicating that I was fine, and, satisfied, she walked back to the kitchen with our dirty glasses.
"So," Donovan asked after taking a sip of his new beer. "What have you been doing with yourself for the past eight years?"
I took a sip of my own beer and then looked out the window. "Working."
"No man in your life?"
I glanced at him, wondering if I should even answer that question. "Nothing serious," I said shortly. "You?"
For a moment, a grin flashed across his features. "Man in my life?" He shook his head. "No, no man in my life."
I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant."
He nodded. "Yeah, I did. No meaningful relationships."
"Where have you been all these years?" I found myself asking, despite telling myself not to even express any curiosity whatsoever.
"I’ve been living in New York City," he replied.
"Doing what?" I asked.
"I own and manage a few gyms,” he said.
I sat back, surprised. I don't know what I had expected him to be doing all this time, but a gym owner was not it. "They have gyms in New York City?" I asked, only slightly tongue-in-cheek.
He nodded. "It took me a while, but I've done okay for myself."
I didn't want to appear too interested, so I nodded and left it at that. "Things are pretty much the same around here as they've always been," I said. "But that suits me just fine. Once in a while I go down to Amarillo, but I prefer it here."
He nodded. "I'd forgotten how quiet and tranquil it is out here. In New York City, everyone's always coming or going, twenty-four hours a day. It's never quiet."
I continued to sip my beer, more than aware that he had failed to broach the topic I most wanted answers for. Why hadn’t he kept in touch? Each of us made small talk, neither one of us wanting to broach more serious topics of discussion. Finally, as I neared the end of my second beer, I started to feel a little woozy. "Shit, I don't think I should drive home." I glared at him accusingly.
"Not to worry," he said. "I'll take you."
I shook my head. "No, you won't. I'll just have to get something to eat and drink some coffee before I head out." I suddenly remembered my excuse. "Either that, or I'll just hang out here to help Gina."
"No need," he said. "Let me take you home."
I shook my head. "Dates are supposed to start and end here," I said. He stared at me for several moments, and then finished off his own beer.
"Have it your way."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I said, his comment raising my hackles. "Since when has anything ever been my way?"
"Memphis, I didn't mean anything by that—"
I don't know if it was the beer that had gotten to my head, or my irritation with him, but all of a sudden, my mouth was gushing and I couldn't seem to shut it. "Give me one good reason why you never came back to visit your family… to visit me!"
"Memphis, I—"
"You don't have a good reason, do you?" I challenged. I couldn't stop now even if I had wanted to. "No, you just up and left, and wrote us all out of your life without so much as a good-bye!"
"Memphis, I understand where you're coming from, but—"
I couldn't take it. Choking back a sob from the sudden rush of emotions that overwhelmed me, I stood, jostling the table as I did so. The pain, the hurt, the humiliation, and most of all, the sadness of my lost relationship with Donovan took me by surprise and almost brought me to my knees with grief. I had to leave before I crumbled in front of him. Before he could say anything, I turned and quickly headed toward the front door of the restaurant, unable to face him one second longer.
Chapter 9
Donovan
For a moment I sat frozen at the table, not sure whether I should go after Memphis or leave her alone. She wanted a reason for why I had left, but it wasn't quite as black and white as that. Any answer I could give her wouldn't be simple. With a sigh, I gestured to Gina, who had emerged from the kitchen and was ostensibly making herself busy cleaning behind the bar although I had a feeling she was more curious about what was going on between Memphis and me than cleaning. She came over to the table as I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and pulled out a twenty, which I knew would cover the cost of our beers.
"Keep the rest," I said. Without glancing at her again, I stood and headed for the door. To my surprise, Memphis had not headed straight for her car, but stood at one corner of the building, looking out into the distance. There was really nothing out there, as the Chit Chat restaurant was situated outside of Bolger, surrounded by the flatlands of the Texas Panhandle.
She heard me approach and quickly swiped her hand over her eyes before turning to face me. Despite the fact that I could tell that she had been crying, she showed no sign of tears now. To the contrary, her jaw had hardened and her eyes flashed with anger. I guess I couldn't blame her. My leaving Texas had more than likely destroyed her dreams, and perhaps even her heart. Still, I doubted that she had remained in Stinnett pining for me for the past eight years. She was beautiful, smart, had a great personality, and she was a go-getter. There had always been men swarming around her, although, at least in my past experience, she had not shown much interest. What had happened during the past eight years I had no idea, nor was it my place to ask.
"I'm fucking sorry, Memphis," I said, knowing that those words were inadequate. There was nothing else I could say.
"I'm so frustrated with you, Donovan! You can’t even explain it to me. You don't have any excuses for not coming back, even for a visit, do you?"
"Memphis—"
"No! You don't understand. Do you have any idea what kind of impact your leaving had on your family? On me?"
Before I could open my mouth, she continued.
"Your mom cried for months, did you know that?" she accused. "Your dad kept himself busy, but he would scowl and mutter under his breath any time your name was mentioned. In your absence, everyone has moved on with their lives. Cameron is relatively successful with his shop, and Tammy and Julie each have relationships that may even turn into marriage in the near future. Do you know any of that?"
I shook my head. How could I know? Not only had I not made any effort to stay inv
olved with the family after my leaving, but my family had obviously felt the same way. Plus, my mother never mentioned it.
"And Shane... did you know that Shane always had aspirations of taking over the ranch?"
Again, I could only shake my head. "He will, won't he?"
Memphis shook her head. "No, your father made it plain that Shane didn't have what it took to run the ranch. Oh, he's a good enough ranch hand, and seems perfectly happy living in the bunkhouse with the other men, and, although I do admit that he doesn't have much of a head for business, he does know cattle, horses, and is familiar with most of the ranch operations."
"So what's he going to do?"
Memphis glared up at me.
"How the hell do I know?” she exclaimed. "I may be close to your family, but I'm certainly not privy to a lot of the private conversations and decisions that are made around there. I was hired to help your dad with the books because Shane had no head for the numbers and Cameron was busy getting his own business off the ground and didn't have the time to commit that was necessary."
"Memphis, I'm not sure I know what you want me to say," I began. "I—"
"I don't want you to say anything, Donovan," she said. "I'm just trying to make you understand that your leaving had a big impact on everyone." She paused and glanced down at her feet, then back up. "It had a big impact on me too. But make no mistake, Donovan, I moved on. I had to. I had no other choice."
I tried again. "Memphis, leaving wasn't especially easy for me either, but—"
She slashed her hand down at empty air. "I don’t even know if you can come up with an excuse that can rationalize your lack of communication and your refusal to even pop in once in a while." Her voice broke. "Oh, I always knew you wanted to explore the world outside of Stinnett, and I certainly don't blame you for that. But I just don't see any rationale for your not being more involved with your brothers and sisters. I can understand the argument between you and your dad about sticking around and someday taking over the ranch. What I can't understand is how you can turn your back on an entire family just because you had difficulties with one person in it!"
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