by Linda Warren
He slapped his leg with his hand. “Come on, Mickey. Let’s go. I have to go to work.”
Mickey didn’t move. “I’m guessing from sunup to sundown, right? To make up for the days you’ve lost. The Rebels don’t expect that of you. What I don’t understand is why you do.”
When he didn’t speak, she reached out her hand and said, “I can almost touch that steel wall you’ve erected around yourself. For a brief moment in time you let down your guard and allowed Dusty and me in. Now you’re shutting everyone else out again. Loving someone means you open your heart and you open yourself up for pain. That’s a risk that comes with everything, even love. That’s what life is about, Rico. You get hurt but you learn to survive and go on.”
He stared straight ahead as if he was in a trance and that made her angry. Why couldn’t he talk to her? They never had a problem talking. That anger drove her to add, “Until you can admit that what we shared was real, I’m not talking to you anymore.” She reached down and picked up Mickey. “And I’m keeping Mickey.”
She closed the door in his face.
* * *
RICO SHUT OUT Anamarie’s voice as he traveled toward the ranch. He refused to think about what she’d said. He couldn’t let himself get involved anymore. Living by himself and being alone was his future. He’d known that from the start, but he’d gotten sidetracked. He wouldn’t again.
It was just as well she’d kept Mickey. He didn’t need any reminders. He just needed to work until he couldn’t think.
Instead of turning left to Rebel Road, he turned right and drove over the cattle guard onto the McGregor property. Foggy dew danced in the beam of his headlights, but he could see the old McGregor house clearly. The house was closed up; not a light anywhere. Dark shadows loomed over the house mingling with the early morning dawn with an eerie ghost-like feel. Mr. McGregor’s life was this ranch and Rico thought it sad his only son had no interest in being a rancher. But Robert McGregor had a right to live his own life. Rico understood that. He only hoped that the people who’d bought the land would treat it as kindly as Mr. McGregor had.
As much as he tried to shut out Ana’s words, they followed him into the office.
Until you admit what we had was real, I’m not talking to you.
Dusty wasn’t ours to keep.
He was so into his own feelings that it startled him when everyone jumped to their feet and shouted, “Rico, welcome home.”
“You could’ve taken the day off,” Falcon said.
“I’ve had too many days off,” Rico replied, fighting to maintain his composure. “I’m ready to go to work. I just don’t know where I’m supposed to be today.”
“With me.” Elias slapped him on the back. “We have five hundred square bales on the ground and we need to get them into the barn. Let’s go.”
Elias’s phone buzzed and he immediately reached for it in his pocket. “Calm down. I’ll be right there.” Headed toward the door, Elias shouted over his shoulder, “Maribel’s water broke and Chase is having a meltdown. It’s too early. The boys are coming too early. I’ve got to go.”
There was silence for a moment and then Miss Kate got to her feet. “I better go check on Maribel and make sure everything’s okay.” As she passed Rico she hugged him around the waist. “I’m glad you’re home. I sleep better when I know where my boys are.”
He tried not to stiffen, but he feared he failed. He wasn’t one of her boys. Once again he was ducking all those family ties.
“That leaves us short on manpower today.” Falcon’s words penetrated the numbness of his mind. “Jude and Quincy’s babies have arrived and they’ll be out for a couple days.”
“Rico and I will get the hay off the field,” Egan said.
“I’ll drive for y’all and we can switch around.” Falcon looked at the ledger he always kept beside him. “Mr. Higbee is coming at nine for fifty round bales of hay.”
“Paxton and I will handle that,” Phoenix said.
Rico threw bales of hay onto the trailer with more energy than ever. He just wanted to block out the world.
“Are you okay?” Egan asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you get the dog back?”
“No, she kept it.”
Egan paused in picking up a bale of hay. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Nope.” Rico jumped onto the trailer and stacked bales, shutting out Egan’s voice and shutting out everything but the work.
Paxton joined them at noon and they worked steadily until nine o’clock that night. With the last bale in the barn, Rico made his way to the bunkhouse. Hay stung his skin and clung to his sweaty clothes. The collar of his shirt rubbed like a Brillo pad.
He went straight to the bathroom and stripped out of his dirty grimy clothes. As he made to step into the tub for a shower, he noticed Dusty’s bath toys Ana had bought him. Marching to the kitchen he got a plastic bag and put all the toys inside. Suddenly he could hear Dusty and he cringed. When would it stop?
He put the bag of toys in the utility closet, took a shower and went to bed, forcing himself mentally to not think. But her voice slipped through...
Dusty wasn’t there on Tuesday mornings, That was us. Just us.
* * *
ANAMARIE WORKED ON the shop. Everything was going so slow. Her dad worked about two hours every afternoon and the wall wasn’t even halfway done yet. Her dad could not keep up the pace of working a job and coming to help her. She had to tell him she would hire someone else. It might hurt his feelings, but she didn’t think he would be too hurt.
She had decided to put in laminated wood flooring all over so that meant she had to pull up the linoleum in the bathroom. While on her hands and knees yanking linoleum, her cell buzzed. She glanced at it on the top of the commode. Bubba. If he was going to offer to help her, she would gladly take him up on it.
“Hey, sis, can you come over to the courthouse for a few minutes?”
“Courthouse? What’s going on?”
“Margie’s pregnant and we’re getting married. We need a witness.”
“Does Mom know?”
“No, we’re going over there tonight to tell them.”
This was not good. Her mother was going to be livid.
“I’ll be right there.”
Bubba and Margie said their vows in front of Judge Henley. Wyatt was there, too. Afterward, Wyatt pulled her to the side.
“Ms. Henshaw called this morning to let me know that Dusty is adjusting very well. And CPS will continue to check in every week for a while to make sure everything’s okay. Just thought you might like to know. I tried calling Rico, but he won’t answer his phone.”
“He’s taking this very hard.”
“I’m sorry, and I wish there was a way I could help him.”
“Me, too,” she murmured almost to herself, knowing there was no one who could reach Rico. He had to heal on his own.
She went back to pulling linoleum. Her dad came in around four and put in a few studs. She had to talk to him and she was dreading it.
As he packed up his things, she said, “Dad, I appreciate your help, but I think this is getting too much for you. I’m going to look for someone else to finish this.”
Her dad caught his back. “That might be a good idea. My back and my knees are about to get me. I’ll be here to make sure everything is done right.”
“Thank you, Dad.” That went very well. Now she had to worry about her finances. She was spending everything she had in her shop and she needed to go to work to earn money.
Later that night she pushed her worries aside and thought about Rico; his gentle touch, his gentle love. No one had ever loved him but his great-grandma, and the struggle to keep her safe had caused him immeasurable pain. That’s what he associated love with—pain. He had to know it was so much more than that.<
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She clutched the teddy bear a little tighter and Mickey edged closer as if she might need comfort. All she needed was Rico here to hold her like he always had. When would she stop wanting him?
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING Rico got up and had a ham-and-cheese roll-up for breakfast with a glass of milk. His phone binged and he glanced at it on the counter. Elias. He touched it and a photo of two little boys wrapped in blue blankets came up. He read the text below it:
The twins have arrived early. They weighed 3 lbs. 2 oz. apiece exactly. We couldn’t come up with names that we could agree on so Maribel let Grandpa name them. She was heavily sedated at the time. So here they are: John Abraham Rebel the Second and John Abraham Rebel the Third. We’re going to call them J.R. and Tre.
A smile tugged at Rico’s face for the first time in days. He was happy for his friend and he didn’t feel that pang of jealousy that he thought he might. And if the boys were anything like their father, they would probably be known as the terrors of Horseshoe, Texas.
He typed in: Congratulations. And then went to work.
For the next couple of weeks he worked from sunup to sundown. The calendar flipped over to September and hay season was winding down. On Saturday he walked into the office for another day’s work.
“I’ll get the round bales off the field this morning,” he said.
“Paxton and Phoenix will do that,” Falcon told him. “You have the day off.”
“I don’t need a day off.”
Falcon stared right at him. “Yes, you do. You can’t continue this pace. You need a break and you’re taking it.”
Rico could see there was no need to argue. They weren’t going to let him work. He turned and walked out the door. Egan followed him.
“Rico, he’s right and you know it.”
“I need to work, Egan. That’s all I know.”
Egan sighed. “Go see Anamarie.”
“I don’t need to see Anamarie. I wish everyone would just leave me alone.”
He was acting like a petulant child, but he couldn’t change the way he felt. No one understood what was going on in his head. No one.
“Talk to her,” Egan kept on. “Talk, yell, scream. Do whatever you have to do to get this out of your system.”
Rico got in his truck and drove to the bunkhouse. He wasn’t talking to anyone, not even for Egan. He did laundry and changed the sheets on his bed. For the first time he noticed that Dusty’s drawing was missing. Ana had taken it. She had no right. The drawing belonged here in the bunkhouse. Then, the drawing was fictional just like everything else had been.
He stayed busy doing things he hadn’t done in a while like washing dishes and wiping down the counters. Dusty’s door was firmly closed and it always would be. Around eleven he realized he was hungry, but there wasn’t much to eat. He’d have to make a trip to the grocery store. He’d do that later.
Sinking into his recliner, he turned on a football game and watched the players run helter-skelter all over the field just like his thoughts were running through his head.
Talk to her.
Our relationship wasn’t about Dusty.
I saw Dusty as a way to get closer to you.
He fell asleep with those words in his head.
* * *
ANAMARIE WAS HAVING a bad week. The first carpenter she hired brought a six-pack of beer with him and he didn’t last the day. The next carpenter brought his two little grandbabies with him. That didn’t work, either.
She was still looking for someone else. In the meantime she searched the Internet for ways to do it herself. It couldn’t be that hard. But then it was. It took someone strong to hold the two-by-fours and nail them in place.
She was trying to figure out where to start when her mother blew through the front door like a low-grade hurricane. “What are you doing to your father?”
Anamarie laid her laptop on the concrete floor. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s in his recliner with a heating pad on his knee. I just picked up another pad for his back.”
“I’m sorry. He hasn’t worked here in days.”
“It’s finally caught up with him and now he’s sitting in his recliner expecting me to hand him stuff.” She glanced around at the empty space and the partial wall. “This is nonsense. Just nonsense. You have a place of business down the street. Why do you need this?”
Anamarie took a patient breath. Her mother’s ire tested her patience and her nerves like it always had. But she wouldn’t give in to those guilty feelings. Her independence meant a lot to her. “I’ve made cakes at the bakery for many years now and you complained about it daily. You also complained about the cookies I made and every upgrade I made to the bakery. I want my own place where no one is telling me what to do. I’ve earned that right.”
Her mother sank onto the bench that her dad used to step up on. “Why are all my kids against me?”
Ana sat by her mother. “Do you want me to be brutally honest?”
Her mother frowned. “Of course. I don’t want you to lie to me.”
Ana swallowed the constriction in her throat. This is the talk she and her mother should’ve had years ago and she had to go with her heart even if her words were going to hurt. “You’re judgmental, critical and sometimes even rude.”
Her mother drew back. “I am not. How dare you say that.”
“How many times have you told me that I needed to fix myself up and I needed to lose weight? That’s critical and it kept my low self-esteem going for years. How many times have you criticized Angie for marrying Hardy? How many times have you criticized Peggy or Patsy for the way they wear their hair or their clothes? How many—”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to be mean.”
“I’m being honest.”
“I’m just trying to help my kids. Hardy got Angie pregnant when she was seventeen. I’ll never forgive him for that. And Patsy and Peggy, well, who knows about them. I never understood them even when they were little girls. And you, I was only trying to protect you after what that boy did to you.”
“Then support me, love me, but please don’t criticize me and make me feel lower than I already do.”
“I... I...” Her mother brushed away a tear and Ana took her hands in hers.
“Just love us the way we are. That’s all we need. And try to be more accepting of others.”
“You’re talking about that man, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m talking about Rico, and Hardy and Teresa’s husband and Frank’s wife and Margie.”
Her mother pulled her hands away. “Don’t get me started on Margie. I guess you know they got married at the courthouse.”
“Yes. I was a witness and I’m happy for them. You’re going to have another grandchild in a few months. A grandchild who will live here in Horseshoe and you’ll get to see it every day. Aren’t you excited about that?”
“It’s just that—”
“They didn’t get married in the church,” Ana finished for her. “She’s getting her first marriage annulled through the church and then she’ll be joining. That should make you happy.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Like you got pregnant with Frank,” Ana came back at her without any guilty qualms. “Since you’ve experienced the same thing, I thought you would be more understanding.”
“Anamarie, please come back to the bakery and let’s forget all this nonsense.” Her mother switched gears quickly.
“I’m not coming back to the bakery. Margie will eventually take it over.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Her mother lifted her chin.
“That’s the way it works, Mom. A Wiznowski wife runs the bakery. That’s the way it’s been for over a hundred years and it’s not going to change anytime soon.”
Her mother got to her
feet. “It’s no use talking to you.”
“Give Margie a chance. For Bubba. For all of us.”
“I’ve got to go. Your dad needs a heating pad.” Her mother walked out the door without another word.
She sat on the bench wondering if her mother had heard anything she’d said. She seemed to have walls just like Rico and nothing ever penetrated them. At the thought of Rico, he strolled through the front door. She froze.
What was he doing here?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here, Rico?” Anamarie asked.
“Umm...”
Mickey, who was sleeping in the bed she’d bought for him, woke up and trotted over to Rico. He circled him, sniffing at his boots and then barked several times.
Rico squatted and stroked Mickey. “I stopped by to check on Mickey,” he said.
She had a feeling that was a white lie. He seemed lost. The haggard lines of his face and the sadness lurking in his eyes tore at her heart. She had said that she wasn’t going to talk to him, but some things were just impossible not to do.
“Mickey’s fine.”
Rico scratched the dog’s head. “He’s put on some weight.”
“He loves biscuits and gravy and any kind of meat I put in it.” As she watched him with the dog, it hit her that he might be here to take Mickey. “If you’re here to...”
He got to his feet. “I’m not here to take Mickey. I work all day and he’d be alone and not fed. It’s best if you keep him.” He looked around at the empty space with the partial wall. “Who’s helping you?”
“My dad.”
He walked to the wall to inspect it. “It’s crooked.” He always took his hat off when he entered a room and it was now in his left hand. With his right hand he touched the studs. “It’s not tight. It’s loose and unsteady. This has to be torn out and redone.”
“No, I’m not going to do that. It would hurt my dad’s feelings.”
“The bottom studs have to be nailed to the concrete and you’ll need special tools for that.”