A knowing smile graced her lips. “Rider and I got pregnant at sixteen. My mother was going to ship me away to an aunt in Abilene, so Rider and I eloped. We barely stayed one step ahead of our parents that first year. Three more babies came in five years. We toured the rodeo circuit living out of our pickup and a popup camper we pulled behind.”
Avery’s mouth hung agape over the tale.
“Rider took a beating riding every ornery beast they offered him, winning purses while me and the kids mucked stalls and exercised horses. We limped into Vegas for the rodeo finals in a dying truck, with nothing between us and the soup kitchen but a convenience store sub sandwich. And who was waiting for us? Child Protective Services, who had dogged us for years, threatening to put the kids in foster care unless we gave them a proper home and education. So, Rider took a final gamble.”
“What happened?”
“When he mounted the bull that day, I knew he would win or die trying. Those were the longest eight seconds of my life. We didn’t know our troubles had reached the commentators’ ears. They had a camera on me and the kids and one on Rider, and when he won, our tear-stained faces filled the jumbotron.”
“His purse was big enough to get you a place to live?”
Teddie beamed. “Oh, Darlin’ that and so much more. Rider became an instant celebrity. They said our story humanized the sport in a way most people could never understand. I asked him to capitalize on his good fortune and hang up his chaps. He took a seat in the commentators’ box, and his uncle encouraged us to parlay a fraction of our winnings into a real-estate course.”
“What a story, Teddie!”
“We’ve been blessed. After learning the ropes in Texas housing sales, we came up here. I’ve already told you the rest of the story. After years of dirt and dust, we’re living a life beyond our dreams. Come with me tomorrow. Let me treat you to a day of relaxation.”
Avery decided to accept the offer.
Avery took a breath and said, “I’m going to stay in Baltimore a little longer than I planned.”
Instead of celebrating Avery’s independence, her kids panicked. Everyone but Brady, that is, to whom Jamie passed the phone while she ran to her cell to conference-call her brothers.
Avery bit her thumb nail and asked, “I’ve upset her, haven’t I, Brady?”
“Jamie? She’ll get over it. I’ll take the heat for you. In a few minutes I’m sure I’ll do something annoying and she’ll get preoccupied with me instead.”
Avery laughed. “I really didn’t expect this. I thought they’d take it in stride, like you.”
Brady’s voice softened. “You’re their security, Avery. Me? I can be happy for you, but their constant worry is that they’ll lose you, one way or another.”
Her voice broke. “You’re a good guy, Brady. I don’t think I tell you that often enough.”
“Thanks, Avery. I love you too. But don’t get any ideas that I’m perfect. My parents make me crazy sometimes too. I’m just getting old enough to understand that someday, despite our best intentions, we’ll do the same thing to our kids.”
“Any news on that front?”
“Nothing worth reporting. I’m sure you’ll know before me.”
Avery heard whispering, and then Jamie’s voice came back on the phone. “How long do you plan on staying now? Will you be back before the end of the semester? Should Luke just go home alone after classes end? He’s got a summer job lined up at the orchard, you know, and Wes pulls out for Orlando at the end of April. I’m sure he’d like to see you before he leaves.”
Avery leaned her head against the wall. She closed her eyes and mouth tightly as she fought the rising annoyance she felt over Jamie’s motherly lecture. “Yes, Jamie. I know all those things. I’m calling Luke tonight. He can go home to the house anytime he wants, and yes, I know when Wes heads to Florida. I’m a widow, not an amnesiac.”
“Sorry,” Jamie replied, her wounded feelings evident. “It’s just that—”
“I know, honey. I know.” She heard Teddie’s knock on her door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?” and then she hung up the phone.
Teddie burst through the door with a clipboard in her hands. “Here’s our Saturday schedule at Chez Moi. Yoga at nine, facials and waxing at ten-thirty, lunch in their café followed by massages at one, and hair and makeup at two-thirty. Then downtown to the sweetest boutique you’ve ever seen.”
Avery blew out a rush of air and smiled. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
Chapter Four
Anna Maria Island, Florida, March 8
Gina Carson Donovan gasped. “You what?”
“I’ve taken a job in Maryland. I’m going to landscape a country club and golf course. I’ll be moving north for a while,” replied Gabriel Carson with long-rehearsed matter-of-factness. He folded his newspaper, set it beside his dinner plate, and took a bite of his food while his two daughters’ mouths gaped open.
“Daddy!” whined Emilia. “How can you? You’ll be breaking up the family.”
“It’s just for six to eight months, angel, and you can come up to visit me. It’s a wonderful professional opportunity for me. I can’t afford to turn it down.”
Gina’s mouth closed only long enough to scowl before responding. “You’ve been asked to consult on landscaping golf courses before, local ones, and you’ve always said you weren’t interested. Why this one, now, especially when it’s so far away?”
Gabriel had anticipated that question. “As you know, I’ve been considering passing the floral side of the company along to your uncle for a while now. And for some reason I feel drawn to my old area again. I want to be close to Washington for a time.”
“But why this job? What’s so special about this Maryland golf course that it would be worth leaving us for months on end?” Emilia cried.
“I can’t explain it logically, girls. I feel . . . restless. I need a change, and I have old history in the area. You each have good positions now, so I feel I can focus on myself a little.”
“Are you sick, Daddy?” Emilia’s voice was shaky. “Oh, please, no. Tell us you aren’t going north for some experimental medical treatment at Johns Hopkins.”
Gabriel laid a reassuring hand over hers and smiled. “I’m fine, girls. I promise.”
“Have you met someone?” Emilia pursued with a sustained tremble in her voice.
“No, angel,” he assured with a stern shake of his head.
“Then, what’s really going on?” pressed Gina.
Gabriel swallowed hard and sought to clear his mind before answering. “I spent eight years working and going to school in Washington, and I barely had time to sleep, let alone do any sightseeing beyond what I could enjoy from the mower seat. I’d like to go back and be a tourist for a while. I’d like to enjoy the beauty of the city without having to worry about caring for it this time. The job is just a means to that end. It puts me close to Washington and pays for my extended vacation.”
“How can you afford to maintain two residences?” Emilia asked.
Gabriel steeled himself to deliver the next revelation. “I was just about to get to that. Eventually the job will kick in with a living allowance, but I plan to go out a little early—you know, to get a feel for the layout of the course and do a little of that sightseeing I mentioned. I’ll need help with the expenses on this place, so I’ll need to rent it out while I’m gone.”
The gasp from the two girls nearly sucked his napkin away. “You’re evicting us?” they asked in unison.
“Absolutely not! You have two weeks to find a new place. I won’t show it to anyone until then.”
Emilia’s lips started to quiver. “Why can’t we stay here?”
Gina cocked her head to the side and curled her upper lip. “This is some sort of tough-love therapy, isn’t it? You think if you push us out of the nest I’ll run crying back to Mark. Admit it.” She forcefully pushed away from the table and stood, hands on the table, challenging her father.
Gabriel laid his hand over hers as he prepared to lay out a nightmare financial scenario. “It’s very simple. The costs will be more than you two can float.”
“I thought the mortgage was paid off,” said Gina with a cool-eyed glare.
They made it clear they were not going to leave without a fight. “Well . . . ,” he hedged. “The mortgage is paid off, but you have to factor in property taxes and insurance and all the utilities—gas, electric, phone, cable, water—but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I feel certain that by your age, you know what it costs to maintain a home.” He wasn’t actually certain at all. “Trust me. You two can’t afford this place, but between Gina’s job at the Chamber of Commerce and your earnings from selling your jewelry at Nina’s boutique, I figure you girls should be able to afford a nice little place if you split everything. Plus you’ve got that lucrative internship lined up for summer, Emilia. That’s added money right there.”
Gina dropped her silverware into her plate and slumped, glaring at her father before turning defiantly to Emilia. “We’ll have to move inland or rent some hovel, you know. It’ll take every penny we both make to rent anything beachfront.” She turned back to face her father. “If I wanted to be broke and miserable I could have just stayed with—”
“What did you say, Gina?” her father asked without breaking the rhythm of his chewing. His heart broke as her words confirmed his suspicion. Selfishness was at the root of her problems with Mark. Gabriel Carson was more determined than ever to pursue his plan.
Gina shook her head in aggravation. “Nothing.”
“I’ll help you look for another place. I know a few realtors, so I’ll make some inquiries.”
Tears welled in Emilia’s eyes. “But this is our home. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
Gabriel forced his voice to remain strong, even as his heart broke. “This will always be our home, Emilia, but at some point, you will choose to make another place your home. Perhaps this is the time.”
Gina stood and shoved her chair under the table. “Come on, Emilia. We’ve got a budget to plan. If we have to eat Ramen noodles two meals a day, we’ll make it work. Let’s go.”
Gabriel hadn’t felt this torn since the girls had their tonsils removed. He got the call that his mother was dying the day he brought them home from the hospital, gagging and crying about their pained throats. Remaining faithfully by his convalescing girls’ sides, he hadn’t even made the fifty-mile trip home for the funeral. He never saw his father alive again either. He had made his choice to be a better father than his own, but perhaps in his efforts to make this home more peaceful and loving than the home in which he had grown up, he too had missed the mark—gone too far the other way. And here he was, torn between making his daughters happy and making them strong.
Perhaps my kids will end up hating me too.
He trudged over to the phone and dialed with one hand as his other raked over and over through his hair. “Mr. Piccolo? Yes. Gabriel Carson here. Have you contracted that Maryland job yet? As it turns out, I am available after all.”
Chapter Five
Baltimore, Maryland, March 9
Rider Davis was a wisp of a man. Avery knew she was being generous if she guessed him to be five foot five and one hundred twenty pounds. His gnarled, scarred hands looked as though they belonged to a man twice his age, and his leathery face had three deep scars, souvenirs of his dangerous vocation. One jagged line ran diagonally across his forehead and through his right eyebrow, the remnant of being bull-tossed straight into a wooden fence. The other two scars crisscrossed his chin, forming an X to the right of his deeply cleft chin.Somehow, each of Rider’s rodeo scars added to his charm. He was as taut and muscled as Teddie, and his small, lean face boasted twinkling brown eyes and a genuinely happy grin. Factor in the sweet, courteous drawl, and he became a giant of a man before Avery’s very eyes.
He stopped by the boutique, answering Teddie’s call for a ride, and insisted the girls don their new outfits so he could take them out for a night on the town. Avery cringed for a multitude of reasons. First, as fun as the pampering and dressing up had been, appearing in public in such a state was quite another thing. She could recall only three other occasions when she felt this artificially enhanced. Each of them involved tuxedo-clad pubescent boys in funeral-home limos, reeking of cigarette smoke and old flowers, and girlfriends who carried overnight bags for makeup totes. Each of the girls took a turn doing one another’s hair and makeup. After several hours and a can and a half of Suave hairspray, she always managed to emerge with a massive, teased cloud orbiting a face whose makeup appeared to have been done by a graduate of the Crayola School of Cosmetology. And here she was again.
Reason two for her reluctance was her new ensemble. The clerk could have wrapped Teddie in one of the pricey boutique’s shopping bags and she would have rocked it as if it were couture. Instead, the svelte brunette wore a spaghetti-strap, gold sequined dress, which was apparently priced at a buck per kilowatt of reflected glitz. Avery’s dress did actually have a back and a neckline, but she questioned whether bias-cut sateen and lace was the raiment of Sunday School teachers and mothers. She dubiously watched other women in the couture shop trying on outfits, unable to imagine one of them pulling stained sport socks from the dryer or scrubbing a family toilet.
The third and most pressing reason for her reluctance was, however, the most painfully revealing and unnerving. As humiliating as it was to admit, she felt vulnerable and panicky over how to handle basic situations without Paul. What if the Davises automatically ordered a cocktail for her? Neither she nor Paul drank alcohol. A new concern suddenly slammed her. What would she do if they decided to invite a “friend” along for her? How could they possibly know that she still felt very married to Paul?
She became so flushed and pale from the stress of it all that Rider insisted they take her straight home, and when her new friends finally felt comfortable leaving her alone, she curled into a ball on Jamie’s old bed and cried.
She considered making a midnight departure for the airport, leaving a note behind explaining that an emergency had come up requiring her immediate return to Utah, but deep inside, she knew she was made of better stuff, that Paul and their faith had made a better person of her. And she knew the Davises deserved better from her. Instead of being honest with them about the choices she had opted to live by, she had crumbled and folded.
Every part of her had somehow become rooted in Paul—her womanly self, her social self, and even her spiritual self. More frightening was the realization that part of her had apparently atrophied since his death. She needed an anchor to steady her, and she knew where to find it. Well, she didn’t actually know where, since the congregation had reportedly moved into a new building in recent years, but a quick Google search gave her the address of the church the family visited when they were in town. After scribbling the address on a napkin, she immediately felt a sense of peace.
Avery hung her new clothes in Jamie’s old closet and finished transferring the contents of her suitcase into Jamie’s dresser. She hadn’t entered the bedroom she and Paul shared. She knew she couldn’t handle that yet.
After brushing her teeth and removing her contacts, she studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Styled hair and makeup had been her morning regimen since she was fourteen. That was the mother her children knew, and Avery knew that person was still inside her, somewhere between her neglected self and this Barbie imitation.
Chez Moi’s efforts were too dramatic, but Avery had to admit that seeing a less-neglected reflection brought a comforting familiarity. She tore through her uppity do, reducing the height by half, and smiled approvingly at the results. Next, she removed the makeup. The clean look of her freshly groomed brows inspired her to apply her own makeup—muted colors more in her comfort zone. Some blush, a touch of eye shadow and mascara, and a slight pass of lip gloss, and she was transformed into the woman who used to greet Paul each night.
Avery paused to admire the dramatic improvement her minimal efforts had produced, and she grimaced as she considered how long it had been since she’d made any effort to maintain her once-stylish appearance. Luke’s words came back to her. Bit by bit you’ve been shrinking, just like Dad, and since he died, well, you’re like a ghost of who you really are. I’d gladly let you go for a while if it meant getting you back again.
“I’m still in here, Luke,” she whispered to herself. “I’m still in here.”
She made a mental list of the day’s successes and failures. All in all it had been a good day. It was good to be open to new ideas again, good to be willing to change, and, better yet, good to know what not to change. She smiled contentedly as she knelt by her bed, anxious for Sunday to come.
Avery rose early the next morning and was showered and dressed in a navy and white, two-piece dress before eight. Teddie came to Avery’s door first thing to check on her and responded with enthusiasm when she saw Avery’s appearance.
“Ahhh. Don’t you just look beautiful!”
Avery blushed but nodded confidently. “This is who I used to be, before Paul died.”
“No,” Teddie replied, laying her finger across her lips in thought. “I don’t think so. This isn’t who you were. Anyone can plainly see that this is who you are, Avery. I’m guessin’ you just got a little lost for a while.”
Avery’s eyes stung at the correctness of her friend’s assessment. Unable to speak for a moment, she simply nodded and swept her hand inward, inviting Teddie to come inside.
Teddie laid her cashmere sweater along the back of Avery’s sofa, ran a hand through her jet black hair, and turned to face her new friend. “You look elegant, Avery. Like a lady, through and through.” Her head dipped and her cheeks blushed as she gave a nervous laugh. “I hope you’ll forgive me for trying to make you over into someone you clearly are not. It’s just that, after years of havin’ nothin’ but dirt and debt, I like getting dolled up now. Rider likes it too, but this look—this is right for you, so please forgive an old Texas fool.”
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 54