“Me or Wayne, sure. You’ve got auto pay set up, right?”
Sophie nodded.
“Okay. We’ll keep an eye out. You’re back on Thursday for lessons, right?”
“As always.” She started toward the door then paused. “Are you okay?”
He started to brush her question off then considered. Sophie was a woman. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“If you’re seeing someone—and you’re pretty serious—do you apologize after a disagreement?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Yeah? I mean, both of us did—communication mix up, you know? I apologized for my part and she got mad when I asked if she was going to.”
Sophie winced. “I don’t think you’re supposed to ask for an apology.”
“Even if it’s owed?”
“I’m not the best at relationships, so take what I say with a grain of salt. I do think, personally, that if you know you hurt someone, you should apologize whether or not you think you were wrong. You hurt them—you don’t get to decide you didn’t—so you apologize for that if nothing else. Flip side, if someone doesn’t apologize, maybe you let it slide and just forgive them anyway. I mean, Jesus forgave us before we ever thought we needed to say sorry, right?”
He nodded. That was a point. “Okay. Thanks.”
“I hope you work it out. Skye, right?”
“Yeah.”
“For what it’s worth, the few times we’ve talked, I’ve liked her.”
“Me, too.” He smiled. “If you’re heading out, I’ll walk with you as far as the main house. I need to find Wayne.”
“Sure. How are the camps going?”
They walked through the stable and out into the sunshine. “Okay, I guess. Joaquin and Tommy do the bulk of that heavy lifting. I haven’t heard any more complaints than usual. There’s a group of girls there this week—Scouts, maybe? I can’t remember. I’m taking a trail ride on Wednesday, I know that much.”
Sophie chuckled. “I should see about offering lessons as part of camps. I’ll have to think about that, but I bet I could make it work. I always need new ways to feed my horse habit.”
“Not loving the day job?”
“It’s okay. It’s just not horses.”
Morgan nodded. He understood that. “I’m going to head in through the kitchen. See you Thursday.”
“Yep. Thanks for this.” Sophie held up the folded papers and angled around to the front of the main house.
Morgan wiped his boots before pushing open the back door. It was well past lunch, so the kitchen was empty and only a few tantalizing smells lingered in the air. He’d skipped out again today, choosing a peanut butter and jelly in his office as the easier course of action.
No one was in the living room, either, but the quiet hum of the radio drifted out of the front room Wayne and Betsy used for their office.
Morgan knocked on the door frame.
Wayne spun in his chair. “Oh, hi, Morgan. C’mon in. Did Sophie find you?”
“She did.” Morgan pulled Betsy’s office chair away from her desk and sat. “I printed off her recent deposits so she could compare them with her own records. As far as we can see, she’s up to date. But she did say something that confused me.”
“About you taking over?”
Morgan nodded.
“Figured you’d come see me if she passed that along. If it hadn’t worked, I was going to head down to the stable to talk to you about it.” Wayne offered an easy smile. “I’m getting older. It’s time to start passing on some of the responsibilities so we don’t have to worry about what happens to the ranch when Jesus calls us home. This thing with Martin . . . you don’t expect to face the possibility of outliving your child.”
“Okay. I can see that.” Sort of. “But why me? Why not Cyan? Or Skye? Or Royal? Someone related to you. I’m nobody.”
Wayne cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. But I thought you and Skye were building something together, so it made sense, really. I couldn’t think of a finer grandson-in-law to have. And I can’t imagine someone I’d trust to run things here more.”
The warmth caused by Wayne’s words ran into the ice Skye’s disappearance and distancing had wrapped around his heart. “I’m not sure things with Skye are heading that direction anymore.”
“What happened? Can I ask? I’ll stay out of it if you’d rather, but that’s very hard to hear.”
Morgan sighed. He’d tried talking to Joaquin and Tommy about it. He’d mentioned it to Sophie. He’d been praying about the situation constantly. Nothing gave him the insight he needed. Maybe Wayne could. He relayed the basics of their argument and his attempt to resolve things on Saturday when Skye had returned then shrugged. “Now I’m not sure what to do. I don’t mind being wrong. I don’t mind apologizing and trying to change how I approach things. But I don’t know what to do with someone who isn’t willing to do the same for me. That’s not an equal partnership. And—along those same lines—I don’t want to tell her what she should do. She’s a smart, capable woman. I don’t mind helping her look at her options, but when it comes down to it I can’t make decisions for her. I learned that the hard way on the force.”
“Hmm. Can you explain that a little?” Wayne’s chair creaked as he leaned back and steepled his fingers.
Morgan squeezed the arms of the chair. “You get these calls—repeated ones—from people, mostly women, in abusive relationships. They’re scared—fearing for their lives—but they won’t leave. They’ll give you excuse after excuse at the same time as they’re begging you to help them and tell them what to do. But in those situations, whether or not they follow your advice, there’s risk. If they leave and he objects, they can end up in the hospital. Or worse. If they stay despite your urging, and they end up in the hospital—or worse—then family blames you for not helping more. For not saving them. And it was either drown under the guilt of all that or internalize the fact that people have to make their own decisions. I can help them see the options. I can help weigh the options. But I can’t choose for them.”
“Did you explain this to Skye?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It didn’t go well. She thinks it means I’m not committed.”
“Are you?”
“I wanted to be.”
“And now?”
Morgan bit his lip. Things between Skye and him were definitely bent. Maybe broken. Were they fixable? “I love her. I’m just not sure that’s a good idea anymore. It’s like we want different things. I want a partner—someone to share my life on equal footing. She wants a dad.”
“Really?” Skye stood in the doorway, hands fisted on her hips.
“It’s how I see it. Since you won’t talk to me, I can only go on the information I have.” Morgan stood and nodded at Wayne. “I’ll get out of the way. For the other thing—don’t bank on that, okay? I think it might be time for me to explore some other options.”
“Morgan.” Wayne started to rise.
Morgan shook his head and scooted by Skye, careful not to touch her. Being that close, inhaling her scent, was torture enough. Oh, he still loved her.
He needed to figure out how to fix that.
19
Skye watched Morgan stride through the living room and turn into the kitchen. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
“Eavesdropping?”
Startled, she turned back to her grandfather and shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to. I was coming to talk to you about the camps—but I heard him talking, so I thought I’d wait.”
“What about the camps?” Wayne gestured for her to sit.
Skye perched on the edge of the chair that was still warm from Morgan’s presence. Could she smell him—that mix of sunshine and horse that was uniquely him? Probably her imagination. “It’d be better if we had a full-time, on-site manager over there.”
“Why?”
Sky
e bit back a sigh. She’d known she’d have to justify her thoughts. Tommy, in particular, had said her grandparents would be resistant. “I know you want the camps to be self-sufficient. It’s part of the contract you provide. But Grandpa, there’s damage that doesn’t get reported right away and it’s starting to be a problem.”
“Damage? What kind of damage?” Wayne leaned forward, his forehead creased with concern.
“Did you know that last week’s group had a kitchen fire?”
“What? No! When?”
“Exactly.” Skye rubbed the back of her neck. “On Wednesday there was a grease fire. They put it out—it’s good you have fire extinguishers that work and are visible—and they cleaned up the mess as much as they were able. But they didn’t say anything about it then or at checkout. They basically said, ‘sorry about the mess in the kitchen, we did our best.’ As you can imagine, Tommy figured it meant they just didn’t police their spills super well. He sent in the cleaning crew only to be told that there was smoke damage on the walls and char on the counters. I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to replace the countertops and possibly the stove.”
Wayne nodded slowly. “That’s definitely a problem.”
Skye pushed. “An onsite manager would do a tour of the common spaces every night. She—or he—would have caught the fire damage. Maybe if someone was there and visible, they would have called for help or at least reported it right away.”
“Okay. You have a suggestion for filling that position?”
Skye pointed at her chest. “Me. I like it here. I want to be useful, though. That said, this condition would make a retail job in town tricky. But camp manager? That’s got some flexibility to it. I was thinking I could help with cleaning the cabins and dorm spaces, too. It takes the current cleaning crew all day—they’ve been asking more and more frequently for additional help, but Tommy said you didn’t want to pay more?”
“Our margins are small enough over there.” Wayne mused. “I’m not sure how much we could pay you.”
Skye fought the urge to stand up and cheer. It wasn’t a done deal, but it sounded like Wayne was on her side. She pushed a little harder. She had some debt, a few expenses, but they were minimal. “I don’t need a big salary. I’d get room and board out of it—unless you have a problem with me still coming over here to eat.”
“No. That’s never a problem for your grandmother and me. Maria’s used to cooking for a crowd, so I don’t think she’ll mind, but we should double check.”
“And I honestly believe we could bump up prices next year and still be reasonable and affordable for the ministries who book. In fact, I was thinking about how we could expand into the fall some for weekend retreats, that sort of thing. A little income during what we usually consider the off time would be good, right?”
“It depends, but yes.” Wayne studied her. “You want to take this on?”
Skye nodded. “I’ve been praying about what I’m supposed to do—where God wants me—for a long time. This isn’t something I would’ve come up with on my own. I really feel like it’s His leading.”
“What about Morgan?”
“What do you mean?” Skye wasn’t ready to probe that open wound just yet. The story he’d told about trying to help with domestic problems made sense. Or at least it provided some insight into where he was coming from, but she didn’t need a dad. She had one. She wanted a partner, too. Didn’t she?
“Well. He eats here a lot. He works here. Sometimes the horses are involved in the camps. If things between the two of you don’t work out, will you stay? I don’t want to lose either of you.”
She closed her eyes. She wanted things to work out. But she hadn’t really been doing anything to work toward that. The realization made her heart sink. “Yes, I’ll stay. But I’m going to see what I can do about making things work out.”
Wayne smiled. “Can I give you the benefit of a lot of years married to an independent woman?”
Skye chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Marriage is work. It’s compromise—not for important things like principles, but for the way we’ve always done things. You have to be willing to bend and to apologize when you’re wrong—even sometimes when you aren’t wrong but when you’ve gone about being right the wrong way.”
Skye’s cheeks heated. She nodded.
“If you love him—”
“I do.”
“Then you need to figure out how to work together even when you’re coming at things from opposite sides.”
“So I just overlook things?”
“No. I didn’t say that. You work through them. You talk about them until you find a solution. You never, ever close down lines of communication.”
Skye winced. That was her go-to response. Run. She’d run from the problems with her church back east. She’d run from her condition—or at least tried to. It was time to stop.
She didn’t want to run from Morgan. Or from love.
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
Skye tapped on the door to Morgan’s cabin. She counted to ten then tried again a little louder.
Footsteps clomped across the wooden floor and the door swung open. Something that was either hurt or irritation flashed across Morgan’s features. “Skye.”
“Hi. Um. Do you have a minute?”
Morgan grunted and pushed the door open wider as he turned and strode back to the couch. He picked up his game controller and hit a button. The screen went dark.
He wasn’t going to make it easy. Which was fine. Understandable.
Heartbreaking.
The problem was, she’d been thinking about what her grandfather had said all afternoon. She might have been slow on the uptake, but when it did hit she was ashamed of herself.
Please don’t let it be too late.
Skye cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize.”
Morgan’s eyebrows lifted.
She took a deep breath and tried to smile, but it wobbled. “For a whole bunch of things. Um. For cutting contact—twice. That was childish. I’m sorry. And as much as I still think it’s not unreasonable to want your help making big decisions, I went about it wrong. I, um, overheard the thing you told Wayne. About being a cop? I wasn’t trying to do that. I realize you might not believe me. And I can’t promise that if you’d told me what to do and things hadn’t worked out as well as they did that I wouldn’t have been mad. There’s no way to guarantee that. So I get it. But I do value your opinion and I’d like to work to figure out a way for you to be comfortable offering it.”
“I was trying.”
“I know. I can give you a lot of explanations—I was overwhelmed, scared, and emotional are the big three—why I had a hard time with a logical list of options. I’m not sure that’s how I operate when I’m not those things, but I’m willing to try not to get annoyed by it.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up and his voice was grudging. “You’re not the first person to tell me it’s irritating. I can try to work on the timing.”
Skye eased closer and perched on the edge of his coffee table, her knees grazing his. Everything inside her, down to her soul, was quaking. “I’m not sure Wayne heard the last thing you said. But I did. Please don’t leave. Can I have another chance? I love you. I want to try and figure this out.”
“No more running away when it’s hard?”
She shook her head.
He reached out and took her hand, closing it between his. “Okay.”
“Just like that?”
He nodded. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t try to think of ways to make you suffer a little if you came back, but that’s not me. I love you, Skye. I’ve spent too much time praying about whether or not God has someone for me. For the longest time, I thought the answer was no. Now? When the woman God has for me shows up? I’m not going to send her away. Even if she can be a little—”
“Don’t say it.” She grinned, half laughing as the tension drained out of her. “There are no friendly substitutions for stub
born.”
“How do you know that’s what I was going to say? Maybe I meant something else.”
“Uh-huh. Probably still better to keep it to yourself.” She scooted closer and rested her forehead on his. “We’re okay?”
“We’re okay.” Morgan kissed her forehead then tugged her onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around her. “I heard you got a diagnosis, but no one has told me what it is. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“Oh.” She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of home. “It’s called POTS. It stands for postural something tachycardia syndrome. I have it written down. Basically, my circulation goes wonky and my heart tries to make up for it. I have some medication to try and some dietary suggestions that should, hopefully, ease symptoms. There’s not a cure, but I have resources.”
“That’s good.” He stroked her hair. “We can work with that.”
Skye nodded and burrowed closer. “I’ve been doing some research online. There are a couple of places that do research that are maybe worth looking into.”
“Then we’ll look.” He was quiet for a moment. “You talked to your mom?”
“I did.” Skye closed her eyes. It was good to be able to share with him, to feel like someone else was willing to share the weight of whatever life threw their way. Not that God wasn’t always present—He was. But it was super nice to have someone physically present, too. “Long story short, she knew he had affairs. I guess he’d promised he wouldn’t have any more kids. That’s what she’s most upset about. I don’t get it.”
“I can’t say I do, either. What do you think she’ll do?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to push. Or maybe I didn’t want to be any more involved, which doesn’t speak well of me.” Skye bit her lip. She was praying for her parents, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her parents’ relationship was their own mess to deal with, wasn’t it? “I’m going to contact Jade. I was hoping you’d help me write an email. I don’t really know what to say.”
“I can do that.” Morgan shifted so his lips hovered over hers and their eyes met. “Do we have to do it right now?”
Hope for Tomorrow Page 15
