Family Matters (The Travers Brothers Series): The Travers Brothers Series

by Rita Hestand

  He had to know for sure. He only hoped he could find her in the mall of Christmas shoppers. Of all the times to spot her, in a throng of shoppers that was impossible to muddle through.

  Christmas songs echoed in his ears as he watched kids scream with delight as they darted from one decorated window to another, and people bumped into him with their presents as he tried despairingly to track the one woman he knew didn't want anything to do with him.

  He'd already kicked himself a dozen times for what he had done to her that night. He’d already planned what he'd say to her if he saw her again. And he suddenly realized, with stunning clarity, that he didn't know what to say to her anymore. How could a man apologize to woman for something like that?

  That night had changed things, and not for the better, even though he knew that he wouldn't change a moment of it. Before that night, he had only known he loved her, but after that night, he knew no other woman could take her place. Nothing would be the same again, and that realization hurt him more than he cared to admit. Dammit, he'd been such a fool, the story of his life. Any time anything good in life came along, he managed to screw it up.

  Although no one said it, he considered himself the black sheep of the family; the one that didn't make anything of himself. Deke was the strong one, the one that everyone depended on in the family. Jake was the silent warrior always willing to defend, and then his younger brother Rusty was still a little wet behind the ears. Deke had stability, Jake an education, and Rusty the perseverance it took in life. Clint had nothing, as far as he could see. He was the one that didn't succeed in life. What did a broken down rodeo bull rider do when his bones got too busted up to let him ride?

  Sure, he'd joined the Junior Rodeo Association, and had become a teacher. They'd elected him Chairman of the Board three years in a row. But what was he teaching? He was teaching young boys to learn how to break their necks? That held no future, he could tell them. And yet, Clint knew for a fact that if it was in your blood, there just wasn't anything you could do but rodeo. He only wished his brothers understood that a little better.

  Unconsciously he gripped the back of his left leg where Bulldozer had gored him during that last ride. It ached in the winter. It ached in the summer. Hell, it ached all the time, but he'd learned to live with it. After two surgeries that his family knew nothing about, he was able to walk again without limping, and he had come home, for good. But it had taken that injury to wake him up and to realize that his life was going nowhere.

  He followed what he thought was Abby into a store, a Christmas store, filled with the scent of holidays. Yeah, he sighed, Abby would be in here, if it really was her. She loved Christmas stores. Maybe she was Christmas shopping. Maybe he'd catch her, yet.

  What was he going to say to her, if he found her? That thought made him almost stop and catch his breath. What could he say? “I’m sorry I made love to you and then ran out.” God, he'd been nine kinds of a fool. Abby was the best friend he'd ever had. Man or woman.

  Not that he had any notion of him and Abby ever getting together again. No, she was meant for someone better. Her father had been right about that. She was special, in every way. He only hoped he could convince her how sorry he was. He hoped they could regain that friendship, a friendship that meant everything to him.

  Scents of pine and cinnamon pierced his nose. Christmas music played in the background. Flashes of red and green were everywhere, red tinsel, red Santa hats, green lights. How was he going to find her in all this?

  He waded through the throngs of people, knocking over stacks of this and that, bumping into people with packages, and helping them pick them up as best he could, nearly knocking down displays trying to catch up to the ever moving mirage. And just about the time he gave up, he spotted her.

  Abby! His Abby!

  She wore a long, thin, cashmere coat; her hair hung in one long silk tress down her back; her long bangs nearly hid her eyes. Abby wore it pinned at the sides and straight down her back. Thick and lustrous, he longed to touch it. His hand itched. His heart pounded. And a light sweat broke over his forehead. Damn, facing Abby was worse than facing Bulldozer! She was standing near the outside doorway, staring at a tree, decorated in all its Christmas finery.

  That was his Abby. She loved Christmas more than anyone he knew.

  "It's a beautiful tree, but how you gonna get it home with all that finery on it?" Clint asked, leaning against a display counter, a little away from her, and crossing his arms over his chest.

  She turned around slowly, the tears in her eyes shimmering.

  God, he hadn't expected this, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, his friend, his Abby, and she was crying?

  "Clint!" His name was like a whispered prayer on her lips. Even her soft, voice made his heart trip. All the shadows of his heart lifted in pure joy at seeing her.

  "Abby?" God, what should he do now? He wanted to run and take her in his arms, but he knew better.

  The sweet whiff of perfume floated about his nose, like an enticement meant to stir his senses. He smiled.

  She came into his arms willingly. And he felt as though he'd come home after a long hard ride. He'd done it so many times over the years. But this time was different. This time, it wasn't a pony that hurt its leg, or a puppy that didn't make it into the world. This time, Abby cried aloud.

  And she was sobbing her heart out. Who'd hurt her? He'd kill them!

  He scolded himself silently for thinking that way. Frightening anticipation shook him as he held her so close. It felt like old times. Yet, it didn't. He wasn't prepared for the shocking reaction of his body when her chest pillowed against his chest, even through her thin coat and his heavier one, he felt over-stimulated. It was the last thing he wanted to feel around Abby. Awareness warned him to be careful, but he ignored it all, and pulled her closer.

  She needed him right now, and he was there. That was the important thing

  Her arms flew around his neck, and her lips barely grazed his cheek. Her light scent of flowers intoxicated him. He had never realized how he'd committed every detail about this woman to memory.

  She felt different against him now, though, all grown up and filled out, so perfectly, shocking him into a reality that would later prove painful.

  Just as suddenly as she had gone into his arms, she pulled away, as though having second thoughts of her actions. Her blue eyes surveyed him through ultra-dark lashes that seemed to go on forever. He always had the sensation of heaven when looking into those eyes.

  "I—I guess you've heard?" She almost whispered in a small choked voice.

  "Heard?" He knew from the sound of her voice he probably should have, but he honestly didn't know what she was talking about.

  "About dad . . .dying."

  Clint's smile faded, and the blood drained from his face. He could feel it leaving; he didn't have to look in a mirror. A cold chill ran up his spine. Dear God, he'd never have guessed; Ross Martin had always seemed so healthy. He saw the pain in Abby's eyes, and wished with regret he could hold her again. Conflicting emotions choked him. His own personal feelings for Ross seemed unimportant.

  "I didn't know, Abby. I've been gone." He whispered somewhere near her ear.

  Abby swiped a tear from her cheek and pulled out of his arms, moving deliberately away from him. He moved away, too, to lean against the counter. She'd never know how weak-kneed a cowboy could get. Straightening herself, she looked back at the tree. "Yes, so have I."

  "I'm so sorry, Abby," he muttered in a half strangled voice, not knowing how to comfort her any longer. Not knowing if he should try.

  As though gathering her strength, she stiffened her back, and looked into his face. Her expression was soft and alluring all at once. "It was a heart attack. He didn't suffer long. Thank goodness."

  "Damn, Abby." Clint shuffled his feet, feeling a little dizzy from holding her, and hearing such news all at once. "How's your Mom taking it?"

  "Better than I expected," Abby said, looki
ng at him strangely. "I mean, at first she crumpled, but by the time I arrived, she had regained most of her composure, and is facing this better than I'd ever believed possible."

  "When's the funeral?" Clint asked, when a silence sliced the air between them.

  "Tomorrow. You'll come, won't you?"

  "Sure, of course I will. We'll all be there for you. Is there anything I can do, in the meantime? I mean, have all the arrangements been made. Do you know what he wanted?"

  "Yes, he had a pre-paid funeral arrangement. Everything has been squared away." Abby glanced back at the tree. "There is one thing, though."

  She paused staring at him for a full minute, and then a shy smile broke across her face.

  "Anything."

  "Help me get this darn tree home, Clint."

  It sounded just like the friend he knew, his Abby. Clint came closer, trying to read her face.

  This tree?" He pointed, and then glanced at her for confirmation.

  "Yes, you know how Mom loves big Christmas trees. And this one is so beautiful. I thought it might take her mind off it. I just asked, and it's the last one they have this size."

  Clint glanced at the tree. Obviously Abby was over-wrought with grief. She couldn't buy a tree with decorations on it and take it home like one big Christmas present. But it didn't matter. If Abby wanted the tree, he'd get it home for her; he'd even help her decorate it. "Sure, Abby, we'll get the tree."

  Clint patted her hand, and went to find a salesman.

  He didn't want to think about what the sight of her did to him again. He'd washed that away three years ago.

  But there was an ache inside him that even he couldn't ignore.

  It took an hour to get the tree free of decorations, with several sales people's help and another hour to get it tied down on top of his Suburban, but he did it, and Abby helped.

  After securing it, Abby moved closer to him. He sensed her apprehension. However, a slight smile curled her lips. "Since when do you drive a Suburban?"

  "Since I started working for the Junior Rodeo Association. I can't haul all those kids around in an open pickup. It's against the law, now."

  "You're working for the Junior Rodeo Association?"

  She sounded surprised.

  "I have been for a few years now."

  "But aren't you competing any longer?"

  "Nope." He really didn't want to talk about it, but she persisted.

  "But I thought you'd never tire of it. You've always loved the rodeo."

  "Let's just say I'm a little partial to my bones, and leave it at that, okay?" Clint didn't want to sound harsh, but sliding back into the best friend routine wasn't as easy he thought. Even if she could forgive him, he wasn't sure he wanted the same relationship they had. No, he was damn sure he didn't. But he knew he wouldn't get what he really wanted.

  He followed her home, which was a good hour and half drive, and pulled into her graveled driveway. He backed the truck up to the door, and proceeded to untie the tree, while Abby went inside, turned all the lights on and opened the door for him.

  Mrs. Martin came to the door in her robe. "Clint Travers, is that you?"

  "Yes ma'am," Clint answered, puffing as he dragged the big tree off the top of his truck. He backed straight into Abby, and she almost jumped backwards. Well, what had he expected? That first hug was just emotion, from now on he'd have to be careful about that.

  "Why, Clint, that's the biggest tree I've seen in my life!" Mrs. Martin gasped.

  "Yes, ma'am, Abby picked it out."

  Mrs. Martin wrung her hands, grabbed her chest, and Clint saw tears slipping down her cheek as he and Abby took the tree inside. She pushed back a strand of greying hair, and swiped her eyes. "Land sakes, that's the prettiest tree I've seen in years."

  Abby laughed, "I know, and I wouldn't have gotten it home if it hadn't been for bumping into Clint at the mall."

  "Clint in a mall. I don't believe it."

  "I was having dinner with some friends when I spotted Abby."

  Judy and Ross Martin had been married nearly thirty years. You didn't see one without the other. The old house didn't look the same without that bear-voiced man coming to hold his wife close and watch Clint's every move toward his daughter.

  The minute Clint entered the old farmhouse, he felt guilt stab him. Damn, there were so many things he felt bad about, where did he start? And how would he ever make amends to this family, to Abby? He hadn't been over here in ages. Hadn't checked on them, hadn't helped them. God, they must think he was a cad.

  After all the times Ross Martin had come to his aid, he hadn't so much as bothered to ask if he might need help in the past couple of years. No, of course he hadn't. He'd been too busy playing Rodeo Cowboy. Even though he'd finally given up the circuit, he had to admit, teaching at the Junior Rodeo Association had given him quite a big head. To the kids, he was a hero. He had needed that boost to his ego when he had felt so low in losing Abby, then tangling with Bulldozer didn't help the situation.

  Clint and Abby moved the tree toward the big picture window in the living room, and Mrs. Martin fetched a tree stand from out of one of her closets.

  "My," the older woman said, clutching her robe together from the cold breeze of the open door, "that really is some tree."

  "Yes ma'am, it is," Clint agreed. "Sorry about Ross, ma'am."

  "Now you stop ma'aming me, Clint Travers, we have been friends too long for that kind of talk. You always called me by my name before. There's no need to start doing differently now. And yes, my Ross is gone, but at least he didn't lie around suffering. He would have wanted it that way."

  "Yes ma'am. I mean, yes, Judy, he would."

  "Abby, why don't you and Clint come in the kitchen, and have some cake and coffee. Bertha's been over, brought a whole table full of food from the church. I swear I don't know what this community would do without that woman. Every time there's someone in need, she's always there."

  "That Bertha is such a sweetie. I can't wait to see her again. How is she these days?"

  'Better ask Clint; I think they see her more than anyone else. Any sign of Bertha and Cal making things official?" Mrs. Martin asked with a smile.

  Clint chuckled as he secured the tree in the stand, and then dusted his hands off. "I think the subject has come up a time or two. Especially since Deke got married. You know Dad's a changed man since Sammie Jo came into the picture."

  "Kids have a way of changing things, don't they? I've heard he's quit smoking. I never thought I'd see the day," Judy added. "Old habits die hard on a man his age, you know. He deserves some credit for that. Ross never did quit. Although I sure nagged him often enough."

  "Would you like me to fix you a plate, Clint?" Abby gestured toward the food on the table.

  "Sounds good to me. But I can help myself. You just lead me to the plates and forks."

  Not one word about the past. Not one word. It made Clint feel twice as guilty for not being here. He should have been over regularly. He should have stayed in contact with Abby, too.

  As they moved into the kitchen, Abby took her coat off and laid it on the couch. She waited for Clint to take his leather jacket off. Clint slid out of it, after recovering from seeing Abby without her coat. What a helluva woman she turned out to be. Better than most of the rodeo bunnies he'd dated. Abby was definitely a woman now. There was no sign of the young skinny kid he had grown up with.

  That pitiful night when he'd let his emotions carry over to Abby and he'd taken what she so freely offered haunted him again, reminding him—hands off, from what he'd secretly wanted so very long—Abby. Oh, he'd wanted her from the beginning, when she was still braiding her hair and wearing braces, but there was no chance of that happening as long as Ross Martin was alive. Ross had warned him he'd kill him if he so much as looked crossed-eyed at Abby. "Abby," he'd said, “deserved better”. Clint agreed. So Clint contented himself with being the only thing he could be, a friend.

  As they moved into the kitc
hen, Clint couldn't keep his eyes off Abby's backside. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she certainly did fill the jeans out nicely. And when she turned around to offer him coffee, he couldn't stop noticing that her breast filled her sweatshirt, too. His body reacted on its own.

  What had happened to his skinny little Abby? And why was there suddenly a fire in his loins for the one woman he could never have? He'd harnessed his affection for so long; why now, when there was no hope, was he acting like a rutting stag?

  "Judy, you should have called me," Clint scolded mildly as he began helping himself to the food, and trying desperately to distract himself from Abby. "I'd have been over here more if you had," Clint said, as he sat down at the big farm table in the middle of the kitchen. There was a formal dining room, but no one used it except at Christmas. He remembered so many times sitting here at this old table, drinking coffee at four or five in the morning, and talking to Mr. Martin and his family about the drought, the cattle, the plans for the day.

  Ross and Clint got along just fine, as long as Clint kept his place. And Ross had made sure that Clint knew his place. Ross had told him flat out, "She's not going to get herself messed up with some rodeo bum, Clint. She's a good girl, and she's gonna stay that way."

  "Ross wasn't ill, Clint. Never was sick a day in his life. It just happened. He was out mending fences, and just keeled over. No problems, no pain. Just keeled over dead," Judy said without choking. "I miss him already, but if he had to go, I'm glad it was quick."

  "You're right, Mama, it was a blessing the way he died," Abby said, as she placed a cup in front of Clint and her mother, and brought each of them a piece of chocolate cake. Still, his absence left a void in the old farmhouse that both women seemed aware of.

  For lack of what to say, Clint stuffed his face with food, and listened to Judy relate the story of her and Ross and how they built their small empire. He envied her, envied what Ross and Judy had. And the way Judy was taking it made him proud he knew her.