by Jane Porter
But Beck wasn’t hers, and Billy had been April’s, and Erika did need to settle back in to her routine. She needed to ask Billy just when they should make the break and how. Because, clearly, she wouldn’t get anything done that she needed done here, while trying to survive on the peripheral of Billy Wyatt’s life.
*
Billy didn’t think he’d ever ridden worse. Not even a full second on the bronc and he was thrown off, landing unceremoniously on his butt. He picked himself up, grabbed his hat, brushed off his dusty backside, and headed for the wooden gate. That was a disappointment. He wouldn’t place for money, not in that event. He needed to do better next event. A lot better.
Fellow cowboys patted him on the shoulder as he passed, giving him the same encouragement he gave others. This was a competitive sport, but the guys were mostly class acts. There were a few donkeys out there, but he had a lot of friends in the sport, not counting his best friends, his brothers.
Now he just needed to get his head right, and get his attention back, not easy after the blowup with Erika.
He rarely got angry, and he almost never lost his cool, but she’d pushed his buttons this morning, and he was still riled up.
He wasn’t here because he had nothing to do. He was here because this was his job, and how he made money, and the last thing he needed was some prissy prim shrink-wannabe telling him what he needed to do.
He knew what he needed to do, and it was provide for his son. He wasn’t going solo anymore. He was a father. A family man. And he was going to make sure his son could do whatever he wanted in life, including going to college. College was expensive. Graduate school was probably even more. Billy was determined that Beck would get every opportunity in the world, from going to college, to med school or law school. His son would be given tremendous support to make sure he’d always succeed and he didn’t need Erika hovering over his shoulder telling him everything he needed to do.
Maybe it was time she moved on.
He appreciated her help but he’d find a way to manage from now on.
Chapter Five
Erika wasn’t surprised when Billy showed up on her motel doorstep late in the day. He wasn’t smiling, either, and she thought it was the first time she’d ever seen him truly angry.
She’d replayed their argument at the fairgrounds over and over in her head, and thought Billy had been incredibly arrogant and rude, but she hadn’t been very diplomatic, either. She was about to apologize when he launched into a verbal firestorm, blaming her for his terrible day. Apparently, he hadn’t had that bad of a day in years. It was embarrassing and this was exactly why he needed time to mentally prepare for his events. He couldn’t afford to make stupid mistakes, and he couldn’t be worrying about Erika and Beck just before he climbed on the back of a bronc or bull.
She listened to him in silence until he abruptly stopped talking. But even after he’d finished, tension filled the room, a hum of hostility that she could feel all the way to her bones. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?” she asked, tone icy.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand that your time before you compete is sacred—”
“You’re deliberately provoking me.”
“No. I’m not. I don’t like fighting, and I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Good, because I grew up fist fighting with kids at school, as well as my brothers, but I don’t argue with women—”
“There. That. Why do you say it like ‘Argue with women’? You make it sound like we’re an entirely different species.”
“I was just raised not to be disrespectful, and I try not to be.”
She stepped outside the motel room, not wanting to subject Beck to their quarrel. “You have a very shallow idea of gallantry. I’d far rather a man be straight with me than hold my arm as I cross the street because he thinks I’m weak.”
His arms folded over his chest. “Now you’re twisting my words.”
“I just want us to have an honest conversation.”
“Let’s do it. Tell me what’s upset you.”
“I thought you’d said last Sunday that if I came along, and helped care for Beck, it would be a win-win, but so far, it’s just a win for you. There is no win for me.”
“Because I haven’t paid you yet?”
“No, and I don’t want to be paid for spending time with Beck. But I do want you to take your share of childcare so I can take care of my job, which is writing my dissertation. I have not had any time this week to do it. Or the week before, or the week before that.”
“You can’t write when he naps?”
“I maybe could if he had a set nap schedule, but it’s constantly changing and it’s not easy to sit down and focus on cue. I’d get a lot more done if I knew that he’d be taken care of for three hours, or four hours, and then maybe I wouldn’t worry about him, or worry about being interrupted, and I could actually get something accomplished.”
“I don’t know that I can give you four hours uninterrupted every day—”
“Why not?”
“The point is I can help, but you have to be flexible—”
“I have to be flexible? Billy, all I am is flexible! You’re the one that sets the schedule, a schedule we all have to revolve around.”
“I don’t want to do this. I’ve no desire to keep fighting. If you’re this unhappy, let’s not try to make this work.”
“Fine. I’m out. Good luck, Billy. You’ll need it.”
It didn’t take her long to pack, not when she just threw everything in a heap into the middle of her suitcase. It took even less time to gather her computer, her books and papers, shoving them into her big leather satchel. Erika stalked to the motel room door, pausing on the threshold to look at Beck, lying on his back on a blanket on the floor, playing with a soft fabric book. Her heart squeezed tight. She wanted to go over and kiss him goodbye but knew she couldn’t handle it. She’d fall apart. And she was not going to cry in front of Billy Dickhead Wyatt.
Instead, head high, she walked out the motel door, stepping pointedly around Billy who stood like an ice sculpture outside the room, and headed for the parking lot, where she put her suitcase in the trunk of her car, climbed behind the steering wheel, and drove away without a glance back.
Billy was now on his own.
*
The fight was stupid. Billy hadn’t even seen it coming. One minute they were talking about logistics, and how to make things work, and the next minute, hard, brutal things were being said, and then Erika was grabbing her things and leaving.
And leaving Beck behind.
It was a shock, and her knee-jerk reaction made him livid, but in that moment she marched out to her car and drove away, Billy was glad.
He was glad to be rid of her, and rid of her opinions, and her endless pious, Miss Perfect judgment. He didn’t need her to make him feel worse. He was already trying to sort through all of his emotions, as it was a lot to take in over a few days. Learning that he was a dad. Learning that April had died in such a tragic accident. Learning that he’d have to overnight become a single parent to a child he’d had no relationship with.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, either. It was just that it took some adjusting to. Mentally. He needed time to wrap his head around, well, everything.
And if she—this want-to-be therapist—couldn’t give him time to adjust, then she wasn’t cut out to be a therapist, never mind a friend.
Erika had had a month to come to terms with everything he’d only just learned this past week. She had a month. She’d given him what… days?
It wasn’t just unfair, it was unrealistic. And this was why he didn’t like therapists. He didn’t like the whole get analyzed and explore all your feelings and relive a painful childhood. Everyone had a painful childhood. Everyone got beat up. Everyone was hurt and disappointed. Dammit, people were people and they failed each other all the time.
Best way to deal with disappo
intment was to grow up and get some perspective. Life could be shitty, but it could also be beautiful and exciting and that was the challenge. Balance the bad with the good, and try to squeeze in more good. Make sure to find all the little happy bits so that you were aware of the blessings. And the joy. As rough and broken as they might be.
It was what his mom had done after his dad died, and it was what Granddad had taught them as well. Feelings could only take you so far. The best thing one could do was get dressed and straighten their damn shoulders and face the day.
And that was what Billy did, every single day.
And that was what he’d do now, with his son.
Billy entered the motel room, and sat down on the carpet next to his son who was now sucking on the spine of his fabric book while waving his legs in the air.
Billy tugged on the soft terry cloth fabric covering Beck’s toes, bunching the pale blue fabric. Cute little guy. But of course he was. He was a Wyatt.
*
Erika drove away from the motel angry, so angry. She drove, silently cursing Billy, using every inappropriate swear word there was. She understood he had a career, she understood he needed to earn money. That was a given. Everyone had jobs and bills. And she wasn’t asking him to sacrifice the entire next year. She just wanted him to focus on Beck for a bit. Why was it all or nothing? Why couldn’t he be a competitive cowboy and a hands-on dad?
He could compete next month, or next fall, or heck, next year. Taking off a few weeks, or months, to spend time with his baby wouldn’t end his career, but it would be vital for Beck’s growth and emotional health.
Whether he liked it or not, Billy was a father, and he needed to bond with Beck. He needed to be present and available, to help Beck feel safe and loved. To create a deep attachment without fear of abandonment. But so far it seemed that Billy was more interested in putting on his chaps and hat than becoming a nurturing parent. So typical of a man, though. They always put themselves first, always saw the world exclusively through their masculine lens.
Maybe one hundred years ago that was fine, but women today were also working full-time and women shouldn’t have to shoulder domestic pressures alone. A man could cook and clean and do laundry and childcare just as well as a woman—
Erika glanced down at her speedometer and saw that she was flying down the highway, driving way too fast. She eased her foot off the accelerator, realizing she was shaking. This wasn’t okay. Just because she was upset didn’t mean she could lose all control. The fact that she lost her temper with Billy made her feel even worse. Erika prided herself on her self-control. She’d grown up determined not to be volatile like her mom, or detached and distant like her dad. And yet she’d just blown up, the way her mom used to, and shouted at Billy, just the way her mom once shouted at her dad.
Ugh.
Awful.
Erika felt awful.
At the next highway exit she pulled off and sat on the shoulder of the frontage road fighting hot tears.
She couldn’t believe she’d just driven off and left Beck, too. It was absurd. Immature. Hurtful. It was fine to have emotions—everyone had them—but it wasn’t okay to have a tantrum. And it was definitely not okay to walk out on Beck like she did. How childish could she be?
Blinking hard, she reached into her purse for a tissue and wiped her eyes, and beneath her eyes where mascara had made little black smudges, and then with gritted teeth shifted out of PARK, crossed the highway on the overpass, and headed back the direction she just came.
She had to return. She owed Billy an apology, and she owed Beck more than just walking out in a temper.
That was what her parents did. Lost control. Raged. Hurled accusations. Stormed off. Returned and retaliated with days of icy, punishing silence. Then repeated the cycle over and over again. There was a reason she didn’t want to be like either of them. It was a terrible way to live and a damaging way to interact with others.
She could do better. She would do better. But first, she needed to apologize. And maybe, just maybe, set healthier boundaries because she didn’t like who she was when she lost control.
Thankfully, Billy was at the motel when she returned. Erika was glad. She was also glad she’d turned around when she had because she hadn’t been gone long enough for Billy to pack up Beck and leave. No, she was just gone long enough to be mortified by her dramatic, childish tantrum and exit.
If Billy was surprised to see her at the motel door, he didn’t reveal it. He was kind enough not to say anything sarcastic, either. “Hello.”
As she stood on the doorstep her cheeks felt hot and her insides felt shivery and sick. “That was totally immature of me—”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it is. I’m sorry. I hate what I just did.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It was awful and I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
“I owe you an apology as well. I’ve not communicated very well with you and I can see how it’s made everything so much harder. I promise to work on it, and try to give you more time to work on your dissertation.”
Gratitude and relief washed through her. Thank goodness he was handling the fight better than she’d expected. Driving back, she’d worried things would only escalate when she returned. She was glad he wasn’t like her dad. No icy silence from Billy. “I understand in theory how to handle conflict, but in reality, I’m not very good at it. I think those of you with siblings probably have more experience with disagreements.”
He opened the door wider. “It’s okay. Honestly.”
She hesitated on the threshold. “I’ve gotten mad at you twice today.”
“With three brothers, I had people mad at me all day long. It’s not a biggie.”
“Why are you being so nice?”
“Because we’re human. People have emotions. Tempers. People get mad at each other, hurt each other’s feelings.”
And suddenly eyes that had been so dry filled with tears. Erika bit hard into her bottom lip, trying to stop the tears. “You should be the therapist, not me.”
He laughed, the sound warm, husky. “Never. I would hate listening to people’s problems all day. I’d tell them to buck up and just get it done.”
Erika couldn’t help smiling as she wiped her eyes dry. “You wouldn’t make as much money.”
He laughed again. “That’s alright. At least I’d have my sanity. Now come in. This is your room. Relax.”
She came in and crouched next to Beck who’d fallen asleep on his blanket on the floor. “I felt terrible leaving him.” She lightly stroked the top of his head. “Made me feel sick.”
“Then don’t leave him.”
She looked up at Billy. “I have to one day.”
Billy said nothing and she rose, trying to ignore the awful feeling weighting her chest. Everything was getting so complicated. She’d cared for Beck for five weeks now and it seemed inconceivable that soon he wouldn’t be in her life.
She could feel Billy’s gaze as she went to the edge of the bed and sat down. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not as together as I look. Underneath all this—” she gestured to her head and then the rest of her “—I’m kind of a mess. I probably shouldn’t become a therapist, because I have no idea what a healthy marriage or a healthy family looks like. I certainly didn’t come from one.”
“No one is perfect, and no family is perfect.”
“Yours seems pretty perfect in comparison to mine. My family is, well, complicated.”
She pursed her lips, considered her words. “My mom’s side of the family is from Utah, a little town that no one has ever heard of. Almost everyone in the town belongs to the same church. They’re Fundamentalists and part of a tiny Mormon sect with about one hundred and fifty members. The sect isn’t recognized by the Church of Latter-day Saints, and wouldn’t have been since early twentieth century. It’s also very strict, and my mom and April’s mom, Aunt Sara, were raised by my grandparents who
were involved in the church. My grandfather only did business with other members, and my mom and Aunt Sara were only allowed to socialize with other Fundamentalist girls. They didn’t wear modern clothing, either, and they weren’t allowed to date, not unless the boy expressed intention to court for marriage, and then they were closely chaperoned. Many, if not all of the young people, had arranged marriages, and my mom and Aunt Sara were expected to have one as well.”
“It didn’t happen, did it?”
She shook her head. “Aunt Sara got pregnant by a man outside the church. She ended up marrying him, but he was abusive, so she left him and moved to Las Vegas where she raised April with a series of different stepdads and bad boyfriends. My mom met my dad at the community college when she was just nineteen or twenty, and they got married and moved to California. My grandparents cut off both their daughters. I never knew my grandparents and never visited their town, either.”
“My family has struggled at different times.”
“But you love each other, and talk to each other, and listen. You also forgive each other when someone makes a mistake, don’t you?”
“So far.”
“Mom didn’t have that growing up, and she found it really difficult being a wife and mom.” Erika paused, remembering. “I think I’m worried that’s my future, too. I think that was the appeal of psychology. Maybe I could learn how to fix myself, while I learned how to help others.”
“You don’t need fixing.”
“I stormed off earlier. It wasn’t mature.”
“I don’t hold it against you.”
“I hold it against me. I should know better. I should be able to do better.”
He was silent a long moment. “I think you’re way too hard on yourself.”
Erika shook her head, uncomfortable, wishing they hadn’t even discussed any of her family, or her past. It never failed to make her feel bad. There had been so much conflict, and so much unhappiness. She hated remembering because it stirred up all the old feelings and all the old pain. “I don’t know that either of them particularly liked me.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I looked too much like my mom, but thought too much like my dad. I was a perfect blend of the two, which didn’t sit well with either of them.”
