“You sound like I wanted a certain lifestyle,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting money, Curtis. I wanted time with you. I wanted some regularity, something I could count on.”
“You could count on my love,” he said gruffly.
“Until you left.” Her voice was low, but the words stabbed.
He’d left, and he’d never live that one down, would he? Curtis sighed. “Yeah. I left, but you no longer wanted what I had to offer. Everyone has their limits, I guess. I couldn’t change who I was, and you wouldn’t be happy with what I could give. There didn’t seem to be any way to fix that.”
She was silent.
“You said I bounced back, but I didn’t,” he went on. “I’d given you everything I could—all I had—and it wasn’t enough. That gutted me. So I looked in your eyes, and I saw the way you looked at me—the way you saw me... You saw a loser, someone lower than you, someone you couldn’t respect. I didn’t bounce back from that. Ever.”
“I didn’t think you were a loser,” she said quietly.
“Did you trust me to provide for you?” he asked. “Did you trust me to take care of you, or did you think you needed to fix me first?”
She didn’t answer, and he glanced over at her. Her expression was somber.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say all that, anyway. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t waltz off and forget you. I crawled off and licked my wounds for a really long time. If that helps at all.”
He was supposed to come to town and take care of his business with as little fuss as possible. This—whatever he and Barrie were doing—hadn’t been part of the plan.
“It does help a little bit,” she said after a few beats of silence.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but whatever. He wasn’t supposed to be getting attached. He’d have to be more careful—and put a lid on whatever he was feeling. He hadn’t been enough for her when he was an able-bodied bull rider, and he wouldn’t be enough for her now. He’d do well to remember that.
Chapter Eight
When Barrie arrived at the barn, another two heifers were ill besides the one Curtis knew about. Barrie’s work was cut out for her. One of the original calves had taken a turn for the worse, and Barrie set the calf up with more heat and an extra shot of antibiotics. One of the goat’s kids wasn’t getting enough milk, so they bottle-fed the little thing. By the time Barrie had finished in the Porter barn, the sun had set and her whole body ached.
She’d been thinking about Curtis’s words in the truck that morning. She’d never realized what he’d been feeling back then, but it was still hard to pity him. He’d left, and that had ended everything. He could have talked to her—actually put those feelings out there! He could have explained his position. They could have gone for couple’s counseling. Anything! Walking away wasn’t the only option. She hadn’t backed him into a corner, and in her defense, she’d had something to offer to their relationship, too, if he’d only stopped to look. Their marriage wasn’t about him taking care of her. It was about two people loving each other and going after their dreams. Both of them. Not just him.
But his question had been plaguing her: had she trusted him to take care of her? If she had to be utterly honest, the answer was no. She hadn’t. She’d wanted to stay in Hope because while she loved Curtis, she needed the security of her home and family close by. He’d been right—she’d wanted more than he was offering, and she was afraid to take her eyes off the shore.
Barrie followed Curtis out of the barn into evening twilight. A sliver of a moon hung low, and the strongest of the stars were but pinpricks on the gray velvet of the sky. In the west, the horizon still glowed red.
Her feet and back ached, and Barrie felt like her body was betraying her. If this was how her body handled a pregnancy at five months, what was it going to be like at eight or nine? She put a hand into the small of her back and straightened.
“You okay?” Curtis tossed a plastic bag of salt blocks into the back of his pickup truck.
“Fine.”
“Yeah, you don’t look fine,” he said. “Come on, I’ll drive you home. Thanks for all of this today.”
“It’s my job,” she said.
“And I’m still grateful.” He arched an eyebrow.
Barrie smiled, then shook her head. “You’re welcome.”
Curtis pulled open the passenger side door, then headed around to the driver’s side. Apparently he’d learned not to offer any more hands up, but she secretly appreciated the gesture of the opened door. The baby moved inside her as she hoisted herself up into the cab with a sigh. She slammed the door shut and stretched her legs out, giving her feet a much-needed rest.
“Can I get you a burger or something?” he asked.
She was hungry—there was no denying that—but her body was sore and all she wanted was to get back to the house. She wanted to sink into her couch, put her feet up and eat something microwaveable.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “But thanks anyway. Besides, Miley has been home alone all day.”
“No problem. Straight home, then.”
Curtis put the truck into gear and pulled away from the barn. The headlights sliced through the darkness, but Barrie’s attention wasn’t on the road ahead of them—it was on the fields out her window. Moonlight sparkled over the cold-hardened snow, and there was something so peaceful in the scene that she could feel the tension seep out of her shoulders and back.
“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Curtis asked.
Barrie glanced toward him, but Curtis’s eyes were on the road ahead, and he changed gears as they drove past Betty’s house and headed toward the main road.
“What I always do,” she said. “Dinner with my parents. Well, I guess just Dad this year.”
“That’s it?” He shot her a quick look. “You were always more into Christmas than that.”
“It was different then,” she replied. “I was married.”
Curtis chewed on the side of his cheek, and she inwardly winced. She was tired and achy and apparently her filter wasn’t working as it should. She remembered all the love she’d poured into their two Christmases together. From the cooking to the decorating, she’d done everything she could to make their home glow for him.
“You did make a nice Christmas, Barrie,” he said.
For all the good it had done... “Do you have any idea how hard I worked at our marriage?” she asked, adjusting herself in her seat so she could see him better. “I poured everything I had into making our home warm and special.” She shook her head, unsure of how to encapsulate it all in words.
“There was nothing wrong with our home,” he said.
“Nothing wrong with it...” Tears misted her eyes, and it was the exhaustion, she knew, because this pain was so old that it shouldn’t logically matter. “Curtis, I was aiming for something a little better than that.”
“You know what I mean.” He sighed.
“No, I don’t!” She pulled a hand through her hair. “I did everything I knew to make our home into a place where you’d feel...at home! I planted the garden, I canned fruit, I made those orange peel scents for our drawers, I—” She stopped, feeling exhausted even remembering it all. “I did that for you, and you never seemed to notice. And I was the idiot who never saw that you’d have one foot out the door no matter what I did.”
“I noticed.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t care about those things like you did. I thought you were doing it for you.”
“Like Christmas,” she confirmed bitterly.
“Yeah, like Christmas! I don’t know. I never really did too much for Christmas at home with Mom. She usually had a gig over the holidays, and I could go watch her sing, or I could stay home and watch TV. I mean... Whatever. It wasn’t that big of a de
al.”
“Christmas is always a big deal,” she retorted. It was supposed to be, at least. Traditions held a family together.
“Not to you. At least, not anymore,” he shot back. “You’re having dinner with your dad as usual, I thought.”
She didn’t like having her own words tossed back at her, especially by the man who had no right to even ask about her personal plans.
“Well, it’s different now,” she replied. “When I had you, I had someone to create some traditions for. I wanted to make a home for you that would always call you back...” Emotion tightened her throat, and she stopped talking.
“There was nothing wrong with our home,” he repeated, and she heard sadness in his voice. “But you were so stuck in it. It was just an old house with some used furniture. And you made the most of it—don’t get me wrong—but it wasn’t about that for me. It never was.”
Barrie swallowed hard and leaned her head back. “I know. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
“No, let me say my piece,” he countered. “You keep saying that you poured yourself into making a home for us, and I know you did. I saw how hard you worked on it. But I didn’t want a home like that. I wanted a woman by my side.”
“And where was that woman supposed to live?” She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
“With me,” he said. “Wherever we happened to be.”
“In some ratty trailer,” she said. “Or a tent. Or a one-star hotel.”
“We were young and in love. What did it matter?” He shot her a small smile—that tempting kind of smile that made her stomach flip. But that had been his way—cajole her into some adventure, and then see what happened.
“It mattered,” she replied. “I needed more security than that.”
Following her bull riding husband around the circuit wasn’t the kind of life she needed. She had plans for her own education, but more than that, she needed money in the bank and a roof over her head. She wasn’t the kind of woman who liked uncertainty.
“I know.” He sighed. “Matching sheets, scented drawers...that iron skillet your parents got us for a wedding present. You needed that stuff to feel like you were safe. Thing is, Barrie, I wanted you to need me to feel safe.”
“It wasn’t just about our home,” she said. “I had dreams and ambitions, too, and I couldn’t pursue those if I was trailing along with you on the circuit. On top of which, what is this—the 1950s? It wasn’t just about provision. It was about making a life together, and you were really bad at compromise.”
“I wasn’t against you becoming a vet,” he said.
“You just weren’t willing to make room for it,” she replied.
“And we come full circle again,” he said. “We wanted really different things out of life, and we didn’t talk about that soon enough.”
They fell into silence, and snow began to fall in lazy flakes, blurring their vision through the windshield. They were approaching town, and Curtis slowed as he came to the turnoff.
“Barrie, you did well for yourself,” he said as he took the turn. “You’ve put together a great life here in Hope, and you should be proud. Looking at the results, you made the right choice.”
“What choice?” she asked. “Staying in town? Going to school?”
“Kicking me out.” He met her gaze for only a moment, but she read sadness in those dark eyes.
“Like I said before,” she replied, “I might have kicked you out, but you left.”
“Yeah. I did.” He signaled the last turn onto her road, and she felt a wave of sadness of her own. She hadn’t actually wanted to win that one. She didn’t know what she’d hoped he’d say...or maybe she did. She wished that just once she could hear Curtis Porter tell her that the life she’d offered him had been the best option all along. But he wasn’t going to say that, because even now, fifteen years after the fact, the home she’d poured her heart into creating still wasn’t enough to tempt him.
* * *
CURTIS PULLED INTO Barrie’s drive and leaned back in the seat. He wasn’t sure what she was feeling right now, but he knew that bringing up the past had been a bad idea. This was all fifteen years ago, and he was leaving town just as soon as Christmas was over... What use was there in dredging up old hurts? They’d made the choice back then and gotten divorced. It was over.
The snow was coming steadily down now. He turned off the engine, and they fell into that velvety silence. She looked pale in the moonlight—paler than usual.
“Barrie, are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m tired,” she said quietly. “And sore.”
“You should have said earlier.” He unfastened his seat belt. “Come on. Let’s get you in.”
“I’m fine—”
“Yeah?” He wasn’t taking that answer this time. “Well, so am I. And I’m getting you all the way inside.” He pushed open his door and hopped out. When he got around to her side, she was just sliding down to the ground, wincing as her feet hit the concrete.
Curtis slammed the door shut for her and took her arm in his. She didn’t argue this time, which told him she wasn’t alright. He knew nothing about pregnancies—but he knew Barrie, and she’d been putting on a brave face for longer than she should have. He was willing to bet on it.
When they approached the door, the scramble of toenails and a joyous woof greeted them from the other side.
“Miley missed me,” she said, pulling out her key.
Curtis followed her in, and after Miley licked his mistress, the dog turned his attention to Curtis.
“Hey, there,” Curtis said, holding out his hand. Miley bounced up and planted both paws on Curtis’s shoulders. He was a big dog, and about as heavy as a weaned calf, too. He stuck his wet nose into Curtis’s face.
“Miley!” Barrie chastised him. “Get down!”
Miley did as he was told, and turned a few circles around the linoleum.
Curtis looked around the kitchen. “Barrie, go sit down. I’ll get you some supper.”
“Curtis, no—”
“Take this as my apology for being terrible at compromise back in the day,” he said. “You’re right—I was pretty focused on my own career and didn’t bother to see what you really wanted. Well, today you overdid it on my watch. I’m making you something to eat.”
Barrie looked ready to argue. Then she glanced at the couch and her expression softened. He’d just won this one. Sort of. She walked toward the couch, her movements slow and cautious. Then she sank down onto the seat and heaved a sigh. As Curtis took off his boots and hat, Miley hopped up onto the couch, too, then settled his massive self onto what was left of Barrie’s lap.
“Isn’t he heavy?” Curtis asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She chuckled. “But he missed me.”
“Miley, you want to go out to pee?” Curtis called. He spotted a bag of dog food on the counter, and he grabbed what he assumed was a dog bowl on the floor—except it was more the size of a mixing bowl. He filled it and put in onto the floor. The dog leaped down from Barrie’s lap and beelined for the door. Curtis opened it, and Miley headed for the snow and lifted a leg.
“Thanks.” She leaned her head back. “And I hate to point this out, but I don’t remember you knowing how to cook anything more than toast.”
“And I made the perfect toast, too,” he said with a low laugh. “But you haven’t seen me in a good long while, Barrie. Some things have changed.”
Miley came back in and headed for his food bowl. Meanwhile, Curtis poked through her cupboards and then her fridge. He came up with some sausage, a tomato, a few eggs and a loaf of bread. He was good for that toast. In his rummaging, he came across a tin of cookies. Curious, he opened it and found some shards of what were probably meant to be shortbread cookies.
�
��What happened here?” he asked, shaking the tin.
“Oh, don’t ask. I can’t get them right,” she said.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at cookies recently,” he said.
“What?” She opened her eyes and fixed him with a curious stare. “Since when?”
“I took a class.” He met her gaze, then felt the heat rising in his face. “To impress a woman.”
“Was she impressed?” Barrie raised one eyebrow.
“She was.” He chuckled. “It didn’t work out, though.”
“I’m trying to figure them out. It seems like a motherly thing to do, doesn’t it? Mom made amazing shortbread cookies, and I just don’t have the knack yet.”
Gwyneth Jones had been a real artist when it came to baking, and he remembered Barrie trying her hand at her mother’s cookies... No one could match Gwyneth, though. He set about chopping sausage, onion and some green pepper and tossed them into a pan. As he worked, he glanced again into the tin. They really hadn’t turned out. He looked around the kitchen and spotted a wad of yarn behind the fruit bowl. When he pulled it out, he discovered what seemed to be the beginning of some knitting that also wasn’t turning out. She was more than trying to get ready for this baby...and she was hitting a wall.
“So, you knit now, too?” he called over the sizzle of frying.
“No, I don’t,” she called back. “I’m terrible at it.”
“What were you trying to make?” he asked.
“Booties. Not that you can tell.”
Barrie, who’d longed to make a home for him, was attempting to do the same thing for this baby, and the realization stung. This wasn’t just some attempt at a craft. She wouldn’t have a whole lot of free time to fill that way. This was her effort to create a home that would...how had she said it? A home that would call her child back again. And she was failing—at least in the ways she was trying to make it work.
Barrie’s eyes had closed, and she absently rubbed a hand over the dome of her stomach.
Montana Mistletoe Baby Page 10
