by Quint, Suzie
A Dark & Stormy Knight
by
Susie Quint
A Dark & Stormy Knight
Copyright 2014 by Suzie Quint
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or individuals, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
My undying gratitude to Ashley Lyn Willis, writing buddy extraordinaire. Without your input, this wouldn’t be half the story it is. Thanks for keeping me honest and not letting me skate.
I can’t begin to express my gratitude to Rebecca Birch. When I was struggling to nail down Georgia’s driving force, your timely and insightful observation that parents will do things for their children they won’t do for themselves was the key I needed to understanding Georgia. Without you, Rebecca, I might still be floundering.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank my core group of online writing buddies, Rachelle Ayala, Racquel Reck, and B. Baxter who, along with Ashley, laughed in all the right places. Thanks as well to Stephanie Berget, who over lunch one afternoon, gave me insights into the world of barrel racing. I hope I got it right.
Always and forever, thanks to my best bud, Ella, who has been my first reader (and second and third and ad infinitim) since before I knew what I was doing.
Thanks to Valerie Tibbs for always creating my beautiful covers and to my editor Andrea Howe for being so wonderfully anal retentive about punctuation and grammar and pointing out my inconsistencies. In spite of Andrea’s best attempts to get me to toe the straight and narrow, I have on occasion sacrificed the technically correct in favor of remaining true to the characters’ voices (yes, even in narrative, where the author’s and character’s voices blend.) I accept the blame for anything that offends the purist’s eyes and ears.
Special heartfelt thanks to Randy Simpson, DVM, for walking me through the things I needed to know about bowed tendons. Any errors are mine alone. Your friendship warms my heart, Randy.
Chapter One
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” Even though her sister couldn’t see it, Georgia shifted the phone to her other hand, so she could sketch an X over her left breast. “We’re leaving in the morning.” Then she hedged. If the past eleven years of motherhood had taught her nothing else, life was never one hundred percent predictable. “Nothing short of a trip to the hospital for broken bones or copious bleeding will keep us inside Houston city limits one minute past eight o’clock. Eight thirty at the latest.”
“Broken bones. Bleeding.” Bethany made a snicking sound as though she was reluctantly considering. Not that she had much choice. As the mother of three, all of whom were more apt to suffer self-inflicted injuries than Georgia’s daughter, Eden, Bethany knew the realities as well as Georgia. “Okay. But those are the only acceptable excuses. And they only cover a delay.”
Georgia laughed. It was like negotiating a peace treaty in the Middle East. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there tomorrow to relieve you. You’ve done your duty this past month and earned your R&R.”
“Rest and relaxation, my ass. I’ve gotten so far behind at home, it’ll take me all summer to catch up. You have no idea how demanding Mama and Daddy are, but you will. If it weren’t for the comic relief Grams provides, I’d be going home in a straitjacket.”
While her sister talked, Georgia hiked her shoulder to hold her cell phone to her ear, freeing her hands to fold the shirt she was packing. It didn’t work of course. The phone slithered out of the not-so-effective vise and bounced on the bed. She snatched it up in time to hear Bethany say, “And you’ll have it worse because you’ll be here 24/7. At least I get to go home at night.”
The past month had been tough for Bethany. She was a stay-at-home mom, but when you were a rancher’s wife, that didn’t mean you got to sit on the couch eating bonbons. Top that with three kids, who were a handful on their best day, and Bethany’s life was tightly scheduled.
She’d gallantly stepped out of those daily routines two months ago after their mama’s stroke.
Taking care of Mama also meant taking care of Daddy since their parents had an old-fashioned marriage where the man brought home the bacon—and in this case, that meant everything from building the pig sty right up to slaughtering the pigs—and the woman did everything else.
And then there was Grams, who couldn’t be trusted to boil water without risking a house fire. Add Mama’s three-times-a-week therapies and all the emotional buttons their parents had at their disposal, and it was a wonder Bethany hadn’t chucked it all and run away from home.
Now summer had officially arrived, and Georgia was commitment free until school started in the fall. It was her turn to take care of their parents. Even without the husband and three kids waiting impatiently at home, Georgia was pretty sure she’d be dreaming of a white-sand beach in some faraway locale in about a week—maybe less.
“By the way, I ran into Sol’s mama yesterday,” Bethany said.
“How is Ruth?” Georgia opened the nightstand drawer and rummaged for her Bluetooth headset. It wasn’t there. Eden had probably swiped it again. No, wait. There it was. She put it on and went to the dresser for jeans.
“She’s good. She mentioned Sol’s riding at the Gladewater rodeo Friday night.”
“She just happened to mention that, did she?” Georgia wasn’t sure if the annoyance she felt was because he was riding or because Bethany was butting into things that didn’t concern her.
“Well, I did ask her what Sol was up to these days. That’s not an unreasonable question. He is Eden’s daddy after all.”
“Yes, you’re right.” But the suspicion her sister had an ulterior motive for mentioning this didn’t disappear.
“You know, you could go down to Gladewater and see him ride. Maybe go out to a honkytonk afterwards.”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“You did say you were going to ask him to take Eden out to the ranch for the summer. So maybe you should make nice before you ask him.”
Resenting someone for being right was childish, yet Georgia still resisted. “That doesn’t mean I have to go all the way to Gladewater.”
Bethany exhaled her exasperation. “It’s only an hour’s drive. Come on, Georgia. Show the man a little support. Go to his damned rodeo, cheer him on, have a drink with him afterward at the local watering hole before you ask him for a favor. I know you don’t like rodeos, but showing up would tell Sol you’re willing to meet him halfway.”
“I don’t dislike rodeos.” Liar. “In point of fact, I went to the Gladewater rodeo last year.”
“Really?” Bethany sounded surprise. Then her tone changed, becoming skeptical. “Why?”
Georgia sighed and confessed. “The daughter exchange.” Which was what they called it when Eden went back and forth between her and Sol.
“Did you enjoy it?” Bethany asked, her tone clearly saying she expected a negative response.
“Parts of it,” Georgia admitted. It had helped that she’d run into a couple of friends from high school. Still, she’d made sure she was at the concession stand when Sol rode, so she wouldn’t have to watch.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well, it’s not that much fun to go alone—”
“So call a friend to go with you.”
“And,” Georgia stressed the word, “if I’m going to a bar after the rodeo, I’d have to leave Eden alone with Mama and Daddy.”
“She can spend the evening with us. I’ll bring
her home before the folks go to bed. I’ll even take care of Mama’s nighttime routine. Now what other excuses do you have?”
“Would you stop bullying me?” She could hardly believe Bethany wanted her to go badly enough to step back into the breach so soon.
Bethany laughed then, in her poor-dumb-bunny voice, the one Southern women used when they said, “Bless her heart, but she’s too stupid to breathe on her own,” she said, “Oh, honey. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. The past month with Mama has honed my bullying skills to a fine edge.”
Great. “Okay, I’ll think about going to Gladewater. Does that make you happy?”
“For now,” Bethany said, smug now that she’d gotten her way.
Georgia heard the apartment door open followed immediately by the sound of muffled voices. “Eden’s home. I gotta go.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Before noon, God willing.”
Georgia hung up and went to greet her daughter. Eden was crouched at one end of the couch, peering behind it. At the other end, her BFF, Deanne, mirrored Eden. Deanne’s father, Daniel, watched the two girls, an amused smile on his face.
“Come on, Tink,” Eden cajoled.
Georgia smiled a greeting at Daniel. “Eden, there’s tuna salad in the fridge. I bet Tink will come out for that.”
As Eden went for the tuna, Georgia turned to Daniel. “That cat is too smart. She saw me get out the cat carrier this morning.”
“I told you, you should’ve gotten a dog,” he said.
“Dogs don’t purr,” Eden yelled from the kitchen.
Georgia and Daniel exchanged amused looks. Eden loved animals, but if the choice was between dogs and cats, she came down hard as being a cat person, but even that was a comedown from the horse of her own that she really wanted.
Georgia held her hands up in a what-can-you-do gesture. Then she tipped her head toward the kitchen, inviting him to accompany her. She turned sideways in the doorway as Eden came barreling out, a plastic tub of tuna in her hands. “Don’t give all of that to the cat,” Georgia said, “or your lunch will be a bread sandwich.”
Daniel followed her into the kitchen. “Everyone’s deserting me all at the same time,” he said mournfully. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.”
“I know.” She opened a cupboard and started pulling out cans of cat food. “I wish we didn’t have to go, but if I don’t relieve Bethany soon, I’m afraid she’ll be tempted to hold a pillow over Mama’s face while she sleeps.”
“Your mother can’t be that bad.”
She turned, cans of cat food in both hands, to look at him. Not quite six feet tall with light brown hair he kept cut short, he was a nice-looking man. In the past three years since their daughters had become joined at the hip, this divorced dad had also become Georgia’s best friend. For reasons he was totally unaware of, she would have given a lot to be able stay in Dallas with him this summer.
In her most innocent voice, she asked, “Have I mentioned how manipulative my mama is?”
Daniel smiled. “Maybe a time or two.”
“And how negative she can be?”
He chuckled. “Only every time you talk to her.”
“Good. You were listening.” She set the cans on the counter and pulled out several plastic grocery bags. “I know you’re going to miss Deanne, but it’s a good thing your ex has finally given up drinking and wants to see her daughter. Right?” She glanced at him, catching not just his nod of agreement but the grim cut of his mouth that told her how left out he felt. “Kids need both parents in their lives,” she reminded him as she bagged the cat food.
Generally true, she thought. Teaching third grade had tuned her in to how important involved parents were. While most of the children at the private school where she taught came from intact families, she’d gotten so she could tell pretty reliably by the end of the first week of school which kids had an absentee parent.
Whether the presence of Daniel’s ex would be a blessing for his daughter, Georgia wasn’t so sure. Parents could also do tremendous damage to their children. She recalled the conversation she’d had with the school nurse a couple of weeks earlier after a bullying incident in Georgia’s class. Repetition compulsion the nurse had called it after they’d met the bully’s father. Georgia had learned it as a child in Sunday school as a Bible verse. Exodus 34:7: And the sins of the father shall be visited upon the sons and the son’s sons unto the third and fourth generation.
No matter how it was phrased, it meant the children learned by example. Whatever their parents did, whether bullying or marrying an abuser or having illegitimate babies, each generation repeated the pattern they saw.
Unless they made a conscious decision to change it, which was something Georgia had been thinking about a lot since her conversation with the school nurse.
“I know girls need a woman around,” Daniel said. “The easy years are almost over. Soon Deanne’s going to need advice on things I don’t know anything about—and don’t want to know about. I’m very happy with the finer points of bras and feminine hygiene products remaining a mystery.”
She laughed. Daniel was such a guy.
“Anyway,” he continued, “you’ve been doing such a good job as a stand-in mom, I was hoping I could ride your coattails for the next few years at least.”
“Anytime. Deanne’s a good kid.” Georgia had liked her from the first time she’d met her, back when Eden had invited Deanne for her birthday slumber party.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the compliment as an endorsement of his parenting skills.
Georgia smiled to herself. Single parents always hungered for assurances they weren’t screwing up their kids past the point of no return. “And the girls will turn buying their first bras together into an adventure. It’ll be fun.”
Daniel’s sigh sounded relieved, as if he’d sidestepped a minefield. “I wish you and Eden were going to be around after Deanne leaves. What am I going to do here all by myself?”
“You’ll be fine,” Georgia said. “You’ve got a week to enjoy your daughter before you send her off, and you’ve been griping that you need to work on your backstroke before your company golf tournament.”
“So that’ll eat up a few hours on the weekend.”
“You’ll think of something to keep yourself occupied.” Several loud thumps came from the living room followed by the sound of running feet. “If they ever catch her, you can always play with Tink.”
Daniel peeked into the living room, but whatever he saw didn’t create any parental angst because he let the door swing closed. “Your cat’s not that amusing. Plus, she thinks my leg’s a scratching post.” Then his voice dropped. “I’m going to feel like a bachelor again. Divorced father is bad enough, but I didn’t do bachelor all that well the first time around.”
“Well then.” Georgia took a breath before saying, “Maybe this is your chance to brush up on some of those bachelor skills.” Had he heard the pause while she’d worked up her courage to step onto that dangerous ground? Until two months earlier, their friendship had been one hundred percent platonic. Then, for the first time in four years, Daniel’s ex wanted to see her daughter. The girls had both gone to a group sleepover, so he’d come over to talk about it. They’d had a few beers. Then out of the blue there’d been kissing. And groping.
Thank God, there hadn’t been actual sex because the kissing and groping had been enough to make them both act stiff and awkward for a week. Lord only knew how much worse sex would have made it.
For her daughter’s sake, Georgia had forced herself to get past it. Daniel, too, had relaxed, and things went back to normal. At least on the surface. Under the surface, Georgia wasn’t sure what was going on. She almost wished they’d taken the next step that night, but she hadn’t known yet that the incident with the third-grade bully would have her thinking about the family patterns she was passing on to Eden.
The life she had wasn’t what she wanted for her daughter, and Daniel was her
prime candidate to remedy that. He didn’t know it yet, of course, and whatever moves she needed to make to change their relationship would have to wait until she got back, which might not be until fall. That sucked, but the last thing in the world she needed was to get what her mama called “all stirred up” before she headed home to Hero Creek because “all stirred up” was too dangerous to put in the same room with her ex-husband.
Daniel sighed. “I’m going to miss you. We feel almost like a family when we do things together with the girls.”
Which was exactly what she wanted. It couldn’t be all that hard to turn “almost a family” into an actual family, could it?
Chapter Two
Lydia leaned in, bringing her lips close to Georgia’s ear. “Who’s that?” she asked in the same breathy voice Georgia remembered all too well from their junior college days. The one that meant she’d spotted a man she’d like to know better. Usually a lot better.
“Who’s what? Where?” Georgia asked, almost yelling to be heard over the rodeo announcer’s distorted voice. Why was it that rodeo producers seemed to think their fans were not only half deaf but hadn’t considered putting fresh batteries in their hearing aids?
“Him. There.” Lydia pointed over the arena railing. “Beside the bull chute. The black hat on the side of the chute, pulling on the bull rope.” She fanned her face. “Seriously hot. He could eat crackers in my bed any time his little ol’ heart desired.”
Georgia frowned. “That’s Sol McKnight.”
“McKnight? You’re related to him?”
“He’s Eden’s daddy.”
“That’s your ex-husband?” Lydia stared at her open-mouthed.
Georgia nodded. “Yeah.” Her tone was dry.
“You let a hunk like that get away?” Lydia’s gaze was locked on Sol again. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I didn’t want the door to hit me in the ass on the way out.” And she’d been almost fast enough to get away unscathed.
