by Quint, Suzie
“I need you, Sol. I’ll breed ‘em and you can figure out if they’re any good.”
Aw, hell.
But Zach’s proposition intrigued him. Maybe there was something he could do besides get bucked off.
“Lemme think it over,” Sol said.
“Okay. And after you think it over, say yes.”
Sol smiled. It wasn’t a pity job after all. This was something he could do that would make a real contribution to the ranch. It sounded like it might be exactly what he needed.
###
“What’s this?” Sol hefted the duffel bag he’d found tucked beside the hay they’d brought for the bulls and tossed it onto the ground in front of Zach.
“It’s your gear. What else would it be?”
“I know it’s my gear,” Sol said. Since he’d intentionally left it in the barn, he didn’t like finding it in the truck, tempting him. “What’s it doing here?”
“Gideon threw it in. Said you’d need it.”
That drew Sol up short. Why would Gideon involve himself with whether or not Sol rode? If Gideon were there, Sol would have thrown the bag back in the truck and told his brother to mind his own damned business. Gideon wasn’t there, of course, so instead, Sol thought about why his brother had done something so out of character. Was this one of those things Gideon pulled out of his ass that turned out right, no matter how outlandish it seemed on the surface?
What the hell. It was here; the bulls were here; he might as well ride. He left Zach checking the bulls and went to pay his entry fee.
At the secretary’s office, he ran into Terry.
“Hey, buddy,” Terry said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah, we brought some stock. I figured as long as I was here . . .”
“Great. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get to try out one of your bulls.”
Sol opened his mouth to answer but got distracted by two young cowboys, both of whom looked a good decade younger than Sol and Terry. Something in their smirks made him feel like the butt of some joke. The young bucks turned away from them, but Sol heard him ask his friend in a voice tinged with disbelief, “Those old men gonna ride?”
His friend shook his head as though he found it unbelievable they let old geezers like Sol and Terry get on a bull.
Terry hiked an eyebrow then stepped up behind them, laying one hand on each man’s shoulder. “It ain’t the years, boys. It’s the miles. You haul ass forty thousand miles a year from rodeo to rodeo, and we’ll see how good you look. Get back to me in about three years.”
“Oh, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
But they weren’t sorry. They were only humoring the senior citizens. Sol could see it in their stride as they walked away.
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Smart-ass idiots.”
“They’ll learn,” Terry said. “We did.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Waiting until Sol came home on Sunday was the sensible thing to do. After all, what was a couple of days compared to twelve years? Besides, Georgia couldn’t just take off for Mesquite. That was a five-plus-hour round trip. Who would take care of Mama? Who’d feed Daddy and Grams? She couldn’t ask Bethany. Her sister had taken care of Mama when she was at her worst, right after the stroke, and she’d kept on until the school year was over. She’d done her share.
Having made that decision, Georgia went home to her parents.
The moment she walked in, her father shot her a significant look. She got another from Grams in the kitchen. Her mama was subdued and didn’t speak.
Was her mama actually considering what Georgia had said, or was she pretending the incident at Bethany’s hadn’t happened? A third possibility was that she was giving everyone the silent treatment. Georgia chose to believe her words had sunk in, though a lifetime of experience suggested the last option was more likely.
With the odd silence pervading the house, bedtime was too far away. Georgia retreated to her room and tried to read, but her mind kept jumping to how she was going to approach Sol when he got home. She emerged to make a light supper from the leftovers Bethany had sent home with her parents. Despite Grams’ attempts to breach the uncomfortable atmosphere, conversation fell flat. Georgia retreated again.
In her room, she stared at her open book and thought about what Sol might be doing at that moment. The rodeo would be well under way. If he was there strictly as a stock contractor, he and Zach would be at the bull pens, maybe talking to whoever else had supplied rough stock as they checked their bulls over. Or maybe one of them was riding a pick-up horse in the arena.
Then again, maybe Sol had entered the bull riding. She wished she’d thought to check if his equipment was still at the ranch. If it was in the barn where he normally kept it, she’d know for sure he’d be safe and sound when he got home on Sunday.
Suddenly, Sunday seemed as though it was a million years away.
When it was time to get her mother ready for bed, she emerged only to discover her mother had lain down half an hour earlier. She started toward her parents’ room to help her mama into her nightgown, but her father stopped her. “I’ll get your Mama to bed, honey. You take it easy tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” Her mother’s motor skills had improved enough that he shouldn’t have too tough a time. “Thanks.”
Her father headed toward his bedroom.
“And Daddy?”
He stopped and looked at her. “Yes?”
She took a deep breath. Her gaze fell to the floor. “I’m sorry for ruining your anniversary party.”
He stepped closer to her. “You didn’t ruin anything, honey,” he said, stroking her hair once before he caught her chin and brought her face up. “We’re going to be fine. You’ll see.”
She tried to smile at him, but she wasn’t sure she pulled it off. “Daddy?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
She bit her lip. What she wanted to ask seemed too personal. Something one didn’t ask a parent, but the question burned inside her. “Why did you come home to Mama?”
Her daddy seemed to look beyond her, at something she knew she wouldn’t be able to see even if she turned. He was still there, still with her, but he was also somewhere else—somewhen else—for several long moments.
A couple of steps took him to his recliner. “I came back to tell her we were moving to Nashville.”
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. “Nashville?” she asked on a breath.
“We’d cut a demo and sent it out. Two different recording companies wanted to sign us, cut a single, maybe send us on the road as an opening act.” A soft smile curled his lips. “I think they mentioned Alan Jackson.”
She knew better. He didn’t think they’d mentioned Alan Jackson. That wasn’t something her daddy would forget. He’d been an Alan Jackson fan all of her life. Opening for him would have been a dream come true.
How different her life might have been. When she stepped next to his chair, he reached up and caught her hand.
“So why didn’t we move?”
His smile turned wry. “Your mama wouldn’t go.”
She let that sink in for a moment. “So you gave it all up? Why?”
“Because she’s my wife. Because I made a commitment to her. To you girls. Because I knew what it would do to her if I left again. And because sometimes you have to choose.”
He kept hold of her hand as he got up, and she went with him into the garage. His guitar case leaned in the corner where it had for nearly a decade. He laid it on his workbench and opened it. On the bottom was a CD. He handed it to her.
“Listen to it sometime. And I hope you understand.”
Looking at the silver CD inside its clear plastic case, she realized she held her daddy’s dreams in her hand. She didn’t think she was ready to listen to it yet.
“Do you think . . . ?” Georgia took a shaky breath. She hadn’t let herself remember the way Sol had avoided her for the past week, but it had been lurking in the
back of her mind. He’d never done that—not in all the time they’d been divorced—and it scared her more than she wanted to admit. “Do you think it’s too late for me and Sol?”
A soft smile pulled at her father’s lips. “If it’s too late, then Sol’s a bigger fool than I think he is.”
She hadn’t known how much she needed to hear something encouraging until that moment. She smiled again at her father, but she could feel her chin crinkling and her eyes growing moist. She sniffled, just a little, before saying in a breaking voice, “Thanks, Daddy.” Then she turned and fled back to her room while she could still control the waterworks.
###
Georgia’s mother refused to get out of bed for breakfast. When Georgia tried to insist, her daddy said, “Let her be,” so it was just the three of them, which was a lot more comfortable than supper had been the night before.
She busied herself with laundry then grocery shopping. The three of them ate a light lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese. When her daddy took a tray in to her mama, Georgia decided she needed a nap. She dreamed of bull riding wrecks and blonde buckle bunnies simpering about how brave Sol was. In both cases, she stood in the background, a ring with a rock the size of a mustard jar on her hand that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she pulled. She tried to get Sol’s attention, but he acted as though she were invisible. Salty residue streaked her face when she woke up.
The laundry was done, groceries were bought and put away, supper was in the Crock-Pot, Grams had gone somewhere with Delores, and her mother was sulking in her room. Georgia thought about her daddy’s CD, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she still wasn’t ready to listen to it yet. She could go to the ranch to see Eden, but she didn’t want her daughter to ask why she was as antsy as a cat stuck on a roof in a rising flood. Maybe she should drop by The Lariat to see if Tommy and Missy’s soap-opera lives could distract her for a while.
Relieved to have a plan, she left her daddy puttering around the house and drove to the bar. Tommy’s car was there in its regular spot, but when she walked in, she discovered Lydia sitting at the bar, flirting with him.
Georgia sighed and joined them. They both seemed happy to see her, but after their initial greeting and Tommy serving her a Baileys on the rocks, they went back to flirting, which was really more of a two-person activity. She felt like the proverbial third wheel until Lydia excused herself for a trip to the ladies’ room.
“You want to come with?” Lydia asked.
“No thanks. I went before I left home.” Oh, Lord. Could she sound any more like a mother?
A few minutes without Lydia gave her the chance to ask Tommy how things were going with Missy.
“She tried to come home a couple of days after the drive-in,” Tommy said.
“She did?” Some people had more nerve than sense.
“Yeah. I even let her in the door for about ten minutes. But then I realized it would be too hard to make it work. I’d need to know where she was every minute, and we’d both end up miserable. Who wants to live like that?”
She nodded. There were worse things than riding bulls, she supposed.
“I don’t think I’m really over it yet, though,” Tommy said.
“These things take time.” Please don’t let twelve years be Sol’s magic number.
“I guess I’m impatient.” Tommy leaned his folded arms on the bar. “When I’m over it, I think I’ll want her to be happy.” He gave her an evil grin. “I don’t. I hope someone does to her what she did to me. But it won’t be me. I’m moving on.” The evil grin widened. “And I think your friend Lydia might be the one to move on with.”
“I hope that works out for you.” But she wasn’t so sure that repetition compulsion wasn’t rearing its ugly head. Then again, Lydia wasn’t as bad as Missy. Maybe it was about pointing yourself in the right direction.
Tommy straightened and gathered some empty soldiers someone had left at the end of the bar. “How are you and Sol doing?”
She chewed on her lower lip before answering. “I’m not sure.”
“Didn’t you tell him the truth about our date?” He tossed the empty beer cans in the recycle bin.
“Yeah. He didn’t believe me.”
Tommy laughed. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been in here, then, looking for round two.”
“Well, he kind of thinks I’m getting engaged to a guy in Dallas.”
Tommy laughed so hard, he had to grab the bar to keep from doubling over.
“It’s not funny. He hasn’t spoken to me for a week.”
Tommy wiped tears from his eyes. “And that’s not a good thing?”
“No.”
“Are you getting engaged?”
“Not to Daniel.”
There was a speculative look in Tommy’s eyes. “Not to Daniel,” he mused. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
He looked at her for a minute as though deciding whether he should share his insight. “You know, being a bartender is like being a cross between a shrink and a father confessor. I hear what people say, and then I see what they actually do.” He shook his head. “You can deny it all you want, but I think I was right. You’re still in love with Sol.”
“Oh, God.” Georgia wanted to pound her head on the bar. She settled for burying her face in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Tell him,” Tommy said. As if it were that simple.
It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. But Sol’s reaction could be, and that was what scared her. A simple, straightforward no. It seemed almost illogical to think he would turn her down after the years he’d spent in pursuit, but he’d never refused her calls before. And having Sol move on just as she was figuring things out seemed like the sort of nasty trick life played on people. A romantic corollary to Murphy’s Law.
But Tommy was right. She needed to tell Sol. Whether he said yes or no, it all started with her telling him she still loved him and wanted to be with him. Waiting until tomorrow suddenly seemed like one more stupid decision in an already long line of stupid decisions.
She slid off her bar stool.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Lydia said as she sat down. “You just got here.”
“I know. But I just remembered something I need to do.” She picked up her purse. “Tommy, please, don’t . . .”
He read her mind and winked. “The sanctity of confessional.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Georgia pointed her car south to catch I-20. She was almost to the interstate before she realized she’d forgotten all about her parents.
As always, her phone was in the bottom of her bag. All those lectures to Eden about how cars and phones didn’t mix, and here she was, digging for it, but the guilt couldn’t stand up to the sense of urgency burrowing its way under her skin. It wouldn’t let her pull off the road, even for this.
“I know you did your share of taking care of Mama and now it’s my turn,” she said when Bethany answered. “And I know I have no right to ask, but would you please, please take care of Mama today and . . . probably tomorrow, too?” She winced even as she asked.
Bethany was silent for so long, Georgia wondered if she’d lost the connection. Finally, Bethany asked, “Why? Where will you be?”
Georgia took a deep breath. “I’m going to Mesquite.”
“To the rodeo?”
“Yes.”
“Is Sol there?”
“Yes.”
A pause then, “Does this mean what I think this means? Are you going to mend your fences with Sol? Are you going back to him?”
“I—” Saying it out loud felt serious as hell. God help her, it felt like a commitment. Everything inside—all her internal organs—felt jittery. Going after Sol was scary as hell, but it also felt as if she could maybe make it happen. “Maybe. I think so. I want to. I—”
She sounded like a blithering idiot, but apparently that didn’t matter to Bethany. An elongated, “Yesssssss!” exploded from Georgia’s cell phon
e. It didn’t take much imagination to picture the stoked fist pump, the kind her sister did when the Texas Longhorns made a winning touchdown in the last seconds of the fourth quarter.
Knowing Bethany was enthusiastically on her side, Georgia’s jitters faded. “I love him.” She drew a fresh breath and dove in deeper. “I’m in love with him.”
“Of course you are. Didn’t you know that?”
No. No, I didn’t.
Bethany didn’t wait for an answer. “You go do what you gotta do. I’ll take care of things here. Whatever you need.”
As good as her sister’s reaction felt, Georgia knew it wouldn’t be universally shared. “Um, you might not want to mention what I’m doing to Mama.”
“You think she’ll stroke again?”
She just might, Georgia thought, but that wasn’t the reason. “Let’s be sure there’s something to tell them.”
“You think Sol will say no?” Bethany’s tone was amused.
Her stomach threatened to start its jittery dance again. “Let’s just say . . . It’s not a sure thing.”
“Oh, I think it is, but however you want to handle this is okay with me. As long as you come home with Sol.”
From your lips to God’s ears.
Halfway to Mesquite, Georgia remembered she had her daddy’s CD in her bag. Maybe now was the time to listen to it. Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug down until she felt the edge of the case.
She felt an odd split in perceptions as she listened to the first soft guitar chords. Aware that she was driving down a busy Texas highway, she also felt as if she’d stepped back into her own past. Her daddy’d sung a lot before he’d gone on the road but not much in recent years. How long had it been since she’d heard him sing? When his Bob Seger voice came through the speakers, so vivid, so familiar, and yet so different, too, because he wasn’t singing for her and Bethany or even for himself. He sounded like someone who should be on the radio or playing a concert.
