by Quint, Suzie
When she sensed Eden at her shoulder, she asked, “Where did Daisy find this sweetheart?”
“She’s out of one Cissy O’Keefe’s retired racers,” Eden said softly. “Aunt Del thought Daisy should buy her when Cissy decided to sell her.”
Georgia glanced at her daughter. “Sounds like Daisy’s aunt looks out for her.”
Eden dropped her gaze. “Daisy says that’s what family does.”
Georgia put one arm around Eden’s shoulder and gave her a brief hug. “She’s right. We take care of each other. Always.”
Still looking down, Eden nodded.
Georgia released her daughter and moved on to the next stall. The big buckskin gelding Sol had ridden that day they’d ended up at the swimming hole was there. “What are you doing here, handsome?” Georgia asked as she offered him half a carrot.
“He needs new shoes,” Eden said in a subdued voice.
The buckskin politely took the carrot. Georgia had always been a little intimidated by big horses, but she couldn’t fault his manners.
As she cooed and scratched his jaw, a whinny came from the next stall. The buckskin’s ears swiveled at the sound. Eden went even stiller.
Georgia gave the buckskin a final pat and stepped to the next stall.
Spitfire stuck her head over the door and nuzzled Georgia before she could even get a carrot out of her pocket. She dug one out. The mare blew a hot breath on Georgia’s hand and took it.
The bay’s front legs were wrapped to protect them, but Spitfire moved easily. Of course, taking a few steps with no extra weight didn’t mean she was healed. That would take months, and the McKnights’ veterinarian had opined that the leg wouldn’t hold up to racing. Softhearted about horses Daisy might be, but she was also business minded. Selling a racer of questionable soundness wasn’t the way to build her reputation. The dreams of Spitfire’s career were officially dead.
But that didn’t make the horse worthless. Eden loved her and Georgia hoped that emotion was strong enough to heal the hurts.
She fed the mare another carrot, stroking her as she ate them. After the third one, Spitfire turned her head and nickered at Eden.
Come on, sugar. Don’t let this sweet horse down.
Eden still stood in front of the buckskin’s stall, her gaze locked hungrily on Spitfire, but her feet seemed glued to the floor.
Georgia reached for another carrot, but it snagged on the pocket as she pulled it free and flipped out of her fingers, landing on the concrete floor halfway between Georgia and her daughter. Eden stared at it for several long moments then slowly bent and picked it up. Her fingers brushed it off before she held it out to her mama.
Georgia refused to reach for it. Eden took a tentative step forward then another. One more and she was close enough for Spitfire to stretch her neck and touch Eden’s fingers with her nose.
The mare blew a breath onto Eden’s hand, and Eden’s face crumbled.
When Georgia swung the stall door open, Eden stepped through it as if drawn by an invisible cord. As her daughter’s arms slid around the mare’s neck, Georgia stepped back.
Let the healing begin.
###
Sol had spent an hour with Eden after he and Zach had gotten home. After that, he could have found something to do on the ranch—something inside the barn or the shed—but with the much-needed rain had come a temperature drop that made that unappealing. Instead he retreated to his trailer to watch the downpour and think more about the things Georgia had said and what he was going to do about them.
He’d figured out the answer to her question about what he would have done twelve years ago. The answer wasn’t as simple as the question. He’d even figured out the answer to the question “why now?”
She had to be clearing the decks before she married that man in Dallas. Taking care of old business. He hated thinking of himself that way, but that’s what he had to be in her eyes.
It made sense that she’d want closure. Like she’d wanted to help Tommy get. Hell, that was probably what gave her the idea.
So yeah, none of his answers made him happy as he stared out of the kitchen window at the rain.
He could give her the closure she wanted, or he could fight for her the way he’d been fighting for her the past twelve years, with about the same odds of winning.
Even knowing he was being selfish and that he was doomed to fail, he wanted to fight. It was the selfish part that stuck in his craw. That wasn’t the man he wanted to be.
Dammit.
He was going to have let her go.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Georgia rolled the barn door open a couple of feet and dragged over a bale of hay. The wind had come up, so she huddled in her daddy’s jacket and watched the darkened sky continue its assault on the parched land. Somewhere close to her, the wind caught a gap in the barn’s siding at just the right angle to create a breathy whistle that provided a flat melody line. The constant whoosh outside delivered the lower end of the tune punctuated by the drumming of the rain. In the distance, lightning flashed. She counted eight before the thunder rumbled.
She still had problems, but she felt damned good about getting her daughter on a healing path. For the moment, that was enough.
Georgia picked at the hay. Her plan to make a family with Daniel had taken up a lot of real estate in her head this summer. She was a little surprised at how easily she’d let go of the idea. Of course, he’d shocked her to her senses with the ring Tracy was now wearing.
Since no other candidates waited in the wings, the plan to create a family for Eden was officially dead. Georgia doubted she’d have the enthusiasm to pursue it anyway, now that she’d figured out she was still in love with her frustrating, annoying, sometimes obnoxious ex-husband. Even knowing she might have blown it with Sol, she wasn’t interested in anyone else. What was she going to do about him?
A spear of lightning crashed across the sky. She counted, not quite reaching seven before the thunder followed.
The storm made her feel insignificant but in a good way. If she wasn’t that important in the grander scheme, then how could her problems matter so much? The world would keep on turning, rain would fall, or the sun would shine, no matter how things worked out for her.
The gap between the lightning and the thunder was down to five seconds, and she was still feeling philosophically melancholy when her phone rang.
She dug it from her jacket pocket. When she saw Sol’s name on the display, an attack of nerves hit her.
“Hey, Georgia,” Sol said when she answered. “Have you got some spare time today?”
Alarm bells went off, jacking up her nerves. “Yeah, I can find a few minutes. Why?”
“We need to talk.”
That sentence just never boded well. Oh, hell. She might as well get it over with. “I can come now if that works for you. You’re at home, right?”
“Yup. I’ll be waiting.”
She hung up but didn’t move immediately. Lightning flashed. “One. Two. Three. F—” Yeah. The storm was moving closer. She got up and went to kiss her daughter good-bye.
###
Georgia huddled on his front step, waiting for him to answer her knock. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in the few minutes it took her to drive to Sol’s, the sky was so dark, it felt like night was falling, and the rain was coming down in sheets.
The door opened and she jumped forward, nearly knocking him down in her hurry to be out of the cold and damp.
“That was quick,” Sol said. He glanced out the door. “It’s gotten wicked out there.”
“Yes, it has, but I was already at the ranch.”
“Oh.” He shut the door. “Seeing Eden?”
“Yes.” Georgia couldn’t repress a small smile fueled by the pride of a mother’s job well done. “She’s in the horse barn as we speak.”
Sol’s eyes widened. “With Spitfire?”
She nodded.
“Thank God. Do you want some coffee?”
Bleck. But at least it would be hot. The weather had stolen her heat and left her shivering.
“Or . . . cocoa maybe?” Sol offered.
Oh, yes, cocoa. Much better. Instead she said, “Whatever you’re having is fine.” Let it be cocoa.
“Cocoa it is, then.”
Her boots were muddy, so she pulled them off before sitting down. At his kitchen table, she balanced one heel on the edge of the seat, and rested her chin on her knee. He already had a pan on the stove. Georgia would have nuked it herself, but Sol had been raised doing things the old-fashioned way.
“I guess this proves you were right.” He poured milk into the pan and turned on the burner. “I don’t know squat about being a parent. I couldn’t get her within a hundred yards of any of the horses.” His voice was soft, but Georgia thought she detected a hint of sadness as though he was disappointed with his performance as a father.
“It doesn’t prove anything,” she said. “She wasn’t ready until today. I got lucky.” Should she tell him Eden was losing her best friend? But that would mean she would have to mention Daniel. Then again, if she told him Daniel was marrying Tracy . . . They were being so careful of each other. So polite. She decided not to risk upsetting things until she knew what he was thinking.
“Lucky?” He scoffed as he got out a spoon and set it beside the stove.
“Yes, lucky. I wasn’t sure it would work, but . . . I thought it might. I thought maybe she was ready, but I could have been wrong. Stop beating yourself up about it.”
He nodded but the corner of his mouth had a grim cast.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that a watched pot never boils? Come sit down.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I don’t want it to boil. If it boils, the milk will scorch.”
Why were they talking about milk? Should she push him toward whatever he wanted to say or let him get to it in his own time? She wasn’t eager to argue again, so she let it slide.
“How’s your mama doing?” he asked.
“She’s better.”
He picked up the spoon and stirred the milk. “So you’ll make it home for the start of your school year?”
“It looks that way.” The thought of returning to Dallas made her feel empty. Eden wasn’t the only one who was losing a friend. What a difference a few months made. “Bethany talked it over with Daddy while I was—” She almost said while I was in Mesquite, but she was afraid that would remind Sol of their last fight. Not that he probably needed reminding. “They talked it over yesterday and decided Bethany could take care of them again if Daddy could get someone else to take Mama to her therapy sessions.”
He received the news with silence.
The wind whistled around the trailer. Georgia glanced out the window and saw lightning split the sky. It was even darker than when she got there.
She let the storm lull her. Warm and sheltered from the storm made the trailer seem almost cozy. The occasional clink of metal on metal as Sol stirred the milk soothed her as well. She almost didn’t notice when he set the cup in front of her, but the rich scent of chocolate pulled her back into the room.
He sat across from her as she took a sip. Mm. She set it down and looked at him. There was no reason to put this off any longer.
“What did you want to talk about?”
His mug sat on the table, and he turned the cup, his fingers on the rim. And turned it. And turned it. And turned it again. “I’m sorry I walked away from you last night. I think . . . You weren’t done saying your piece. I should have stayed and listened.”
The only thing that had gone unsaid was that she loved him. She doubted he’d have been receptive to that now.
Miniature marshmallows floated in the cocoa. Georgia poked at one, pushing it down, watching it bob back up. Was she willing to go out on a limb and say it now? If she wanted him, did she have a choice? She was working up her courage when he spoke.
“I want you to know something.” His fingers stilled, but he didn’t look up. “I never loved riding more than you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision. She wasn’t sure if they were tears of relief or of regret. Maybe both. She looked up, fighting to keep them from falling.
“I want you to know, though, what you would’ve really been asking for.” His hand tightened on his mug for a second then he rose from the table as if it was asking too much of him to be still. He stood for a moment, the way he might have if he’d walked into the room and forgotten what he’d come for, then strode across the kitchen only to turn and come back. When he sat back down, he started toying with his cup again.
Through it all, Georgia waited. The tears that threatened dried up, but she could feel them waiting behind her eyes, except now she knew what emotion held them there; she was afraid.
“I liked riding bulls in high school.” His voice was soft and contained, almost as if he were talking about someone else. “It was something I was good at.” His mouth twisted with a sort of wry amusement. “Hell, I thought I was king of the hill. It was even better when you started coming to watch me. I loved showing off for you. When I won, you looked at me like I was some kind of hero. I liked that. Hell, I loved that.”
He finally lifted his mug and took a sip. “And then after we got married and I started riding in real rodeos, riding against guys who were better than me, more seasoned, I found out I’d been a big fish in a little pond. But you still looked at me like I was a hero, so I was determined to do better. To keep you looking at me like that.”
Georgia swallowed. She hadn’t known he’d felt this way.
“I guess it must have been after Bill got hurt you stopped looking at me that way when I rode, but I didn’t make that connection until last night. I thought . . .” He licked his lips as if his mouth had gone dry. “I thought I needed to work harder.”
She lifted her hands, pressed together as if in prayer, to cover her nose and mouth. No. Oh, no.
His gaze fixed on the mug as it turned under his hand. “When you left, it made me more determined to be good at it. So maybe you’d be proud of me and come back.”
The tears were threatening again.
“Or maybe I just didn’t know what else to do.” He drew a deep breath. “And then . . . When you didn’t come back. When I got it through my thick skull that maybe you never would . . . Riding was the only thing I had left. That eight seconds on a bull’s back, that was the only time I didn’t miss you.”
His eyes lifted to meet hers. “So yeah, all you ever had to do was come back and ask me to quit.”
“Oh, God,” she muttered behind the barrier of her hands. “It’s my fault. If I had—”
She saw from the look on his face that her words were too muffled for him to understand. Did she want him to? If he understood how much she was to blame, would that be the last straw? But she owed it to him. All these years, he’d assumed he’d done something wrong when all he’d tried to do was make her happy, make her proud. He deserved better than that from her. She dropped her hands to her lap.
“I’m sorry. If I had talked to you— If I had told you how I felt. How scared I was every time you rode. I should have told you. We could have made our marriage work. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She hadn’t expected her long-overdue apology would make him happy. Not exactly. But she had expected his tension to ease a little. Instead, his face tightened as though she’d just made things worse.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Part of him wanted to stop right there, to accept Georgia’s apology, to let her shoulder the burden of their failed marriage. She’d only done what she’d had to. Maybe some part of her had sensed she couldn’t count on him. But if he was the man he thought he was, he couldn’t let her think it was all her fault.
Sol pushed out of his chair, knowing it would be easier to start the next chapter of this discussion if he didn’t have to look at her. He opened a cupboard, searching for something that would go with the cocoa
. Graham crackers? No, those went with milk. Oreos? Those were for dipping in milk, too, but they were still his best option.
“There’s more you should know,” he said as he pulled out a plate for the cookies, wondering as he did so what his next sentence should be.
He could never have put into words at the time what riding meant to him, though he’d tried once when Georgia had asked him about it. He’d dressed it all up and tried to make it sound noble, but it really hadn’t been. He never would have admitted it to her—hell, he wouldn’t have admitted it to himself back then, even if he’d understood it and could have found the words, but at the ripe old age of thirty, he saw it more clearly.
“When we were married . . .” The cookies were on the plate now, but he didn’t pick it up or turn toward the table. Instead, he took a deep breath to steel himself for this revelation that he hadn’t planned to share with her. “You weren’t the only one who was scared.”
“You were never scared of anything,” Georgia said on a breath.
If only that were true. He picked up the plate and turned toward her. Dimples appeared above the inside curl of her eyebrows, the way they always did when she was distressed. He hadn’t seen them in so long, he’d forgotten about them, but there they were. He wanted to kiss them away, but now was the time to give her soul-searing honesty, not kisses. “No, I was. I was scared to death.”
“Of what?” Georgia’s voice wobbled, but that didn’t mask the note of skepticism.
He took three steps to the table and set the plate down. “Of not being a man,” he said, careful not to look at her.
She sniffled but it was a sniffle of recovery rather than impending tears. “What are you talking about?”
He sighed and sat down. “We got married almost on impulse. I was eighteen. That may be more than a boy, but it’s not quite a man. And about a week after we got home from Vegas, it hit me.” He glanced at her then quickly away. “I had a wife.”
