Home on the Range

by Susan Fox

  “No!”

  Anger, hurt, all the emotions he’d buried now burst through to the surface. “You said that if you hadn’t gotten pregnant, you’d be back in L.A. having the time of your life. Instead, you were stuck in some hokey little hick town with a whiny kid.”

  As he spoke, she dropped her head again, burying her face in her hands. For a moment, they sat like that. Then, slowly, she lifted her head. Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Evan. I got depressed sometimes. I guess I said some awful things. But I didn’t mean them. Especially about you.”

  “You made them sound damned believable.”

  She winced. Then she straightened. “I apologize, from the bottom of my heart. I was a mess. That’s no excuse, I’m just saying how it was. My brain . . . wasn’t in the right place half the time.”

  The apology seemed genuine, and his anger began to dissolve. “Jess Bly—Cousins—told me about the bipolar and alcoholism. She said you were on medication and going to A.A.”

  “I should have done it years ago.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes, the blue-green ones he’d inherited, swollen and red-rimmed. “I’m so sorry. I was a horrible mother.”

  He didn’t deny it, and he didn’t sense she was looking for a polite disavowal. He sighed. “I’m glad you got things sorted around, Brooke.”

  “Is it too late?” she asked quietly. “Too late for us?”

  He studied her face. There was a dignity there that he’d never seen before.

  A week ago, he would have said it was too late. When he came here this morning, he hadn’t known what he intended. He still didn’t.

  “One of the things you’re supposed to do in A.A.,” she went on, “is get in touch with the people you’ve harmed. Apologize and, if possible, make amends. I did it with everyone but you. Well, you and your father, but I have no idea how to reach Mo, and even if I did, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

  “That’s sure the hell right.”

  She nodded. “You . . . yes, I certainly knew how to reach you, but I didn’t have the guts to do it. And you were the one I hurt the most.”

  “So if I say I forgive you, that will square it with God and A.A.?” Yeah, he sounded bitter. No wonder she flinched.

  Then she leaned forward again, shoving her untouched coffee mug aside and resting her forearms on the table. “Of course it won’t. And I’m not doing it so much for me as for you. I want you to know it was never about you, Evan. The bad things I did, the horrible things I said, they were never because you deserved them. You were a fine boy. You were the only thing in my life that I loved.”

  He snorted. “Loved? You didn’t love me.”

  “Oh, yes! But it still wasn’t enough to . . . make me get my head on straight. I’m so sorry, Evan.”

  Yes, she did have dignity. It was present in each gesture, each word. She’d earned it, too. All by herself.

  “For what it’s worth,” he found himself saying, “I do forgive you. I never understood what you were going through. As a kid, I probably couldn’t. But as an adult, maybe I should have looked back with a little knowledge and perspective.”

  A smile flickered on her lips.

  He went on. “I’ve been doing some thinking this week. Reexamining parts of my life.”

  “That sounds healthy.”

  “I guess you’ve done a lot of that, too.”

  This time the smile arrived and actually stayed a second. “You can say that again.”

  “Jess says you talk about me.”

  “I boast.” Her lips curved again. “I’m so proud of you, Evan. You were the most ambitious kid in town, even though you got no encouragement at home. You worked so hard and you made it all happen. You’re such a big success.”

  “I’ve done okay. But it could be more rewarding.” Now why had he told her that?

  “Really?” She cocked her head to one side. “How so? Oh, Evan, I really hoped you’d found everything you were looking for.” She looked genuinely concerned.

  In that moment, Evan realized he was having a real conversation with his mother. One where she focused on him, and apparently cared about his happiness. The thought stunned him. He dropped his head, fiddled with his coffee cup, blinked a few times to fight back tears.

  Then he looked up at her. “My definition of success had to do with money and status. Oh, it also had to do with being the best at what I do, but I’ve been using my skills to help rich people get richer.”

  Her brows drew together. “Mmm. I’m sure you can make a lot of money doing that, but I can see why it might not be so satisfying. What would you rather do?”

  “Help average people achieve goals that are meaningful to them. Like owning their own home, having enough money to retire comfortably, and so on.”

  She had a really nice, warm smile. “Most people need that kind of help. We’re pretty hopeless about saving, setting priorities. It’s not that we don’t want to, it’s just so intimidating figuring out how.”

  “Exactly.” He grinned at her. “As for the rich people, I kind of like helping them part with some money to fund worthwhile causes.”

  “Well, sure. And I bet that makes them feel better about themselves, too.”

  She got it. His smile widened.

  She smiled back, eyes looking misty. Then she said, “Evan, I’m so sorry, but I have clients booked and I can’t leave Kate on her own.”

  A sense of responsibility. Time management. Hard to believe this was Brooke Kincaid.

  “Of course. It was rude of me to show up without calling, but—”

  “But you were afraid you’d . . .”

  “You can say it. Chicken out. Yes, I was.”

  “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

  “Me, too.”

  He threw a few dollars on the table beside the still-full cups. “I’ll walk you back.”

  Outside the door to Beauty Is You, she stopped and he looked down at her.

  “About A.A.,” she said softly, “and making amends to people we’ve harmed . . . I’d like to do that, Evan. I know I can never make up for all the hurt I caused you when you were a boy, but I do love you and I want you to know that if there’s anything I can ever do . . .”

  “You’ve done a lot today. Mom.” It was the first time he’d called her that since he was a little kid, and the word felt unwieldy on his tongue.

  “It sounds good to hear you call me Mom,” she said, voice thready with tears.

  He didn’t remind her that she’d never wanted him to. Perhaps she remembered, perhaps not. Today, it didn’t matter. “It’s been good, both of us being able to speak the truth to each other. Having you really listen and try to understand.”

  “It’s been wonderful.” Voice still trembling, she asked, “Will I ever see you—hear from you—again?”

  “I . . . wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

  “I’ll understand if you decide not to contact me. And I’ll always be grateful for today. Gosh, sweetheart, it’s the nicest thing that’s ever happened to me.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  His eyes filled again. “It’s been nice for me, too.”

  So far, neither had touched the other. Now, as tear-drenched eyes gazed into tear-drenched eyes, his mother took an awkward step forward. Evan lifted arms that felt clumsy, and they hugged.

  She felt strange in his arms, small yet not fragile, and the scent of some tropical flower drifted up from her hair. Her arms tightened around him. His mother was hugging him. Like she really meant it.

  They broke apart, both swiping at their eyes. Then, without another word, she hurried inside the beauty salon.

  Evan strode down the street, not seeing a thing, blinking to control the tears.

  That afternoon, as the group rode back into the barnyard, sun kissed and windblown from hours in the fresh air, Jess glanced worriedly at Evan. He’d been so quiet all day. He didn’t look sad or worried, just thoughtful. Was he pl
anning the best strategy for tackling Madisun’s parents? They had agreed to make their visit later today.

  When the guests streamed up to their cabins, Evan said to Madisun and Jess, “Give me fifteen minutes?”

  “Sure,” Madisun said, her voice ragged with nerves.

  “We’ll make your father listen to reason,” Jess reassured her.

  The two women were cleaning tack when Evan reappeared. Madisun let out a whistle, and Jess stopped dead. Here she was in grubby jeans, and Evan was wearing a charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and classy tie. He looked almost like a stranger, and very handsome in his business clothes. New York Evan.

  She glanced down and had to laugh. He wore his cowboy boots, but he’d polished them until they gleamed under the thin coating of dust. “Hey, cowboy, you gonna wear those things when you get back to the city?”

  He grinned back. “You never know. It’ll give Angelica, my assistant, a laugh.”

  Yup, he had an office, staff, clients. A business. A life. She had to keep remembering those things.

  Madisun said, with a note of hero worship, “I think you look wonderful, Evan.”

  “Thanks, but will I make the right impression on your parents?”

  “They’ll be blown away.”

  Her parents had damned well better be blown away, Evan thought. He’d do everything in his power to make them agree to his proposal. He knew Madisun was old enough to leave home if she wanted, but he also knew she took her responsibilities to her siblings seriously, so it was important that her parents supported his plan.

  Jess took her own truck, and Evan rode in Madisun’s decades-old Chevy. She took the highway into town, then branched off on a back road, ending up in a downtrodden area where the houses were shacks or trailers in poor repair, and most of the yards grew junk rather than flowers. “I lived one street over and two blocks down,” he said, and she darted him a nervous smile.

  They parked and got out, waiting for Jess, behind them, to do the same. Together, with Madisun in the middle, they walked up the front steps of a run-down shack where shabby toys littered the yard and a few flowers struggled to bloom. The door was open, but a ripped screen blocked the doorway. Madisun knocked on the door frame and called, “Mom, Dad, we’re here.”

  She opened the screen door and ushered them in. “Wait here.”

  Evan studied the cluttered room with its shabby furniture, dirty dishes, and overflowing ashtrays. A cute black-haired baby wearing a diaper and nothing else sat on a corner of the stained rug, chewing on an unclothed Barbie doll with straggly hair. A pair of brown eyes studied them curiously, but the baby didn’t make a sound.

  He glanced at Jess, who looked grim. The sound of raised voices came from another room, and then a flushed Madisun returned. “My parents will be right out. The kids—except for Susie here—are at the park.” She scooped the baby up in her arms, and the little girl cooed with pleasure.

  The three of them sat, not saying anything, for about five minutes. Then a woman came in, followed by a man. Mrs. Joe’s pants and sweatshirt were faded but clean, and her hair was neatly combed and held back with a red band. Mr. Joe wore a tattered undershirt and jeans that sagged under a beer belly. His gait was none too steady, and he clutched an open beer bottle.

  Evan’s gut clenched. This was a man who beat his wife, his daughter.

  Madisun sprang to her feet, gripping the baby, but clearly didn’t know what to do.

  Jess took control of the situation. Rising, she said, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Joe. It’s nice to see you again. I’d like you to meet Evan Kincaid, an old friend of mine. He grew up here, but lives in New York now.”

  Evan stood, too, and moved toward them with his hand extended. They seemed surprised, but returned his handshake. No one offered food or drink, and he was relieved. He didn’t want this visit to last any longer than it had to.

  “Mary-Anne says you have some notion of paying for her schooling?” Mrs. Joe said, barely loud enough to hear.

  “Let’s sit down and talk about it,” Evan said.

  When everyone was settled, he outlined his plan.

  “Why wouldya do this?” Madisun’s father said suspiciously, slurring his words.

  His wife darted a glance under her eyelashes at her husband, then another one at Evan. “She’s a good girl.” Again, her words were spoken quietly, but her voice was firm.

  “I know she is,” Evan said. “She deserves a chance to get an education and explore her options.”

  “You can trust Evan,” Jess broke in. “I know this arrangement sounds unusual, but believe me, he respects Mad—Mary-Anne—and won’t do anything to hurt her.”

  “He’s tryin’ to buy the girl,” Mr. Joe huffed.

  “No!” Evan and Jess said at the same time, as Madisun, who’d been hovering in a doorway, gasped. Perhaps she squeezed Susie, because the baby let out a cry.

  “It’s not like that,” Jess said. “All he wants from Mary-Anne is that she go to school and study hard.”

  “I want that for her,” Mrs. Joe said softly, sadly, “but the thing is, she helps us feed the kids. I don’t see how we can do without her.”

  “She’ll have part-time work,” Evan said. “She’ll send money home. As long as you”—he broke off and fixed Mr. Joe with a level gaze—“leave your wife and children alone.”

  He heard Jess and Madisun both give soft gasps, but he didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Joe.

  The man glared at him, face going bright red, and Evan tensed. Just give me an excuse. He’d never in his life punched a man, but he was ready to. The fact that he’d enjoy it shocked him.

  After a moment, the other man dropped his gaze and muttered, “Dunno what in hell you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

  Evan realized his hands had fisted. He forced himself to unclench his fingers. He swallowed hard, then said it. “My father hit me and my mother. I do know what I’m talking about.”

  Another soft gasp from Jess.

  Mr. Joe’s eyes lifted, fixing on his face with sullenness and a touch of fear.

  Evan went on. “A real man doesn’t hit women or children. If a coward does that, someone will stop him. Like the cops. That’s what happened to my father. Do you understand me?”

  Mr. Joe gave a grunt.

  Evan knew it wouldn’t be that simple, but it was a start. The Joes didn’t ask for further details. Evan imagined Jess’s parents if a strange man had offered a similar deal. The questions would have gone on for days, and they’d have demanded references and checked them in detail.

  It had been the Blys who had turned the police on his father. Who had protected him. He thought he might call Wade Bly and have a chat about Madisun’s family. Jess and her mom tried to shelter him from stress, but from what Evan had seen, Wade was still a strong man. A man who’d prefer to protect than be protected.

  Madisun walked Evan and Jess out to Jess’s truck. She still clutched Susie in her arms, but suddenly she handed the baby to Jess. She wrapped her arms around Evan and hugged him tight, her whole body trembling. “I didn’t think they’d actually agree. And, Evan, thanks for what you said about him leaving Mom and the kids alone.”

  He hugged her back. “I’ll make sure someone keeps an eye on him.” Then he pushed her away a foot, holding on to her shoulders and gazing down at her. “It’s going to be hard. Leaving your mom and your brothers and sisters. Leaving Jess, the horses, Kathy and Will.”

  “I know.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “But I want to do it. I need to. I won’t let you down.”

  He smiled at that, and released her. “You won’t. Just realize, I don’t have any specific expectations. I want you to be true to yourself, work hard, keep in touch with me. I’m not going to second-guess your decisions, but if you ever want input, I’ll be glad to provide it.”

  “I’ll count on that.” She darted a glance at Jess. “I hope we can keep in touch, too.”

  Jess grinned and handed the baby back. “That’s for sure.”


  Fat raindrops began to patter on their shoulders and Jess said, “Best get Susie inside, Madisun.”

  The girl sprinted for the door as Evan and Jess climbed hurriedly into the truck. She started the engine and turned the wipers to high because the rain was now pouring down. The radio came on, some twangy country song, but Jess clicked it off.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes, and then she rested a gentle hand on his arm. “We’ll keep an eye on the Joes. Dave and I, and Mom and Pa.”

  “Thanks.” Dave again. The man she was always able to count on.

  She left her hand on his arm until she had to shift gears at a corner. “Only a couple more days until you’re back home.”

  “I’ve had an amazing time.”

  As she pulled onto the highway, she asked tentatively, “You’re not going to see Brooke?”

  He remained silent until she turned to him, and saw his grin.

  “What?” she said.

  “Saw her this morning.”

  “Evan!”

  “Jess, watch the road!” The truck had swerved onto the shoulder.

  She slammed on the brakes, causing the truck to fishtail in the gravel, and then it jolted to a stop. “You saw her and you didn’t tell me? I’m going to kill you!” She examined his face. “It went well?”

  He nodded. “We actually talked. I see what you mean about her having changed.”

  “So, what now? You’re going to stay in touch?”

  “I . . . think so. We left it up in the air but . . . well, we hugged each other. It . . . felt good.”

  Jess flung herself across the seat and gave him an awkward but enthusiastic hug of her own. “That’s so great!”

  He held her close—the third woman who’d been in his arms today, each of them special to him in her own way. But Jess was the one who made his blood zing. He let out a groan. “Damn, woman, it’s hard to be just friends.”

  She raised her head. “I know. Since you arrived I feel as . . . hormonal as a teenager.”

  “Me, too.” He wanted to stroke raindrops from her soft cheek, kiss those full lips, the same pink as the wild roses. Pull her over on his lap and make out like teenagers. “And since Cynthia and I have broken up . . .”