Along Came a Cowboy

by Christine Lynxwiler

  He flashes his dimple. “That’s understandable. We didn’t cover our favorite ’60s’ bands the other night.”

  “Oh, Jack. . .”

  I jerk my head around to see Blair waving. Jack seems ready to ignore her, but I know from past experience that doesn’t work. “Better wave at her so she’ll go away.”

  Jack ducks his head, and his face reddens. He raises one hand. “Be right there.”

  “Be right there?” I blurt out before I think.

  “I ran into her this morning, and she had these tickets. She said if I wanted to go, we’d discuss rodeo publicity on the way over here.”

  “Your noble sacrifice on behalf of the rodeo amazes me.” Okay, I will not stoop to sarcasm again. He might think I’m jealous.

  He frowns. “It was better than allowing her at another committee meeting. Who are you here with?”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Someone who is probably wondering where I am. I’d better get back in.”

  “Rachel, this. . .” He waves his hand toward Blair. “She knows. . .it isn’t a date.”

  I just shrug. “Like Lark’s granny always said, ‘There’s no accountin’ for taste.’ It’s a free country. Enjoy the show.”

  If only I could take my own advice. The second half is another incredible performance, complete with Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band costumes, but no matter how much I know I shouldn’t care, I find myself scanning the crowd for Jack and Blair.

  “I had so much fun,” Mom says as we walk out to my car.

  “Me, too.”

  “Really?” She leans forward and peers at my expression under the glare of the parking lot lights. “You seem distracted.”

  “No. I had fun.” I hit the clicker and unlock the car, then slide into the driver’s seat. When I turn the key in the ignition, the motor turns over but refuses to start. “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh what?” Mom says, her brow furrowing.

  “It’s been acting funny lately, but I haven’t had time to get it down to Buddy’s for a new battery.”

  “Your dad would’ve been glad to put a new battery in for you. All you had to do was ask.”

  I pound out a rhythm on the steering wheel and try to relax my shoulders. “Buddy doesn’t mind doing it.” For a much lower price than the cost of depending on my parents for everything.

  “Well, at least you should have said something. We could have brought my car.”

  “I know. But I didn’t think it would actually give up the ghost.” I try again, and we listen in tense silence to the rrr, rrr, rrr of the uncooperative motor.

  “If only you’d said something.” She sighs and gets her cell phone out of her purse. “I’ll call your dad.”

  “No!”

  She shoots me a startled look, but I shake my head and reach down to pop the hood.

  “It’s a twenty minute drive for him. All we have to do is find somebody with jumper cables.” I peer out my window at the end of the line of cars streaming out of the parking lot. There are only a few vehicles still parked, but their owners have to show up eventually. With that in mind, I get out and open the hood all the way. While I’m examining the situation and trying to remember if my mechanic’s number is in my cell phone, I hear a throat clear behind me.

  “You need some help?”

  I spin around. Heat rushes up my face when I see Jack. “I was just about to call a mechanic then try to find a cab.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Battery, I think.”

  He waves at my mom and looks back at me. “It’d be a shame to ruin a girls’ night out by having to get a ride home.”

  Is it my imagination, or does he smirk a little when he says “girls’ night out”? I didn’t actually say I had a date when he asked me in the lobby earlier.

  “I’ve got jumper cables in the back of my truck. Why don’t we see if that works before you have someone come out?”

  I look behind him. “Where’s your date?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Don’t have one.”

  “Right. Where’s Blair?”

  He motions across the lot to where she’s talking with two men stashing equipment into a white van. “They just finished up an interview. Let me get my cables.”

  I relax a little. “Thanks, Jack.”

  “No problem.” He takes off at a jog across the parking lot.

  When he gets out of his truck in front of my car, he hands me one black and one red cable end. I hook them onto my battery while he connects the other ends to his.

  I send up a silent prayer as I climb in and give the key a turn. The motor roars to life.

  Jack puts the cables away and comes over to my window. “You need to get a new battery.”

  I nod. “Believe me, that’s on the top of my to-do list for tomorrow.” I point over his shoulder. “Don’t look now, but your non-date doesn’t seem to be too happy.”

  He turns his head, and for a second, we watch in silence as Blair strides across the parking lot, her high heels clicking in the quiet summer night.

  He looks back at me and Mom and doffs his hat. “See y’all later.”

  I roll the window up right before Blair reaches Jack.

  “Better to dwell in a car with a dead battery than in a truck with a contentious woman,” Mom says softly beside me.

  I jerk my head around to look at her.

  Her grin twinkles in her eyes, and she shrugs. “Just paraphrasing.”

  I return her grin and turn on the Beatles CD.

  “This was fun.” “This time you sound like you really mean it.”

  “I meant it before.”

  “But seeing Jack with Blair soured things for you a bit.”

  I shrug. This is my mother. What I say can and probably will be used against me later. “Thanks for going with me.”

  “I was surprised you asked me. But I’m glad you did.”

  Just as I’m settling into our first comfortable silence in fifteen years, she clears her throat. “About your car. . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come over for lunch on Sunday, and your dad will put a new battery in it while we’re cleaning up the dishes.”

  I keep my eyes on the road. “I’ll get Buddy to do it, I promise.”

  “Jennifer is our granddaughter any way you look at it.”

  “I know that.” I grind my teeth. Why do conversations with her have to be so hard? “What’s that got to do with my battery?”

  “Don’t you think we’d like to spend a little time with her while she’s here?”

  “We’ve been over.”

  “Should I have to go out to the barn to visit with her?”

  I glance up at the little Drive Friendly angel clipped onto my sun visor. Forget road rage. What about passenger rage? “No, Mom, you shouldn’t. She can eat lunch with y’all on Sunday.”

  “But our own daughter would rather drive through the burger joint than sit down at the same table with her parents. Or eat dinner at someone else’s mother’s house.”

  I often eat with Allie’s mom on Sunday, but I didn’t realize my parents knew that.

  I should have known the master of guilt wouldn’t miss a chance to add an arrow to her arsenal. She probably has spies all over the country. As soon as I have the thought, guilt shoots through me. See what good aim she has? Why should I feel guilty? They basically disowned me when they found out I was pregnant. Are they truly trying to reclaim me at this late date? My jaw clenches. Some situations are lose-lose from the beginning. “We’ll be there Sunday as soon as we get out of church.”

  Mom smiles. “We’ll look forward to it.”

  Most people are surprised to find I’m not a morning person. Something else I guess I inherited from my mom—a certain perkiness that gives the illusion that I’m Miss Morning Sunshine. I keep up the facade during the week. But Lark knows me. And she knows my aversion to anything that happens before the dew dries on Saturdays.

  So when I pull into her driveway at 9
:00 on Saturday morning, I give myself a minute to ponder Lark’s wake-up call two hours earlier that got me sitting here instead of out on my deck drinking a cup of hot green tea. I look over at Jennifer, whom I dragged along with me, because, after all, why should I get to have all the fun?

  “I still can’t understand Lark’s urgent need to clean out her junk room today.” I also can’t understand just why I felt like I needed to be a part of the chaos. Maybe I just needed a good dose of someone else’s reality to get my mind off What’s His Name and the Channel 6 blond.

  See, cleaning will be good for me.

  “You didn’t have to say yes,” Jenn grumbles beside me and stuffs her hair up under her Braves cap.

  I frown at the sight of Victoria’s luxury car and Adam’s old truck in the driveway. Lark called out the cavalry. “She wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t important.”

  “Fine. We’re here.” She motions toward the simple one-level brick house. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Check the attitude at the door, please. Lark’s my friend, and I don’t intend for you to give her any grief.”

  “Dirk’s my friend, too. But I’m sure it ‘gave him grief ’ ” —she puts air quotes around the words—“when you wouldn’t let me spend the day with him.”

  I look through my purse, searching for who knows what. Mostly a place to look that isn’t a scorching glare. “You’re fifteen. Spending the day alone with a cowboy is out of the question.”

  “Alone? He wanted to take me to look at a horse.” She huffs and crosses her arms. “Why do you say ‘cowboy’ like it was ‘scuzzbucket’?”

  “I didn’t say it like ‘scuzzbucket.’ ”

  “Did too.”

  I bite back a “Did not” and sigh. “The horse he wanted to show you is two hours from here. Your mom left it up to me, and this is my decision.” Actually, Tammy had suggested that I invite Dirk to spend some time with us today instead, but she hadn’t pushed it when I balked. I soften my voice. “It’s just one day, Jenn. Why not try to make the best of it?”

  She grunts in what I hope is reluctant agreement. I won’t hold my breath, though, especially when she gives the car door an extra umph when she closes it.

  Lark opens the door with a sunny smile. “I’m so glad you came.” She hugs me and pulls Jenn into a stiff embrace as well.

  “Why the sudden urge to clean out the junk room?”

  She giggles, and I grab her arm. Lark is not a giggler. “Lark?”

  She bounces up and down. “We’re having a baby!”

  I hug her again and jump with her. “Whoo-hoo! Congratulations.”

  She nods. “Sheila—she’s the woman that Marsha called us about who’s pregnant—contacted us last night, and she definitely wants us to take the baby.”

  A baby. I can’t believe Lark is going to be a mom. My happiness for her pushes tears into my eyes. “That’s wonderful.”

  “I know. I can’t believe it! We have so much to do!”

  Her words make me glance down the hall where a pile of empty boxes waits. “So we’re going to get started on the nursery today?” Even though the due date isn’t for another four months, I can totally understand Lark being so eager.

  Lark’s brow wrinkles, and for a second her eyes dim. “Actually, there’s a small catch.”

  “The baby’s coming early?”

  She shakes her head. “Sheila has no place to stay, so I told her she could move in with us until the baby is born.”

  That happy feeling inside me deflates. “Whoa. That’s a big step. Did Craig agree?” The plumber is the silent type normally, but if he had strong misgivings, he’d express them.

  “It all happened so fast. She just poured her heart out to me, and I asked her. Craig’s okay with it.” She hesitates. “Well, he will be, anyway.”

  Uh-oh. “Lark—”

  “Really. He’ll come around.” And by the look on her face, I believe her. How could anyone put a pin into that bubble of joy?

  “When do you think she’ll move in?”

  She doesn’t say anything. Why does every question I ask produce a feeling of dread?

  I frown at Lark. “Do you know when she’s moving in?”

  She gives an unsteady laugh. “Yes. . .I know. She’ll be here at five.”

  “Five? Today five?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes plead with me not to make a big deal out of this.

  “We’d better get busy then.” I start down the hallway with Jenn trudging along beside me.

  “Rach?”

  I turn around to look at her. “What?”

  “Thanks for not telling me how stupid I am.”

  “Hey, you’re smart enough to get us all here to clean out your junk room on a Saturday morning. Who am I to judge?”

  The front door opens, and Allie comes in juggling bags and a tray of coffee cups, her long blond hair pulled up on top of her head in a ponytail.

  “What took you so long?” she says and grins.

  “I beat you.”

  “I got here earlier, but I ran out for our doughnuts and coffee fix.”

  I smirk at the sight of the Coffee Central bag. “Your Daniel fix is more like it. He working this morning?”

  She gives me a sheepish grin. “Busted.” She waves a bag at Jenn. “Would you mind taking these to Katie and Dylan? They’re out in the yard.”

  “Where’s Miranda?”

  “She slept over at a friend’s house, but they should be dropping her off here pretty soon. You can take these out to the kids and come back in and help us until she gets here if you want.”

  “Sure.” Jenn takes the bag then glances at me with a subtle pursing of her lips. “If it’s okay with Aunt Rachel for me to go outside.”

  I meet her level gaze and nod. “Sure, honey, run along and play.”

  “Ouch,” Lark says as soon as the door closes behind Jenn. “Was that sarcasm I heard?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Allie asks as we walk down the hall.

  I lead the way into the junk room and wave at Vic, who’s sitting cross-legged in the corner sorting through some papers. “Trouble with a capital T. Dirk called to ask Jennifer to spend the day with him.”

  Lark tosses me a box of black garbage bags and motions for me to share them with Allie. “Dirk, the cowboy? And you wouldn’t let her?”

  I shake my head and pop the box open. “Do I look crazy? She called her mom, but Tammy left it up to me.”

  “So you got to be the bad guy,” Victoria says. “Fun.”

  “For once, I didn’t mind.”

  Vic holds up a stack of postcards. “Lark? Store these? Or keep them out?”

  Lark frowns. “Granny sent them to me when she took that cross-country train trip.” She squared her shoulders. “But I have to make room for Sheila. So I guess pitch ’em.”

  Vic shakes her head and drops them in a small box. “If a few postcards bother her, then she needs to get a hotel room. We aren’t throwing away your granny’s postcards.”

  “These we can throw away.” Allie holds up a huge stack of magazines. “Or at least recycle.”

  Lark groans. “Every kid in the neighborhood has sold me at least one subscription. I promise you there are duplicates in there even.”

  Allie laughs and holds up three identical magazines. “She’s right. Look at this.”

  Victoria grins. “What could be better than three Matthew McConaugheys?”

  Allie tosses her a mag, then one to me just as Jenn walks in the door.

  “Hard at work?” Her smile is a little cooler than normal, but at least she’s not being belligerent.

  “You know it,” I answer. “Did you take the doughnuts to the kids?”

  She nods and picks up a magazine.

  “Black garbage bags for trash, white for recycle, and these for keep and store,” Lark says and hands Jenn a box of clear bags.

  “Why don’t you do the trash, Lark?” I suggest. “That
way you can look at everything one last time before it goes.”

  “Are you going to tell the baby it’s adopted?” Jenn says suddenly, keeping her eyes fixed on the glossy magazine in her hands.

  Uh oh. The room goes still, and I think, for a second, I can hear the air being sucked out. My friends freeze.

  Lark gives me a slow, one-eyebrow-up look, silently asking for the right answer.

  Don’t look at me. I don’t have a clue what she should say. I shrug, hopefully imperceptibly.

  Lark takes a breath, and I appreciate the calm in her voice. “Rather than have a big sit-down talk where we tell him, we hope to make it a fact he always knows. Like the existence of God.”

  “Will you tell him about his birth mother?”

  Lark’s face turns red, but Jenn is too busy nonchalantly flipping through the pages to notice, I think.

  “Craig and I are going to leave that up to Sheila. If she wants us to tell him, we’ll definitely leave that option open for the right time.”

  “Oh.” Jenn closes her magazine and drops it in the recycle bag Allie is holding. She looks at Lark, unaware that she just took out my heart and gave it a squeeze. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Why don’t you clean out this bookshelf? We’re moving it to the garage.”

  Jenn nods and walks over to the shelf.

  Some days I think Jenn has forgotten her great quest for truth. Then something like this happens to remind me that I’m living with a time bomb. My knees tremble as I sink down beside Victoria on the floor.

  She gives me a sympathetic look and pushes a bin of shoes toward me.

  I look down at the mishmash of sneakers, heels, and sandals. “How do I know what to keep?” I mentally congratulate myself on my steady voice.

  Lark glances at me. “If it looks tired or out of style, get rid of it.”

  Allie snorts. “I need to be careful not to wander into that bin. I’d be thrown out for sure.”

  I toss a sandal with a broken strap. “Prewedding exhaustion?”