by Linda Warren
His cell buzzed and he reached for it on his belt. In a moment he clicked off. “The Crocker well is back in business. They’re drilling as I speak.”
“Hot damn. That’s the kind of news I like to hear.” Cadde slapped Kid on the back.
“Get those gigantic paws off me.” Kid shrugged away.
Life was back to normal, or as normal as it could be. Cadde and Kid would move on. Since they weren’t at the scene and hadn’t heard their parents talking, they weren’t as emotionally affected as Chance. He had to find the strength to move on without the life he’d planned.
Without Shay.
As Cadde and Kid bickered back and forth, Chance heard her voice. I will always love you.
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were difficult for Shay. That first night Blanche called and called for her, but she stoically refused to answer. At midnight, Darcy shook her.
“Mommy, Blanche is calling you.”
Shay knew she couldn’t keep this up. It was affecting Darcy. She crawled out of bed and went to see what her mother wanted.
“Do you need something?”
“Shay, please…”
“I’m not putting you in a home. Is that what you want to hear?” Shay had said it out of spite and anger, but she couldn’t go through with it. The mother-daughter thing was hell sometimes.
“Could I have a glass of water?” Blanche asked, and Shay had never heard that note of entreaty in her voice before.
Shay got the water and set it on the nightstand. “Please get some sleep. It’s late.”
“I need my pills.”
She felt a moment of remorse. Blanche needed her medication to rest. Shay opened the drawer and fished out the bottle. Handing it to her mother, she said, “Now maybe you can relax.”
“Yes.”
“Talk to you in the morning.” Shay walked across the hall and fell into bed. Darcy sneaked in beside her.
“Can I sleep with you, Mommy?”
Shay pulled her close. Darcy was confused by the events of the day, and Shay wanted her to feel secure. Clutching her in her arms, Tiny at the foot of the bed, she went to sleep with visions of a dark-eyed Texan dancing in her head.
CHANCE THREW HIMSELF into the oil business with a fervor. Many days he worked alongside the roughnecks, pulling pipe, keeping the drilling bit cool by pumping mud and water into the hole. He worked the pulleys, the hydraulic lift, the winch, and kept the generators going. By the end of the day he was covered in mud, oil and grime, but he welcomed the physical labor. It was what he needed to hold the memories at bay. When he fell into bed, though, it didn’t keep him from seeing her green eyes.
He opened the apartment door at 8:00 p.m., dog tired. Quickly stripping off his filthy clothes, he took a shower. He slipped on Jockey shorts and headed for the living room and the hamburgers he’d picked up. When he went into restaurants dirty from the oil fields, people tended to frown at him. So he usually hopped into his truck and took the drive-through route.
As he finished devouring one burger and started another, his cell buzzed. He dashed to the bedroom to answer it. His hand paused when he saw the caller ID: Shay Dumont. Why was she phoning? He’d told her not to. Hearing her voice would just be too hard to take. He’d let it ring. Then, of its own violation, his hand reached for it. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Chance, this is Darcy.” At the sound of her voice he realized how much he missed that kid.
He let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, hotshot.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He paused, wondering if Shay had put her up to calling. “How did you get my number?”
“I saw it on a piece of paper in Mommy’s purse when I was looking for gum. She doesn’t know I called, so I have to talk real low.”
“What’s up?”
“Mommy’s really sad.”
“Oh.” Darcy, don’t do this to me. He didn’t want to hear anything about Shay.
“Mommy said she kept something from you and it made you angry. But she would never hurt anyone. She’s the best person ever. I know she’s sorry, so now you can forgive her.”
“Darcy, it’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. When the Bennett boys busted my lip you said I had to forgive because that’s what a good person does. So I did. You’re a good person. Why can’t you forgive Mommy?”
“Darcy…”
“If you can’t forgive Mommy, then I don’t want you for a daddy anymore.”
The phone went dead and he stared at it as if it was about to explode. You have to forgive. Now he had to eat those words.
It hit him like a two-by-four right between the eyes. His father had done the same thing. He had spouted words about fidelity to his sons and how important it was to a marriage. Then Blanche Dumont had entered his life and all rational thought had left his mind. Everything he’d taught his sons had flown out the window.
Just as everything Chance had taught Darcy seemed to be for someone else—not him. Was he more like his father than he’d ever imagined?
AS CHANCE REACHED the living room, Kid walked in. Chance frowned at him.
“Okay. I forgot to knock,” he said with a sheepish grin. Looking around, he asked, “You have someone here?”
“No. Why?” Chance sat on the sofa and placed his phone by his burger.
Kid waved a hand toward him. “You’re in your underwear.”
“So? I’m in my home. I can be naked if I want to.”
“That’s good, too.” Kid reached over, picked up the half-eaten burger and took a bite.
“Hey, that’s my supper.”
“You bought two. I know you did ’cause you always do.” Kid sank into the comfy chair, still eating the burger.
“That doesn’t give you the right to eat it,” Chance said on his way to the refrigerator for milk.
“Come on, Chance. I’m hungry.”
“They will sell you food, Kid. You do know that, right?” He resumed his seat, sipping a glass of milk.
“Smart-ass.” Kid finished the burger and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I have a dinner and dancing date later with Molly.”
“It’s already nine o’clock,” Chance reminded him, staring at his cell phone. You have to forgive Mommy. A good person does that. You said so.
“Some people do have a social life.” Kid watched him. “Why do you keep staring at your cell as if it’s about to sprout wings and fly?”
Chance placed the half-full glass by his phone. “Darcy called.”
“Shay’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
“To teach me a lesson.”
“What?”
Chance told him about the Bennett boys.
“So you encouraged her to forgive?”
“I did, and I believe everything I told her. But I have a hard time practicing what I preached.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t help but wonder if Dad felt the same way.”
“Probably,” Kid admitted. “He was a man and he had weaknesses, as we now know. But who knows what we, his sons, are going to do in the future. Sometimes we’re shaped by the people around us.”
Chance stared at his brother. “Did you just say that?”
Kid looked around. “I think. Has to be the most profound thing I’ve ever said.”
“I’ll say.”
Kid leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Listen, Chance, I don’t know a lot about women but—”
“If you don’t, then who does?”
“I’m serious here.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
“I am, so listen. It’s not often I impart knowledge.”
Chance refrained from laughing.
“Shay is not Blanche, just like you, me and Cadde are not Dad. I think you have that a little mixed up in your hard head. If the love you have for Shay is the twenty-four-carat-gold, slip-on-the-left-hand kind, you better think twice before throwing it away. If it�
��s the real deal, you’ll see her face in every woman you date. She’ll always be there at the back of your mind. You’ll remember little things about her that used to drive you crazy—her smile, her humor…”
“Are we talking about you or me?”
“We’re talking about you, damn it. I’ve never been in love.”
“What about Lucky?”
“That was puppy love, for crying out loud, Chance. Pay attention.”
“I heard every word, Kid, and I’ll heed your advice.”
“Good.” He stood. “It’s not often I give advice to the lovelorn.” He reached down and picked up the glass of milk and drained it.
“Hey.”
Kid ignored his objection, as usual. “I have a date, so I have to run. Listen to Darcy. She’s smarter than you are. And get that hangdog look off your face and do something about your life instead of working yourself to death.” He strolled to the door.
“Kid?”
Kid glanced back.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, little brother.”
As the door closed, Chance went back to the kitchen for more milk. Was their love the twenty-four-carat-gold, slip-on-the-left-hand kind? He had thought so. What had changed? Shay is not Blanche. Kid was right. He did have that connection confused in his mind. Shay was nothing like her mother.
You have to forgive Mommy.
Could he do that?
Could he truly put the past behind him?
Only time would tell.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WITH EACH DAY, Blanche grew worse, and finally hospice was called in. The doctor had ordered a morphine drip to keep the pain at bay. Her breathing was shallow and difficult. Shay knew her mother would not be with her much longer. As much as she had prepared herself, it still wasn’t easy.
If she even left the room, Blanche became agitated. Shay had to stop working to care for her, and had to drop out of summer class at the university. Quitting work was a big decision, because now they would have no income. She had a little nest egg tucked away and they had to live on that. Somehow they would survive.
It was early August and Darcy wasn’t back in school yet, which was a good thing. Shay’s main focus had to be on her mother.
One night Blanche’s coughing woke her. She got up from the chair and could see she was in distress. Picking up the phone, she dialed 911. The ambulance arrived in minutes and whisked Blanche away to the hospital.
Shay ran into Darcy’s room and gathered her and Tiny into her arms, then ran next door. It was one o’clock in the morning, so it took Nettie a while to get to the door.
Last week there had been a robbery down the street, and Shay knew Nettie was being cautious. She pounded on the door with her fist. “Nettie, it’s me. Open up.”
The door opened a crack and the older woman, her gray hair askew, peered out. Undoing the chain, she said, “Come in, child.”
Shay handed over her load. Darcy didn’t even stir. “The ambulance just picked up Blanche. I have to go. Please take care of Darcy.”
“Of course.”
She kissed Nettie’s wrinkled cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out, child, because I’m always here for you. You know that.”
“Thank you.” With that, Shay was off, running through the dark. She remembered so many times she’d made this same trek as a kid, afraid the darkness was going to eat her up.
She held out her arms. “Come and get me,” she said to the night. She could handle anything. She’d been tempered by the fire of rejection, the evil of bitterness and the cruelties of life. All that was left was the dying.
Could she handle that—alone?
Within minutes she was in her car and headed for the hospital. The E.R. people were trying to get Blanche stabilized. Shay waited in a small room.
Finally, the doctor came out. He handed her a small envelope. “Your mother’s rings are enclosed. Valuables should be kept at home. They can so easily be stolen.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the envelope. What should she do with them?
“Ms. Dumont, I’m afraid it’s not going to be much longer. Would you like me to call someone so you won’t be alone?”
But she was alone. The person she wanted to be here would never come. Though she needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone.
“No. Thank you.”
The doctor nodded. “We’re moving her to ICU. You can sit with her there.”
“Thank you.”
Shay put the rings in her purse and made her way upstairs. Her hair was everywhere, like Nettie’s. She fished for a clip in her purse, but couldn’t find one, so gave up. The nurse showed her to Blanche’s cubicle. The unit was round, so the nurses at the station had a clear view of every patient.
Shay sat by her mother’s bedside. Blanche was so pale, so still. When she turned her head, Shay almost jumped out of her chair. Her mother weakly opened her eyes.
“Ci-ga-rette.” The word came out low, but Shay heard it.
“Mom, you can’t have a cigarette. You haven’t had one in over four years and you certainly can’t have one in here.”
“J-just…hold.”
How was she supposed to find a cigarette in a hospital? But being the dutiful daughter, she went in search of one. She stopped at the nurses’ station.
“Does anyone have a cigarette?”
Four pairs of eyes stared at her in disbelief.
“Oh, no, it’s not for me,” she hastened to say. “I don’t smoke. My mother just wants to hold one.”
They glanced at each other and shook their heads. No one smoked.
“Thanks.” She made her way back to her mother’s bedside. Before she could sit down, a nurse who’d been at the station tucked a cigarette into her hand and walked away.
Evidently, she didn’t want anyone to know she smoked, and rightfully so. She’d probably get a daily lecture. The woman worked in a hospital and saw death on a regular basis—a lot of it caused by smoking. Shay didn’t quite get that. But it was her choice, her decision. Shay had her own problems.
She placed the cigarette between her mother’s forefinger and middle one. “Mom?” she murmured.
Blanche opened her eyes and saw the cigarette. She managed a faint smile. “You’re…a…good…daughter.”
“Please don’t try to talk,” Shay begged, as her mother struggled to breathe. But she soaked up the words like dry cotton.
“I’m…sorry.”
And just like that, the years of resentment and bitterness disappeared. Her mother had never said she was sorry, so Shay knew she meant it. And for her own peace of mind, Shay took it to mean she was sorry for hurting Chance.
“Love…you,” Blanche whispered, and raised her hand to sniff the cigarette. “Ah…” Suddenly the cigarette fell to the bed, and Blanche gasped for air. Her chest rose and slowly relaxed, and Shay knew her mother had gone to a happier place. The monitors attached to Blanche went off like a fire alarm. Two nurses came running in and Shay moved away as they checked her over.
One nurse looked at Shay. “I’m sorry. She’s passed on.”
“I know,” Shay replied, and took her mother’s limp hand. “I love you, too.” She walked out and down the hall to a waiting room, and collapsed in a chair. She was mentally and physically drained. The waiting area was empty, and that’s the way she felt inside—empty and alone.
Shay had thought that she was prepared, but as tears rolled down her cheeks she realized she wasn’t. The mother-daughter bond had been bent, bruised and almost severed, but it was still there to the bitter end. So many lies and deceit, and yet their relationship had survived in its own unique way.
Shay chewed on a nail, then forced herself to stop. While Chance had been in her life, she’d been happy and had stopped biting her nails. Now…
Her mother had hurt so many people. Shay would never understand that, but she sincerely hoped Blanche was now at peace
. More tears rolled from her eyes and she wrapped her arms around her waist to stop the trembling.
She needed two strong arms to hold her, to console her. But Chance was never going to forgive her, and now she had to live with the consequences of her actions.
To live without Chance.
CHANCE WAS IN his office, typing notes and comments into the computer so Cadde could see the progress, or lack of progress, on each site. The tool pushers sent notes in, too, so Cadde had a clear picture on the status of the wells.
Chance paused over the Crocker well notes. The pumpjack had been set two weeks ago and the well was producing over two hundred barrels a day. Cadde would probably dance on his desk at these figures. It was good for the Crocker family and for Shilah Oil.
Kid marched in and slapped a newspaper in front of Chance. It was turned to the obituaries.
“Blanche Dumont died,” he said.
“So?”
Kid stuck the paper in his face.
Chance stared at the picture of Blanche in her younger days, when she could turn a man’s head. His gut tightened, but he looked at the woman. For the first time he admitted that Shay resembled her mother only slightly. They had the same blonde hair and green eyes, but the shape of the face and eyes were different. Their personalities were different, too. Shay was caring, loving and good all the way to her soul. As Darcy had said, her mom would never hurt anyone.
He let out a long breath.
Shay is not Blanche.
Funny how looking at a picture had brought the truth to the surface—a truth that had been temporarily hiding beneath the pain. He drew another breath and let the pain ebb from his system.
He wasn’t his father, either. He was his own person and had his own mistakes to make. He briefly read the obit and wondered how Shay was doing. How was she coping?
Kid leaned over and placed both hands flat on the desk, his face inches from Chance’s. “What you do now will determine your future. Make sure you do the right thing.”
“Are you reading some sort of book on wisdom?” Chance asked, his voice teasing.
“Hell, no. The wisdom I have I got from Aunt Etta.”
“But who knew you were listening?”
