by Pamela Tracy
“Robby should be home any minute,” she said.
She was telling him to wait.
Why? He wanted to know why!
“Did you see that?” He pointed out the window. “A shooting star.”
“You can’t see shooting stars during a snowstorm,” she said pragmatically.
“Who says?”
She didn’t have an answer.
“When I was little,” Lucky said, “Mom and I used to make wishes on shooting stars.”
“Yeah, so did I.”
“If you could make a wish, right now, what would it be?”
“I’d wish that there were no secrets between us. That this custody battle was over. And that we were still doing things like visiting churches, eating at the diner and decorating for Christmas.” Her answer was so quick, so honest, that it surprised him.
“Natalie, that wish can come true.”
She shook her head.
“Natalie, we need to talk.”
She put down her spoon and frowned. “You said this was a first date. We are talking. Probably too much.”
He raised his hands innocently, halting the conversation. He was halfway relieved because had the conversation continued, he’d have had to share his wish.
I wish that I’d met you first before my brother did.
“Okay, okay. So, the rodeo tomorrow in Odessa. Why don’t you and Robby come?”
“I don’t do rodeos.”
“You met me at a rodeo.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, but I had an ulterior motive for being there.”
“If you come to the rodeo tomorrow, I’ll be glad to give you another ulterior motive for being there.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ll take you and Robby out for steaks afterward.”
She shrugged. “You gotta try harder than that.”
He leaned forward, reaching across the table for the hand she had loosely wrapped around a glass of milk. He entwined his fingers with hers. “I’d really like you to come. Just once, I want my girl in the audience. I’ve never really had anyone other than fans or my mother cheer me on. It will be something we can tell our children.”
“Our children!”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Lucky, we’re pretending this is a first date! We haven’t known each other long enough for commitment.”
“How long did you know my brother?”
She jerked her hand out of his.
He sat back, studying her. Why was she so skittish? Why didn’t she want to talk about his brother? Maybe, if they could work through Marcus, they could both heal—together.
Lucky started to say something, thought better of it and concentrated on eating. He finished the last of his soup and pushed the plate away. The grilled cheese was long gone.
So was his heart.
He didn’t want this to be a first date. He wanted it to be a last date. Truthfully, he wanted to be setting a date. But it was much too soon and there was baggage between them. Baggage she didn’t want to talk about yet.
“I’m leaving soon. I need to get to Odessa and settle in. The event starts at five. You’ll have fun.”
“What if you get hurt?”
“I could have slipped off the ladder when you kept throwing paper clips at me.”
“You know what I mean. Bulls are even more dangerous than horses. One wrong turn and—”
“Won’t happen. I promise.”
“You can’t promise.”
“It didn’t happen last time you watched me ride.”
“Last time I watched you ride I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” Lucky urged. “Didn’t love me?”
“I don’t love you, but Robby does.” She looked out the window. “I sure hope this eases up before tomorrow. I don’t want you driving all the way to Odessa in bad weather.”
He smiled. It was all he needed. She worried about him.
The phone rang, loud against the silence of their once again locked stares.
She started. Good, she was just as befuddled as he was.
He could hear her in the living room and decided to impress her with his domesticatedness. He cleared the table, rinsed the dishes and wiped up all the crumbs. He got to the living room in time to hear her say, “So, she’ll sign the guardianship papers?”
If that didn’t peak his interest, then the sentence she uttered next did. “What do you mean she’s going to have another baby?”
Definitely a private conversation. He started to head back to the kitchen, but paused.
Why would Natalie need guardianship papers?
He stayed, not wanting to eavesdrop, wishing she’d turn and see him and hoping she was talking to Patty about a mutual friend.
She did finally turn. Gone was the deer in the headlights; here was the stunned deer staring down the barrel of the gun.
“Tell Tisha that I’ll do my best not to let her current boyfriend find out about Robby.”
“Find out what about Robby?” Lucky asked.
“Goodbye.” Natalie hung up the phone.
Silence, falling heavily like the snow outside, enveloped the room.
He’d learned from his mother—who had to deal every day with his father—to ask easy questions. “Who was on the phone?”
“The private detective my father hired.”
“What did he have to say?”
She didn’t answer.
“Did he find out what happened to your father’s money?”
“He happened to my father’s money,” Natalie said.
“What? Oh.”
In the distance, the sound of a car rose above the wind of the storm. Lights flashed briefly in the window. His parents were in the front drive. A door opened; a door slammed. Robby squealed.
Natalie said softly, “Ever since your brother died, my father’s been trying to find Tisha. He was afraid Tisha might come hunting for Robby. He was afraid your family would find out about Robby. He was afraid you’d want Robby.”
“What does Tisha have to do with this, with Robby?”
She cried silently, tears streaming down her face and not a single sob. Her breaths came out in jerks, and he could see her chest heaving. He thought about going to her, but his feet wouldn’t move.
They wouldn’t move.
“I didn’t know your brother,” she said. “I never met him.”
Lucky felt stupid, slow. This wasn’t something he could fix with a hammer, nail and paper clip. This wasn’t something an eight-second ride would wipe away. This wasn’t something the Good Book had an immediate answer to. At least not one he could think of right away.
“You mean, Marcus isn’t Robby’s father?”
“No.” Natalie shook her head. “No, I mean I didn’t give birth to Robby. Tisha did.”
Chapter Fourteen
“M ommy! Dere’s lights. Everywhere!” Robby burst through the door.
Natalie tore her gaze from Lucky’s. Five more minutes. That was all she’d needed. Maybe then Lucky would have stormed out of the room, letting her know all her worries were justified and had just tripled. Or maybe he’d have listened to her, listened to how afraid she was, how much she wanted to tell him the truth, but how vulnerable she felt.
Instead, she saw him wince when Robby said Mommy.
Surely, the bull rider some called “The Preacher” knew sometimes the best mommies were not the only ones who gained weight for nine months, not the ones who went through labor, not the ones who…
Oh, who was she kidding?
There were no words to tell the man, his family, either, just how much Robby meant to her and her dad.
“Mommy here,” Natalie said, looking at Lucky when she said it.
He nodded, but it didn’t really look like a yes. He took his coat from the hook by the door, looked at her and no one else and then he walked out.
“You told him,” Henry Welch accused.
“Mommy, come look at lights!”
Robby raced for her hand, tugged at it. “Pease.”
It was impossible to say no to Robby. He practically jumped up and down. Not only was he excited about the lights, but also it was hours after his bedtime. He had antlers on his head, bits and pieces of broken candy cane in his hair and chocolate smears on his shirt.
“Mommy,” he reminded. “Lights.”
She didn’t stop for her coat. Nothing would chase the chills away tonight. The cold slapped her in the face and she started to hurry after Lucky, but Robby was looking up at the lights. “You do dis?”
“Lucky and I did it.”
“Unca Lucky!” Robby called.
Lucky paused at the truck door.
Robby carefully went down the front steps and then raced toward the driveway.
“What’s going on?” Betsy said.
Neither Natalie nor Henry answered. Lucky bent down and said something to Robby, gave the boy a hug and then hopped in the truck and drove away.
“Henry, are you going to tell me—”
“I will tell you, Betsy,” Henry said. “Natalie, we’re going to Odessa tomorrow for Lucky’s rodeo. Did he already invite you?”
“Rodeo!” Robby whooped as he ran toward them. He stopped in the yard and kicked the oversize, glowing snowman.
“Robby!” both Natalie and Betsy scolded.
“He did invite me,” Natalie said once Robby switched his attention to the reindeer, “but that was before I told him about Tisha.”
Betsy Welch dropped her purse. She didn’t bend to pick it up.
“We’re leaving at about three,” Henry repeated. “Let’s just leave the car seat in the Cadillac.”
“No, I’m not going.”
“Henry, what’s going on?” Betsy Welch didn’t sound happy. Natalie didn’t blame her. Tisha had that effect on people. After Henry told Betsy the truth about Robby’s parentage, Natalie would have that effect on Betsy.
And Lucky.
Robby stomped up the porch stairs, studied the overhead lights again and said “Wow” one more time.
“Mommy,” he started. He didn’t continue. He stopped to rub his eyes, apparently got snow in them and started to cry. He immediately raised his hands to Natalie. “Up.”
“We’re coming by at three,” Henry said.
“I—” Natalie bent and picked Robby up. He gave her a wet kiss and then turned so he could watch Henry and Betsy.
“I’m not bossing you. I’m giving you an opportunity. You’re a strong woman—” Henry looked around, his perusal ending when his eyes met his wife’s “—like my Betsy. You’re raising a son, you’re keeping a home, and for the last few months you’ve managed to not only make my youngest son fall in love with you, but also enraptured his mother.”
“Oh, Henry, hush,” Betsy said.
“On top of that, Bernice approves of you.” He chuckled. “She sure doesn’t approve of me.”
Neither Betsy nor Natalie said anything.
“If you decide to attend the rodeo tomorrow, we’ll be glad to drive you.”
“Rodeo, Mommy, I wanna go rodeo.”
“Of course you do.”
Natalie did, too.
It was a good day to come in last place. Lucky’d gotten no sleep, and if you looked up foul mood in the dictionary…his picture was on the page. Half of him wanted to jump for joy. Natalie hadn’t been with his brother. The other half wanted to punch holes in a wall. Why hadn’t she told him? Well, he knew why, really, but the knowledge didn’t make the truth any easier to stomach. The last two months had been based on a lie. And because he was naive, he’d bought into the whole facade.
Next to him a foul-mouthed contestant cussed his draw. “Stupid bull. He’s rank, and I drew him. Not what I need right now. Not what I need.”
Lucky managed to look sympathetic. He wasn’t thrilled with his draw, either. He’d wanted the big orange-and-brown-striped bull. In Steamboat Springs, the cowboy on the orange and brown took first place. But there were worse things than WannaBee, the bull Lucky had drawn, and Lucky had as much chance of doing eight seconds on a known bucker as he did a spinner or jumper. Of course, today, what he really needed, to make sure he at least made a second, was to draw a bull named Whimper.
“You keep looking at the stands. You finally got a girl?”
Lucky scowled.
“That explains why you’re not doing so hot,” the cowboy said.
He scanned the crowd one more time. It was stupid, really. No way was she coming to the rodeo. No way did he want her to come. He’d left her with his parents. According to his cell phone, his mother had called ten times and his dad twice. Twice meant his dad was serious. She’d told them something, and he wasn’t ready to find out what.
Natalie hadn’t called.
And he hadn’t called her.
He had found a scripture, but it did more to soften his heart than harden it.
He thought of Proverbs 3, “Never walk away from someone who deserves help; your hand is God’s hand for that person.”
He’d gotten Natalie to church.
And she wasn’t much of a liar. The whole time he knew she was keeping something and it was eating at her.
He’d invited her; he’d left her standing on the porch; it was over. She wasn’t there.
He headed for the metal chute. WannaBee? Stupid name for a bull. The name should be Wanna YouOffaMyBack.
“Want some help?” the other cowboy said. Lucky finally recognized him. Billy Sam, out of Albuquerque. Not a bad sort, really.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Billy wrapped the rope around Lucky’s wrist, leaving room for it to slip, just slightly, upon the animal’s departure. Lucky wondered if time was going as slow as it felt. He walked toward the bucking chute. The smell of sweat, both human and bull, permeated the air. Even though time was standing still, Lucky managed to make his way to WannaBee’s back. His legs dropped to WannaBee’s side, and he slid toward the rope holding him to the bull. His other hand was in the air.
Yet again, since Marcus died, Lucky was doing the circuit alone. It had never bothered him as much as it did today.
Lucky wanted Natalie, and Robby, to see this, see him ride, see him win! See that he wouldn’t fall.
“Go!”
The man at the gate flipped the handle, loudly, and the gate flew open. WannaBee snorted in anger. Power, speed and air rushed across Lucky’s face. Whoa, everything happened so fast. The bull was fast, maybe faster than Lucky. He turned, bucked and ducked his head toward the ground. He spun left, again and again and again. Wanna YouOffaMyBack, yup, that’s what his name should have been. WannaBee knew the game, but so did Lucky. A buzzer sounded. Lucky reached for the tail of the rope, pulling it to untie the tangled hand that kept him secure on the back of the bull, and with one last burst of energy—Lucky couldn’t say where it came from—he hurtled off WannaBee, landed on the ground, thought about his broken toes and tumbled. WannaBee, spent, ran off.
The crowd cheered.
Eight seconds.
And in the crowd, standing up, clapping, was Natalie.
She’d been enjoying for the first time in years the true meaning of rodeo, of rooting for someone, and thinking maybe she could get on a horse, maybe, maybe, maybe, when she’d felt a shift next to her.
“Dat was Unca Lucky?” Robby asked.
“That was Unca Lucky,” Natalie responded. The man who’d held on to a steaming locomotive and jumped off its back was Lucky. Their Lucky.
“He okay?”
Betsy pulled Robby onto her lap and buried her chin in the top of his hair. “He’s okay.” She looked at Natalie and then bowed her head. “Everything is going to be okay.”
Her lips were moving; Natalie knew a prayer when she saw it. What a surprise. According to Henry, Betsy had barely flinched when Henry told her the truth about Robby’s birth. She’d called Natalie five times since breakfast, and each and every time thanked Natalie for being Robby’s mommy.
&nb
sp; God is with me.
Natalie squirmed. Where did that thought come from? It was definitely more a Lucky thought than a Natalie thought, and it was straight from the Bible he’d lent her.
The message was as straightforward as the man who’d lent her the Bible.
“God is with me,” Natalie whispered.
He’d been with her as she worked this morning, as she cared for Robby, as she made lunch, and as she dressed them both for a rodeo she had no intention of attending.
Lucky, fresh from a winning ride and full of raw power, came and sat beside her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. “I didn’t fall.”
The fans who were following him stopped. No one asked for an autograph. They seemed to sense this was a private moment. They faded from sight.
“No, you didn’t fall.”
“And if I had, I’d have picked myself up, bleeding, broken, and I’d have made my way over to sit by you.”
“Betsy,” Henry said, “this might be a good time to take Robby for a potty break.”
“Even after last night?” Natalie whispered.
“Especially after last night.”
“I made up my mind to tell you the truth weeks ago, but the right moment…there never was a right moment.”
“Natalie,” Lucky interrupted, “I didn’t fall in the arena, but I did fall outside of it. I fell for you.”
“I love Robby,” Natalie whispered.
“Well, good,” he said, almost chuckling.
How could he chuckle at a time like this?
“I’m not his biological mother,” she said. “Ever since the day I approached you at the rodeo, I’ve been so afraid. I probably have no claim on Robby, not compared to you.”
“You’ve got quite a claim,” Lucky said gently. “You’ve got a whole town full of people who’ve watched you mother him.”
“But—”
“Natalie, you’ve been worried this whole time that I could take Robby away from you. I understand that. Oh, it shocked me last night. I cannot tell you how I wish I’d known the burden you carried. We wasted a lot of time dancing around the wrong issues.”
