“So you knew what his plans were?” Mercer questioned her mother.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Not really. He talked with me and we discussed options, but ultimately I left any decisions about the ranch up to him. It’s all his land—land that he bought or acquired long before I came into the picture. Your father made decisions for me, for all of us, for a very long time. I trusted him to make his final decisions, without my interference.”
Parker stared at the top of the cherry dining table. Liz was right. James McKenna had been the true patriarch, and he prided himself on providing for his family. There were a number of times throughout his life Parker had wondered why his father had made a decision to do something in a certain way and had been concerned he was making a mistake—only to come to realize down the road his father was right all along.
I need to trust that he has made the right decisions for all of us.
“He met with Tom a few weeks before he died and filed a last will and testament. He amended what was previously there. He told me that much but did not go into details. He did give me this,” she held up a plain white, sealed envelope, “and asked me to read it to you a few days after his death. So that is what I am going to do now.”
Parker interjected, “Has Tom seen this?”
She shook her head. “No one has seen this, and to my knowledge, only your father knows what is written here. I’d like to keep it that way. Just between us.”
Parker took a deep breath and glanced about the table to each of his siblings. The faces staring back at him were stone sober. “I’m good with that,” he said.
The others seemingly agreed, for they all relaxed.
“All right.” Liz took a letter opener and slipped it under the flap, breaking the seal. She removed and unfolded the single piece of white paper inside and began reading:
To my dear Liz and my wonderful children—Parker, Callie, Brody and Mercer:
You all are my light and my love. You each gave meaning and purpose to an old man’s existence—all in your own unique ways. There is no way I can express individually what you have meant to me over the years—because my life would have been incomplete without all of you collectively in it.
And to my beautiful Claire, my first love, and the mother of my firstborn children. I have never stopped loving you. I never shall. I long to see you on the other side…
In a few days you all will learn of my wishes regarding the ranch. But before that happens, I want to talk to you directly and share what is in my heart.
It has always been my desire to provide a safe, secure and happy home for my family. I have dreamed of a ranch that would support us, sustain us, and provide for us for the long term. I pray that it is your wish to carry on my dreams and desires. This is your home. Always remember that. This is where some of you were born, and this is where some of us will die.
It’s McKenna land. Before that, some of it was Parker land. It shall remain our land, no matter how it manifests itself in the future.
My request is that within the next few days, all of you embrace each other, your family, and realize that we all want the same thing. Love each other and take care of each other in my absence. I’m not there, not in body anyway, but I’m there in spirit. I’m in the breeze, in the dirt, in the hay, and in every animal that lives and breathes on our land. I’m there in your daily chores and at every meal.
I’m still there kissing you good night and drinking a cup of coffee with you in the morning. I’m here, with you, at home.
Any decisions I have made regarding my last will and testament were made with all of these thoughts in mind.
Your loving husband and father, James McKenna
Liz stopped speaking and lowered the letter. Her eyes downcast, she stared at a spot on the table in front of her. Parker watched her from the opposite end, noticing her shaking hands. She was suffering along with the rest of them. Simultaneously, he took in the sniffles and soft sobs from everyone else around him.
We’re all suffering.
It was a solemn moment. The silence was warranted. One by one, James McKenna’s children got up and drifted off—except for Parker. Liz finally looked up and said, “I’ll leave this letter on the table for anyone who wants to read it again.”
Parker would, later. His father’s voice resonated in those words, and that was nearly his undoing. The past few days had been so busy he had not stopped long enough to let the grief catch up and take hold.
Well, it had now. With full force.
His chest ached with a heaviness he’d only felt once before—when his mother died.
Now, he wasn’t worried so much about what happened with the ranch. He was worried more about how they all were going to go on living, without the one man in their lives who had meant everything.
And he figured Liz was thinking the same thing.
Slowly, he got up and rounded the table. He approached Liz’s side and reached for her hand.
She looked up, tears spilling over her lower lids. “I’m not sure how I can go on without him,” she whispered.
Parker grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. He faced her and looked into her eyes, knowing that this was his moment of resolution. Whatever words were in his father’s will didn’t really matter so much anymore. “We have each other, Liz. We’re family. All of us. And whatever Dad wanted, we’ll do with his blessing.”
He hugged her then, and her arms went around his neck. Liz’s body shook as she cried, and Parker held her until she stilled, quieted. Finally, she pulled back and looked up to him.
“Thank you, Parker,” she said. “I am so relieved. I have felt so lost the past couple of weeks. I just didn’t know….”
He gripped her hands tighter. “Shh, Liz. We’re family. We’re McKennas. You, Brody, Murphy, all of us. And there is no stronger bond than that. As long as we have each other, we can get through anything.”
Liz sobbed a little again and squeezed his hands back, glancing to the floor between them. Finally, she looked up and said, “You’re just like him, you know? I may need to lean on you once in a while.”
He nodded. “I was just thinking that I may need to lean on you.”
Chapter Eight
Tuesday morning
“OMG. Reba, you are Bekah from Bekah’s Cottage?”
Reba chuckled at Callie’s reaction. Ever since Callie had called Sunday morning, Reba wondered how she was going to enlist Callie’s help without actually revealing who she was. Now that a couple of days had passed it wasn’t a big deal that Callie knew, or that anyone around here knew, for that matter. When her Bekah’s Cottage food blog first took off a couple of years ago, Reba made the decision to be anonymous. Back then, she used avatars and manipulated stock art to represent her in pictures, and she just hadn’t stopped. There was a reason for doing that, however. She had wanted—no needed—her work life and her private life to remain very separate.
That fact had been especially important when Jack was dying and she needed to fall back on Bekah as her escape from reality. She’d never discussed her personal life on her blog, or that Jack had cancer. Not once had she posted anything about her trials, tribulations, and daily struggles. Not that she didn’t think others could benefit from knowing what she was going through, but she simply needed to keep her private life private.
And she needed for Bekah to project life in a perfect world—a world where things like cancer and death do not intrude. People needed positivity in their lives, and she strived to provide that—along with a temporary escape. She knew that because she craved it, too. Besides, Jack had insisted she not discuss their lives, and his illness, in public. No doubt it was the right decision.
Things needed to change—Jack had been gone over six months now, and she was eager to introduce Montana as her new home. She also wanted to share beyond her virtual life and make the cabin and renovated kitchen known to her followers. She was ready for it to be real. Now was as good a time as any to make that t
ransition.
“I was surprised when you and Mercer said you followed her the other day,” she told Callie. Funny, but Reba often referred to Bekah in the third person, as if she really was a different woman. And in some ways, she was.
“Are you kidding? She’s a rock star in the foodie blog world,” Callie replied. “I mean, you are a rock star in the blog world. Between your awards, your massive number of followers, and your Cottage Chats podcasts, plus the quality and frequency of your posts, you have this thing tied up in knots. I’m not surprised you landed a book deal.”
“I was shocked when that happened,” Reba said. “I owe it all to my agent.”
“And the other thing,” Callie added, “is your anonymity. That was brilliant. I don’t understand why you did it or how it came about, but it was good move on your part.”
Reba sighed. “I suppose. At the time, it was a necessity. Nothing strategic about it. I can tell you more about that. Maybe later. When the book comes out though, the anonymity factor will likely be gone, and I have to prepare for that. There are book tours and talk of a television show. Of course, my agent wants the YouTube channel to go live very soon, but I’m thinking there will be a pause on that with this black eye thing…”
“No doubt, but I have to say it is looking so much better today than last time I saw you.”
Reba signed. “Oh good. Sometimes I can’t really tell…”
“It is.” Callie snapped her fingers. “Reba, do you have a publicist?”
Reba studied her new friend. She truly liked Callie McKenna and hoped their friendship would grow into something significant. “Actually, no, I don’t. My agent handles some small stuff, like an occasional press release, but she’s made it clear she is not a marketing person. I do everything I can, but I often wonder if it is enough. Do you know of someone?”
Grinning, Callie said, “Well, hell yeah. Me! I worked several years for MediaBurst in New York. My area of specialty is social media marketing.” She stopped and bit her lip. “Reba, I’m not trying to horn my way in on a job, because I don’t even know if you are looking for someone, but I sure would love to take on some pro bono work for you—like I said Sunday, to keep my skills up.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m flabbergasted, and the answer is yes!”
“Awesome!” Callie rushed forward and gave Reba a hug.
Reba pulled back. “But only on one condition. It’s only pro bono for so long, then we figure out how to pay you.”
“Deal.”
“Fantastic!”
And Callie was ready to dig in. “So, how much time can you spend with me today? I need background information. I want to know your goals. What you have done so far. Do you have a marketing plan? You have a helluva digital footprint already and a huge platform upon which to build. Let’s talk about the anonymity thing, why it came about, and how we move forward revealing who you really are strategically….”
Reba’s head was spinning, and Callie must have realized it when she stopped talking. “By the look on your face I think I just totally overwhelmed you.”
Reba laughed. “Not at all, Callie. You are perfect, and in so many ways, you are just like me. Let’s go into the kitchen. I want to show you some things in process and we can talk more.” She hooked her arm into Callie’s and took a couple of steps. “Oh, but wait. I have an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon at two this afternoon. Mike Attaway called right before you arrived. I’ll need to watch the time and, well, I hate to impose, but I was going to see if someone could take me. Are you free?”
Callie jumped in excitement. “Of course I am! I’ll drive you. More time to learn the Bekah’s Cottage story!”
“Excellent. Let’s get to work.”
****
Parker studied the unfamiliar vehicle coming up the lane. At the same time, his cell phone rang in his pocket and Murphy rounded the corner of the porch, heading in from the barn.
“That would be Callie,” Murphy said. “I just told her to call you.”
He glanced to Murphy and then to the device. Sure enough, Callie’s name flashed on the screen. He swiped to answer the call. “Callie?”
“Oh good, Parker. I’m glad I caught you. Are you home?”
Murphy stood waiting at his left, while the truck coming up the lane slowed and bumped over the first cattle guard. “Yes. For a moment. What do you need?”
“I forgot that Murphy and I have an appointment with the wedding planner today, and I sort of promised Reba that I would take her to the doctor this afternoon, and…”
“Callie, I have a shit-load of things to do…” The time was just past noon, and he had intended to head into Livingston during the hot part of the day to take care of some business at the bank and then with the insurance company, and there were bills at the hospital he needed to see about….
“I know you are busy,” she said, “but Mike called Reba this morning and…”
Parker bristled. “Mike called Reba?”
“Yes. He made her an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon.”
“He made the appointment?”
“Well, I guess. He called her and told her where it was and what time he would meet her there, so…”
Sonofabitch. “I will take her.”
She squealed. “Oh, thanks! We are actually on our way. Be there in five, no probably more like three minutes. Tell Murphy. Bye!”
He ended the call and took a moment to tamp down that green-eyed monster inside of him, and then he glanced at Murphy. “Wedding planner?”
His ranch manager nodded. “We set the date. I didn’t think she’d want to do it this soon, with your father’s passing and all, but Callie insisted that we get married this summer so…”
“So you weren’t going to let her change her mind.”
Murphy grinned. “No, sir. The wedding is in August.”
Parker grinned. Best news he’d heard in weeks. “Hot damn.” He grabbed up Murphy’s hand, shook it, and then bear-hugged him. “I’m happy, and Daddy would be too.”
Murphy pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m pretty sure of that myself.” He glanced up. “Well, there is Callie’s SUV turning off the big road, and I guess we better see who else that is pulling up.”
To hell with the other vehicle. Parker needed to get a grip before Reba got there. This thing with Mike was getting out of hand. He was going to have to do something about that and damned fast.
****
Later that afternoon, Reba sat in the waiting room of the orthopedic surgeon’s office waiting for her appointment. The past couple of hours turned out to be a flurry of activity. Now the doctor was late.
She glanced to Parker, sitting at her left. “I’m sorry this is taking so long. You can leave if you want, and I’ll call you when I’m finished. I don’t mind waiting on you while you run your errands.”
Parker looked at her, his stoic gaze playing over her face. “Thank you, but no. I’ll stay. Mike and I need to have a chat.”
“Oh.” Reba glanced down to Parker’s hands resting on his thighs, and then she turned back to look at the television. “Are you mad at Mike?” she added.
He shook his head. “Now why would you think that?”
“Perhaps it’s the way you are flexing your fists and the fact that what you said just now seemed mighty forceful.”
He stared. “I’m not mad.”
She stared back. “Of course you’re not.”
Small talk, Reba. Change the subject. “I’m glad the insurance adjuster came when he did. That was convenient.”
Parker nodded. “Yep. One less thing for you to take care of now.”
“Hopefully the wrecker will come while we are gone and finally get my SUV out of your way.”
“It’s not in my way.”
“Well, the truck needs to be moved. I just need to get this resolved, insurance and all. I can’t keep relying on your family for transportation.”
Parker stared ahead, nodding again. “I have no problem helping you out.”
Oh really? Then why does this feel like a major inconvenience?
He had barely spoken to her on the trip in. Like his mind was elsewhere, focused on something deep and consuming. Either she had misread him days ago, when he was kissing the heck out of her in the cab of this truck, or he was truly the strong, silent type. Thing was he wasn’t pulling it off so well. She didn’t find it the least bit attractive.
Much.
Kissing him. Those moments had been heavenly. And she had reveled in the touch of his lips against hers, the searing brand of heat he left on her mouth. She had relived that scene repeatedly the past couple of days.
Did Parker McKenna have feelings for her? Or was he just reacting to a crying woman, trying to calm her sobbing fit? That’s a pretty good way to shut up a crying woman, by silencing her with a thousand kisses.
She didn’t care what was behind the kisses—because they were enjoyable. Pleasant. And heck, they were just kisses right? No need to go attaching any kind of emotion to them.
Becoming emotionally attached to anyone right now was not in her plan. She made a mental note to remind herself of that fact, daily.
Her gaze dropped to his hands again, and she watched him fold and unfold a tiny piece of paper. Nervous? She had no clue what the paper was or where it came from. Maybe a receipt.
His left knee was shaking.
She frowned. “Are you okay, Parker?”
“I’m fine.”
“You seem preoccupied.”
He looked at her. “Sorry. Just things on my mind.”
He just lost his father, stupid! “Of course. You’ve had a long week, and I’m sure I am keeping you from doing other things. Goodness, Parker, I’m sorry to be such a darned inconvenience.”
His face softened then. “No, Reba. It’s my fault. I’m just—”
“Reba?”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 24
