by Jill Sanders
“She’s left me before like this and always come back and takes me. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.” He leaned back and looked up at Emma, then over at him. “With my brother and you. Please.”
At that moment, Trace would have promised the kid anything. His heart was breaking so much that he didn’t think he could talk.
Thankfully, Emma answered for them.
“You don’t ever have to go with her again. We’re going to meet with a lawyer tomorrow to make sure you can stay here forever. Would you like that?”
The boy nodded, then yawned and snuggled into Emma’s chest. She moved slightly, putting her legs up on the bed and motioned for Trace to climb up there with them.
He shifted until he was holding Emma in his arms while she held his brother in hers. He never would have imagined his heart could stretch so far so quickly. But lying there, holding them both, he knew he wasn’t willing to give either of them up, ever.
It was hard to explain. The boy reminded him not only of his childhood but of all the times he’d had Rod right there to help him through the tough times. Maybe it was just him looking back at his own childhood, knowing he’d had the luck of having a best friend while he’d gone through hell. Whatever it was, it was like fresh salt on an old wound. He ached again, not just for Christopher’s pain, but for his own lost childhood and the loss of his best friend.
The next morning, Emma cooked French toast with bacon and eggs. The boy finished his plate and had second helpings of bacon.
Then Emma convinced Christopher to go with her to see the animals while Trace met with her uncle, Grant.
He knew that her aunt was going to take a look at Christopher at the main house as well. He was nervous about that, hoping the kid was healthy enough to recover.
Grant had done some homework last night on Trace’s mother. Somehow, he had a full file on her, including how many times she’d been in and out of prison and rehab. When she’d had Christopher, and more importantly, where. It stung to learn that his brother had been born in a rehab center. His mother had several warrants out for her arrest.
“How she ever gained full custody of the kid is beyond me,” Grant said after he’d given them the news. Chase and Lauren were there, sitting around the table as Grant delivered the news. “Two days after the boy was born, the facility released them without any stipulations. I plan on calling them later to find out why. There may be some legal action we can take against them. Since then, your mother has been in and out of other facilities twice, each time doing short stints after arrests.”
“Where was Christopher?” he asked.
“A friend of the family.” Grant shifted some papers and, to Trace’s dread, came up with the name. “A man named Chris Stephens.”
“Shit,” Trace groaned.
“You know the man?” Grant asked.
“Yes.” He rested his head in his hands. “My best friend Rod’s father.” He stilled as suddenly it was very clear. “Shit,” he said again. “Tell me she put a name for the father on the birth certificate.”
Grant shifted through the papers again. “No.” His eyes moved up to his.
“It’s him. I can tell.” He already knew the answer. “Christopher is my half-brother with my best friend’s dad.” He felt his heart swell.
His entire childhood, he and Rod had wished they had been brothers instead of just best friends. Now, here was the tie bringing them together, finally, and Rod wasn’t here to share it with.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Letting the boy sit on the back of Sugarplum was one of the biggest joys of her life. The kid went from shy and timid to outgoing and excited in a blink of an eye.
He opened like a wildflower in sunlight in the fields that surrounded them. He asked so many questions that her head spun.
“How come you have to feed them hay?” the boy asked as he helped her toss some fresh hay into the corrals.
“Because that’s what they eat,” she answered.
“How come?” he asked, causing her to laugh.
“Because it’s what they like. Just like you liked the French toast this morning, they like hay.”
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the pitchfork.
She walked over and showed him what it did while she explained what it was.
Going around the barn and the chicken yard, she taught him about each animal, what they ate, how they lived, and why they were on the ranch.
He didn’t like that eggs came from the chicken’s butt, as he called it, but still, he told her that he liked eggs too much to stop eating them.
She didn’t think it was wise to tell him where bacon came from, since he really enjoyed playing with the two piglets they currently had in the pen.
Melissa met her at the main house and looked over Christopher, taking his weight and marking all of his measurements down in a file.
While Christopher watched a cartoon on the television, her aunt filled her in on how malnourished he was. He was small for his age, about seven pounds underweight. She gave Emma a pamphlet that would help her understand where the boy should be at his age, which she knew she would have memorized by the end of the night.
By the time she and Christopher walked back to the ranch house, the boy was fast asleep in her arms, having claimed his feet hurt and he needed to be carried.
When she stepped inside, her mother jumped up from the table and helped her lay the boy down on the bed, removing his muddy boots.
“I can’t believe Ricky used to wear these.” Her mother sighed, holding the small boots out. “He can’t fit a toe in them now,” she joked softly. “You both have grown so fast. It seems like just yesterday…” She shook her head. “Let’s let him sleep.” She motioned to the door.
“How’s it going?” Emma whispered when they stepped into the hallway.
“Good. We think we found the boy’s father.”
“Who?” she asked quickly.
“Apparently, the father of Trace’s best friend.”
“Rod?”
“Yes, his father. She left the boy’s birth certificate blank, claiming she didn’t know, but she’s left him with the man twice over the years. Trace seems to think it’s him.”
Emma’s eyes moved over to where the three men were still talking. Trace glanced up and caught her eye for a moment, then looked back down at the paper her uncle was showing him.
“What happened to Rod?” her mother asked.
She turned back to her mother. “He killed himself, right in front of Trace. Long story.” She motioned towards the table. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Oh, that poor man.” Her mother’s hand went over her heart. “I knew he was broken when he came to us, I just didn’t know how much.” She touched Emma’s shoulder. “He’s changed so much in the month and a half that he’s been here.”
Had it only been a month and a half? Her eyes moved back to Trace, and she watched him talking with her uncle and father. How had she lived before he’d come into her life?
“You’re in love,” her mother said softly. “It’s obvious.” Her mother pulled her into a hug. “I love you, honey, and I think your father agrees with me that we both love Trace as well.” She pulled back. “The moment I saw that boy in there, my heart wrapped around him as well.”
Emma nodded in agreement. There was no way, after holding him and listening to him beg to stay with them, that she was going to let Trace’s mother take him back.
“What’s the news?” she asked as she sat down at the table next to Trace.
“My mother left the birth certificate blank, but we think, I think, Rod’s father could be Christopher’s dad. I’d often wondered through the years why my mother allowed me to hang out with Rod so much. Looking back, I think they had a thing going for years.” He sighed and glanced around the table, then back at her. “Anyway, I’d wager on it.”
“Where does that leave us?” Emma asked.
“If Mr. Stephens is the boy’s
father, from what Trace has told us, the man has as shady of a past as Trace’s mother. If we can prove that his mother abandoned Christopher with Trace, we can file a petition for legal guardianship. We’ve just finalized the form now, and I’ll head to court now to file it. I’m bound to turn her in for the outstanding warrants she has. But, since Trace doesn’t know which hotel she is staying at in Tyler…”
“When will we know something?” Emma asked.
“Unfortunately, guardianships can be messy and long.” Her uncle tucked the papers Trace had signed into his briefcase. “I’ll keep you posted. For now, I’ve got a few witnesses to collect statements from.”
“Mal and her parents were there when my mother left,” Trace added.
Emma nodded. “I was too. Should I—”
Her uncle shook his head. “You’re… involved with Trace. For now, I’ll get Travis’s and Holly’s statements. They’re upstanding citizens in town.”
Lauren chuckled. “Talk about coming a long way.” She shook her head, then turned to Trace. “Travis’s mother shot Grant once.”
Her uncle’s hand moved to the spot over his chest. “My dog saved my life.” He sighed. “I miss that dog.”
“What?” Trace glanced between Grant and Emma. “Seriously?”
“She was locked up in a mental institute for the rest of her life,” Grant supplied.
Emma’s mother shook her head, then reached across the table and took Trace’s hand. “Families can be difficult. Still, Travis came back to town and made things right.”
“That he did.” Grant smiled. “I’ll head to court first, then stop by the bookstore and collect their statements for the record.”
“Thank you.” Trace stood up and shook her uncle’s hand. Her parents followed Grant out, leaving them alone again.
“I don’t know Christopher’s schedule yet, but he should be hungry for lunch when he wakes up.”
“Don’t most kids nap after lunch?” he asked, causing her to smile.
“Yes, I think I wore him out this morning. It’s rough on him, being in a new place. It may take a few days for him to get comfortable around here. That and he’s underweight, by about seven pounds.”
His eyes heated as he glanced towards the back room. Then he sat back down and shuffled the paperwork her uncle had left him, placing it into the folder. “I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with him on weekends yet.”
“I’ll take him, or my parents will watch him,” Emma jumped in.
Trace’s eyes moved to hers. “Really?”
She laughed. “You’ve been too busy worrying to notice that my mother is totally in love with Christopher. She’s used the word grandson at least a dozen times already.”
He stilled, his hands going into fists on the table. “I… don’t know…”
“Easy.” She laughed again. “You don’t have to marry me for my mother to love your brother. She’s just like me. We tend to pick up strays.” She took his fist into her hands and pulled it to her lips just as the bedroom door opened and a sleepy, wide-eyed Christopher came wobbling out. His pants were soaked through.
“I… I’m sorry,” he said with a big frown as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I messed the bed.”
“Oh, baby.” She rushed over to him and gathered him in her arms. “It’s okay. I should have made sure you went before I laid you down.”
The boy’s eyes moved over to Trace’s.
“It’s okay, buddy, accidents happen. How about we let Emma cook us some lunch while us men clean up the mess?” Trace held out his hand for the boy’s hand.
“Really?” Christopher asked. “You aren’t gonna spank me?”
Emma watched Trace tense, then he shook his head. “No.” He bent down until they were eye to eye. “Spankings are only for bad kids who do wrong knowing it was wrong. Not for kids who have accidents. Do you know the difference?”
Christopher nodded his head after a moment, then took Trace’s hand. “I think I’m going to like having you as my brother.”
Trace glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Emma as they disappeared into the bedroom together.
Emma decided to make grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch with a big glass of chocolate milk. Christopher had two cookies after he finished off the entire sandwich.
Then they all headed out to the front porch with Trace’s guitar.
Christopher’s eyes were glued to Trace’s fingers as they moved over the strings. He asked Trace to let him try and shocked them both by playing the same chords Trace had shown him almost perfectly.
“The kid has talent,” Trace said with a smile.
“You know…” Emma snapped her fingers. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She rushed from the porch, running towards Jimmy’s place. The foreman answered when she knocked on his door.
“Jimmy, I need that item I asked you to hold on to all those years ago.” She winked at the man.
Jimmy had been foreman on the ranch for as long as she could remember. The man had lived on the ranch long before she’d been born and was as old as the hills. Not to mention one of her favorite people on earth. He’d been the one to teach her how to care for the animals, how to mend fences, and how to shoot.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes at her. “You sure?” He glanced out the door and around. “Ricky isn’t around?”
She laughed. “I swear. Besides, I think he’s forgotten about it by now.”
Jimmy laughed. “That boy hasn’t forgotten a thing in all the time I’ve known him.”
“True, but I have a bigger purpose for it now.” She nodded towards the front porch, where Trace and Christopher were still playing the guitar together.
“I’ll get it.” Jimmy disappeared into his house. The house her parents had given him long ago when he’d officially retired from working on the ranch. Still, there wasn’t a day he didn’t help out where he could. Even if he couldn’t do some of the harder jobs, he was there, feeding the animals, caring for them as if they were his own and, in his mind, everything on the ranch, including her and her brother, were his.
Jimmy came back with the guitar her brother had gotten long ago. The one she’d stolen from him and hid from him to save the family’s sanity from her brother’s constant torture.
“Thanks.” She reached up and placed a kiss on the man’s wrinkled cheek.
“Anytime, sweetie. Oh, I tuned it recently,” he called out to her.
“Thank you.” She waved as she rushed back to Trace and Christopher.
“Here.” She handed the smaller guitar to Christopher. “This was… mine.” Her eyes met Trace’s and he smiled. “I’d like you to have it. So the two of you can play together.”
“Honest?” Christopher asked, taking the smaller guitar in his lap. It was a little big for him, but he would grow into it.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Now your brother can teach you how to play with him. Maybe you’ll end up on stage with him someday.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Teaching the boy to play along with him was somehow more enjoyable than just playing guitar by himself. The kid was a natural. By the following week, the kid had a full song learned by heart.
His little fingers worked the strings better than Trace’s could. The bonding time was some of the best. He hadn’t believed he was the kind of guy who would be great around kids, but Christopher was just so… easy to be around.
He was more like a little person than a kid. Sure, he made messes and asked a ton of questions, but Trace didn’t mind.
Emma and her mother were around a lot more, which was even better. Emma had been right—Lauren was seriously spoiling Christopher. She bought him a car seat for the truck, since the kid was too small to ride without one. She’d taken him clothes shopping in town and come back with a bunch of toys as well. The kid had more clothes now that Trace did himself.
Slowly, the second bedroom turned from a drab room into a brightly colored kids room filled with fun items.
Emma had taken them and purchased a few shirts for Trace’s session with the photographer. He enjoyed spending time with her but hated shopping for anything. But she’d somehow turned a very uncomfortable day into an enjoyable one.
The photographer had dragged him all around the small town, taking shots of him and his guitar everywhere. Emma and Christopher had gone along for the ride and had even been in a few fun shots when they’d stopped at the park and played during a short lunch break.
They had ended up at the bookstore, poring over the pictures on the woman’s computer while Christopher joined in on a kids’ reading session. The boy enjoyed it so much, playing and interacting with other kids his own age that Trace was determined to bring him back at least once a week.
“This is the shot,” Emma said, pointing to the screen. “It should be your album cover.” She glanced over at him. He’d been watching Christopher interacting with a little girl in a bright pink dress across the room. The two of them had their heads bent over the same book and were talking quietly together.
“What?” He glanced back at the screen at the image of him walking away from the camera holding his guitar as he made his way down the train tracks near the Rusty Rail. He liked the image since he wasn’t facing the camera and trying to give one of his half-cocked smiles.
“Yeah, that’s good.” He turned back towards Christopher, smiling when the pair of kids laughed at something they’d seen in the books. Did the kid know how to read? What age did kids start going to school? Shit, was the kid supposed to be in school already? He frowned, trying to remember anything about being five years old, but the only memories that surfaced were of terrible times.
“What age do kids start school?” he asked Emma.
She reached over and touched his arm. “Relax.” She smiled at him. “He’s not behind. He can start school this fall.”
He relaxed slightly. “Should he be reading by then?”
“We’ll work on that together.” She motioned towards the screen. “Later.”
He shifted, glancing at the photographer who was very patiently waiting for them to pick their favorite ten images to send to Tessa.
