Home for Good

by Jessica Keller

  Ali glanced back at her son. “This traffic’s pretty bad.”

  Kate shrugged. “Everyone is just excited. A week ago we thought the show would be canceled like last year.”

  “I still can’t believe the donations the city got at the last minute. Wish I knew who had purse strings like that. I could tap them for Big Sky Dreams.” Ali bit her lip. The worry she felt over the financial problems of her nonprofit organization was never far from her mind.

  “This is different. The Fourth of July. People get excited about patriotic stuff.”

  “You think blowing up a bunch of cardboard is more important than helping handicapped kids?”

  “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth, big sis. You know I think what you do is worthwhile. I’m just saying, the draw for something like this is more universal.”

  Ali bumped the truck along the grass-trodden lot being used to park overflow for the fireworks show. The three climbed out, scooped up their blankets and plodded across the fairground’s field, looking for a spot to claim. Ali stopped often to chat with her neighbors, wave to her horseback-riding students and embrace folks she’d grown up with.

  As the first explosion resounded in the sky, Ali relaxed. Propped on her elbows, she laid back, watching her son’s face more than the Fourth of July display. His mouth hung slack as his eyes sparkled to match the show lighting up the night sky. He wore a giant toothy grin. She wished she could recapture that feeling in her own life. Would she ever again know that feeling of freedom, of trusting and letting go? Where had her joy gone?

  Jericho Eli Freed. That’s where. The man had successfully smashed her hope of a white knight when he ran off like a bandit with her dreams.

  * * *

  Standing there, ten feet away from the love of his life, watching her smile and sigh, an ache filled Jericho that reached clear to his toes. So his Ali wasn’t all mountain lion snarls and rattlesnake warnings. As she watched her son, softness filled her face. Beautiful. Staring at his wife, his mind blanked out.

  “Hey, lover-boy.” A warm hand touched his arm, and he glanced over. Kate stood at his elbow. “Are you going to look at her all night? Or will you man up and do something?”

  “You’re talking to me? I figured all the Silvers hated my guts.”

  Kate motioned for him to follow her a few paces away from where Ali and Chance sat. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Are you still in love with my sister?”

  Jericho swallowed hard. Bold little thing. The last time he’d seen Kate, she’d been a skinned-knee kid.

  “Well? Answer me, cowboy.” Her eyebrow drove higher.

  Jericho cleared his throat. “Yes. ’Course. I’ve always loved her, always will.”

  Kate nodded. “Bingo. Well, if that’s the case, I’ll help you.”

  “You wanna help me get Ali back?”

  She let out a long stream of air, like he was daft for not tracking with the conversation. “Yes. When you left, Ali fell to pieces. You know better than anyone that she didn’t have the easiest life. But with you, when you were there for her, all that other stuff didn’t strangle her. Then you left, and...”

  You destroyed her.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’d do anything to change the fact that I left.”

  “But I need to know, before we become partners in this, are you a better man now?” She jammed a finger into his chest, and he knew exactly what she meant. You still a drunk? Ornery? Will you leave again?

  He lifted his hands, palms out. “I’m a man surrendered now, Kate. Still make mistakes. But I haven’t touched a bottle in five years, and I’ve made a promise to God that I never will. I won’t hurt Ali. I came back to make good on my wedding vows...to honor and protect her, to fix what I did. But she doesn’t want me at all.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “But what about Chance?”

  Kate held up a hand and shook her head. “Not my story to tell.”

  Sweat slicked his palms. “Don’t know, Kate. I was watching her just now. She smiles for everyone but me. She started crying when I talked to her. I think she’d relish watching the buzzards pecking at me before seeing me again.”

  “That’s because if she lets down her guard with you, she stands to lose the most.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You cowboys are all seriously dense.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Continue.”

  “She’s closed off to you because she loves you the most. That makes you the biggest danger of all. If someone else rejects her or betrays her, she can shrug that off, but you? That’s everything to her. Has been since you two were kids.”

  Well, that was clear as mud.

  “So here’s the plan.” She glanced back at Ali, then leaned toward him. “In a minute these fireworks will be done, and I’m going to ferret away Chance with the lure of some sparklers.” She patted the bulge in her purse. “That’ll leave you a good amount of time to talk to Ali.”

  “But what do I say?”

  “If you can’t figure that out, cowboy, then you don’t deserve my sister.”

  * * *

  Alone, lying back and scanning the night sky through the leftover smoke hanging in the air, Ali almost breathed a thankful sigh—but then he sat down next to her, took off his hat and tapped the brim against his leg.

  “I don’t want you—”

  “I know.” He wound his hat around in his hands, and the motion tugged at all the broken places inside her. “I know you don’t want me. And after a time, if you still feel that way, I’ll honor that. I’ll leave you alone for good.”

  “Good, I want that. Now.” She started to sit up, gathering the blanket Chance and Kate shared during the show, but his warm hand on her arm stopped her. He gently turned her to face him.

  She sighed. “Okay, if I let you talk, we’ll be done? You’ll leave after that?”

  “If that’s really what you want.” He ran his fingers over the rim of his hat.

  “It is. So go ahead, shoot.”

  He gave the slightest sign of an outlaw smile. “Not a good thing to say to a cowboy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Speak, rover. Talk. Say whatever it is you’re so bent on telling me.”

  He shifted. “I should have never left.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  He placed a hand on her arm and gently squeezed. “Let me talk, woman, please.” Jericho removed his hand. “That day. You’ve got to understand that I had to go. I had no choice. I was so afraid that I’d hurt you, Ali. I loved you so much, and I sat there watching myself destroy the one person in the world who meant anything to me. That day when I lost it...tossed your lamp...well, I saw a streak of my pop in me, and it made me sick. I got in my car and just took off, kicking up a cloud of dust.”

  Blinking the burn away from her eyes, Ali moved to stand up. “I don’t need to hear a replay of this. In case you forgot, I was there.”

  He stopped her with a touch of his hand. “Please stay.”

  Who was he to beg her to stay? But like a fool, she hunkered back down.

  “I stopped at Pop’s house and had an all-out yelling brawl with him, then lit for the state line. I got a job driving a tour bus at Yellowstone. They canned me a couple months later when they found out I hit the scotch before the rides. I spent the next year or two working as a ranch hand at different places, most of the time herding at the back, eating cattle dust and that’s about all I felt I was good for. I thought about coming back—wanted to—but I was a sorry mess that you didn’t need. I drank more than before. Drank all my money away. But God kept me alive, so I could come back to you and—”

  “I hardly think God has anything to do with it. You were a drunk, lying, good-for-nothing boy.”

  He nodded. “I can’t argue y
ou about that. I was. And I took the coward’s way. I just needed—” he closed his eyes “—escape.”

  Ali bit back a stream of words. Adults didn’t get the choice of escape. They bucked up and dealt with it, like she had. “Escape from what? Me?” Her muscles cringed. Never enough. Her love couldn’t heal him. She’d failed as a wife, and that’s why he left.

  “No. Never you. I needed to escape me.” He thumbed his chest. “I was furious at God for taking my mom, hated Pop for becoming a cruel drunk—then hated myself just as much for becoming everything I despised in him. I was angry that I couldn’t be what you needed. I talked you into running away from your family in the middle of the night, into marrying me when you were only eighteen. I had nothing to give you but my heap of troubles. I was just a kid myself, and I didn’t have the first clue how to take care of you properly. What kind of man was I? So I drank. I wanted to be numb. I wanted nothing to matter anymore, but I kept seeing your face, kept catching whiffs of pretty flowers that reminded me of you.” His ratty straw hat flaked apart as he twisted it round and round in his hands while talking.

  With a bull-rider’s grip on her purse, Ali chewed her bottom lip. Jericho’s humility unnerved her. He was supposed to be cocky. He was supposed to smell of alcohol, combined with the cigar smoke from whatever bar he’d rolled out of at three in the morning. But no, he sat here emitting an intoxicating mixture of hard work, rain and alfalfa.

  He paused, his soft eyes studying her. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “It got worse, though. I found myself sneaking into barns at night just for a place to sleep away the hangover. Homeless...can you imagine?” He gave a humorless laugh. “The great ranch baron Abram Freed’s son, homeless.” He threw up his hands. “One night an old rancher found me, and I thought he was going to shoot me between the eyes, but he invited me inside. Let me sleep in his guest bedroom. He was a veteran, and when he talked about his time in the service he just became a hero to me. This man had been through so much terrible stuff, but he was even-keeled and kind. And I wanted to be him. So I enlisted. I owe that man the life I have now.”

  “You’re really a soldier, then?”

  He put back on his hat, steepling his hands together. “Ali, who’s Chance’s dad?”

  The question froze every inch of her that had thawed during his story. “He doesn’t have one. He’s my son. That’s it.”

  “Unless he’s adopted...that’s not really possible.”

  “Are you done?” She knew her harsh tone would wound his open spirit, but she didn’t care. Not when Chance got pulled into the conversation.

  He sighed and worked the kinks out of the back of his neck. “After I enlisted, I went through training and spent some good time learning what it means to be a man of discipline and determination. After a couple years my group got drawn for deployment, and I wanted to call you, wanted to say goodbye, but didn’t feel like I had the right to. Not one person I cared about knew I was over there, knew I could die at any minute.”

  Die? Her head snapped up. Could he have died without her ever knowing? Wouldn’t her heart have felt the loss? Regardless of her anger, she would never have wanted that.

  Across the field, Kate and Chance picked their way toward her.

  “...but then one day we were sent on this mission and—”

  She cut him off. “That’s great, Jericho. Sounds like life without us worked out just fine for you. Our lives have been good without you, too. I got some schooling and started a nonprofit that I really care about.” She rose, hoping he’d follow suit.

  “Without us?” He took the blankets from her arms.

  “What?” Her tongue raced against the back of her teeth.

  He quirked both eyebrows. “You said us, plural.”

  She pushed him away with her best glare. “Us...as in the Bitterroot Valley, your dad, the people here in Montana that you grew up with.” Her hands shook. Almost gave it away. Foolish mouth.

  Chance’s rapid steps approached.

  “Your story, well, it doesn’t change much for me. I still want you to turn on those boots and do that walking-out bit you’re so good at.”

  “I can’t, Ali, not yet.”

  “But you said you’d leave if that’s what I wanted, and I do.”

  “I came back because I have to ask your forgiveness. And if we can, I want to fix our marriage. Be there for you like I promised nine years ago.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Hey, Mom! You found Jericho!” Chance frolicked around the two adults.

  “How were the sparklers, buddy?” She dropped down and pulled her son into her arms.

  Chance’s gaze flew to Jericho, and his cheeks colored. The little imp wiggled free. “They were great. My friend Michael told this girl Samantha that he was going to put a sparkler in her hair and light it on fire. But Kate told him that someday he’ll be sorry he ever talked to girls that way.”

  “I’m sure he will be.” Still on her knees, she smiled.

  Chance turned toward Jericho. “You’re a guy. What do you think?”

  “I think your mom and your aunt are right. A real man is always nice to a girl.” His gaze locked on Ali. “Always.”

  Chance grabbed Jericho’s sleeve, pulling the man to his level. “Were you talking to my mom again? Do you know her?”

  Ali jumped in. “Jericho and I did know each other, but it was a really long time ago, pal. His dad’s ranch backs up to ours. We were neighbors.”

  Chance took her hand. “That’s cool, so we can share him.”

  Behind him, Kate attempted to hide a laugh with a cough.

  “Hey, Jericho, it’s my birthday in two days. Will you come to my party? Looks like you already know where our house is.”

  “Chance! Did you ever think Jericho might have other things to do with his time?” Ali’s eyes widened. Please let Jericho have something to do that day.

  Jericho spread out his arms and let a low, rumbling laugh escape his lips. “I’ll be there, champ. I’m free.”

  “Then will you promise to teach me to ride a ewe?” The child’s eyes lit up, hands clasped together.

  Jericho rose. He rubbed his jaw and looked to Ali. She shook her head. “I think you’re too big for mutton bustin’. The kids who do that are five or six.”

  Chance crossed his arms. “It’s not fair. Our ranch hand, Rider, won’t teach me. Now you won’t, either.”

  “I could teach you something else. How about roping? Do you know how to lasso a steer? ’Cause that’s loads harder than riding sheep.”

  “You promise you’ll come teach me?”

  “I’ll bring the dummy steer and everything.” Jericho smiled down at Ali’s son, and her heart squeezed—with panic or tenderness, though, she couldn’t be sure. One thing she knew—Jericho Freed was back in her life, whether she wanted him there or not.

  Chapter Three

  Scientific research said mint-and-tan-painted walls were supposed to soothe her, but each step Ali took toward her mother’s room weighed her down like shuffling through deep mud. She nodded to other residents of the facility as they teetered down the hallway, gripping the railing that ran waist-level throughout the nursing home. She clutched her purse against her stomach. Mom didn’t belong here. People in their fifties shouldn’t be stuck like this.

  Paces away from Mom’s door, Ali leaned against the wall and sucked in a fortifying breath. It stung her throat with the artificial smells of bleach and cafeteria food. She pulled the paper out of her purse and read it again.

  I saw you together at the Independence Day picnic. If you value what’s important to you, you’ll stay away from him. You’ve been warned.

  Ali didn’t know whether she should run to the police department or laugh. The glued-on magazine letters looked straight out of a cheesy t
elevision crime show. But was the threat serious? Who would leave such a thing tacked to her front door? Thankfully, her head ranch hand, Rider, found it before Chance woke up. Her son could pretend bravado, but with something like this, he would have dissolved into a puddle of tears.

  She racked her mind, tallying a list of the people she remembered seeing at the picnic yesterday. Not one of them would have cared in the least if they saw her speaking with Jericho. Who wanted to keep them apart? Not that she minded. That’s what she wanted anyway, right? All the more reason to steer clear of the man, but it grated to be threatened.

  Unless... No, it couldn’t be. Abram Freed had never been fond of his son’s attachment to her, but she’d made her peace with the cantankerous cowboy years after Jericho left. Besides, with the paralysis on the right side of his body, the man couldn’t move—he lay in a bed here in the same nursing home as her mother. He couldn’t harm her, and he’d keep her secret about Chance, too.

  A nurse wearing a teal smock broke into her thoughts. “You gonna go in and say howdy to your ma?”

  “Hi, Sue. How’s Mom doing today?”

  The nurse’s blond eyebrow rose. “No disrespect, but your ma’s the most ornery patient we have. But we don’t mind none. She’s a fighter at that. I think most people would be gone already with what she’s got, but she just keeps hanging right on.”

  Ali gave a tight-lipped smile. “She’s a handful.”

  Jamming the menacing letter back into her purse, she smoothed down her shirt and ran a hand over her hair before entering her mother’s room. The sight of Marge Silver—weak with pale skin hanging in long droops off her arms and a map of premature wrinkles covering her face as she whistled air in and out through the oxygen nosepiece—always made Ali’s knees shake a little bit.

  “How you feeling, Ma?” She came to the side of the bed. Ali felt a deep emptiness. Her mom’s eyes stared back, cold and hopeless. Shut off, like her spirit had already given up.

  “Dying... Been better.” The words wheezed out, stilting every time the oxygen infused.