Last Chance at the Someday Café

by Angel Smits

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Emily whispered, even though they both knew Brooke could hear them.

  “He’ll be here,” she repeated, convinced she was telling the truth.

  But as the next hours slipped by and the sun rose higher in the sky, Tara’s certainty wobbled. She paced, going to the picture window that overlooked the entire property. From here, she could see most of the valley, the herd in the distance, the charred earth that was beginning to return to life with new growth.

  The recent rains had done some good, nourishing the abused soil and seeds. Behind her, Juanita kept the TV on, but there was no new footage. No new information, just the same reports, over and over.

  Tara had gotten ahold of nearly everyone on her staff. Only Wade wasn’t answering his phone. He didn’t have a cell phone that she knew of, and his home was east, where the damage was the worst. She tried not to worry about that, about the additional fact that her calls to Morgan and Jack hadn’t been returned, either.

  Could they even get to town? Should they try? “Maybe we should—” Her words were cut off by the loud rumble of an engine.

  Brooke hastily scrambled off the couch. “Daddy!” she cried and ran to the door. She struggled to open it, the heavy wood sticking from all the recent damp. The slam of the screen door was loud as Brooke lunged out of it.

  Tara was right behind her. “Brooke, wait!” There was no guarantee it was Morgan. The girl would be so disappointed.

  A battered pickup came up the drive, stopping in the middle of the muddy lane. The men streamed out of the barns. And Tara heard footsteps behind her.

  Relief nearly tripped her up when Wade climbed out from behind the wheel. He looked tired but in one piece.

  The passenger door opened then, and the whole world melted away.

  Morgan. He was here. He was safe.

  Both he and Wade looked worse for the wear, their clothes rumpled, their eyes tired. But they were both smiling.

  “Daddy!” Brooke cried from halfway down the sidewalk, her ponytails streaming behind her as she ran. Morgan was down on his knees in an instant as she flew into his arms. He looked so big, and she so tiny. He seemed to engulf her.

  “Oh, Brooke,” he whispered, though the pent-up pain in his voice carried across the entire yard. He kissed her head and ran his big hand over her hair as if making sure she was real.

  Tara slowed her step, stopping several feet away. They needed this time, needed space, she was sure, though she ached to touch him, to make sure he was okay. Make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  The purple dragon lay on the worn walk, forgotten, no longer a needed comfort. Tara bent to pick it up, her vision blurred. When she was upright again, she looked at Morgan and Brooke.

  With his daughter in his arms, Morgan was staring at her. The intensity of his gaze stole Tara’s breath. Tears filled his eyes, spilling onto his rough cheeks. He rose to his feet then, swinging Brooke up onto his hip, her head on his shoulder and arm around his neck.

  His stride was long and sure as he came right up to Tara.

  “Thank you,” he said, then pulled her with his free arm to his side. “Thank you,” he repeated as his lips found hers.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MORGAN FOLLOWED TARA into the comfortable kitchen of the Hawkins ranch with a fair amount of trepidation. Kissing the girl for saving the day had been one of his better ideas. At least in his mind. The dozen sets of eyes staring at him when he’d pulled away from Tara hadn’t been quite as...enthusiastic.

  Before he could recover, though, an older woman had come out of the house and called everyone inside. Lunch was ready, and even his unexpected arrival wasn’t about to stop this crew from eating. She bustled around the kitchen, putting huge platters of food on the big wooden table.

  “Have a seat.” The woman smiled and waved them toward the table.

  Morgan would have liked Tara to sit with them, but she was bustling around, too, not meeting his eye.

  “Daddy?” Brooke’s tiny voice broke through the din the same way it broke his heart. He’d never heard a more beautiful sound. He had to fight to swallow the lump in his throat.

  “Yeah, baby?” He sat beside Brooke and barely resisted the urge to scoop her up in his arms again. She felt so small against him.

  “Don’t go away.”

  “No, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Brooke snuggled close and held on tight. He could keep her here like this forever. Slowly, she pulled back just a little, so she could look up at him. “Mama said you didn’t want us no more.”

  He didn’t say, “Mama lied,” though the words were on the tip of his tongue. “Maybe she misunderstood. I’ll always want you.” Right now wasn’t the time to bash Sylvie or let the reality of what they still had to deal with—custody—into the situation. Now was the time for him to just hold and love his little girl.

  “Are we gonna go home?” she asked.

  “Yeah, soon.” He smiled at her, feeling the warmth of her grin wash over him.

  “Welcome to our home.” A slim, young woman moved along the table, filling water glasses from a pitcher. “I’m Emily Hawkins.” She extended her hand to him, and he took it, surprised at the strength in her handshake. “It’s been nice having Brooke visit us.”

  Her eyes were astute and never wavered as she looked at him. Moving away, she sidled up next to Wyatt and got a brief kiss for her efforts. The cowboy was a lucky man, if the love shining in her eyes was any indication. Morgan glanced at Tara, not sure what to think.

  “Thanks for having us,” Morgan said to the entire room, his voice quickly drowned by the chaos of the crowd. The mounds of food soon disappeared, leaving empty plates behind. This had to be where Tara had learned to cook.

  Finally, Wyatt and his men prepared to get back to work, gathering at the door. A young cowboy stuck his head around the corner. “Hey, Boss. Dutch is back.” A puzzled look passed between the ranch owner and his wife. Morgan glanced at Tara, who’d kept her distance through the meal and was now sitting quietly beside her brother on the other side of the table. Her face paled and she clasped her hands together.

  “Who’s Dutch?” Morgan asked Tara, not sure if he was butting into family business.

  “The sheriff,” Wade volunteered from the counter where he was helping the cook—whose name Morgan had learned was Juanita, and who was married to the ranch’s foreman. “Maybe he’s got news about the diner.”

  Morgan had nearly forgotten about the diner, his truck, the flooding—all of it had vanished as soon as he’d seen Brooke. The sadness in Tara’s eyes brought it all slamming back.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” an older, burly man with a badge on his chest said from the doorway.

  Morgan barely had time to register that before Sylvie burst into the room.

  “There you are,” Sylvie said, strutting to where Brooke stood hugging Morgan’s side. “Come on, Brooke, it’s time to go.”

  Brooke only pushed closer to Morgan, hiding her face against his leg. “Don’t wanna.”

  That’s when Sylvie did what Morgan had feared she’d do earlier. Her temper flashed in her eyes as she rounded on him. “What did you say to her?” She turned to the sheriff. “Arrest him, Sheriff.”

  “Uh, ma’am, why exactly would I do that?”

  “He took my daughter and put her at risk.” Sylvie reached for Brooke’s arm. “Come on, Brooke.”

  “No!” the little girl cried and tried to pull away from Sylvie’s hold.

  “That’s enough, Sylvie.” Morgan’s hands were fisted at his side, but he relaxed enough to put his arm around Brooke’s shoulders. “You’ve traumatized her enough.”

  “Traumatized? See?” Again, she turned to the sheriff. “This is why you need to arrest him. I realize this is the boonies, but surely
you know how to arrest someone.”

  Brooke’s sob broke the quiet of the room, and Morgan bent to lift her into his arms. She snuggled against his shoulder, reminding him of when she’d been a baby and he’d walked the floor to soothe her to sleep. The idea of Sylvie being able to take her again was like a knife in his gut. He couldn’t let her go.

  “Now, ma’am, let’s calm down here.” Dutch stepped forward, nearly in between them. “Wyatt, you got someplace private we can all go for a chat?”

  Wyatt nodded. “You can use the den. Follow me.” Wyatt led the way into a room with a fireplace and a bar that covered an entire wall. On the opposite end of the room, a large, wooden desk sat in front of a picture window that overlooked half the county. It was beautiful.

  Was this where Tara had grown up? Morgan couldn’t help but feel the inadequacy of his own past in comparison. She entered after everyone else had gotten settled, hanging back by the door.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sylvie started to say as soon as everyone stepped inside. “Brooke and I are leaving. Now.”

  “You’re welcome to leave, Sylvie,” Morgan said through clenched teeth. “Brooke isn’t going anywhere with you.”

  “Wanna bet?” Again, Sylvie reached for their daughter.

  “That’s enough.” Emily might be small, but her voice carried across the room. She’d come in at the head of this group and was seated behind the massive desk.

  “And who the hell are you?” Sylvie stood with her hands on her hips. Morgan thought he actually saw the woman’s lips twitch with a smile.

  Brooke clung to Morgan’s neck, her arms nearly too tight.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered, wishing this weren’t happening in front of Brooke. She didn’t need to see this.

  Needing to feel grounded, he looked at Tara, who was leaning against the wall just inside the doors. She wasn’t looking at him, but seeing her there eased some of the tension in his chest. She glared at Sylvie with more venom than he’d thought possible.

  “I’m Emily Hawkins.” She looked directly at Sylvie. “Judge Emily Hawkins, senior magistrate in family court.” She didn’t even blink. “I took temporary custody of your daughter last evening, when it was apparent neither of her parents were around to look after her well-being.”

  “Excuse me?” Sylvie glared. “I left her with a babysitter. She—” Sylvie pointed at Tara. “She took her and...and kidnapped her.”

  “You sure that’s the story you want to go with?” Emily looked at Tara, then at Sylvie.

  “It’s true.”

  “No, it’s not.” Brooke said, lifting her head but not loosening her grip. Her bottom lip trembled, but it didn’t stop her from speaking. “I went there all by myself. She made me grilled cheeses.”

  Morgan wanted to hug his daughter tighter. For once, that independent streak of hers was a blessing.

  Sylvie turned and frowned at Brooke. “What have I told you about talking when you’re not supposed to?” Sylvie snapped. “We’ll discuss your disobedience later. We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Not so fast.” Emily stood then. “Dutch. I’m pretty sure my courtroom is unavailable due to the flooding.”

  “Yeah. The entire courthouse is closed off today.”

  “Can you give me a hand? I’m calling an emergency hearing here. Now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sylvie looked around the room as if they were all crazy.

  Morgan almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “Sylvie, quit while you’re ahead. Judge Hawkins said she works for family court.” He walked over to her, still not letting go of Brooke. “Right now, neither of us has custody. Sorry, baby.” He patted Brooke’s back, wishing he could protect her from what was going on.

  “You can’t do that,” Sylvie told Emily.

  “Actually, she can.” The sheriff stepped forward. “And she is.”

  “Brooke is my daughter. Mine.”

  “She’s our daughter,” Morgan corrected her. “But we could both lose her if you don’t cut it out.”

  “You’re the one screwing this up, Morgan. Just like you’ve screwed up everything else.”

  “Stop it!” Brooke squirmed and let go of Morgan’s neck. “Let me go.”

  Morgan instantly put his daughter on the ground, his heart hurting as he waited for her to go over to Sylvie. Everyone in the room watched as she yanked the purple dragon from its spot on the couch, then ran over to Tara. Thankfully, Tara knelt beside the girl and gave her a hug.

  “Daddy?” Brooke’s voice wobbled, shaking his heart just a bit. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” he lied. He hadn’t a clue how any of this was going to work out.

  Sylvie stared at Tara, like angry darts flying through the air. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylvie took a step toward Brooke and Morgan went to follow.

  Emily stepped in instead. “I’d suggest you think about what you say and do next.” Her glare was hard, but it all vanished when she knelt beside Brooke. “Remember how last night we talked about following the rules and making everything right?”

  Brooke nodded, still leaning against Tara’s side.

  “This is part of that. Now I need to talk to your parents. Is that okay with you?” Emily waited patiently, giving Brooke a sense of control, something he doubted she’d had much of in the last year.

  Brooke looked at Morgan, then at Sylvie, then finally, surprisingly, at Tara. Tara nodded, and Brooke pushed away from her side. “Okay.”

  “Maybe Juanita can take you to the barns to see the horses while we talk,” Emily suggested. “Would you like that?”

  Juanita stepped forward then, crouching beside Emily. Brooke looked at Morgan and the indecision in her eyes was almost too painful to see, but he couldn’t look away. He had to be strong for his daughter.

  Brooke was hesitant to go with Juanita—afraid Morgan would leave her. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her. “Not without you.”

  How long would it take for her trust to return? Would it ever?

  “You got real horses?” Brooke turned to Juanita.

  “We do.” Juanita smiled. “And Tyler even has pigs, Pork Chop and Hamlet, down the hill.”

  Brooke actually laughed and his heart squeezed. “Those are funny names.”

  The tension in the room eased, and Morgan unclenched his fists. “Go with Juanita. I’ll be right here when you come back. I swear.” Letting her go was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  “I’ll be waiting, too.” Sylvie tried to sound sincere. He was being uncharitable, but a year of worry and anger was more than his charity could overcome. Sylvie did a bad job of hiding her need to win Brooke back. She’d never been good at sharing what she believed was hers. Morgan just wished she cared more about what Brooke wanted.

  Slowly, Brooke nodded. After she took Juanita’s hand, Tara leaned down. “Why don’t you leave Lanara here? The horses might be scared of a dragon.”

  “Oh...okay.” She extended the stuffed animal to Tara. “But only you get her. She likes you.” Tara softly gasped, then slowly nodded. His heart squeezed.

  “We’ll be right back,” Juanita said. Brooke looked over her shoulder all the way to the door. The room fell silent after they left.

  “Let’s get started,” Emily said, her voice easily filling the room as she resettled behind the desk.

  It hurt that his daughter had wanted away from him, that she was having to go through this mess that he and Sylvie had made of their lives.

  * * *

  TARA WATCHED BROOKE LEAVE, realizing what an amazing daughter Morgan had. She knew how scared Brooke was of her father leaving her, of going back with her mother, but it humbled Tara that Brooke trusted her. She couldn’t let the girl down.

  She knew eve
ryone expected Emily to speak, but Tara surprised them by stepping forward, holding up the stuffed dragon. “You all need to see this.”

  “I told her to throw that ratty thing away,” Sylvie said. “I didn’t know she still had it.”

  “Morgan, turn it over,” Tara whispered, ignoring Sylvie’s outburst.

  He did as she asked and she saw the pain flash in his eyes. The pinned-together back of the stuffed animal made it look even more disreputable. The safety pins looked so out of place against the matted fur.

  “Why didn’t you fix it for her?” Morgan softly asked Sylvie.

  “Duh. You know I can’t sew.”

  Poor Brooke had put up with a torn toy because of it. Tara reached past Morgan when he didn’t move. His heat washed over her, and she wanted to put her arms around him and hold on tight. This was going to hurt him. But Emily needed to see this, and he had to know.

  “Brooke didn’t want it fixed,” Tara whispered. She opened the pins and pulled the fabric apart.

  “What the—?” Morgan looked at Tara, then at what she was doing. She reached inside and pulled out the crumpled photo.

  “She’s been carrying this around.” Tara put the photo in the center of the desk. “She had to hide it here from you,” she said to Sylvie, barely controlling the accusation in her voice. “This says a whole lot about what that little girl has wanted for the last year.” She faced Emily.

  Watching the hurt and realization dawn in Morgan’s eyes cut through Tara. He’d been trying so hard to find Brooke, and the confirmation that she’d wanted him to find her was overwhelming to them all. Even Sylvie stared silently at the picture.

  “I—I didn’t know,” she whispered.

  Angry words flew through Tara’s mind, but she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t her place to voice an opinion about how Sylvie had ignored her daughter. It wasn’t her place to hurt Morgan more.

  Emily, however, had no such qualms. “My guess is that you were too busy to pay attention to your daughter.” The anger in Emily’s voice was stronger than Tara had ever heard. “Just like you ignored her last night, when she could have drowned in those floodwaters.”