Oklahoma Sky

by Jillian Neal

  But it was her grandmother's real hatred of divorce that had led to her father being able to talk his way into staying on land that rightfully belonged to her mother's family, even after she'd left.

  "I really am sorry I stayed out all night. It won't happen again. Derrick kept texting me, and I..." she cringed but went on with her full confession, "I had too much to drink. Ford was a perfect gentleman. I'm lucky he was there."

  "Devil's water," Nana sighed. "Come inside. I'll...fix you something to eat."

  Callie didn't deserve to be fussed over, but she wouldn't deny her grandmother much of anything after worrying her like she had. But as soon as they'd settled at the kitchen table with coffee, Nana probed deeper. "Why was Derrick texting you last night?"

  The fact that the entire town was already discussing her and she'd only arrived the day before robbed her of a little of her practiced reserve. Defeat weighted her shoulders. "Because he refuses to grow up."

  "Explain that."

  "His parents do everything for him. They always have. He expects me to fill that void now that he's grown, I guess. I've tried to explain that I'm not coming back to LA, but he won't listen to me."

  "Some men do need someone to look after them," her grandmother reminded her.

  "It's not my job to raise him, and I don't want to take care of him for the rest of my life. I shouldn't have given him as many chances as I did. I have to make a clean break. Eventually I have to get through to him." Besides, she was tired of feeling so trapped in his shallow life. She needed to breathe.

  Her grandmother reached to gently squeeze Callie's hand. She traced her index finger over her grandmother's fingers. Those hands that had wiped her face and given her baths, cared for her, and fed her thousands of meals drew a confession from the depth of her soul. "I shouldn’t have ever gotten involved with Derrick. If I were smart, I would've come back here right after college until I figured out what to do with the rest of my life."

  "Honey, you've got a head full of smarts and more creativity in your little finger than most people have in their whole bodies. Getting distracted doesn't have anything to do with your intelligence, but I worry about Derrick not listening to you. I don't ever want you to leave here, but should you go back out there and try to explain things face to face? It seems to me you should try to work it out with him since you've...had relations with him."

  An involuntary shudder shook through Callie at that. "We are not discussing that, and I am not going back out there. I'll find some other way to get through to him."

  "Okay. Well then, have you figured out what you want for the rest of your life, sweetheart?"

  What you and Pops have. She had no idea where that particular thought had emerged from, and she would never speak it out loud. She wasn't even sure what a life like that would look like for her. People didn't fall in love that way anymore. The world was all different now. "I want the internship in New York with Nina Morales...I think. And when I'm ready I want to open my own photography studio."

  "What about Ford?"

  "What about him? I just met him last night. I told you nothing happened. We're just friends," Callie vowed, perhaps a little too insistently.

  Her grandmother gave her a weary nod. "Forgive me for asking."

  "It's fine. No big deal."

  "Uh huh."

  Before Callie could continue to assert that Ford was nothing more than some sweet cowboy, the kitchen door swung open and in walked her father.

  Chapter Eight

  Ford was pulling through the gates of the ranch before he noticed the file folder of bank documents wedged between the truck door and the seat. Before he could try to formulate an appropriate response to them, a grin spread the width of his features. He had to return that folder to her, which meant he'd have to see her again. That definitely should not have pleased him as much as it did.

  But a man can only exist with self-imposed guilt for so long before he begins to grow weary of his own self-loathing. He had no more business heading into his parents’ house at that moment than he had being so pleased, but he was going to do both anyway.

  If he'd timed it right, he'd catch his daddy between his meeting with one of their cattle buyers and him heading back out to check the steers.

  "Hey, Mama." He grinned as he stepped into the kitchen. That room had been one of his favorite places to be when he was a kid. She was almost always in there. Something was almost always cooking, and they had the perfect view of incoming storms from the window over the sink. As far as he was concerned, there was no better place to be.

  "You don't know how good it is to see you smiling," Sara Holder stood on her tiptoes, jerked him down to her barely five-foot height, and kissed his cheek. "Now, sit down and tell me if this sauce needs more salt." She spoon-fed him a bite of some kind of tomato sauce.

  He considered. "Yeah, maybe, but I'm a cattle rancher not a cook."

  "But you used to like to eat," she countered. That wasn't her first comment about him not eating the way he used to. For the past few months, he just hadn't had much of an appetite for anything.

  "It's good," he skirted the comment entirely. "Is Dad still talking to Miles?"

  "Miles left an hour ago. He's in there with Dale."

  The constant anxiety that had ridden Ford in the last few months bled to terror in an instant. Dale Miller was the lawyer who'd represented Ford against Meritt. His cousin Meridian was the deputy district attorney in Holder County, but Dale handled the civil accounts for the Holders. "What's Dale doing out here? She signed the damned papers yesterday. Jesus, what else does she want?"

  And there it was. That sorrow he hated, but that everyone continued to display when they regarded him, formed on his mother's kind features. Everyone but Callie, he reminded himself. "I doubt it's got anything to do with Meritt, honey. It's probably something about us buying that parcel from the Tillmans. I shouldn't have said anything."

  "No," Ford sighed, "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I need to get my head out of my ass." It had been an endless battle of Meritt demanding money from the joint Holder Family accounts and the Holder Land and Cattle business accounts, none of which she was owed, nor did Ford have sole access to. He was so tired of arguing over money, he swore if he could work out some kind of barter system for food, equipment, and clothes for the rest of his life, he would. Meritt making demands he had no hopes of meeting had created some kind of knee-jerk reaction for him. He was tired of feeling like a fucking failure.

  His mother shook her head at him. "Some people aren't loves, sweetheart. They're lessons. Stop being so hard on yourself."

  Yeah, well, if Meritt had been a lesson, it had taken him damned long enough to learn it. He'd obviously been in some kind of remedial course on marriage or something. For a rather large portion of this life, he'd told himself it was love. He'd become an expert on lying to himself the same way Callie said she had. They seemed to have a lot in common.

  He didn't know which was worse—to have to acknowledge the truth that he'd never been in love or to realize he'd lived a lifetime mistake. Doubt continued to increase in magnitude until it closed its fists around his throat. Everything he'd once believed in was no more solid than the dusty wind he existed in. He hated that the solid ground he'd once stood on had turned to quicksand under his boots.

  The familiar slap of the screen door and murmured talking preceded his brothers spilling into the kitchen.

  "Knock the shit off ‘a your boots before you come in my kitchen," his mother called without taking her eyes off of the sauce.

  Jamie, Dalton, and Wes retreated slightly, toed out of their boots, and then headed Ford's way.

  Jamie slapped him on the back, laughing. "You're a dog, man, but damn, I guess you showed Meritt."

  "What are you talking about?" Ford demanded. There was nothing like the sensation that you were watching your own life through some kind of old television set without an antenna. Things kept happening around him, to him even, but he see
med to always be the last one to figure shit out.

  Wes's smirk was a duplicate of Jamie's. "Are you seriously gonna lie to us about last night? Come on now."

  Last night? Ford's mind instantly filled with thoughts of Callie—the sheet marks that had marred her pretty features that said she'd slept well. The soft swish of her long skirt. Her worry over what she might have done with him. The way he wanted to take care of her. None of it made any sense at all, but he was too worn to have much control over his own thoughts. "And I repeat—what the hell are you talking about?"

  "Would you three leave him be," his mother demanded. Jesus, that's just what he needed—his mother coming to his defense against his baby brothers.

  "We're just proud of him, Mama." Dalton laughed.

  "What the hell for?" Ford was growing weary of never knowing what the fuck was going on in his own life.

  "Callie Monroe," Jamie spoke through his teeth now, but Sara Holder could hear one of her boys trying to hide something from her four thousand acres away. The distance of the expansive kitchen wasn't going to throw her.

  "Callie?" His mother puzzled for a moment. "Are you talking about Abe Monroe's little girl?"

  "From what I heard, she ain't so little anymore, Mama," Wes chuckled.

  Ford rolled his eyes, but realization wound its way around his chest and made it difficult to breathe. He'd been certain word would get around town that he'd taken Callie home last night, but if all three of his brothers had already heard, the rumor mills were clearly running at full steam. He shook his head. "She had a rough night. I was just helping her out. I barely know her. Nothing happened," he vowed but couldn't quite ignore the hint of regret that tugged at him.

  Jamie gestured his head towards their mother in an effort to get the rest of their trio to shut up, as if she was the reason Ford wasn't spilling details on his night. He wondered for a moment where their little sister, Halle, was. She was the only person he knew who could get all of her big brothers to shut the fuck up. If his own brothers didn't believe he and Callie hadn't slept together, he had no hope of convincing the entire town. And some devious part of him couldn't quite help but wonder if it would bother Meritt, if it might hurt her the way she'd hurt him. He shook that off. He did not want to be that guy.

  He and Meritt were over, and he didn't want to hurt her, not really. He just wanted to be done with her. He wanted the vicious memories to give him peace. Besides, he didn't want Callie to have anything to do with his ex, even in his own mind.

  Before he could futilely attempt to convince his brothers of anything, his daddy and Dale Miller made their way into the kitchen. Since talking to his father was the purpose of his visit, Ford hoped he could get rid of Dale quickly.

  "Ford, how are you doing today?" Dale gave him that same polite but doleful smile that made Ford want to drive his fist through a wall.

  "I'm fine," Ford insisted and didn't spare his lawyer his glare.

  "Good. Good. Takes some time, of course."

  "Dad, can I talk to you for a sec?" Ford's tone was more of a demand than a request, but he knew everyone in the room would let him get away with it. At least pity was occasionally useful.

  "Sure, son," Barrett Holder nodded. "Can I get some coffee first or is this urgent?" His father, at least, managed to keep his sorrow to himself for the most part. He treated Ford just like he always had.

  His mother shook her head. "You go on and talk to Ford. I'll bring your coffee in there in just a minute."

  Dale offered the family a wave. "Barrett, I'll check on that lien, but I doubt it will slow up the purchase. They appreciate you buying the parcel off of them. They're anxious to get the papers signed."

  His father gave a weary nod. "Well, I'm anxious to get cattle on the grass out there. I've got a shipment of steers heading in next week. Sara gets a little ornery when I have to put them in our yard."

  Ford's mother gave them a quick grin. "Not that it's ever stopped you."

  Everyone in the kitchen chuckled at that.

  "That's because I married well." Barrett cringed at his own statement, and Ford fought not to beat his head against his mother's butcher-block countertops. Now even his father was walking on eggshells around him. Great.

  "Anyway," Barrett cleared his throat, "having a mutual goal generally makes things easier. Thanks for stopping by."

  "Nice to see all of you." Dale headed out the kitchen door.

  Chapter Nine

  Callie stumbled a few steps back. Tension knotted in her neck and throbbed in her head again, though she was fairly certain it had nothing to do with her hangover. "Dad. Uh...hey."

  "Nice of you to come see me," he huffed. "I had to hear from Windell that my own daughter was back in town."

  Windell was her father's best friend. He annoyed Callie almost as much as her daddy.

  "I'm sorry," she winced at her own lie. "It was kind of a last-minute decision to come back here. I'm waiting to hear about an internship in New York, and I...wanted to see you." The saliva in her mouth took on the distinct flavor of battery acid as she continued to spew forth lies in an effort to please her father.

  "What kind of internship?"

  "Photography." Callie had no idea why she was suddenly, stupidly hopeful that her father might show some kind of interest in her work. He never had before. She'd been telling herself for years that she didn't need his approval. She didn't need him at all. Yet some ridiculous part of her still sought out the praise she knew was never coming.

  Abe helped himself to a seat at her nana's kitchen table. "People take their own pictures now. Didn't you hear? Everyone has a camera in their pocket. Even if you'd tried to call to tell me, I probably wouldn't have gotten it. Stupid cell phone company. I swear I don't know where they find their techs. I spent two hours arguing with them last week because they bundled my cable and cell bill. Cable went out and they expected me to wait for some idiot service tech to come out here and get it fixed. When I told them they didn't have brains enough to get out of the rain, and that they could just cancel my cable and I'd go with somebody else they said I couldn't because then my cell would also be turned off. I swear, this is what we get when we let dumbass kids run companies. Like I've got time to deal with stupidity like that. Some of us actually have to work to make a living."

  "How long did they want you to wait on the tech?" Callie asked tentatively.

  "I don't know. They wanted me to be home between eight and twelve or something. If one of my clients has a problem with my work, then guess what I do. I get off my ass and go out and fix it right then."

  Callie's father had tried on several ventures for size throughout her life, none of which ever panned out quite the way he thought they would. According to her father, his businesses always failed due to someone else’s stupidity. She wasn't certain whom his clients actually were this time, and she didn't care enough to ask. As far as she could remember, money had always been much shorter than his lengthy list of ideas on how to make it.

  "Delphia, how about some eggs?" Abe demanded.

  Her grandmother gave him a weary nod and put butter in a skillet. Callie ground her teeth. She needed to get rid of him so she could soothe the rough scrape his presence always left behind. That had been her purpose for as long as she could remember. She would go along behind her father and try to ease the strain he always dumped on the people he interacted with. She tried to make everything better. She also needed him to go so she could get back to thinking about Ford. "So...uh you said something about clients. I thought you were working at the power plant."

  "I am, but Windell and I also have our own startup. We were talking one night about funny stuff we say all the time and decided to put a few of them on T-shirts. We haven't quite figured out the inventory system yet, but we're getting there."

  "But you already have clients who already have problems with your T-shirts?" Surely, he knew how insane that sounded.

  He rolled his eyes. "This is what I get for letting your mother
keep you in public school. Where did you even come up with that question? Did you leave the contents of your head out there in LA or something? And what happened to Derrick? He seemed like a nice guy."

  Just like every conversation she'd ever had with her father, he left her uncertain which question to answer and what the correct response might be that would prove that she wasn't stupid. "But you just said...the thing about the cable company," she huffed. "And Derrick and I are breaking up."

  Her father wasted no time giving her an incredulous look. "God, you are just like your mother."

  No one in the kitchen was under any impression that he was being complimentary. Every time Callie had to endure her father she always came away from the experience drained, and yet she never seemed able to place her finger on the exact puncture where he managed to siphon out her peace.

  Chapter Ten

  As Ford's father settled in the worn leather chair behind his desk, he gave his son a consoling grin. "I came by your house last evening. Thought we might go out to Odell and have some supper. Since you weren't home, I'm hoping you weren't sitting in Rusty’s trying to drink away Meritt."

  The pent-up air in Ford's lungs came out in a huff. "I was at the bar, but I wasn't drinking much. You don't have to keep checking on me. I'll be fine."

  "Son, your mother and I are well aware that you're all grown up. That doesn't make watching one of your kids hurt any less awful. You don't have to handle this all on your own. We'd like to help."

  "Then stop treating me like I'm on suicide watch." The words leapt from his tongue without his permission. He cringed. "Sorry. I...didn't mean it quite like that."

  Barrett chuckled. "I suspect you did. All right, I'll try to stop worrying about you so much. Since you called this meeting, what can I do for you instead of worrying?"

  Ford cleared his throat and tried to quickly determine the best way to get the information he needed without having to give too much away. "I was just wondering what you could tell me about Abe Monroe."