“Hmm?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Oh, man. That alone was worth the drive. “Me too.”
She kissed his cheek and reentered the room.
At the nurses’ main desk, he leaned against the counter, waiting for the nurse to finish her phone call. Vaughn, dressed in his work uniform, walked down the hall from the direction of the elevators, his expression solemn.
Kellan worked hard to mask his surprise. “Hey.”
“How are they?”
“I’m waiting to tell the nurse they’re ready to turn off the machines.”
“Shit.”
“Tell me about it.”
Vaughn motioned to Kellan’s chest. “Your shirt’s all wet.”
Kellan looked down at the splotches. “Amy,” he offered as explanation.
Vaughn nodded and leaned on the counter next to Kellan. “You’re not going to stay away from her, are you?”
“I have feelings for her, Vaughn.”
“All the more reason to cool things off until your job as a witness against Amarex is over.”
“Relationships don’t work that way.” That much he’d figured out, thanks to Amy. “You can support me or not, I don’t care. I’m going to do what I have to do.”
“All right, all right. I get it.”
The nurse turned to him and he relayed Amy’s message. She nodded and walked toward Bethany’s room. Vaughn and Kellan trailed behind.
They stopped in the hall outside the room. “I know you get it,” Kellan said. “Because you’re in the same boat.”
Vaughn’s expression was blade sharp. “Don’t start with me. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”
“Sure you do.” He nodded toward the door. “Those Sorentino sisters, they really are extraordinary.”
Vaughn fiddled with the knobs on his walkie-talkie. “Yes, they are.”
A single, muffled cry filtered out from the room. Both men’s heads shot up. Kellan looked through the window and saw Amy, Rachel, and Jenna embracing. The nurse flitted around, removing tubes, powering down the equipment. Vaughn and Kellan stood in heavy silence, watching.
After a few minutes, Douglas Dixon appeared at Kellan’s elbow, a cup of coffee in hand.
“Douglas, what are you doing here?”
“I drove the sisters in. None of them felt up to driving, bless their hearts.”
Kellan offered him a hand to shake. “Thank you for taking care of them.”
Douglas shook his hand. “Glad to help, after everything they’ve done for me. Hard workers with hearts of gold, those girls are.” He shook Vaughn’s hand. “Sheriff Cooper, sorry to see you under such unfortunate circumstances. I didn’t realize you were a friend of the family.”
Kellan held his breath for Vaughn’s response, but he simply said, “Yes, sir.”
“Since you’re here, how about you drive them home?” he asked Kellan. “I’ll get back to their place and open it up, put some food in the oven, and tend to the livestock so they don’t have anything to worry about tonight.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled with awareness, like maybe he had some idea of Kellan and Amy’s relationship. With the Catcher Creek gossip circuit, there was no telling what Douglas knew. “Thank you. I’ll give you a hand with the livestock as soon as we get there.”
A good long while after Douglas left, the door opened. Jenna filed out first. She walked straight to Kellan and threw her arms around him, which caught him off guard. He hugged her back. Then she moved on down the hall, as though she might need some time alone.
Amy was next out of the door. Kellan gathered her in his arms and tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry,” he soothed. She melted into him. Kellan stroked the side of her face, collecting fallen tears.
Rachel was the last person from the room.
Vaughn stepped forward. “Rachel.”
She regarded him with weary eyes that were dry without any trace of red or puffiness. Vaughn reached out. She stared, blinking, at their joined hands. Seconds passed. Kellan tensed, waiting. For the first time, he could sort of picture the two as a couple.
Rachel’s eyes closed. Her thumb stroked the back of Vaughn’s hand. He took a step nearer and she opened her eyes. Shaking out of his grasp, she walked away.
“Rachel, please,” he called.
She swatted the air with her open hand as she walked. “Go away, Vaughn. Just . . . don’t.”
His hands fisted at his sides, Vaughn watched her until she disappeared around a corner. With a scathing look at Kellan, he strode in the opposite direction, toward the elevators.
“Why was Sheriff Cooper here?” Amy said.
“Same as me. He wanted to make sure you and your sisters were all right.”
She sniffled. “I don’t even know what all right means anymore.”
He tightened his embrace. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Chapter 16
Amy slipped into the church sanctuary through a side door and took a seat in the second pew from the front, successfully avoiding eye contact with anyone. Which was saying something because, with Christmas three days away, the sanctuary was packed with visiting relatives and grown children who’d flown in to spend the holidays with their families. She felt their prying eyes on her, almost wishing she’d cause a scene and give them something to talk about at their Sunday dinners. Maybe she would, but she no longer cared.
She busied herself flipping through her grandmother’s Bible in search of the passages referenced in the worship program as she waited for the service to begin. Neither of her sisters had been interested in attending that morning, but Amy could think of no better place to lay her troubles down than at church. They’d agreed not to hold a public memorial for their mom, knowing how few people would attend, but Amy still wanted to pray for Mom’s soul within the hallowed walls of the church her family had belonged to for three generations.
Nearby movement caught her eye and she glanced up. Kellan. With a grim smile, he dropped onto the pew next to her. Lisa Binderman scooted around Amy, squeezing her knee as she went, and sat on her other side, followed by her daughter, Daisy, and her husband, Chris, who held their baby boy. Sheriff Cooper took a seat next to Kellan.
“Good morning,” Kellan said, brushing a kiss on her cheek.
She still hadn’t decided how she felt about him, other than gratitude that he’d provided her a solid shoulder to lean on. They hadn’t discussed their argument, or the Amarex lawsuit. Mostly, he’d been a quiet, strong presence around her house, arriving daily with bundles of celery and little gifts for Tommy, then taking over Sorentino Farm’s chores, along with two ranch hands he pulled from their duties at Slipping Rock.
He’d asked the day before if she was planning to attend church and offered to pick her up, but she declined as politely as she could. With her own set of wheels, she had the option to bolt at any time if her sadness became overwhelming. All things considered, though, she was doing okay and didn’t expect her emotions to suddenly run amok in the middle of the service, much to the disappointment of her fellow parishioners. After grieving the loss of her mom for nearly a year before her death, Amy was all cried out.
Lisa patted her shoulder. “How ya doin’?”
Amy nodded. Lisa had stopped by over the weekend to deliver a cheesy tuna casserole and had stayed to help with the laundry. Amy could easily see the two of them becoming fast friends over time. “I’m better every day.”
“Good.”
Kellan took her hand as Pastor Schueller assumed his place at the front of the room. She didn’t mind, even though so many of their issues were unsettled. He was still the heir to the company suing her family. He was still the man who lied to her about who he was. But she liked the feel of his hand over hers. Maybe Mr. Dixon was right. Maybe it didn’t matter who his family was. Maybe nothing mattered but the joy of feeling. Vivid, immediate feeling—good or bad, complicated or simple. Right now, she wanted to hold hi
s hand. They could hash out the details another day.
The organist paused and the service began. Amy settled into that old, comfortable routine, singing, praying, and listening to the pastor’s soothing cadence. She barely processed the sermon, a Christmas-themed lesson of rebirth and growth, but she relished the peace that settled in her bones as she sang from the same hymnal she’d used as a child, songs her grandmothers probably sang during their lives. She loved the sound of Kellan’s deep, slightly off-tune voice singing those same songs at her side.
Toward the end of the service, Pastor Schueller announced the prayer requests. Amy was prepared for this part, for she’d contacted him the day before, asking him to include her mom. When he said “Bethany Sorentino,” she cried anyway. Quiet, healing tears as she prayed along with the rest of the congregation for her mom’s soul. Kellan released her hand and slung his arm across her shoulders, holding her steady and offering her a tissue from his pocket.
“Are there any other prayer requests this morning?” Pastor Schueller asked the parishioners.
Kate Parrish, who’d been one of Amy’s closest friends in high school, stood. “I have one.”
Amy and Kate had lost touch almost immediately after graduation, not due to animosity, but because both had left town in pursuit of their dreams. Rejecting the idea of working at her parents’ feed and grain store, Kate had gone to some Ivy League school on an academic scholarship to prepare for her career in politics. Amy considered snagging her after church to set up a coffee date so they could catch up.
“I’d like to ask everyone to pray for my brother Carson. He was deployed to the Middle East last week.”
Kate’s younger brother Carson had been a friend of Jenna’s. Not a boyfriend, though plenty of people had speculated. Whatever their relationship, they’d gotten into a lot of trouble during high school together. So much so that both his parents and hers had forbidden them from hanging around together. Amy’s parents had breathed a sigh of relief when he enlisted in the Marines.
“We will definitely pray for Carson. Thank you, Kate,” the pastor said. “Any other prayers?”
In the rear of the sanctuary, a woman with bright orange, thinning hair and sallow cheeks stood. Kellan’s arm went stiff. Amy thought she heard him curse under his breath.
The woman gripped the jacket folded over her arm like a lifeline as she spoke in a thin, tremulous voice. “Could you pray for me? I’ve come to ask my son’s forgiveness. We haven’t spoken in five years and I could use the Lord’s guiding hand when we talk.”
Kellan let go of Amy. He scooted to the edge of his seat like he might stand. Or run. “No,” he whispered. Amy massaged his shoulder blade in an effort to soothe his agitation.
Pastor Schueller offered the woman a benevolent smile. “Of course we’ll pray for you. Tell me your name, dear?”
“Tina. And my son is Kellan. Kellan Reed. He’s sitting in the second row.”
Kellan’s head spun. His mouth went dry. His mother had interrupted church to call him out. She announced their private struggle to half the Catcher Creek population. Holy shit.
He didn’t remember standing, but suddenly Vaughn was in front of him, his hand on Kellan’s chest. “Keep it cool, K.”
“I have to get her out of here.”
Someone tugged on his arm. Amy. My God, Amy was watching this. Everyone was watching. He saw them whispering, but heard only the roar of air in his ears.
“Is this your son?” the preacher asked his mother, gesturing to Kellan.
“Yes, sir.”
“I can’t . . . I have to get her out of here,” Kellan muttered.
“Okay,” Vaughn said under his breath, “but keep it cool, calm.”
He couldn’t breathe. “Yeah.”
“What’s happening, Kellan?” Amy asked.
He glanced her way. No time to explain. He had to get his mother out of the building before the scene she caused exploded out of his control. He pushed Vaughn’s hand from his chest. “Out of my way.”
Vaughn moved to let him pass.
He walked, floating. The edges of his vision turned black, the walls of a tunnel through which he passed to reach his mother, standing across the aisle in the back row of the sanctuary, her arms open, beckoning, waiting to embrace him. Like he’d ever let that happen.
“My son, oh my son!” Her shrill voice echoed in the silence.
His ears burned. He took her wrist in his hand, gently but resolutely. “Come with me.”
She planted her feet on the floor. “No, Kellan. Don’t you see? The preacher is going to pray for us. We need all the help we can get to heal our bond.”
Their bond? What a load of crap. “We’ll discuss this privately. Let’s go.” He tugged her wrist.
She stomped her foot and jerked her wrist out of his hand. A child having a tantrum. “You can’t throw me out. I won’t let you.”
He tried to speak again but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, it was so dry. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. The situation had spiraled out of control too fast. All he knew was that he had to get them both out of the congregation’s judging eyes.
“Sit with me. We can pray together.” She reached for his hand, but he refused to relinquish the fist it had formed.
He stood, frozen, staring at the wall beyond her. The stained glass depicted Mary holding a crucified Jesus across her lap. The grieving, devoted mother, helpless to prevent her son’s suffering. It was a desecration that Tina Reed shared the title of mother with Mary.
“Son,” the preacher said. “Have a seat and we’ll pray for you and your mother.” His patronizing tone set Kellan’s teeth on edge. The preacher sounded like Morton, calling him son, like they had the right to tell him what to do. Rage sizzled through his chest like tendrils of fire.
An arm came to rest across his mother’s shoulders. Amy. Her posture was serene, as though she were impervious to the prying eyes of the witnesses. He blinked at her.
“There’s a prayer room off the fellowship hall,” Amy said in a low, firm voice. “Let’s pray in private. Pastor Schueller will understand. Tina, as a mother yourself, would you help me pray for my mom?”
“I would be honored,” she answered.
Amy turned her gaze on Kellan, and the strength radiating from her poured into him, dousing his anger, unsticking his feet from the floor. “Kellan, you can help us.” She cupped his fist with her hand and worked her thumb into his palm.
He nodded. “Good, let’s walk together.”
With her arm around his mother’s shoulders and her hand holding Kellan’s fist, she guided them out of the pew and through the swinging doors into the vestibule, commanding them with the sheer strength of her will through the sunny courtyard and into the fellowship hall.
The prayer room door shut with a click that shook Kellan from his trance. How dare his mother show up unannounced and create a public spectacle in his place of worship? He watched, sneering from against the closed door, his anger building again as Amy guided her to a seat. She looked much older than her fifty-eight years, with her hair thin enough to reveal her scalp and her skin hanging loose over her bones like an ill-fitting slipcover.
He waited for her to arrange herself in the chair before starting in on her. “How did you find me?”
“Kellan,” Amy warned from her seat next to his mother, like she expected him to be on his best behavior, even after the stunt his mother pulled. Yeah, he’d get right on that.
His mother crossed her legs at the knees and hugged herself. “This is a small town. I asked the cashier at the Quick Stand where you might be. Nice woman. Char Something. She said if you weren’t at your ranch, you’d be at First Methodist.” She shrugged. “This was closer. Figured I could get a ride from someone out to your place after the service.”
“You had no right to burst into my place of worship and make a public announcement about our private business. A phone call would’ve worked fine.”
“So yo
u could’ve left town before I got here?”
She was right. He would’ve avoided her at all costs, in person or over the phone. Embarrassing, that Amy was finding out what a coward he was. “Did you drive?”
“No. Can’t afford a car and insurance and all that junk. I took a bus from Florida.”
“Is Dad with you?”
She raised her chin a notch. “I left him. For good this time. Two weeks ago.”
Kellan dropped into the chair. “You . . . what? Bruce told me he was released from prison.”
“My brother, always with the half truths.” Her tone was exasperated. “He told you Declan got out of jail, but left out the part about me and him separating?”
“He didn’t mention it.” That son of a bitch. “Did you see Bruce when you passed through Texas?”
“Tried to. The bus doesn’t swing near his house, so we made arrangements to meet at a diner in Amarillo.” Her cheek twitched. “I guess he forgot because he never showed. I hopped on the next bus to New Mexico. And here I am.”
“Where’s your final destination?” Amy asked.
“Los Angeles.”
Kellan huffed. “Does Jake know? Or are you going to blindside him too?”
“He doesn’t know because I don’t have his phone number. Or an address. But I have to try to see him. It’s too important for me not to.”
The truth at last. “You’re going through the AA steps again, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And this time, it’s going to stick.”
Sure it was. “So you’re here to apologize to me. Again.”
Her eyes turned glassy with moisture. “For the hurt I’ve caused you, yes.”
Amy tutted and took his mother’s hand. “That sounds like a good first step toward healing your relationship.” She sounded like one of those therapists on talk radio that his office employees listened to while they worked, expounding bullshit generic truisms to down-on-their-luck callers, despite not having a complete picture of the callers’ troubles.
“It sounds that way, doesn’t it?” Kellan said, his tone harsher toward Amy than he would’ve liked. He couldn’t help it. “But you’re missing some information. This is Mom’s third time going through the steps. Her third apology. So it’s not like she’s making amends because of some deep-seated desire to repair our relationship. She’s only doing this because she’s reached that step in the AA program and she’s required to. Pardon me if I don’t put much stock in its signif icance.”
The Trouble With Cowboys Page 24
