by Liz Isaacson
“It’s not peanut.” Tess took the jar and twisted off the lid. “It smells fantastic.”
“Cashews,” Paige said, following Tess into the kitchen. “I read about it online. Supposed to be killer with strawberry-rhubarb jam.”
“And I have some of that because your mom makes it every year.” Tess set the jar on the counter and turned to embrace her friend. “Thank you, Paige.” She held onto her tightly, hoping to convey how much their friendship meant to her.
“What’s wrong?” Paige asked. She pulled back, kept a grip on Tess’s shoulders, and peered into her face.
Tess’s eyes watered, but she brushed at the tears. “Everything will be fine.”
“But it’s not right now. Tell me all about it.” She hooked her arm through Tess’s and gently led her out to her waiting sedan.
Tess didn’t know where to start. She didn’t have anything conclusive to go on with her cancer, so she decided to start with Walker.
By the time she arrived in Evanston, Tess’s muscles needed to stand, stretch, move. Something inside her seethed, and she knew exactly what it was. She should’ve told Walker about her health concerns. She should’ve called her parents. They’d pray for her, alert her sisters, put her name on a community prayer roll. Walker would probably make sure to be there to pick up the boys after school, have dinner ready for her when she returned, all of it.
Or maybe that was her imagination running wild. But perhaps Walker would be waiting at her house with a platter of tacos as high as the Rocky Mountains. Just because he wanted to be smart about their relationship didn’t mean he wanted to end it. Or even slow it down.
She pulled out her phone to make a few calls and realized she was five minutes late. She fired off a fast text to her mother as she hurried into the oncology building. She could call Walker afterward. She missed the sound of his voice, the steadiness he’d introduced into her life with the simple act of holding her hand and texting her before he went to bed.
A blast of air conditioning hit her as hard as the realization that she’d started to fall for Walker Thompson. She needed to call him now.
“Tess.” The receptionist hurried toward her, a broad smile on her face.
“Nancy.” Tess melted into the older woman’s embrace and breathed in the familiar scent of roses and powder.
She held her at arm’s length. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, good.”
Nancy pursed her lips. “Why are you here then?”
“I just had a feeling I should come,” Tess said. “And I’ve learned not to ignore those feelings.” She stepped with Nancy to the check-in desk and leaned against it. Her phone felt like a brick in her pocket, but she ignored it when it buzzed. It would be her mother, and Tess couldn’t talk right now.
“He’s ready for you,” Nancy clicked a couple of times on the computer and glanced toward the nurse standing there with a thick folder in his hand. “Good to see you again, Tess.” She gave her such a fond look, Tess was reminded of how many people influenced her life. She’d tried to distance herself all these years—a mistake she realized.
“I need to call my mom first,” Tess said. “Is that okay? She called right when I stepped through the door.”
“No problem.” Nancy nodded at the nurse, who smiled and went back down the hall.
She hurried outside and dialed her mom back. “Honey.”
Tess’s emotion lodged in her throat. “Mom.”
“You’re at the oncologist again? I thought your scans from a few months ago were clear.”
Though the sun beat down on the cement, a chill snaked down Tess’s spine. “They were. I’ve just been feeling a little bit off.”
“You’re smart to go in.”
“I’m already late, but I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“How’s Graham?”
“He’s fine. I didn’t tell him I was coming today.”
Her mother sighed, and Tess imagined her mother’s blonde hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. It was just after eleven o’clock, which meant her mom had probably already completed her morning workout. She’d be wearing her yoga pants and tank top in either bright purple, teal, or yellow—her mother’s favorite colors. Her bright blue eyes would harbor concern, and her voice held love as she said, “Of course you didn’t.”
“I didn’t want to worry him. He’s seven. He shouldn’t have to deal with grown-up things.”
“I’m glad you called me. I’ll tell your father and I’m sure Mindy and Jami will want to know.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
A half a beat of silence sounded. “What else is bothering you?”
Even though Tess was a mother, she wasn’t sure how her mom knew about more than Tess had said, especially over a phone line. She supposed she would pick up the skill with every year she spent with Graham, and she’d come to the doctor today so she could ensure she had as long as possible with him.
“I started seeing someone,” Tess said.
“No….” The shock in her mother’s voice made Tess laugh.
“Is it that hard to believe?”
“Honestly, Tess, yes. You left Salt Lake in order to—”
Tess knew what her mother was going to say. The argument was old, and no matter how many times it was discussed, their points of view had never aligned. “In order to have my own life,” Tess said. “It had nothing to do with running away, with hiding from myself, with living alone forever.”
Her mom cleared her throat. “So who is he?”
“He’s the foreman at a horse ranch here in Brush Creek. His name’s Walker Thompson.”
“Walker Thompson.”
Tess liked the way her mother rolled his name around in her mouth. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Call me tonight. I want to know what the doctor says and more about this Walker.”
Tess smiled into the sunshine, a measure of peace infusing her soul. She hadn’t really been living her life alone in Brush Creek. She had friends, confidantes, her son. But she hadn’t exactly made it easy for her parents to be involved with any of that. Hadn’t really let anyone in past her core group of ladies. She didn’t even hang out with the other moms when she took Graham to the park, and she didn’t feel bad about it.
Though she was late, she took a few precious seconds to send a text to Walker. Missing you today. Want to grab pizza and eat at my place tonight?
Then she wouldn't have to cook. Not that she was using Walker to solve her dietary needs. She wanted to see him too. Tell him about her appointment and how she was feeling. Find out where he was emotionally.
He didn’t answer, and she turned around to attend her appointment. After all, she couldn’t keep the doctor waiting all day just so she could see if her boyfriend would bring her dinner.
Her mind tripped over the word boyfriend, but she grasped onto it and held it close. Maybe she was old-school. Maybe she was just old. But in her earlier dating days, if she was only seeing one man, holding only his hand, and dreaming about kissing him, he was her boyfriend.
Walker definitely fell into that category, and Tess was very happy about that.
Chapter Eleven
Walker arrived at Tess’s house a few minutes before six. Her car sat in the driveway; the breeze rustled the leaves on the two birch trees in her front yard. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked. The whole scene seemed idyllic, and Walker wondered what he’d been worried about. Was he being smart or simply practicing self-preservation?
He’d felt himself going all-in with Tess, and it scared him. Had he used Michael to regain some distance, get the time he needed to figure out how he felt? Maybe.
Definitely, he thought, and a healthy dose of shame flowed through him.
He reached for the pizzas he’d picked up and left his negative thoughts in his truck in favor of eating and spending time with the people he wanted to be with.
The front door opened before his foot had touched the
first step, and Tess appeared. She met him at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath. “Mmm. C’mon in.”
He followed her, every nerve in his body firing on extra cylinders. He wasn’t sure what he’d been so afraid of. A petite, blonde woman?
He realized as he pushed the door closed with his boot that he was actually afraid of losing the petite, blonde woman. And if he never had her, he didn’t have to lose her.
“I got one cheese and one combination,” he said. “I don’t know what Graham likes, but Michael is pretty picky about toppings.”
“Cheese is perfect.” She moved to the back door and called for the boys to come in.
Graham appeared first and he scanned Walker. “Did you bring your dogs?”
“No, sir,” Walker said, throwing a smile at the boy as his face fell. “I will next time.”
Michael appeared, and Walker set the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and gave his son a hug. “Hey, how was school?”
“Okay,” Michael said, squirming way from Walker. “Soccer practice was awesome. I’m going to play midfielder, because the coach says I’m a great runner.”
Walker smiled at the pride in his son’s voice and said, “That’s great, Michael. Your mom—” He cut himself off as if he’d just used a horrible M-word. He blinked and looked at Tess before finishing with, “Your mom ran track in college. She was a great runner.”
Michael’s head seemed to swell four sizes as he sat on the barstool next to Graham.
“What are you playing?” he asked Graham.
“Defender.” He didn’t seem too happy about it, but Tess distracted him with food and soda.
Walker picked up a paper plate and handed it to Michael. He could get his own food and pour his own soda. The hint was taken, and Walker picked up three slices of combination pizza and grabbed a can of cola. Michael copied him, taking only cheese pizza and snatching a lemonade before resuming his seat at the bar.
“We’re eating on the picnic table,” Tess said, heading toward the back door. Walker expected the boys to follow them, but they didn’t. He set his food on the table and caught Tess before she sat down.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I liked your text today.” He smiled at her and leaned down. She received his kiss with eagerness, in his opinion, and he took his time exploring her lips, tasting her mouth.
“Mmm.” He finally forced himself to pull away, and she tucked herself against his chest.
“I texted you from Evanston,” she said, setting all of Walker’s internal alarms to wailing.
He thought he did a pretty good job maintaining his composure, especially when he asked, “Oh, yeah?” in a normal tone.
“I went and had all my tests done again.” She shifted out of his embrace and sat at the picnic table. She waited until he positioned himself across from her, but eating was the farthest thing from his mind.
“I’ve been feeling a little off,” she said. “So I thought I’d go in.”
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll know by Monday.” She picked up her slice of pizza. “I wanted to talk to you about something else too.”
“All right.”
“Are you going to eat?”
“Are you going to start talking now?”
She smiled at him, but the gesture felt shy and fearful. “Have you thought about having more kids?”
Walker startled. Sure, he knew Tess. They’d been friends for years. But they’d only been dating for a short time, and most of the major life discussions hadn’t crossed the table yet. He picked up a piece of pizza and took a big bite. He chewed as he tried to figure out the answer she wanted to hear.
In the end, he gave the answer from his heart. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I like kids, and I wouldn’t mind having more.” Whether she was ready to hear that or not, and whether Walker was ready to admit it, he began imagining what their daughter would look like. He’d seen pictures of Tess’s first husband, and he was blonde and blue-eyed like her. What would a child with his DNA and Tess’s look like?
She nodded, a wobble in her chin. “I can’t have kids,” she said point-blank. “I don’t have the right parts anymore.”
Walker abandoned his food and rounded the table. He slid onto the bench next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s not a deal-breaker.”
She tilted her head back and gazed at him, her gray-blue eyes stormy yet hopeful at the same time. “It’s not?”
“Tess.” He traced his thumb over her cheekbone. “If we’re meant to be together, things will work out.”
She nodded. “Sometimes I hate how much faith it takes just to make it through the day.” She laughed quietly, but it held more bitterness than happiness. “Would it be so hard to just let us know what will happen?”
Walker squeezed her. “I hear you, beautiful.” He gazed into the distance, his feelings mirroring hers. “I hear you.”
Over the course of the next month, Walker thought a lot about what Tess had told him. Her tests had all come back clear, and that made him sleep easier. Not being able to have more kids didn’t bother him as much as he’d originally thought it would. He had Michael, and she had Graham, and they could be a family together just fine.
No, what needled at his mind was her statement about faith. It did require a lot of effort to live each day in the right way. He wasn’t sure if he should hold her hand more or less. Which was smarter? Kiss her longer or let her go? Talk to Michael again or wait for him to bring up the topic?
Walker didn’t know about any of it. He wanted to be smart with the relationship, because he wasn’t interested in losing his heart to Tess only to have it shattered. And he wouldn’t do anything that would harm Michael.
He’d prayed to know what was right, but God had been pretty off-hands about the whole thing. He’d taken to playing the piano every evening after picking up Michael. He sang the lyrics he knew and lost himself in the music if he didn’t.
One morning in the middle of October, he woke with the song Homeward Bound in his mind. He couldn’t shake it during his shower, and even after he’d had two cups of coffee, the tune lingered in his mind. The wind howled outside his window, and he knew if he ignored the song in his mind, it would haunt him all day.
So after waking Michael and putting him in the shower, Walker sat at the piano and began to play the song he’d last played at his wife’s funeral. He hadn’t played it in five years, but his fingers knew exactly where to land, and the lyrics flowed through his throat with ease.
“In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed….”
He finished the song and found Michael leaning against the piano. Walker hadn’t seen him arrive, and their eyes met. “That was your mom’s favorite song,” he said. “I played it at her funeral.”
“What does it mean?”
Walker sighed and lowered the cover over the piano keys. He leaned his elbows on the hard surface. “It means we have to trust that God knows what He’s doing. He calls some people home, and allows others to stay. He has a plan, and we have to have enough faith to follow that plan.”
Michael nodded like he understood. Walker barely understood. Sure, the words sounded pretty, and deep down, he knew they were true. But actually living them was much harder than just saying them.
“Dad?” Michael shuffled his feet, and Walker blinked to focus his vision.
“Yeah?”
Tears filled his son’s eyes, causing Walker’s heart to collapse on itself. “What’s wrong, bud?”
He sniffled and let his big alligator tears drip from his chin. “I got in trouble at school,” he blurted. “I need you to come meet with my teacher this morning, or I can’t go to school.”
Shock zipped through Walker with the speed and heat of lightning. “What happened?”
“It wasn’t my fault, but Miss Triplehorn said she still needs to talk to you.”
“Why didn’t she call?”
M
ichael shrugged. “She said she would.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened.” Walker leaned away from the piano and folded his arms, trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Michael had never gotten in trouble at school before. He’d started kindergarten in Brush Creek, and had been at the same school ever since. He’d never gotten a bad report card, and he was bright and helpful. At least all of his other teachers had said so.
“I hit a boy,” Michael mumbled.
Walker’s stomach plummeted to his boots. “Like, with your fist?” His eyebrows rose, as did the pitch of his voice.
“Sort of.”
“How do you ‘sort of’ hit someone?”
“He said my mom died because she didn’t want to be around me.” Michael raised his chin and stared defiantly into Walker’s face.
Walker forgot how to breathe. “He said that? Michael, you know that’s not true, right? Mom was in a car accident. She loved you.”
“I know.” Michael’s beautiful eyes shone like sunlight off still water. “When I said that, he shoved me. I—I.” He swallowed. “Miss Triplehorn just wants to talk to you.” He sniffed and wiped his face. “Can we go?”
Walker rose from the piano bench and gathered his son into a tight embrace. “Sure, bud. Let’s go.” His stomach writhed on the way down the canyon, squirmed at the gorgeous sight of Tess leaned up against the column of her house, tightened as his cowboy boots met the tile inside the elementary school doors.
“Go on outside,” he told the boys and he adjusted his cowboy hat as he ducked into the front office.
“Can I help you?” The secretary in front of him half-rose from her seat. “Oh, hello, Walker.”
“Judy.” She sang soprano in the church choir, and she’d tried unsuccessfully to get Walker to join. Her husband was a co-owner at the hardware store, and Walker knew Jim well. “I guess I’m supposed to meet with Miss Triplehorn this morning.”
“Let me call down to her room.”
Walker turned away from the front desk, and Judy said a few seconds later, “You can go on down. She’s in two-oh-four. Third door on the right.”
