Ford: 7 Brides for 7 Soldiers

by Samantha Chase

  “None of this would be mine. Not really. There’s no way to make anything here mine. Everyone will always see it as his company or their ranch.” He shook his head and motioned for the bartender to pay the tab. “I need to go.”

  “Ford, come on. Let’s talk about this a little more. I don’t think it’s as cut and dry as all this.”

  Throwing some bills down on the bar, he stood. “I just need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He turned to walk away but looked at Adam one more time. “Tell Jane I said hey and Merry Christmas.”

  And he was out the door.

  * * *

  It was almost ten and Callie was sitting in bed reading when she heard the knock on her door.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” she murmured as she climbed from the bed and pulled on her robe. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind who it was, but if he thought he was just going to show up here after walking out earlier and sweet talk her into bed, he was sorely mistaken.

  Yanking open the front door, she glared at Ford. He completely filled her doorway, but right now, she wasn’t impressed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never should have left like that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  He looked at her expectantly, but Callie wasn’t about to budge. “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  That must have taken him by surprise, because one dark brow rose. “Callie, there’s a lot going on that I need to explain to you.”

  Still she didn’t move to let him in. She was freezing, but she wasn’t letting him in. “So explain.”

  “Come on. Five minutes. Please.”

  “Fine. But only because I can’t feel my toes from the cold.” She stepped aside and then shut the door behind him. He didn’t sit down, but she did. “So?”

  “Look, all that talk about Christmas earlier had me thinking about some of the crap I’ve been dealing with. And not just since I got here, but for a long time. It all just came to the surface and I realized my biggest problem with all of this—coming back here for good—is that nothing is ever going to be mine. I spent my whole life with people judging me and thinking how easy my life was because of my family. I would talk about how I was going to be different because I didn’t want to be like them, but the bottom line is, I’m not. If I come back to Eagle’s Ridge and take over Garrison’s, then it’s over.”

  “Ford, that makes no sense.”

  “My grandfather started the company. He made it what it is, not me. The ranch? He built that, not me. The two biggest things in my life—the things that I’ll be judged on—were handed to me. I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve them other than being born into this family. And that just proves everyone right.”

  And for some reason, that just made her angry.

  All of it.

  “Do you even hear yourself?” she cried. “Poor you, you were born into a successful family and they want to give you things to make your life easier. Boo-hoo! Do you have any idea how much my mom and I struggled because there was no one to help us? And you have the nerve to stand here and complain because you’re being helped too much? Seriously?”

  “Um…”

  “I don’t even know what to say to you right now!” She began to pace, and he said her name but she didn’t want to hear anything else from him. “I was wrong, I do know what to say.” She stopped a few feet away from him. “Did you know that I’m the nineteenth kindergarten teacher at Eagle’s Ridge Elementary?”

  “Uh…no. No, I didn’t know that.”

  She nodded. “It’s true. And do you know that we are given a curriculum by the Board of Education that we have to follow?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t know that either. Callie, what I’m trying to say is—”

  Holding up her hand, she stopped him. “Every kindergarten teacher in the state gets that curriculum, and do you know what we do with it?”

  “Um…teach with it?” he said nervously.

  “We put our own creative stamp on it,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. “The base of everything we need is given to us, and then it’s up to us how we implement it. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  He stared at her blankly.

  Ugh…were all men this thickheaded? “Ford, take your grandfather’s business to the next level! Garrison’s has been doing the same thing for so damn long—building the same houses—that they’re not special anymore. Take the ranch and turn it into the house you want it to be! You have so many options at your fingertips and you don’t even realize it!”

  She saw the instant the lightbulb went on for him.

  “It’s not that easy,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I need time to think about it and figure out how I can do that and…I don’t know! It scares me, okay?”

  For a minute, she felt a little bit bad for him. “I’m sure it’s scary, Ford. And it’s a lot for you to deal with. But it’s all been there right in front of you for a long time. Now you have to figure out what you really want.”

  His expression looked sad, almost bleak. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Callie. Especially you.”

  And that’s when she knew which way he was leaning.

  He wasn’t going to stay. He couldn’t allow himself to do it, no matter what.

  She swallowed hard and nodded, unsure of what she was supposed to say to him or how she should respond.

  “I should go,” he said quietly, and began to walk toward the door.

  She knew she had to say something. She may never get the chance again and she knew if she stayed quiet, she would regret it.

  Possibly forever.

  “When I was a little girl, I had a crush on you,” she blurted out. Ford stopped and turned to look at her. “When I was a teenager, I used to watch you play baseball and I realized I still had a crush on you. Then you showed up in my bed one night and in the light of day, I realized that all these years later, I stupidly still did.”

  “Callie—”

  “These last few weeks have meant the world to me, and tonight, after you left, I thought about all of the things we’ve said and done and…” She let out a nervous breath. “And I don’t have a crush on you. Not anymore. What I feel for you now is so much more, Ford.”

  Taking a step toward him, she went on. “I love the time we spend together whether we’re talking or having dinner or…making love,” she added with a bit of a blush. “I know that you have to do what’s best for you, but I didn’t want you to leave here without knowing how I felt.” And then she took a steadying breath and slowly let it out. “I’m in love with you, Ford Garrison. And I’m not saying that to make you stay, I’m saying it…because I want you to know that I understand you, and I understand why you need to leave.”

  She swallowed hard and willed herself not to cry. “You’ve had so much pressure on you to stay from the people who love you, so I need to be the person who loves you enough to let you go. Go and be happy. Wherever that may be.”

  And before she embarrassed herself even more, Callie turned and walked to her bedroom and shut the door.

  Five minutes later, she heard the front door open and close.

  * * *

  The next morning, Ford was up before dawn and walked around the house. All of the major work was done or almost done. With a few calls, he could have extra hands on site and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he could have it all taken care of before Christmas. After that, it was cosmetic—paint touchups, cleaning, and then a decorator would come in and stage the place for his parents to get ready to sell. Most of his grandmother’s things had been packed up and put into storage other than the few pieces of furniture he was using, so…

  He looked down at his duffle bag. This was it. This was the day he was always anxious for—the day he could leave. True, he hadn’t known until a few hours ago that that was what he was going to do, but after talking with Callie last night, he knew it was for the best. Maybe in time he could have done what she’d suggested
and made things his own, but right now, the thought of doing it was too overwhelming.

  And then there was Callie herself.

  Her admission to him last night took him by surprise, because he hadn’t allowed himself to think of their relationship as anything but temporary or at most, transitioning to something long-distance—and always casual.

  But he was lying to himself.

  There was nothing casual or temporary about his feelings for her—hadn’t been since the first moment he’d turned the light of his cell phone on her in the dark that first night. He’d taken one look at her and she’d captured a piece of his heart he never knew existed. She was someone who deserved so much more than he had to give, and if he stayed, he was just going to disappoint her like he kept disappointing everyone else he loved.

  Because yeah, he was falling in love with her too.

  It was fast and crazy and it went against the way Ford normally did anything, but it didn’t change the facts.

  Callie James had given him something he hadn’t felt. Ever.

  Hope and unconditional love.

  His grandparents—as much as he adored them—had expectations of him, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The fact that his grandfather left him Garrison’s proved that. And that didn’t make Ford angry or resentful, but it showed him that there was still a level of expectation there.

  But Callie? She didn’t ask anything of him. She never had. Every day she was there to talk to him and listen to him and if he wanted to stay, he could; if he wanted to leave, he could. And what had he given her in return?

  He shook his head. He hadn’t even had the consideration to get her something for Christmas. How crappy was that? So much of his life he’d spent thinking about himself and what he wanted, that he’d forgotten what it was like to take someone else’s wants and needs into consideration.

  With a cup of coffee in his hand, he sat down on the sofa and watched the sunrise through the wall of windows. He had no idea how long he’d sat there when he heard a knock on the front door. Jumping up, he hoped it was Callie, but…

  His father walked in.

  “Dad,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  His father looked every inch the professional realtor, even if it was only seven in the morning. He strolled in casually and looked at all of the work that had been done. “Wow,” he said quietly. “It looks so different in here.”

  “Yeah, well…with blank walls and no clutter, it really doesn’t look much like anything. It’s a clean slate.”

  Nodding, his father walked around some more, going from one room to the next until he was back in the living room with Ford. “Did you know that when I was ten, I moved into the guest cottage?”

  Ford laughed softly. “I don’t think I ever heard that story.”

  With a small shake of his head, he explained, “I never liked this house. It was always too rustic for me. I didn’t realize it until I started going to school and would go to my friends’ houses and saw how different this place was.” He looked at his son and nodded. “I’m the reason they built the guesthouse.”

  His eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me? Why? Why would they do that?”

  “Have you ever noticed just how different the guesthouse is from this one?”

  “I mean, I guess so. I just thought Gramps was going for something different.”

  Thomas shook his head. “No, that was for my benefit. You see, I’d made such a fuss about not liking this house that they thought building me something of my own would make me happy.”

  “And did it?”

  He shook his head again. “Not really. Although I did give it a go for about a week.” He shrugged. “Then I’d just stay there on the weekends.”

  The image made Ford laugh. “That’s a great story, Dad.”

  “My father was always trying to do things to make others happy, but he tended to miss the mark a lot of the time.”

  “Grams was telling me a similar story just the other day.”

  Sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, Thomas’ eyes landed on the duffle bag next to the sofa. “Leaving?”

  Damn. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this. “I think it’s for the best.”

  “I see.” He paused. “Were you going to stop by and say goodbye?”

  “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

  His father laughed quietly. “I never felt the connection to this place that you have, and yet I can’t seem to make myself move. Crazy, right?”

  Ford shrugged. “Who am I to say what’s crazy, Dad.”

  “Think about it—I disliked this house so much that my father built me another house at the age of ten. I went away to college at eighteen and could have gone anyplace in the world and yet…I came back.”

  “How come? I mean…you didn’t have to.”

  “I know. But I love the familiarity of Eagle’s Ridge. I enjoy walking through town and seeing familiar faces everywhere I go. I just had to find the right place and the right person to live here with.”

  Ford was about to comment on his parents’ aloof relationship, but now wasn’t the time, and he didn’t think that was the direction his father was going in.

  “Then I look at you, and you’ve always had a connection to this place in particular. The ranch. You have friends here, people in town respect you, and yet you can’t seem to get out of here fast enough.”

  “No one here respects me, Dad. My whole life, I’ve heard how things are just handed to me because I’m a Garrison and related to the Westbrooks. Moving back here now would just prove them all right.”

  “So what?” his father stated. “What difference does it make? Most people in this town are here because of the work of their relatives and ancestors, and they’re taking what they were given and making it better. Making it their own. Look at what your cousin is doing with the airport. Look at what the Tucker brothers are doing with A To Z Watersports, or your friend Noah with the auto shop. Ford, places don’t stay the same forever. They need fresh ideas and the younger generation to come in and make it a place people want to come to. A place worth coming to.”

  They stood in companionable silence as his father walked over to the wall of windows and looked out at the property. Ford had no idea what to say. This was the last conversation he ever thought he’d have—and certainly not one he thought he’d have with his father.

  “I’m looking at some property on the edge of town. On the other side of Sentinel Bridge,” Thomas said as he continued to look out the window. “It’s about five acres, a lot of mature trees and a nice view of the river.”

  “O-kay…”

  “I’ve also been looking at nursing homes and assisted-living facilities for your grandmother.” He turned and looked over his shoulder at Ford. “They’re all pretty old and outdated. Not to mention a long way away from here.”

  Ford simply nodded.

  “I’d love to put a facility on that property. My mother loves this town, and I can’t possibly make her live out her years away from it. But I need to know she’s safe and being well cared for.”

  He swallowed hard. “You know she hates the idea of it, right? I mean, she wants to come home.”

  “She needs to get better first. She’s not as strong as she used to be, and this is going to take some time. I was thinking it would easily be three months before she can leave the hospital or the rehab facility. She’s fighting them every step of the way.”

  Ford chuckled. “Sounds like Grams.” Then he thought about what his father just said. “Wait…you’re going to do this? But…you don’t ever build anything. You sell real estate. Why this? Why now?”

  “I know you think that I don’t care about people and that I don’t love my family, but I do. The thought of your grandmother living someplace like some of those facilities just…I couldn’t. She’s still my mom.” He paused. “I’ve seen some of these places as I’ve been doing my research, and they have ones that look like small towns inside—yo
u know, where the hallways look like they’re lined with tiny cottages.” Then he chuckled. “Like the guest one.”

  And for the first time in his life, Ford saw tears in his father’s eyes, heard the emotion in his voice. “Dad, I…”

  With a sigh, Thomas stepped away from the window and faced him head on. “I know of another construction company that would like to buy Garrison’s if you’re interested.”

  Wow. This conversation had more twists and turns than a roller coaster, he thought.

  “The reason I bring it up is because I want to get things going on this property and facility, and I’m anxious to get the ball rolling.” He looked like he was about to say more but his phone beeped. He looked at it and then at Ford. “Call me when you get back to Virginia and let me know what you think. I have a meeting with an architect in thirty minutes. Have a safe trip home.” He walked over and shook his son’s hand and left.

  Eleven

  He didn’t have a safe flight.

  He didn’t have any flight.

  It took Ford fifteen minutes after his father left for several realities to hit him at once.

  The idea for an assisted-living facility like his father just described piqued his interest. Even though he hadn’t said more than a dozen words about it, Ford could picture it all so clearly in his mind and…he didn’t want someone else building it. He wanted to build it. He wanted to make it a home for his grandmother and her friends and whoever else was in a similar situation, where they had the option of living their last years in a place that felt like home for them. A place that wasn’t cold and sterile and impersonal. A place residents could still put their own stamp on.

  And speaking of a place residents could put their own stamp on…his apartment back east was small and void of any character. There were no built-in bookshelves or fireplaces or…a master bedroom suite on the second floor.

  He looked around the ranch from his spot in the living room and thought of all the upgrades he would do if this was his home. Everything here was fine for now—fine for some random buyer—but the thought of someone else putting books and knickknacks on these shelves bothered him so much, it almost hurt.