“Giselle, it’s Lindsay. May I please speak with Max?”
“Max, it’s Lindsay.”
After a brief pause filled with shuffling sounds, Max came on the line. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I was hoping you might decide to be decent for once and that a check for Noah’s football gear would be waiting for me when I got home from Montana last night, but I can’t say I’m surprised it wasn’t.”
“I’m not going to send money for something I don’t want him involved in. We’ve had this discussion, Lindsay.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do or don’t want him involved in. Maybe if you’d been more of a parent to this point, I might, but you haven’t, so I don’t. He wants to play football. The least you can do is provide the means for him to do it.”
“No.”
“Then do us all a favor and give up your parental rights.”
“Excuse me?”
Lindsay didn’t immediately answer, too stunned by what she’d said. Where had that come from? Half a second before she’d uttered the words, her father’s comment about Noah having two parents had popped into her head followed immediately by the conversation she’d had with Henry on their motorcycle ride. The conviction that she and Noah would be better off if Max had completely walked out of their lives returned stronger than ever.
She set her jaw. “You heard me. All you ever do is fight me over money and turn my son into a smart-mouthed brat, so it’s not like you’re actually a parent. Besides, we both know you never wanted him in the first place and that you would have been happy to walk away like you had no son. So why don’t you just do what you so obviously want to.”
“No.”
“Then cut me a goddamned check for—” Lindsay glanced up when her mother joined her in the kitchen. “Mom, how much was Noah’s football stuff?”
Debbie rattled off a price, and Lindsay repeated it to Max.
“And put the check in the mail first thing in the morning, or we may have to reevaluate our situation. With lawyers.”
She ended the call before Max could answer and met her mother’s surprised gaze head on with her arms folded across her chest and defiance in every muscle of her body.
“What got into you just now?”
Forcing herself to relax, Lindsay inhaled deeply and opened her mouth to answer, but Debbie cut her off.
“It’s this Henry Hammond you met, isn’t it? My, he seems to have had quite an impact on my girl… and a good one.”
“I guess he has.”
“Did I actually hear you tell Max he should give up parental rights to Noah?”
Lindsay nodded.
“Do you really think that’s best for Noah? A boy needs his father.”
“A boy needs a father, and yes, I do believe that having Max out of his life would be best for him. You know as well as I do that Max is a terrible influence on him. That snotty attitude he always comes home with when he visits Max won’t get him very far in life, and….” She stopped short of saying he’s already going to have a hard enough time starting out as poor as we are. When she spotted her son watching them with rounded eyes from the hallway, she tipped her head back and groaned. How much had he heard? She looked at him again, and his expression darkened. Too much.
“Noah,” she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that to your father. He just makes me so angry. It isn’t right that he doesn’t do more for you when he has the means to do so.”
For a long time, Noah didn’t answer, only stared off into space and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Lindsay prepared herself to endure shouted accusations and tearful pleas that she try to get along with his father.
“Is it true?”
Lindsay blinked at him. That wasn’t at all the response she expected, rendering her preparation useless. She sputtered for a moment, then asked, “Is what true?”
“That he never wanted me.”
She’d been avoiding this very question for years now because he hadn’t been old enough to understand and because she hadn’t yet figured out how she was going to tell him. She glanced at her mother for help, but Debbie only shrugged.
“I know you were really young when you had me,” he continued. “Did he want you to have an abortion or put me up for adoption?”
Rendered speechless by his startlingly mature questions, Lindsay could only nod.
“Which one was it?”
“Noah, this is not a conversation we need to have right now.”
“Which one was it, Mom?” he asked more firmly.
“Both.”
“But you said no. You wanted me.”
“Yes, I did. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t terrified, but I loved you from the moment I found out about you, and there was never any question in my mind about keeping you.”
In her son’s face, she watched a war play out between a young boy’s need for his mother’s comfort and a man’s anger at Max’s callousness. Lindsay leaned back against the island, afraid she’d end up on the floor if she didn’t. His need won the battle, and he quickly crossed the distance to her and threw his arms around her. She hugged him tightly and wished she had long ago asked Max to give up his rights instead of holding onto her adolescent fantasy that they could all be a family.
“I hate him,” she heard Noah mutter against her shoulder. “I always felt like I was a… a….”
“Hush now. Don’t hate him, baby,” she murmured. “He is your father even if he doesn’t always remember it, and he wouldn’t keep fighting if he didn’t love you.”
“But why does he have to fight at all?”
“I don’t know, Noah. But come on. Let’s not talk or think about this anymore today, okay? It doesn’t do any good. Besides, you know that I love you, right? And that Grandma and Grandpa love you, too.”
He nodded.
“Why don’t you show Grandma your new snazzy shoes while I bring out the goodies from Montana.”
“Oh, right! I forgot about those.”
So he had been too glad to see her to give her any grief while she dragged him from one store to the next. That made her feel somewhat better, though she regretted that he’d overheard her conversation with his father and hoped he wouldn’t dwell on it. One, he just didn’t need to think about it or worry over it, and two, God only knew how Max would use that as ammunition against her. Shoving that mess aside for the time being, she retrieved the gifts from their hiding place in her parents’ bedroom and brought them into the kitchen.
Noah was most excited about the crystals she and Henry had unearthed at Crystal Park, but their old-timey photographs were nearly as interesting to him. He thought the various candies were cool, too, and Lindsay made sure he understood they were from Henry, since the man had paid for them. He’d also tossed in a few other things for Noah without her awareness—a picture frame with footballs and helmets and a note saying for a picture of your first championship, a small box made of weathered barn wood in which Noah could keep his crystals, and an IOU for a horseback ride on the Lazy H Ranch. They were little things and inexpensive but thoughtful.
“The Lazy H Ranch? Is that Vince’s ranch?” Noah asked.
“No, it’s Henry’s family’s spread.”
“Who is Henry, and why would he send these home for me?”
“He’s a friend I made in Northstar—a friend of Vince and Evie’s.”
“A friend like Logan?”
The question was innocent, but Lindsay flinched. “No, not a friend like Logan. A real friend.”
Noah went back to sorting the crystals and admiring his goodies, and Lindsay picked up the photographs, more glad than ever that Henry had talked her into them. She should ask Skye if she’d taken any pictures of him or of them together at the wedding, and she smiled, hopeful.
“Is that him?” Debbie asked her quietly so Noah wouldn’t hear as she looked over her daughter’s shoulder at the photographs. “Oh, honey, he’s so handsome. And those eyes.”
>
Lindsay glanced at her mother, curious. “What about his eyes?”
“They’re kind and generous. He has an honest soul, that one.”
Tilting her head, she studied the image more closely. She’d thought it was her frankness that had invited Henry to be as candid as he had been with her, but now she decided he was always that sincere. Maybe he didn’t make a habit of telling everyone who’d listen his life story, but she believed he’d answer honestly if asked directly. “I think you’d like him, Mama.”
“Just from the way you talked about him, I figured I would, but seeing him… now I’m certain I would.” Debbie gazed at her daughter probingly. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet him one of these days?”
“Maybe so.”
Lindsay’s father was the cook of her parents, and since he wasn’t home yet, she decided to start dinner—chicken Parmesan, his favorite. Debbie helped as Lindsay needed her to but otherwise leaned against the daughter and talked about Lindsay’s trip and, when Noah headed into the living room to watch TV, about Henry and his family. It was wonderful to have something positive to think about after her conversations with Max and Noah, and before long, thoughts of Henry and the therapeutic, habitual motions she used as she cooked soothed away her anger and frustration and left her feeling almost as rested as she had before she’d left Northstar for Butte yesterday.
Her father arrived just as she was plating the meal and gave her a bear hug. She nearly dropped the two plates she was holding.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” Steve said. “Not only do I get to come home to an incredible meal after a long day of cooking for other people, I get to see my beautiful daughter smiling like the sun. It looks like Montana was good for you.”
“It was very good for me,” she replied.
Lindsay, her parents, and Noah gathered around the dining room table, something her parents did only when she and Noah were over—normally they ate on their laps in the living room while they watched the evening news. Her father asked her about her trip, but instead of feeling like a broken record having repeated the tales first to Noah while they were out shopping and then to her mother, she relished the opportunity to revisit Northstar and everyone who called the ranching community home. Her mother refused to let her do the dishes, but she stayed and talked with her parents until the kitchen and dining room were reset to pre-meal orderliness.
“All right, honey,” Debbie said, hanging the hand towel on the handle of the oven. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s probably time you head home. You have work tomorrow, and I’m sure you could use a few extra hours of rest, so we won’t keep you any longer. There will be plenty more time to talk tomorrow and the next day… and whenever. And something tells me the happiness you found in Montana isn’t going to fade any time soon, so you just wait to tell us the rest.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And tell that friend of yours hello for us the next time you talk to him. You will talk to him again, won’t you?”
“I’m supposed to call him when I get home.”
“In that case, we definitely won’t keep you any longer.”
Lindsay hugged her mother and whispered, “Thank you.”
Noah was quiet for most of the ride home. About a mile away, a scowl pinched his face, darkening the closer they came to home.
“What’s on your mind, bud?” she asked after she’d parked behind Chelsea’s car out by the curb.
“Spencer’s gonna steal all my stuff that you brought back from Montana.”
“I’m sure he’ll try, so how about you keep it in my room when you’re not using it?”
“I wish we didn’t have to live with him and his mom. I mean, Chelsea’s nice, but….”
“I know, bud. I wish we could have our own place, too.”
“How come we can’t stay with Grandma and Grandpa? They said we could.”
“They need their space. We have to keep making the best with what we have, okay? Someday, it’ll get better for us.”
“And meanwhile, Dad and Giselle get to live that giant four-bedroom house with nobody else but them to use it.”
Lindsay reached over and squeezed his hand. She wished she could take a magic wand and make all his worries go away. Instead, she hugged him tightly for a long time, gratified when he hugged her back.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered. “I really missed you. And I’m sorry I was a butthead to you on the phone while you were gone.”
“I really missed you, too, and thank you for the apology.”
They headed inside, and Lindsay took Noah’s gifts to her room while he unpacked his bags from his stay at his grandparents. Chelsea’s son, Spencer, wasted no time quizzing him about what Lindsay had brought home for him, and while she didn’t condone lying, she wasn’t about to chastise him when he told Spencer nothing. Some days, she was tempted to sleep on the couch just so he could have his own room, but that wouldn’t solve the problem, so she swallowed the urge like she always did.
After the boys headed to bed, Lindsay retreated to her room to call Henry.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten me already,” he teased.
“Like I could,” she replied as a spark of her playful side flared to life. “Sorry I’m calling so late again. We had a busy day, and then we ate dinner with my folks, and I had an uncomfortable conversation with Noah about his father.”
“Oh? What triggered that?”
She told him everything about her phone call to Max and about telling her ex to give up his parental rights. Henry agreed that it might be best for both her and Noah and commended her on her guts for speaking her mind. He wasn’t too thrilled to learn that Max had suggested she have an abortion—she apparently hadn’t mentioned that in their conversations—and his anger on her behalf and on her son’s kindled a warm glow in her heart that burned away ever last lingering trace of angst over Max’s continuing animosity.
“I know you think I’m this amazing, selfless woman, but I am selfishly glad right now that I met you, Henry.” She flopped on her bed and stared at the midnight blue ceiling with its large flakes of glitter trying poorly to imitate the stars. “Because you’re pretty damned incredible yourself, and you have this talent for making me forget my worries.”
“I’m nothing special. It’s all you, gorgeous. You bring out the best in those around you.”
She snorted. “Evidently not.”
“Let me rephrase that. You bring out the good in people who have some to be brought out.”
Feeling more than a little like a giddy schoolgirl, she thanked him, shyly glad he couldn’t see her blush. They moved on to happier topics, and by the time their yawns began to overtake the conversation, they’d been on the phone almost two hours. Lindsay stared at the clock, certain it must be lying to her.
“We should get off this thing,” he said but took no other steps to end the call.
“We should.”
“Right. Because we both have to work tomorrow.”
“Yes, we do.”
He chuckled. “When can I call you again?”
“I have the dinner shifts all week, but I’m off on Thursday. Will that work?”
“Not soon enough,” he answered, and she could hear the fond smile in his voice, “but I guess it’ll have to do. Talk to you on Thursday.”
“It’s a date. Good night, Henry.”
“Good night, gorgeous.”
At last, Lindsay hung up the phone and got up to take the cordless back into the living room. She finished preparing for bed and crawled between the sheets, determined to keep Max from reentering her mind. It was surprisingly easy to do that, and she dozed off smiling with a thought that Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Nine
“AARON AND SKYE SEEM to be hitting it off well,” Henry remarked as he caught the sixteen-inch-long block of beetle-killed lodgepole pine Nick tossed to him. He dropped it smoothly on top of the row of other logs already stacked neatly in t
he bed of his pickup. “Is it just me or does he seem a little lost without her here?”
“They do indeed, and it’s not just you who’s seeing that. She’s supposed to be back from Washington the day after tomorrow, and I know he’s looking forward to it.” Nick tossed another log and another in an effortless rhythm. “I’m inclined to say your hope for them is well placed. If nothing else, she’s distracting him from thinking about Jerry Mackey.”
“That’s a damned good thing. Mackey’s still keeping his distance?”
“Sounds like it. Aaron said Pearl bumped into him a few days ago while she was at lunch, but other than that… Jerry’s keeping his head down.”
“That’s good. Good for Aaron and for Mackey. I know I shouldn’t because his shitty choice to run drugs for his dirt bag cousin ultimately led to Erica’s death, but I can’t help feeling sorry the kid. Life’s dealt him one crap hand after another.”
“I’ve always felt bad for him, too, and I know Aaron does. That’s a big part of why it’s been so hard for him to let go of Erica. He has too much guilt dragging him down.”
“Rogers hasn’t changed a bit since he arrested you for kicking the shit out of Trey Holt, has he?” Henry shook his head, recalling the way the sheriff—then an officer with the Devyn Police Department—had pompously slapped the cuffs on Nick out in the hall in the view of half the crowded cafeteria on their college campus. No tact whatsoever. “God, he was full of himself, and that old son of a bitch had a hard on for Mackey, like he was the ringleader of that drug ring instead of a first-time driver.”
“Don’t forget how badly he handled the investigation into the murders of Mike Thompson and Carol Landers.”
“I’m not likely to ever forget that. Poor Luke. I hope Aaron is serious about running against Rogers one of these days. The county would be a lot better off with our brother as sheriff.”
Nick snorted. “That’s for damned sure.”
After the last of the logs were in the truck, Henry jumped down and stretched while Nick fetched two bottles of water from the cooler in the back of his truck. They sat on the tailgate and gazed up at the steep, forested wall above them, content to enjoy the quiet for a few minutes. The mid-September day was pleasant with a cool breeze wafting down from the peaks and carrying the promise of impending autumn—a perfect day to be out cutting firewood.
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