Texas Roses (The Devil's Horn Ranch Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Last one,” she says. “Besides, I’ve got almost five hours until then. I’ll drink coffee when we land. Right now, I just want to pass out.”

  The flight attendant hands Amber another drink, looking at me as if I’m being an enabler. I suppose I am.

  “This ought to do it,” I say to her over Amber’s head.

  She downs the drink, and her eyes flutter. I ask for a blanket. As I tuck it around her, something catches my eye. She’s got ink behind her right ear. I can’t make it out, but it looks like a symbol. As she falls asleep, her head slumps to the left, giving me a better view. I snap a picture of it with my phone, then I connect to the plane’s Wi-Fi and search it.

  When I realize what it represents, my heart does something it’s never done before. It sinks.

  The Chinese symbol’s English interpretation: to lose, be lost, or unknown.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amber

  I’m startled awake by movement and a loud noise. It takes me a second to realize where I am. I peer over Quinn’s shoulder and out the window. We’ve touched down. I must brush his arm, because he turns. “You’re awake. I was wondering if you’d sleep all the way to the gate.” As the plane slows and taxis in, he hands me a small bottle of airplane-issued water. “You might want to drink this to stave off a headache. You were going at it pretty hard.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “You okay?”

  I shrug because I honestly don’t know. My dad is dying. He could already be dead, for all I know. I reach for my phone and take it off airplane mode. No texts from Tag or the memory care center. I figure no news is good news at this point.

  “Well, you survived the airplane ride. The next one will be easier.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, you won’t be with me.”

  I’m not sure why I said it. Of course he won’t be with me. But one thing’s for sure, I couldn’t have done this without him. I pull my purse out from under the seat and fish inside for my bottle of Advil.

  My phone chirps with a text and I smile.

  “Good news?” Quinn asks.

  “Tag is meeting us in baggage claim. He’ll drive us to see my dad.”

  “Us?” Quinn asks, followed by silence. “If Tag is here, you probably don’t need me hanging around. I can stay at the airport and take the next flight back.”

  ‘No!’ a voice screams in my head, and I wonder where it came from. The thought of never seeing him again makes my stomach turn. Then again, it could be my hangover.

  “You flew all the way here. You might as well come to Calloway Creek. Unless you have to get back. I get it if you do. And really, this trip couldn’t be any more depressing since I’m here to say goodbye to my dad. So if you want to go—”

  His finger presses against my lips. “Will you shut up? I’d love to see where you’re from.”

  We pull up to the gate and are deplaning quickly. First class sure does have its perks. I don’t miss the disapproving glance the flight attendant gives me. Then she gives her best fuck-me smile to Quinn.

  I say to her as I pass, “Yeah, he’s that good.”

  Quinn grabs my elbow and hurries me out onto the jetway.

  “You’re terrible,” he says.

  “She obviously wants to fuck you. Did you see that look?”

  He glances back melodramatically. “Should I get her number?”

  I grab his chin and force him to face forward. “Now you shut up. The only one fucking you on this trip will be me.”

  He seems surprised. “Really?”

  “Technically, our ten days aren’t up yet, so yeah. You have a problem with that?”

  “No.” He laughs. “No problem.”

  We get to baggage claim, and I immediately spot Tag. He trots over and pulls me into his arms. “Missed you, girl.”

  I hug him tightly. “Missed you more.” When we part, I introduce them. “Quinn Thompson, this is Tag Calloway.”

  Quinn extends a hand. “Ah, the finger in the butthole guy.”

  Tag isn’t easily surprised. He’s usually the one with the upper hand. He shakes Quinn’s hand, laughing. “Nice to meet you. Wish it were under better circumstances.” He scoffs at me. “And you bitch. We swore to never tell that story.”

  “No. I believe you begged me never to tell it. There’s a difference. And I’m sorry if I thought I was going to starve to death after the crash. We shared stories. So sue me.”

  Quinn crosses his arms defensively. “Will you stop calling it a crash?” He turns to Tag. “I don’t know what she told you, but it really wasn’t that bad.”

  “This one’s always been a little overdramatic,” Tag says.

  I point to the conveyor belt. “There’s my bag over there.”

  “I got it,” they both say at the same time, then they look at each other like they’re not sure what to do. They laugh awkwardly. Quinn steps away. “I’ll get it. You two catch up.”

  Tag stares me down. “You’re fucking smitten.”

  “What? I am not.”

  “Oh, but you are. And so is he. I was watching you come down the escalator. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a couple. Are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But you’re sleeping together.”

  “Only until I came back. Or, I guess until he leaves.”

  “And when might that be?”

  “He was going to leave today, but I thought he should at least see Calloway Creek after coming all this way.”

  More staring. He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve got it bad.”

  “What’s she got?” Quinn asks, pulling my suitcase.

  “A hangover,” I say, giving Tag the stink eye. “Can we please go see my dad?”

  We make small talk on the way to Tag’s car. Quinn makes me take the front seat to have more room for the boot. I get in. He holds the door for me. Tag raises a brow. I resist the urge to tell him to shut up.

  In the car, Tag removes a cigarette from his pack and holds it up for Quinn to see. “You mind?”

  “Go ahead,” Quinn says.

  I turn and give him a biting stare. “Can you not encourage his nasty habit?”

  “It’s his life.”

  I reach over Tag and roll down his window further than he’d already done it. “Have you heard anything today?” I ask.

  “Not since I checked earlier. They said his breathing was slowing, and that was expected. But Amber, you should prepare yourself. When I visited him last night, it was like he had aged twenty years. I think this may be the last time you see him.”

  Tears flood my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this. I know it’s bad, and I’ll have to deal with it soon enough. Can we talk about something else?”

  Quinn speaks from the back. “Tag, Amber tells me you own a sports marketing firm. What exactly do you do?”

  “In a nutshell, we coordinate promotional, marketing, and communication activities for sports teams.”

  “Okay. That sounds… completely ambiguous.”

  “He’s a cowboy.” I smack Tag on the leg. “He has no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “A cowboy who happens to like sports,” Quinn says. “Tell me more.”

  “Our primary job is to increase attendance and ticket revenue at athletic events for professional and college teams. We do that by coordinating the design and production of advertising and marketing materials. We write press releases and share information about the teams through social media. We also secure corporate sponsorships, facilitate merchandising agreements, and promote corporate ticket sales.”

  “Sounds exciting. Do you represent any major teams?”

  “Their largest client is the Nighthawks,” I turn and say proudly. “They’re an MLB team from New York City.”

  Quinn shakes his head. “I know who the Nighthawks are, Amber. Cowboy doesn’t mean stupid.”

  “No, I, uh… I guess I thought you only liked cowboy-related sports, like rodeos.”<
br />
  “Are you kidding? I’ve been a Rangers fan my whole life. Last year, I saw them get their asses kicked by the Nighthawks at Globe Life Field.”

  “You’re a baseball fan, eh?” Tag says.

  “Tried and true.”

  “If you plan to stick around a few days, I’ll take you to a game.”

  I peek back at Quinn. He locks eyes with me. “I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be here,” he says. “But if it works out, that’d be great.”

  They spend the next hour talking about sports. Tag is in his element. He knows everything about sports. Although his brother, Jaxon, was the best quarterback Calloway Creek High had ever seen, Tag played football too. And baseball. He also wanted to play basketball, but the seasons overlapped too much. He was a walk-on baseball player in college, where he double majored in marketing and sports management. Even got off the bench for a few games. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been obsessed with sports.

  What amuses me is how well Tag and Quinn are hitting it off. I figured their worlds were so far apart they’d have nothing in common. I was worried about them getting along. I shake my head. I was worried about them getting along? It sounds like something you’d think about your boyfriend and your best friend. Quinn is definitely not my boyfriend. I don’t want one. Even if I did, he wouldn’t want a girlfriend. I glance back. Would he?

  Tag parks at the memory care center. I stare at the entrance, wondering if this is the last time I’ll ever be here. My door opens. Quinn gazes down on me. “You ready for this?”

  I nod and exit the car. I don’t miss Tag’s raised brow. I might be used to Quinn opening doors for me by now, but Tag isn’t. “What?” I whisper harshly. He holds up his hands in surrender.

  We approach the front desk. I know all the workers by name. “Hey, Lucy.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “Hi, Amber. Nice to see you again.” She notices Quinn behind me. “Three visitor badges today?”

  Quinn points to a reception area. “I can wait here.”

  “Three,” Tag says to Lucy. “Amber needs all the support she can get.”

  Lucy prints out the badges, and then we head back. We pass the wing where Dad’s residence is and continue on to the hospice center. I’ve never been back here. It’s like a hospital ward. We’re greeted by a man at the nurses’ station. “I’m Luis, Dr. Black’s hospice nurse. You must be his daughter, Amber.”

  “Nice to meet you. And this is my friend, Quinn.”

  They shake hands, and then Luis tells me about my father. He uses words like palliative and end-of-life care. Comfort and passing. Words I knew I’d have to hear someday. But I never imagined having to hear them before he reached seventy.

  I’m led to his doorway. I stand in it and watch my sleeping father. Even in sleep, he’s struggling to breathe. “Is he in pain?”

  “We’ve got him on a morphine drip to keep him comfortable,” Luis says.

  “Will he wake up at all?”

  “He’s been drifting in and out for the last few days. Maybe seeing you will lift his spirits.”

  I know it won’t. He doesn’t recognize me. It’s been months.

  “Go on now, sit with him.”

  Tag nudges me forward, and we enter the room. Quinn hangs back in the doorway. I sit in the chair next to the bed and take Dad’s hand. Tag was right. His face has aged. He’s only sixty-eight, but he looks more like ninety. I’m glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see my reaction to his appearance.

  “Hi, Daddy. I’m here. It’s Amber.” My heart breaks silently. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

  I talk to him for a half hour, telling him stories about my childhood. He worked a lot, but when he vacationed, he vacationed hard. And it was always the two of us going off to some exotic area of the world that made my friends jealous. I tell him about the waterfalls in Hawaii, the beautiful buildings in Prague, the kangaroos in Australia.

  He stirs, and I sit back. I never know what to expect with him. He tries to remove the oxygen mask, but I put it back on.

  “What are… you doing? Why are… you here?”

  Every word is labored as if he’s running a marathon while speaking.

  Tag steps behind me. “Ben, this is your daughter, Amber. You remember Amber. She’s been telling us all about the wonderful trips you took together.”

  “No daughter…”

  My eyes close. I don’t know why I was expecting this visit to be any different.

  “Benji?” Dad says.

  I open my eyes. Dad is staring at Quinn, who’s still in the doorway.

  “Dad, that’s Quinn.”

  A tear rolls down Dad’s cheek. “Benji. Come… here.”

  Quinn is completely confused. Tag leans down next to my ear. “It can’t hurt,” he says. “He’s dying, Amber. Why not let him have this?”

  I nod. Tag asks Quinn to come stand by the bed. He does, although reluctantly.

  “My… boy,” Dad says. “So… big.”

  Quinn locks eyes with me. “It’s okay,” I say.

  Dad reaches out for him. Quinn gives him his hand. Dad holds on to it like I hoped he’d hold mine. “Where… mother?”

  “Uh, I don’t know,” Quinn says.

  “You… stay.”

  “Yes. I’ll stay.”

  “Good… boy.”

  He drops Quinn’s hand and goes still. I cover my mouth. “Is he?”

  Tag touches him. “No. He fell asleep.”

  I get up and run out of the room. I lean against a wall and let the tears flow. Both men follow. “I thought maybe he’d remember me,” I say. Quinn hands me a tissue, and I explain what just happened. “Before my parents adopted me, they tried for ten years to have a child. Five years into it, they got pregnant and had a boy. They named him Benji. He died in his crib at five months old.”

  “Does he mistake you for Benji?” he asks Tag.

  Tag shakes his head.

  “As far as I know, that’s the first time it’s happened. Maybe that means…” I gaze back at his room and swallow a lump.

  Luis approaches. “You need a break. I’ll sit with him if you want to get a bite to eat.”

  “You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Quinn says. “It’s nearly four.”

  I ask Luis, “You’ll come get me if anything happens?”

  “Of course.”

  In the cafeteria, I sit and stare at my mostly uneaten food while Tag and Quinn bond over more talk of baseball. I peruse the other tables, wondering if anyone else is here to say goodbye to a loved one.

  “Tell me about this town,” Quinn asks. “You’re a Calloway and this is Calloway Creek. What’s the story? All Amber has told me is that your family doesn’t own the town.”

  “No, that would be the McQuaids,” Tag says. “Or they think they own it anyway. Nobody does, not since it became incorporated. But back in the mid-1800s, it was called McQuaid Plat. It was named after my great-great-great grandfather’s best friend, Lloyd McQuaid, who plotted and recorded it in 1867. Then in 1879, he lost a poker bet to his friend and my ancestor, Samuel Calloway. Samuel got to rename the town.”

  Quinn laughs. “That’s one hell of a bet.”

  “It was.”

  “Ms. Black?” Luis says from the entrance. “Come with me, please.”

  I run over. “Is he?”

  “Not yet. But he’s close. If you have anything to say to him, now would be the time.”

  Tag and Quinn flank my sides as I walk back to his room. He’s sitting up more than he was earlier, and he’s staring out the window. I don’t cross the threshold. How do I say goodbye to a man who doesn’t even recognize me?

  I clear my throat, and his head turns. I immediately notice he looks younger than he did just an hour ago. And something in his eyes—they seem clearer. “Amber,” he mumbles.

  “Did he say my name?” I ask Luis.

  “He did indeed.”

  “But, how?”

  He smiles. “It’s c
alled terminal lucidity. It doesn’t happen to all hospice patients, but I’ve seen it before. It usually happens right before they pass. It could last a minute or an hour.”

  “Daddy?”

  I race to his bedside and kiss his forehead. And for the first time in forever, he lets me.

  “Sweet… Amber.”

  He gently squeezes my hand. He looks upon me like he used to when I was young and he would come home after a long shift, happy to see me. I can’t believe the gift I’ve been given. I have my dad back. I know this means he’s going, but I also know this is a moment I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Quinn

  The look on her face is everything. Her dad recognizes her, and though I feel like an intruder of sorts, I’m honored to be a witness to this moment.

  They share hugs and smiles and words. His breathing becomes more labored the more he tries to talk.

  “Shh, Daddy,” she says, adjusting his mask. “It’s okay. I know what you want to say. You love me. I love you too.”

  He becomes quiet and gazes back out the window. He’s doing that a lot. He pulls his mask down. A look of surprise comes over him, and a smile brightens his entire face. “Julie… Benji.”

  Amber glances over her shoulder at the window behind her. There’s nothing there, of course.

  “You see Mom and Benji? They’re waiting for you, Daddy. It’s okay. You can go to them. I’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  He reaches up to touch her cheek, then his hand falls limp onto the bed. The machine next to him starts beeping. Luis steps around the bed and turns it off. Amber slumps onto her father’s chest and cries. The urge to go to her has never been stronger. I want so much to comfort her, but I know it’s not my place.

  Tag gives me a push forward. He nods to her. His permission is all I need. I go over and put my hand on her shoulder. She stands and leans into my arms. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to love and lose a parent. I know her life hasn’t been ideal, but at least she’s had him, even if only for small segments of time.