Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch

by Landish, Lauren

  I sag, utterly defeated, not by harshness but just by love. Dammit. “We had a great weekend and were just getting ready to enjoy the rest when Brody called. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Seems Paul Tannen had a heart attack last night.”

  I tell them everything I know and everything that happened. They’re quiet, the news hitting pretty close to home, literally, since the Tannens are neighbors and it echoes so similarly to what happened with Pops.

  “What do they need?” Mama says as I wrap up my story. That’s Mama. The source of my can-do attitude. Give either of us a checklist of things that need tending to, and we’ll make sure they’re all done before the sun sinks below the horizon line. No muss, no fuss, just get it done.

  And she’s not going to hold a grudge. Paul Tannen offended her, yes. He said some things that weren’t gentlemanly. But for Louise Bennett, that’s the past. Today is about helping a family and helping neighbors.

  “Sophie and I tended the animals and set them up to use the hotel so they could stay in town. I’m heading over there in a minute to do the evening checks. Figured I’d order dinner to be delivered to them so they’ll have something to eat. Rinse and repeat tomorrow. Shay asked me to go for now. I think my being there made it harder on the boys, and that’s the last thing I want to do, especially right now.”

  Mama nods. “I’ll handle dinner. Don’t worry about that. It’s been a while since I’ve seen those kids and wish it was under better circumstances, but it is what it is. They need a Mama, and good thing I am one.”

  She’s not bragging, just proud that it’s the truth. Mama is a motherly woman for anyone and everyone she meets. I just hope they greet her with more kindness and openness than they did me. Though I don’t think any of the Tannens would send away a piece of Mama’s famous pie.

  “Might take pie to ease your way in,” I advise, and she smiles softly like she’d already thought of that.

  * * *

  “Nice setup they’ve got,” Mark says admiringly, looking around.

  He’d offered to come over to the Tannens’ instead of Sophie so that she could get off her feet after the long day. James had shot him a grateful smile and herded her off to the truck while I was grateful for the physical help. Not that she needed herding, but she’s huge for seven months along and I’m still wondering about the doctor’s assessment that she’s only carrying one baby.

  “Yeah, Sophie told me Brody does a top-notch job, especially considering the animals aren’t their primary income like they are ours. The Tannens make most of their money from their harvests, Shayanne says. Either at the markets or this season, with her pumpkin puree. The goat milk soaps are doing really well too. She’s taking trips to the resort twice a month to restock because they’re selling like hotcakes up there.”

  I rattle off the details of their family businesses based on countless conversations with Shayanne about them. She’s the money person in their operation, and I’ve heard everything from celebrations at her soap sales at the resort to worries over the smaller than usual pear crop they had.

  Mark eyes me thoughtfully, mouth in a straight line. Finally, he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You sure about this?”

  It’s only four words, but I know he’s asking so much more. Am I sure about Shayanne, about helping her family, about getting tangled up in the mess that’s sure to come of this?

  I nod, glad Mark’s open to listening. “She’s it. And I’m not some grumpy asshole who’s fighting it the whole way.” His left brow raises at the dig at how Katelyn had to damn near bop him over the head to make him see how perfect they are together. “I’m all in with Shay. Have been for a while now.”

  That’s apparently all he needs to jump fully onboard with my relationship because he nods and lets out one of his infamous grunts that could mean anything from ‘fuck off’ to ‘I love you’. I think this one is more the latter.

  Knowing that I have my family at my back eases the knot inside me I didn’t know was pulled tight. There are going to be some tough days ahead, for Paul as he recovers and for Shay and me, because I’m pretty sure that Paul, at least, is going to try and tear us apart. And I doubt her brothers are being too supportive, either. The feud has gone on too long, been too ingrained in the Tannen boys for them to let it go easily.

  Though at least Brutal seems okay with it, so maybe there’s hope. I pray there’s hope for us all.

  Chapter 20

  Shayanne

  “One for you, and here’s another,” Mama Louise says, her voice threaded with kindness.

  She’s handing out Tupperware containers of ranch chicken casserole, one for each of us to go with the other containers she’s handed out. Magically, they’re still warm, like she packed them in the insulated cooler straight out of the oven.

  She probably did. She’s good like that. Or she used to be. I don’t know her that well these days, I guess. But her inherent goodness shines out of her, making her a beacon of comfort we all need right now, even if the boys aren’t willing to admit it.

  But they take the offered food and mumble their appreciation in an approximation of manners that I think would make Mom proud.

  “Have you heard anything else?” Mama Louise asks Brody, deferring to his role as the eldest and leader. I suspect she’s gotten a quick download from Luke or Sophie, but either way, she’s dead on.

  He shrugs, his voice flat and robotic, even if he does peel open his Tupperware almost immediately. “Doc says it’s still touch and go. Won’t be out of the woods until he has forty-eight hours with a clean EKG, and so far, he’s not going more than a few hours without an episode. They’re not even willing to do surgery on him right now, said that’s a sure-fire death sentence with him being so unstable.”

  He’s given the same report several times to various friends of Daddy’s who’ve shown up to lend their support. It’s sweet that they’re willing to come visit but hard to keep hearing the words that sound so uncomfortably foreign about my dad. He’s this big, strong, can’t-keep-him-down beast of a man in my eyes, and the sudden change to weak and sickly is head-spinning and heartbreaking. I can’t imagine how hard it is for Brody to keep repeating the doctor’s words, and I imagine they’re turning over and over in his head on a loop.

  Mama Louise nods, not offering useless sympathies or reassurances that she doesn’t know will actually hold true.

  He’ll be fine.

  Too tough to let this keep him down.

  I’m sorry.

  All of them are said with good intentions, but none of them fix the problem at hand. Only time and the doctors can do that.

  “Eat,” Mama Louise orders. “You need to keep your strength up. Sitting in a waiting room is hard work.”

  That sounds strange, but truer words have never been spoken. I’m more exhausted, mentally and physically, than I am after a long day working at the farm, but I’ve barely moved from this chair.

  We do, mindlessly making the casserole disappear into our empty bellies. She produces cobbler from another bag, making apologies that she didn’t think pie would travel well, and we eat that too.

  And as delicious as I’m sure it is, it’s all bland mush in my gut. Not because of Mama Louise’s cooking, which is excellent as always, I’m sure, but just because I can’t taste anything, feel anything.

  I’m numb.

  Mama Louise gathers up the Tupperware and quietly says she’ll take them over to Sophie’s to wash up, but she’ll stay close. After she leaves, the minutes and hours pass.

  At midnight, Bobby and Bruce make a trip to the hotel and come back with droplets of water still hanging onto the curling ends of their hair, their breaths emanating the smell of hotel lobby coffee.

  And still, we sit.

  The door opens and we all look up reflexively.

  Dr. Taylor walks into the waiting room, looking grim. “Mr. Tannen?”

  Brody stands up abruptly and we all follow suit. Brody throws an arm around me, pulling m
e to his side like he did when we were younger. And I’m so glad because I need his strength right now.

  Because we all know, it’s in the way he said ‘Mr. Tannen’ and not ‘Brody’. Before Dr. Taylor can even say another word, we know from the set of his shoulders and the resigned look on his face.

  “I’m sorry. We did everything we could, but the damage to his heart was too extensive.”

  He says other things, but I don’t hear them because I bury my face in Brody’s thick chest as the sobs shake through me.

  He’s gone. Daddy’s dead.

  Shayannie.

  Suddenly, the nickname that always drove me a little crazy seems painfully missed. I’d give anything to hear Daddy call me that again, to make me pissed off again at his bullshit . . . anything.

  Thank God for the big hands and strong backs that surround me right now, though. I’m not alone, not really. Brody, Bruce, Bobby, and me gather each other close. I don’t know if they’re crying, my vision too blurred by own tears, but I can feel the pain inside them as sharply as my own.

  We’re alone, but we’re together. And Tannens are tough. We’ll get through this. There’s no other option.

  * * *

  “Do you know what he wanted for his service?” Mama Louise asks Brody gently. She came immediately when I called. Despite the hours, despite the time. She’s been there for us, and I love her for it.

  We’ve each had our turns to go into his room and say our goodbyes. The room felt empty, like Daddy’s big personality was missing and instead there was just a cold, clinical hospital generic-ness surrounding me.

  But I said my piece and had found some small sliver of peace at his bedside, holding his hand and oddly thankful that it was still warm so I could pretend he was sleeping.

  Brody meets her gaze, but his eyes are glassy and hard as marbles. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Mama Louise nods, her voice clear, calm, and supportive. “I know you will, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m sad to say that I’ve done this a couple of times in my life. Once was for your mother, and Paul and I had some conversations. I’m not saying I knew your dad well these last few years, but I’d like to help you with this.”

  Brody bristles, his voice cold. “Don’t need any help, least of all, from a Bennett.”

  I flinch, knowing the dig is at me and that he’s lashing out, but it still stings on my already battered heart.

  Mama Louise eyes Brody, the moment stretching out, and I can see her mind working as she analyzes Brody. Finally, she says firmly, “Not helping you. I’m helping Paul, who was a friend of mine and of John’s for a lot of years before everything got so messed up. He was a husband to the best friend I’ve ever had, Martha Tannen. I’m helping a man who may not have always done the best thing or even the right thing, but he deserves to be laid to peace properly. So get off your keister and follow me. There’s work to be done, and you’re in charge now, Brody Tannen. Lead your family the way I know you can.”

  Chee-sus and crackers. Mama Louise is a fierce, heavy-handed beast of a woman. I want to be her one day.

  I think for a moment that Brody is going to snap at her. His huge, chest-filling breath says he’s getting ready to unleash his fury in a verbal spew that will melt her in a puddle where she sits.

  And then the air escapes him in a sigh of futility and he stands. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  Mama Louise dips her chin once in agreement then reminds Brody softly, “Language.”

  He looks at her incredulously. “My dad just died and you’re bitching about my language? I’ll say whatever the fuck I want, you hear?”

  Her lips tilt down the slightest bit, understanding but disappointed in what Brody just said. “Of course, you can. But how you carry yourself reflects not only on you but on that man you’re getting ready to pay final respects to. And it sets the tone for your whole family. Choose wisely.”

  He walks through the door, and Mama Louise follows, tossing back a sad smile to us. They’re meeting with the morgue director and funeral director to set up the transfer to the funeral home. Brody will then have to have another meeting to make decisions on the funeral itself. I feel like I should be helping with this, but he told me and the boys to let him handle it.

  I’m weak enough that I’m glad he’s doing it because I don’t know if I could. But one look at Mama Louise tells me that I’m stronger than I think I am, and if I had to, I could do this. I’m still glad I don’t have to, though, even if I feel a little guilty at leaving Brody to do the dirty work.

  * * *

  Paul Tannen was a son of a bitch. The best I knew. He’d help you out in a pinch and call you on your bullshit with a big old grin on his face. I remember a time I got stuck out in my back field and Paul came charging up in that fancy new truck of his, and I knew he didn’t want to get so much as a speck of dirt on that thing. But you know what he did? He hooked a winch up on that big, fancy truck and got to pulling. Got my beater truck out in a jiffy and then bought me a beer that night, said I needed it after the crap day I’d had.

  A tear leaks out before I can catch it with the white handkerchief in my hand. The handwriting’s scraggly, pure country boy who doesn’t do much writing past scribbling a shopping list, but it’s beautiful to me. I look down at the next one, but before I can start reading, someone stands at his wake to start speaking.

  “Paul loved to play cards and he had a hell of a poker face,” says the man, who I think I’ve seen down at the farmer’s market from time to time. Jerry, I think. “You could never tell what was in his hand until that last second where he laid ‘em down. He played big, he played hard, but there was one thing he had zero bluff about. How much he loved his kids. He’d talk about the farm sometimes, but it was always tied up in how proud he was of them. I might’ve heard him say once or twice that they were so good, they didn’t even need him to keep it running. I hope that’s true because if there’s one thing Paul would’ve wanted, it’s for his good name to go on with you four and that farm.”

  Gee, thanks. No pressure, I think to myself sarcastically.

  Someone else gets up, looking uncomfortable in his suit, but when he speaks, his voice is clear and filled with emotion. “Paul Tannen was a study in before and after. Before Martha died, he was a family man through and through. They were the best team I’d ever seen. She balanced his rough edges and he drove her a little crazy. Man, he loved her and she loved him. And born out of that love were four kids they doted on. After Martha passed, he wasn’t ever the same, and I think we all knew that. He was broken inside and doing his best to hold his pieces together. He tried hard to do right by you kids, but I know the weight of being left behind weighed on him. I hope he’s happier now, holding Martha again the way he always wanted to. They’re watching over you now, kids, your mom and dad, holding hands and proud of you.”

  The man isn’t even someone I know, which seems sad because he obviously knew Daddy well. I like the picture he paints of my mom and dad, back together and happy. I don’t know whether I believe that’s real or not, but it does ease the pain a bit.

  The service is lovely. People wax poetic about a man who only vaguely sounds like Daddy.

  There are some stories that I’ve never heard and some I’ve heard a million times, all little pieces of tape that hold my heart together. I lose track of the number of people who tell me that I’m the spitting image of my mom, and I wonder if Daddy thought so and if that was why it was hard for him to be around me as I got older. Maybe I reminded him a little too much of what he’d lost?

  I’d thought I was numb before, when questions were looming overhead and my ass was sore from the uncomfortable chairs. But now, this is true numbness. I’m on autopilot, going through the motions—shake hands, nod politely, and thank you for coming.

  Can I get out of here yet?

  Back home, there’s a houseful of people I wish would just go away. I feel like I’m on display, a bug in a jar for everyone to peer at.


  Is she about to break down?

  What are these kids going to do? Poor things.

  Did you hear who she showed up at the hospital with? Paul would’ve never allowed that.

  The last one is the one that irritates me the most. Since Luke left the hospital that night, he’s been my rock.

  He’s been handling things behind the scenes, like the farm and sending Mama Louise and Sophie. He found the time to take me on a walk to a treed courtyard at the hospital, knowing I needed a moment to fall apart in private.

  He even met me at our tree last night to just hold me silently as I raged, letting me take out my anger and sadness at the unfairness of it all.

  Today, Brody and he have reached a temporary truce, and I’m so thankful for it. Because I need Luke by my side. He’s here, with me, dressed in a black suit that fits him perfectly. I thought his being dressed up was dashing just a few short days ago. Now, I never want to see him in a tie ever again.

  I want things back like they were, T-shirts and ripped jeans. Silly goats and silly dreams. But they never will be again.

  For my family, though, I’m holding strong. Even if Luke’s holding me up, literally and figuratively.

  Chapter 21

  Luke

  Looking over during the wake, I can only think one thing. Shayanne is so damn strong. Her nose is red and her eyes are puffy, but her face is dry and her back is ramrod straight.

  I know she’s crumbling inside, but you’d never know it. She’s playing hostess, offering sweet tea and beers to people like this is a damn party. But I can see the flinch every time someone offers their condolences.

  I remember feeling like that back when Pops died. Like I had to be the strong one, the tough one, keeping up a façade of normalcy when my world had been shattered by the loss of a man I loved so much.