He heard his voice begin to crack and swallowed the emotions in his throat, continuing. “More than that, He gave me a father and a heritage, even if I never have the land.” He took her hands. “I’m so ashamed that I ever asked you to marry Nick, honey. I know it felt like I was scorning the love you’ve given me since the day we were married. Lying there in that hospital bed and every day after, I realized that not believing in your love would be like me ripping out the organ Nick gave me and handing it back to him. I’ll never be able to earn your love or Nick’s gift. But if I could, it wouldn’t be a gift. It wouldn’t be an act of love. My only choice is to accept the grace.”
He ran his hands down her arms, caught her hands. “Nick’s sacrifice deserves my respect. Your love deserves my respect, and I promise to be the best husband and father I can be.” He added new warmth to his gaze. “I know I’ve also held back from you what you really wanted. A family.”
Her eyes glistened.
“Lord willing, we’ll have another child, Maggy.” He brushed his fingers through her soft hair. “A girl with a love of horses.”
She smiled despite her tears.
“I hate the fact that Nick doesn’t know CJ is his son. He’s such an incredible kid. I look at him and long for Nick to know he’s a part of that.” Cole wiped one of her tears with a thumb. “Things will change when Nick finds out. But we have to trust that God will continue the work He started in our lives, through the good times and the bad, whatever may come.” His gaze traced her face, landed on her mouth. “And today, my Maggy, will be one of those very, very good times.”
He kissed her again, this time molding her body to his.
For the first time in what seemed like years, she wrapped her arms around him and really kissed him back, reminding him of everything he’d missed. Everything he still had.
Everything his brother had given him.
The judge peered down at Nick. Thick necked and white haired, he had the voice of a man who brooked no argument. Sorta reminded Nick of his father, and as if sucked back in time, he felt sixteen and about to be dressed down.
Nick felt the silence and the smell of polished wood in the tiny paneled room settle upon him; a sweat broke out across the back of his neck. Last time he’d been in a courtroom, he’d been testifying against Jimmy McPhee. And now, like then, he’d been wrong. He managed a tight nod.
Why hadn’t he withdrawn his petition to keep Cole from inheriting Noble land? Well, when he filed it, he’d been a different person, an angry person. A prodigal looking for redemption.
Who knew that he’d find a sort of redemption in giving away a huge chunk of himself? That by sacrificing and letting go of his birthright, he might earn what he’d always hoped for: his fathers’ smiles—Bishop’s . . . and his heavenly Father’s. The past three months—and recuperation time on the sofa—had given him ample time to read Bishop’s Bible. To follow the scribbled notes in the margins, to learn exactly how his father had worked out his faith.
He’d learned what it meant to be a Noble. And while he certainly couldn’t claim to be the finished product, he at least felt as if he’d finally figured out what it meant to walk the path carved out for him.
He’d taken the first step today. He placed his hands on the oak table and pushed to his feet. “Your Honor, could I—?”
“Sit down, son. We’ll get to arguments in a moment.”
“But I—”
“Sit.”
Nick pursed his lips, cast a glance at Maggy. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her face solemn. But her posture had lost that defiant, angry edge. In fact, the few times she’d been to the Silver Buckle, delivering casseroles or bringing CJ to visit, she’d been . . . kind. It made him see her as he should have—a woman of strength and humor. He admired how she encouraged CJ as he went on to win two more roping events at local rodeos. And the day she unloaded Pecos and ushered him back into the corral, Nick hadn’t been able to speak.
Seeing her, however, had only made him miss Piper more. Miss her laughter, her listening ear. Miss her smile. By the time he’d returned to the ranch, she’d cleaned out her gear and vanished. Leaving him with only fragments of pain.
Cole looked at him.
Nick gave him a wry smile, which Cole returned.
“I’ve reviewed the materials with respect to the petition regarding the bequest of Bishop A. Noble. Frankly, this case is a mess. I see the primary personal representative is currently in custody, indicted for attempted murder?”
Nick nodded, quelling the flash of anger Lovell’s name ignited. “But I—”
“Quiet, Mr. Noble.” The judge shuffled the papers before him. “And the secondary personal representative is Dutch Johnson?”
“That’s me, Your Honor.” Dutch’s voice came from right behind Nick.
“Okay, Mr. Noble, I’m ready to hear your submissions.”
Nick found his feet. Cleared his throat. Smiled at the judge. “I’m withdrawing my petition.”
The judge gave him a look that made Nick feel about three feet tall. “Why didn’t you do so before now? This is a waste of the court’s time and resources.”
“Because he had surgery, Your Honor,” Cole said from his side of the room.
“Quiet.” The judge sent Cole a dark look before turning back to Nick. “Do you have a stipulation?
“Uh . . . a stipulation?”
“The document that sets out the terms on which you have settled the matter?”
“Settled? We haven’t settled anything, have we?” Nick glanced at Maggy, at Cole. Well, maybe they had.
“Do you have a stipulation?” the judge repeated.
“No . . . I just made a mistake,” Nick said. Too many mistakes.
The judge gave a long sigh. “If you don’t have a stipulation, I will have to hear the matter. Proceed with your submission.”
Nick stared at the judge. “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I’m not prepared to make any submissions. I want to withdraw. The bequest should be distributed as Bishop wanted.”
Maggy stood up. “That’s not entirely true, Your Honor. Bishop wanted the land to stay in the Noble family.”
“Order! You’ll get your chance, young lady.”
Maggy sat down.
The judge turned back to Nick. “Continue.”
“I have no other submissions, Your Honor.” Nick shook his head.
The judge turned to Maggy and Cole. “Now you may speak.”
Maggy stood up and smiled. “Okay, good. We’d like you to set aside the will.”
“Maggy!” Nick said.
“Maggy?” Cole repeated.
“Order!” The judge banged his gavel. He turned to Maggy. “What?”
Maggy crossed her arms. “On the basis that I was present when the will was signed. And it’s the right thing to do.” She turned to Cole. “I don’t want you to get this land because I was quiet. That’s lying and wrong.” Then she looked at Nick. “But Cole is a Noble too . . . and I was thinking that . . . well, instead of splitting the land, we’d—”
“—combine it.” Nick said the words softly, reading her expression, the idea growing like a fire in his chest. “Combine it.” He looked at Cole. “Double the size of the Silver Buckle. Your land, mine, and Bishop’s land . . . with all of us Nobles working the ranch.”
“I’ll have some order here!”
A smile creeped up Cole’s face. “You have to promise to actually do some work, Nick.”
Nick grinned. “This coming from a guy who used to sneak out on Sundays to watch a certain redhead train her horses?”
Maggy blushed, looking at Cole.
He shrugged. “Nick thought it was his idea.”
“Listen!” the judge growled. “Order, all of you. If you interrupt again, I’ll have you removed from the courtroom.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “There is a reason people hire attorneys to represent them.” He looked at Nick, then at Cole. “Are you sure you’re sitting on the right sides o
f the room?”
Nick smiled at Cole.
Clearly, they were making the judge crazy. Now the judge zeroed in on Maggy. “Are you listed as a beneficiary to the land in the will, Mrs. St. John?”
“No. But Bishop gave me a horse.” She flicked a glance at Nick. “Sorta.”
“Then why aren’t you a beneficiary?”
“He gave me the horse before he died, but he wrote it into the will.”
“Did he actually give you the horse, or were you just using the horse?”
She glanced at Nick, and he saw her redden. “He gave it to me. I never rode it.”
“But if he gave it before he drafted the will, then you had no reason to exert undue influence on him.” The judge put down the paper. “Is there any other basis on which the will should be set aside?”
Maggy shook her head.
“Mr. Noble, do you have anything to add?”
Nick glanced at Cole, his brother. The son who had earned the Noble name. “No, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Okay. I’m going to deny Mr. Noble’s petition. The will stands. Your personal representative will assure the assets are divided and . . . recombined if you so wish.”
“Dandy,” Dutch muttered from behind them.
The judge gathered his papers as Nick turned to Maggy. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“This is Noble land. It belongs to the Noble men.” She looped her arm around Cole, beaming at him. “I want to see them working it together.”
“Me too,” Nick said, holding out his hand to Cole.
Cole shook his head and wrapped him in a one-armed embrace.
Maggy turned away, glancing at Dutch.
Nick saw her wipe away moisture under her eyes.
“By the way, Nick, we, ah, have something to tell you. Will you let us take you out for lunch?” Cole asked, releasing him.
“Lunch sounds good. Now that we’re both back on solid food.”
Cole grinned, and Nick followed them out of the courtroom. They found Stefanie and CJ in the courtyard, throwing pennies into the fountain.
Stefanie raised her eyebrows in silent question. He’d told her of his intent to withdraw the petition on the drive to Sheridan, and she’d responded with a hug and another you’re-my-hero speech. He could get used to that.
“Get everything settled?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nick said.
“Mostly,” Maggy answered. “Would you and Auntie Stefanie like to get some lunch? Daddy and I are going to talk to Uncle Nick.”
Uncle Nick. How he loved the sound of that.
Evidently, by Stefanie’s grin, she had also embraced the auntie moniker. She took CJ’s hand. “I hear a pizza calling our name.” She winked at Maggy.
Nick sensed a conspiracy as Dutch left with them. “What’s going on?”
Maggy’s gaze had lingered on her son, her eyes still misty. Oh no—what if CJ had the same disease Cole had? After Cole’s surgery—and getting a complete medical history from Nick—they’d narrowed his disease to a genetic disorder passed on through Irene—Wilson’s disease—a condition that collected copper in his system, shutting down his organs one by one. A condition Cole’s mother had most likely died from in the form of liver failure.
A condition Nick couldn’t have possibly caused. The relief at that news, along with Cole’s forgiveness, felt overpowering. But now what if CJ—? “What’s wrong with CJ?”
Maggy gave him a sharp look. “Nothing. Why?”
“It’s just . . . you’re scaring me.” He ran a hand behind his neck, feeling his tension. “He doesn’t have the same condition as his dad, does he?”
“You mean smart but cocky, with a tendency to think he rules the world?”
Nick stared at her, his mouth open. “I don’t think Cole’s that cocky.”
Cole grinned. “Yeah, but you are, pal. Like father, like son.”
Nick chuckled.
But Cole and Maggy didn’t.
After a second, something clicked in Nick’s brain—a realization that fit into place with a whoosh. His breath felt hot, heavy in his chest. He opened his mouth but couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak—son?
“Nick, are you okay?” Maggy grabbed his arm.
He looked at her. Saw again that horrible day when he’d accused Cole and Maggy of . . . of . . . “I would never betray you.” Her words nearly one-two punched him. “I think I need to sit.” His legs turned to rubber as he reached out for the edge of the fountain. He sat hard.
“Do you need to put your head between your knees?” This from Cole, who didn’t sound in the least concerned.
He took in the grin on his brother’s face and felt a sweat break out along his spine. “You’re not . . . I don’t . . . how . . . ?”
Maggy gave him a sad shake of her head. “How do you think?”
“But we only . . . that once . . . oh, Mags, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. . . .” He swallowed as memory shook him. “You tried to tell me in the note, didn’t you?”
Maggy sank down before him. “You got the note?”
Nick raked his hands through his hair, remembering. “I thought you were writing me a Dear John letter. I mean, I’d just seen you arrive with Cole . . . and I was angry. I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash.” He leaned forward. “Yeah, maybe I do need to put my head between my knees.”
He felt Cole’s hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations, man. You’re a dad.”
A dad.
Nick studied his best friend. The man who had raised CJ to be the boy he was . . . the man he would be. The father to his son. “You are too.”
Maggy took Cole’s hand. “For years I thought you were angry. That you didn’t want CJ. But you should be a part of his life, Nick. He’s so much like you in so many ways.”
Nick scrubbed his face and shook his head. “Does CJ know?”
Cole slipped his arm around Maggy. “We thought we’d all tell him together. Both his dads.”
Nick felt a smile fill him, through every cell in his body. Him, a dad. CJ, his son. They had two-thirds of a family.
A family that needed a wife. A mother.
“I have to find Piper.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “Not the response I expected, but . . . well . . .”
Maggy grinned. “Guess what I picked up today while we were waiting for our hearing?” She reached into her satchel and tugged out a copy of Montana Monthly.
On the cover he recognized a sunrise climbing the eastern horizon. A picture that looked very much like it might have been taken from the Cathedral. “What’s this?”
Maggy leaned over him and flipped the pages until she came to a dog-earred article called “Everyday Heroes.” At the top of the page was the picture of him and Cole, holding their silver-buckle prizes for their championship roping win. “When she called to ask for the picture, I told her I’d get your permission.” Her eyes gleamed. “Whoops.” She released the magazine. “Interesting reading, if I do say so myself.”
“She’s a journalist?”
Maggy lifted a shoulder. “Or a cook. Depends on you, I think.”
“When I said take me with you, I was thinking that I’d end up some place warmer, with an ocean view and excellent coffee, not across town with a view of the railroad.” Carter stood on the stoop of the two-story Victorian, holding his Styrofoam cup close to his face, blowing on it as he shivered. “If you’re going to rope me into volunteering, at least you could give me off-street parking.”
“You’re late.” Piper opened the door wider for him to step inside.
“I had a deadline—I know that means nothing to you now. Traitor.”
Piper grinned. “I’ll give you a parka, the picture of Puget Sound that used to hang over my desk, and a gift card to Montana Coffee Traders if you carry in that box of clothes that just came in.” Piper pushed past him and picked up one of the boxes left on the porch. The smell of cookies baking escaped behind her.
“Oh, Piper, you
didn’t—”
“Come inside before we heat the entire city.”
She lugged the box into the family room. Marci and her daughter, Amelia, sat together, watching Scooby Doo. At seventeen, Marci had the reflexes of a streetwise forty-year-old. Still, sitting with her four-year-old daughter curled in her lap and purposely using her blonde hair to curtain her battered face, her blue eyes glued to the television screen, she looked about thirteen years old.
The sight skewered Piper’s heart anew. So many girls starting life way too early. She sat beside them on the donated, fraying sectional.
“Miss Piper!” Amelia crawled over to her, her blonde ringlets wild around her head. She plunked herself in Piper’s lap without apology. “Can I have a cookie?”
Piper popped a kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “After they cool.” She looked past her at Marci. “You two doing okay today?” Marci’s face had begun to heal, the purple bruise that had swelled half her cheek fading to a greenish yellow. With her arm set, her body had mustered its white cells and begun healing. Her psyche and emotions might take longer. Much longer. But Hope House offered time and a safe haven. Piper wished the shelter had been around when she and her mother had been sleeping in their car, living hand to mouth.
She still couldn’t believe how much her life had changed over the past three months. How God had taken her feeble prayer—no, her feeble moan—and turned it into a fresh start. Who knew that surrendering her time, her writing to God’s work might help her wounds heal? might give her the purpose she’d been searching for her entire life? might make her whole?
“I read your article in Montana Monthly,” Marci said. “It’s a true story?”
Piper nodded, putting Amelia down and opening the box in front of her. Toddler clothes, donated from a local church.
“I can’t believe that guy would ever give his liver to someone he’d hated.”
Piper didn’t look at her. She smoothed a pair of light blue overalls. Her throat felt thick as she drove Nick’s face from her thoughts. Sometimes missing him nearly doubled her over with pain. Other times she found a smile, remembering his teasing. His laughter. The way he’d held her.
Reclaiming Nick Page 29
