Undeniably Yours

by Becky Wade

  All through the meal, Meg listened to her beautiful cousin Heather talk to her beautiful cousin Erin about their children’s chic private schools, the merits of a personal shopper versus a stylist, the amazing career accomplishments of their husbands, and their own involvements with local charities. Meg made it through without needing to excuse herself to have a panic attack in one of the marble bathrooms, but only by a hair.

  As soon as everyone finished lunch, the children clamored for the start of the annual Easter egg hunt. It was decided that Meg, along with an assortment of fathers and grandfathers, would watch the passel of children in the front yard, while the mothers went to work hiding eggs in the backyard. So Meg made her way outdoors and stood beneath a pearl gray overcast sky while the wind tossed the hem of her dress against her knees. The enormous edifice of Aunt Pamela’s house stood next to her, gamely endeavoring to impersonate a French country manor despite the fact that it had been rooted in Texas soil.

  One of the kids squealed, and Meg’s attention swept over the girls, who wore bobbed haircuts, giant bows, smocked dresses, and shining sandals. The boys were dressed either in jumpers with knee socks and saddle shoes or in full seersucker suits.

  In the midst of that impressive group, Jayden looked like a gargoyle.

  Meg’s heart tweaked for him. Unfortunate kid. Today he reminded her more than ever of a drooly-mouthed bobblehead doll. Amber hadn’t helped matters by dressing him in a slightly too-small striped one-piece that looked like it had been through the wash a zillion times.

  Still. Out of all the children in the yard, the lion’s share of Meg’s affection centered on him. She herself had always felt like a gargoyle when surrounded by this branch of her family. Without a mother, she’d been like a puzzle piece set off to the side, unable to attach to the Lake family because she’d had no connecting piece. A sibling or two would have made all the difference, because then, even without her connecting piece, she’d have had allies.

  How many times, she wondered, had she mourned the lack of a sibling over the course of her lifetime? Thousands.

  She held her hair out of her face and watched Jayden careen around a cluster of boys, trip over a tree root, and fall forward onto his hands. Meg rushed over and set him back on his feet. “You okay?”

  He glanced up at her, grinning.

  “Time for the hunt, everyone!” Aunt Pamela held open the front door and beckoned them in.

  As Meg led Jayden indoors, Aunt Pamela pulled her aside. “I haven’t heard back from you, but you are coming to Tara’s engagement party, right?”

  “Ah . . .” She’d received the invitation to the party a few weeks back. But it had ranked lowest on her list of worries, and she hadn’t given it a thought since.

  “We’re holding it at the Crescent, and you have to come. Tara would be crushed if you couldn’t make it.”

  Meg didn’t think Tara, the youngest of Pamela’s four daughters, would bat a single fake eyelash if Meg didn’t show.

  Jayden tugged on her hand, and Meg swept him into her arms.

  “Say you’ll come.” Pamela speared Meg with an unblinking stare.

  Meg chewed the inside of her cheek, racking her brain for a way to beg off. Aunt Pamela had benefited from some excellent plastic surgery. She didn’t look tight or weird; just fresh, smooth, and impossibly young for her age. Her hair fell, glistening brown highlighted with cinnamon, in perfect layers to her shoulders. The oldest of Meg’s mother’s sisters, she’d always been bossy, and she’d always been able to apply pressure with a glance.

  “Say you’ll come,” Pamela repeated.

  “I’ll come.”

  “Excellent! And you’ll bring someone.” More with the unblinking stare.

  “Maybe.”

  “You have to. Everyone will be bringing a date. You don’t want to be the only one there alone.”

  “Actually, I wouldn’t mind—”

  “You’re not going to be the only one there alone. I’ll count on you, plus one. All right?”

  “Mmm . . .” Jayden stretched both hands out, leaning in the direction the other kids had gone.

  “You plus one. All right, Meg?”

  “Yes.”

  Appeased, Aunt Pamela preceded her into a sitting room at the back of the house. The parents passed out Easter baskets, then let the kids loose on the rolling backyard dotted here and there with partially hidden pastel plastic eggs.

  Meg and Amber followed Jayden as he dragged around his basket and ignored all the eggs. After Amber showed him repeatedly how to pick up the eggs, Jayden picked up three in a row and placed them in his basket.

  Amber and Meg clapped excitedly.

  Then he tossed them out and stepped on them.

  Amber groaned, and Meg laughed.

  “Thank you for inviting us to come today,” Amber said, sticking the eggs back in Jayden’s basket.

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Your aunts and your cousins are beautiful.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “I mean, like wow. And their husbands and their kids and this house. The whole deal.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you the youngest cousin?”

  “Close to it. There are a couple a few years younger than me.”

  “Is everyone married?”

  “All but two.”

  “And does everyone in the family live in Dallas?”

  “Yes.”

  “In houses like this?”

  “Almost everyone.” Meg’s mother and her three older sisters had all been beauty-pageant worthy back in the day, and they’d all leveraged their looks into handsome, wealthy husbands. The handsome, wealthy husbands had given them gorgeous offspring, who in turn grew up to marry brilliantly. Her grandmother Lake, who had an Elizabeth Taylor–like proclivity for gems and furs, presided over them all with a combination of shrewdness, senility, and vanity. “I only have one male cousin on this side of the family. He lives in a regular house.”

  “Which one is he?”

  “His name’s Brimm. He’s the one sitting on the patio, ignoring the Easter egg hunt so he can play on his smartphone.” Unlike her, Brimm—the lucky duck—had managed to dodge lunch and arrive late.

  Amber glanced over her shoulder. “I see him.”

  “He’s great. He’s the same age as I am, and we’ve always hung out together at family gatherings.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “He’s a professor.”

  Amber’s brows rose. “He doesn’t look old enough to be a professor.”

  “He’s a math and computer genius, so he graduated early from everything.” Meg tried to extract her heels from the soft grass. “He teaches applied mathematics, though I’m not even sure what that means.”

  Amber opened a few of Jayden’s eggs for him, revealing two foil-wrapped chocolate eggs, a bunny-shaped eraser, and a yellow marshmallow Peep. He ignored the eraser, plopped onto the grass, and went to work on the Peep.

  Amber and Meg stood next to one another, watching him. “If your cousin Brimm is good with computers,” Amber said slowly, “do you think there’s any chance he might be willing to help me find Stephen?”

  Meg’s attention swung to Amber. She’d assumed that she’d set aside her search for Stephen now that she’d found security. “You . . . still want to try to find Stephen?”

  “I do.”

  “Even though you’re stable now, financially?”

  Her expression turned apologetic. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s just something in me that needs to find him.” She exhaled and started picking at her nail polish. “I still don’t feel . . . I don’t know . . . peaceful about him. I don’t think I will until I see him face to face. I want him to admit that he has a kid. I want him to pay his share, even though you’re helping me. I . . .” Her lips twisted into a frown. “I still want a lot out of him. I just don’t feel right about it the way that it is.”r />
  Meg swallowed hard.

  “I’m sorry.” Amber’s blue eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I couldn’t be more grateful to you—”

  “I know. It’s okay. I get where you’re coming from.” Meg looked toward Jayden, who now wore a chocolate goatee.

  After Stephen’s departure from her life, Meg had never—not ever ever ever—wanted to set eyes on him again. But apparently, Amber needed face-to-face closure.

  Oh, Lord, she beseeched. Just the thought of involving herself in a search for Stephen, of having to hear and think about him, made her want to cover her ears and hide in a closet. At the same time, the tenderhearted part of her, that big blasted nougaty center of the chocolate truffle, couldn’t bear to respond to Amber’s need in any way other than with an offer of help. Especially because she believed herself partly responsible for what Stephen had done to Amber. Her pride, fear, and silence had allowed him to continue his destructive behavior in the years since he’d left her.

  Up until this point, she’d assisted Amber in ways that had cost herself little.

  But the truth? That was expensive.

  Her stomach tightened into a burning ball, making Meg regret everything she’d eaten for lunch. “Before I ask Brimm to help you, I’d like to talk to you about Stephen.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “One night soon, after Jayden’s down?”

  “Deal.”

  She’d tell Amber about her own experiences with Stephen. If, after that, Amber still wanted to find him, then so be it.

  Meg returned to Whispering Creek, changed clothes, then rattled around the guesthouse alone, growing more anxious by the minute. Thoughts of Stephen dogged her, twining together with the job stress she carried around constantly. She grew so unsettled that she couldn’t bring herself to read, take a bubble bath, or work on sudoku.

  At last, desperate, she dashed to her car and drove to the horse farm. She really wanted to see Bo. She knew, however, that he wouldn’t be working on Easter Sunday. Maybe a good thing, since his absence would prevent her from caving on her decision to keep her distance.

  Her best hope? That the horses and scenery held some power to relax her, even without him.

  She parked at the broodmare barn, then walked to the same spot at the same paddock she’d visited the last time. Blessedly—one of God’s small mercies—she found several mothers and babies within.

  She wrapped her hands around the top plank of the fence, watched the darling little foals, and tried to absorb the quiet of the setting. Breathe in for a count of six, Meg, hold for six, breathe out for a count of seven.

  Minutes slid past, one into the next. A chocolate brown foal nudged its mother with its nose. Another mother/baby pair meandered along the rail, stopped to observe her, then moved on. They all looked so enviably content and serene.

  Gradually, the burning orange ball of the sun lowered behind the treetops. Meg slid her glasses on, sending the horizon into focus. The sun was going. Going. Almost gone. Gone.

  In its wake, the enormous Texas sky blazed with swaths of pale orange, white, and pink. An arrow formation of birds winged their way past, their bodies dark against the backdrop of the sunset. Look at the birds of the air, it said in the Bible, they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

  “Amen,” she whispered. If He could manage the horses, the birds, and the nature that surrounded her, then He could manage her life.

  God, she prayed, I honestly believe that you’re on your throne at this very moment. I’m handing over this whole situation with Amber and Stephen to you. Help me to do the right thing and to be brave. Help me, also, to find my place at Cole Oil. In her heart, she knew she wasn’t cut out for the profession set before her. It was all wrong. A terrible fit. And yet duty didn’t ask you your opinion, did it? Show me what I can do there, Lord, that might bring you glory. Show me how to manage my father’s fortune, this house, and the people that work here. Most of all, please, Lord . . . please help me manage my anxiety. It’s eating at me again—

  A twig crunched behind her.

  She jerked around to see Bo striding toward her. Instead of his usual cowboy clothing, he wore track pants and a black hooded sweatshirt zipped up the front over a white T-shirt.

  Her body—traitor!—reacted the way it had reacted to cute boys when she’d been fifteen years old. Her heart tripped over itself, and her skin flushed with excitement.

  His attention honed on her as he approached. “One of the grooms called me and told me you were here.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was just finishing up at the gym so I thought I’d swing by.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered to drive all the way out here on my behalf. It’s Easter.”

  “It is.” He stopped beside her at the fence and looked into her face with a combination of serious intensity and warmth. “Happy Easter, Meg.”

  “Happy Easter.”

  He smiled a little, which sent a dimple into his cheek. He had a face that would have suited an old-time Texas Ranger—firm features, determined jawline, placid eyes. A rugged, capable face. Just looking at that face caused the knots of stress in her stomach to loosen. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hang out with me whenever I’m at the farm. Especially not on your day off.” The lady doth protest too much.

  He hefted a muscled shoulder. “I wanted to come. I was worried you’d be out here crying over the foals. Who else was going to bring you tissues if not me?”

  Ah, those pesky tissues! She experienced a sudden sentimental and wayward rush of gratitude toward him. She’d been out here alone, trying not to hyperventilate, needing a friend, and he had—very simply—come. There’d be time to worry about her attraction to him later.

  “Need any?” he asked. “Tissues?”

  “Not at the moment.” Her lips curved.

  “Just let me know.” He rested his elbows on the fence. “How was your day?”

  “Good. Yours?”

  “Good.”

  “How’d you spend it?”

  “I started off at church.”

  “Does your family go to church every Easter?”

  “We go every Sunday, year round.”

  “You’re a Christian.”

  “I’m from a small town in Texas.” Self-mocking humor settled into the squint lines near his eyes. “Can’t think what else I’d be.”

  “You mean other than a gun-toting hick with a backward view of the world?”

  His head drew back. He gazed at her, arrested, then burst out laughing.

  She laughed with him.

  “I’m probably guilty of that, too,” he said. “The gun-toting backwards part.”

  “No, I was just kidding. I’m glad to hear you’re a Christian, though. I thought as much.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I could just recognize it in you.” In fact, she often felt like she could identify other believers without being told . . . as if the Holy Spirit in her sensed the Holy Spirit in them. Like attracting like.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Did you grow up only going to church on Easter?”

  “My father only went with me on Easter and Christmas Eve. Luckily, Sadie Jo took me the rest of the year. I’m from the same small town in Texas that you are, after all.”

  “We’ve covered this ground before. You’re not from Holley.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “No. You’re from the same zip code. But a person who’s never eaten at our DQ wasn’t raised in Holley.”

  She grinned. “Okay. Point taken.”

  They traded stories about their respective Easter meals, the foods they’d liked and the ones they’d avoided, the quirks of the extended family members they’d spent their afternoons with. The exterior barn lights flicked on and full darkness descended. She told him about Jayden hunting
eggs. He told her about his concerns for his brother Jake, the crazy thing his little sister Dru had said to shock the relatives, and how his family had talked to his brother Ty on speakerphone because Ty was away touring with something called the Bull Riders’ Professional

  Circuit.

  Bo’s presence, the hushed beauty of the animals, and their easy conversation sank into Meg like a balm. Culture touted solitary rest as the cure for anxiety. But for her, “the Bo effect” worked far better. His nearness comforted her more than aloneness ever could have. In her twenty-eight years she’d already had enough aloneness to last five lifetimes.

  When a groom came to escort the horses into the barn, Bo walked Meg to her car and held her door for her. “I’ll bet you’re the only person in this county,” he said, “driving around in a Mercedes convertible from the ’80s.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She settled into the driver’s seat and patted the wheel. “This was my mother’s car.” In a sentimental move uncharacteristic of him, her father had held on to the car long after her mother’s death. So long, that Meg had asked if she could have it once she’d received her license. She’d been driving it and taking scrupulous care of it ever since. Sitting where her mother had sat, driving the classy little white car her mother had driven, helped her feel connected to a woman she otherwise knew only through photos and the stories of relatives.

  “I kind of figured that,” Bo said. “I like it.”

  “Thanks. So do I.”

  “G’night.” He shut her door.

  As she drove down the lane toward the big house with him following in his truck, she glanced at his headlights in her rearview mirror again and again.

  She’d recently attempted to classify him as either someone who was trying to manipulate her, someone who wasn’t interested in her romantically, or someone who was interested, but would never act on it. After their time together this evening, she thought that he might fall into the latter category.

  If he’d come out tonight and made a pass at her, she’d have bolted in terror. But he’d done nothing of the kind. Everything about her time with him just now assured her that while he might be interested in her as a woman, he respected the line between them too much to cross it. She didn’t need to put space between them, because Bo himself would see to that. Because of their work relationship, she could count on him to keep things between them honorable and friendly. He had old-fashioned values. He was actually . . . ethical.