The Rancher's Second Chance (Martin's Crossing Book 3)

by Brenda Minton

  Brody smiled, as if he knew. Because a son should know that about his mother. But he knew nothing about Sylvia, nothing except that she’d left. He should remember more than the bits and pieces of memory he had of her. He remembered decorating a Christmas tree. He remembered church. He remembered her driving away.

  The nurse pushed the door open and motioned them inside.

  “Sylvia, your son Brody is here to see you.”

  There was his mother. Brody froze, unsure what to do as he came face-to-face with the woman who had walked out on them. The root of his fears, his obsessions, now sat in front of him. Her dark hair was short. Her eyes were vague and deep set. She studied him as intently as he studied her. And then she cried.

  The nurse handed Sylvia a box of tissues. “Sylvia, you never told us you had another child. We only know Kayla.”

  Sylvia’s eyes widened and she looked from Brody to the window. “He doesn’t know. No one knows.”

  “Knows what, honey?” The nurse picked up a blanket and dropped it over the woman in the recliner.

  “I wonder if anyone knows where I am?” Sylvia worried her lip as she asked the question. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in Dallas at the Lakeside Facility.”

  “I like it here,” Sylvia said. And then she looked at Brody again. “How did you find me?”

  “Duke found you.”

  She narrowed her eyes studying his face. “Duke, ridiculous name. Your father picked it. How old are you now?”

  “I’ll be twenty-seven next week.”

  “I never liked you boys. Always rough-housing, making messes, dirtying clothes. I hated doing laundry. I didn’t like the way you smelled. And your father. I shouldn’t have married him. I never did like living in the country.”

  “Well, let’s not beat around the bush,” he murmured as she continued to list their sins, the things she didn’t like about them.

  What had he expected, an apology? Regret? He’d expected her to ask about his life, about her children. He thought maybe she’d be sorry. He should have expected the anger. After all, she’d left and never come back. A person would have to be really angry to make that decision.

  He took a deep breath. Right, okay, now what? What was he supposed to say to this woman when it was obvious she didn’t want him here, had never wanted him?

  A hand touched his back. Sylvia looked past him.

  “Who is this? Elizabeth?” Sylvia glared now.

  “No, Sylvia, this is a friend of mine. This is Grace.”

  At that his mother’s face fell and one tear streaked down her cheek. “Elizabeth died. I saw it on the news.”

  Brody reeled. His mother knew. She’d kept track. And she’d never come home. Sympathy and compassion warred with his anger at this woman. If she’d been a stranger, maybe he could have mustered more sympathy. If she hadn’t walked out on her children. If she hadn’t been the person who left him alone, with scars. Deep-down scars, the kind he’d spent a lifetime dealing with. Scars that had left a little boy crying and a grown man wondering what it was about him that could make even a mother walk away.

  “Yes, Elizabeth died. She had two little girls.” In the war of emotions, sympathy lost and anger edged ahead. “Our dad is dead, too. I don’t know if you knew that. Duke went to Afghanistan, but he came home. If you cared, you’d know that.”

  “I care.” She stood, pushing her frail form out of the chair she sat in. The afghan she’d been covered with dropped to the floor. “I cared. But I wasn’t a mother. I was never a good mother. I would have beaten you to death that day if Jake hadn’t stopped me.”

  All of a sudden the memory rushed back, painful and clear in a way it hadn’t been all these years. He remembered her hitting him over and over again. He remembered Jake pulling her off him and telling her she wasn’t fit to be a mom.

  Grace held his hand now, tight. “I’m here,” she whispered. He guessed he knew that but he also knew she wouldn’t stay long. And he could do this alone. He pulled loose from her and took a few steps toward Sylvia. She looked away from him, but not before he saw her tears.

  “You could have come back.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, I couldn’t have. I was having another man’s baby.”

  The words fell into the room and Sylvia fell back into the chair. The nurse told them they’d have to leave. This was enough for today.

  Brody stepped away from the nurse. He squatted in front of Sylvia and put a hand on her arm, forcing her attention on him. “Where is she, this sister of mine? Who is she?”

  Sylvia shook he head, fast and furious. “No.”

  “Yes. Tell me. She deserves to know and so do we. She’s one of us.”

  “I can’t tell you. I promised not to tell.”

  “Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me who she is.”

  Sylvia zipped her lips, as if she was a child locking up her secrets and he was the parent. He turned to the nurse and she shook her head. He started to stand; his knees were burning and he couldn’t take much more.

  Sylvia’s phone was on the table next to her. He pushed himself to his feet and reached for it. Before the nurse could stop him. Before his mother could demand he put it down. He opened the contacts and found the name the nurse had said, Kayla. Kayla Stanford. He pulled out his phone, took a quick photo of the name and number and handed his mother back her phone.

  “I will find my sister.”

  “You shouldn’t. She isn’t strong. She...she might be like me.”

  “I don’t care. I want to know her.”

  She stared him down. “Why did you come here?”

  “Fool that I am, I wanted to know you, too. I wanted you to tell me why you left. Now I know.”

  She closed her eyes. “Now you know. And next week, I might not remember.” Her eyes opened. “Will you be back?”

  Did she want that? He looked at the broken woman sitting frail and forlorn in front of him, and he couldn’t be angry. Not the way he wanted to be. Instead, he touched her shoulder. And he forgave her. Or at least he started down that path.

  “Yeah, I’ll be back.”

  He walked away, the nurse and Grace following him into the hall. Grace stepped close to him, her hand reaching for his. The nurse walked slightly ahead of him, and if her body language could speak, he guessed she was mad.

  “When Ms. Stanford finds out, she’s going to be angry. She doesn’t like her mother upset.”

  “Sorry, but I had a right to see her and to know her condition.”

  “You might have rights, but I have a job to do. I can’t let you come in here and upset her.”

  “It’s been twenty years and I had questions. I’m sure you’d have questions, too, if your mother had walked out on you. I’ll contact Ms. Stanford myself.”

  He thought he was doing pretty good until he got in the truck. He sat behind the wheel for a minute, then he brushed at the dampness on his cheeks he hadn’t expected to feel. Tears. He was almost twenty-seven and he was crying over Sylvia Martin.

  He hadn’t cried over her since that first night. Jake hadn’t let him. Now he knew why.

  “Brody, are you okay?” Grace’s voice was soft, sweet. He’d nearly forgotten she was with him.

  “I’m good.” He leaned back, eyes closed, taking deep breaths to clear the pain that had settled like a rock on his chest. “Man, this is crazy. I didn’t remember. I only remembered her driving away and crying because she wouldn’t come back. I remembered Duke and Jake holding me back, keeping me from running after her.”

  “The brain has a way of blocking things.”

  “Yeah, the painful memories, things that are traumatic. I know. All of these years I remembered her being manic. She would get a little crazy, dancing and laughing. And then she’d get angry. But I n
ever remembered her hitting me.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “I’m glad you can’t.” He started his truck. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

  Before he could shift the truck into gear, she moved closer to him in the seat. With gentle hands she cupped his cheeks and turned him to face her. Her fingers slid through his hair to the back of his head. His heart ached in a whole new way as she touched her lips to his, kissing away the pain.

  A whole lot of healing was in that kiss. She timidly brushed her lips against his. And then she leaned in closer. He kissed her back, hungry for her touch, for her kiss.

  He needed her. He needed her touch, her softness, her love. He held her close, returning the kiss.

  He needed her. But she couldn’t fix him. He knew that. It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t fair to her.

  He pulled back, brushing a hand through her hair before setting her away from him.

  “That was better than a bandage,” he managed to say with a smile.

  But it felt a lot like ripping the scab off a wound.

  * * *

  The kiss had scared her senseless. Grace didn’t know what to say to him on that long ride back to Martin’s Crossing. Even when they stopped to eat, she could only sit across from him and try to make small talk.

  Something had come out of that visit, being with him as he faced his mother. She got him now. She understood who he was. Now she got what it meant for him, when he’d picked her, choosing to trust her with his heart.

  And she’d tossed it back to him without thinking what it cost him.

  He had meant to give her a part of himself, a part that he’d never given anyone. Now she saw that letting him go might have been the biggest mistake of her life. It was too late for another chance, though. He’d promised never to let her back in. She’d promised her baby that she’d focus on the most important thing in her life—the child she would have in a matter of months.

  She must have dozed off, because she woke with a start as he stopped in front of Oregon’s place. Her temporary home. She realized that more than ever. Being back in Fort Worth, back with her grandparents, she’d realized that she would have to go back now. There were no more reasons to stay away. She would go back to school, become a nurse, have her baby, and someday she’d have the husband, the home in the subdivision. The way she’d always planned, just with a side trip.

  “You okay?” Brody asked as he opened his truck door.

  “I’m good. I’m more worried about you,” she admitted. “Why don’t you stay for a little while? Have a glass of tea or maybe some cocoa. Oregon always has cocoa. The kind with little marshmallows.”

  “No, I think I’ll pass on the little marshmallows. Don’t worry about me, Gracie. I’m used to shaking it off.”

  “Why? You have family. You have friends.”

  “I’m good. I really am.”

  “No one is that good all the time, Brody. No one can go through what you’ve gone through today and not be a little battered.”

  “Men don’t use words like battered,” he teased. “I’m good. But I’m man enough to admit I’ve done a lot of praying during this drive home. I have peace, and that does a lot for a man.”

  He walked her to the front door. She wanted to hold on to him, tell him she got it, that he was strong. But she wasn’t. Not the way he was.

  At the door he pulled her to a stop next to him. He leaned down, brushed his cheek against hers. “It’s just another chapter in my story. What’s the next chapter in yours?”

  She leaned into his shoulder and his hand rubbed her back, still holding her close. “I wish I knew.”

  He grinned. She didn’t see it but she heard it when he spoke. “I think you know. Don’t be afraid of it, Gracie. Just go for it.”

  He let her go with a hug and she watched as he limped back to the truck and then drove away. She waited until he was out of sight before she opened the door and went inside. She found Oregon in the kitchen at her sewing machine.

  “I thought that might be you,” Oregon said without looking up. She wore glasses and her hair was pulled up in a bun. Absently she reached for a cup of tea and took a sip before going back to the seam she was sewing.

  Grace poured herself a glass of water and took a seat at the table a short distance away. Oregon studied her from over the top of the glasses and then she pushed them to the top of her head.

  “You look beat. Rough day?”

  Grace nodded, sipping the water. “Really rough for Brody.”

  “He saw his mom?”

  She nodded, wondering how much of the story to tell. She guessed by the next day they would all know.

  “They have a sister,” she announced.

  “Yes, Samantha. She’s at college. I met her briefly this summer.”

  Something must have shown in Grace’s face because Oregon’s eyes widened.

  “They have another sister,” Grace explained. “Sylvia was pregnant when she left.”

  “Wow. That’s huge. And how is Brody taking this?”

  “He’s Brody. I know it hurts but he isn’t going to let it get him down. He wants to know her.”

  Oregon studied her for a minute, then moved to a chair at the table. “Do you love him?”

  Grace closed her eyes and sighed. “Yes, but how do I tell him that? I had my chance and I hurt him. And now I’m having another man’s baby. Brody is forgiving, but he isn’t going to allow himself to be hurt again.”

  “No one said he would be hurt again. But don’t let go of him, Grace. If you love him, give him a chance, because I know he loved you.”

  Grace fingered the lace tablecloth and nodded. “Yes, loved, past tense.”

  “Is love that easily forgotten?”

  Grace didn’t have an answer for that. She only knew that it would hurt to offer her heart to Brody and have him tell her he wasn’t willing to give her another chance. It was easier to tell herself that she had to focus on the baby.

  And someday, when life settled down, she’d take time for romance. By then Brody would have moved on. She’d be over him.

  She hoped.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brody walked to Jake’s the next morning. He needed the exercise to work out the stiffness and he needed to get some fresh air before confronting his brothers. He knew he’d find both brothers together. They’d bought cattle the day before, all young cows, a few ready to drop calves.

  He walked through the open door of the barn and saw them leaning over a tractor part. Both were scratching their fool heads as though they didn’t know what to do next. They glanced his way and kept talking.

  “What did you do to Old Red?” he asked, referring to the tractor that had been on the place for longer than he’d been alive. It was a death trap, the kind that could roll over if a guy didn’t turn the wheel just right.

  “Nothing, just trying to see if we can order this part off the internet. No one around here has parts in stock.”

  “I say take Red to the tractor cemetery and call it good.”

  Duke shook his head. “That’s just cold.”

  “Yeah, well, Red almost tipped on me a few years ago. We haven’t been real close since then.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the photo of the name and number of their unknown sister. With no explanation he shoved it in front of Jake. “Who is she?”

  Jake took the phone, lifted one shoulder in a who-knows manner and handed the phone to Duke. Duke did likewise and handed the phone back to Brody.

  “Not a clue,” Duke said. He picked up the piece of metal. “You know, I don’t even know what this part is. I just know it makes the tractor run.”

  “She’s our sister,” Brody blurted out, waiting to see if they were as shocked as he’d been
. Both looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Jake took the phone back and gave it another look.

  “What are you talking about?” Duke gave him a careful look and then glanced at the phone Jake held.

  “I visited Sylvia and when I got there, the nurse said the only one who ever visited was Sylvia’s daughter Kayla. She was surprised that our mother has other children. And I was pretty surprised to learn that Sylvia was pregnant when she left here.” He narrowed his gaze at Jake. “Is that something you haven’t been telling me? That and the fact that she beat me the day she left.”

  “You didn’t remember the beating, so I didn’t think it would be good to bring it up. You were always determined to think she was better than she was.” Jake picked up the tractor part and headed for his truck. Brody followed behind him, feeling a lot like the kid who had always tagged along behind his older brothers.

  “Did you know she was pregnant?”

  Jake put the tractor part in the back of his truck and then faced Brody. Duke had followed them out and he leaned against the side of the truck, arms on the side of the bed.

  “No. I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  “She had an affair,” Brody went on, half-mad that his voice shook. “So we have a half sister somewhere in Texas.”

  “Have you thought to search for her on the internet?” Duke asked with a lazy drawl.

  “No, I’m too stupid for that,” Brody shot back. Sometimes brothers were more trouble than they were worth. “Yes, I did. Last night I typed her name into the search engine, but I couldn’t do it. And I haven’t called her. It just seemed like something we should do together.

  Jake didn’t reply. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared out over fields that had turned brown from heat and lack of rain. In the distance the hills were hazy in the early morning light.

  “Let’s give her a call. Maybe she knows more about us than we know about her,” Duke suggested, stepping away from the truck. “I’ll call if you don’t want to.”

  “Be my guest.” Jake handed him the phone.

  Duke punched in the numbers and then he waited. “Kayla Stanford, this is Duke Martin from the Circle M Ranch at Martin’s Crossing. I think we’re both acquainted with Sylvia Martin. Please call me back at this number.” He recited his own number and handed the phone back to Brody. “It’s done. Maybe you can let go of the past, baby brother, and get on with your life.”