Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance

by Maggie Miller

  Matthew picks up the coffeepot and tops my mug off with coffee. “Or so he says. I’m going to be ticked off if he cancels. I hate to ask you this, Ginny, but would you be able to do us a favor? If you can’t do it, just say so and I’ll find someone else. It’s short notice.”

  “Sure, if I can.”

  “I’m supposed to be picking up Luke from the airstrip tomorrow. He doesn’t want the press to know he’s in town so he’s flying in on a private plane. Could you sit with Dad and Lily for a couple of hours while I run out to pick him up?”

  “Of course. It’s a Saturday and I have the weekend off work for a change. Sure, I’ll come by and stay until you get back.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. We owe you one. It seems I’m always scrambling around for help these days.”

  “You owe me nothing. I’m happy to help.”

  And desperate to see Luke again.

  Matthew is a friend, but Luke is an old flame. The only one who can light me up from the inside like no one else before or since then. The thought of being here when he arrives makes my heart pound in my chest with anticipation.

  “How long has it been since you last saw Luke?” Matthew asks as if he can read my thoughts.

  “I’m not sure,” I reply. “Quite a while. Not since I left to go off to college and he headed straight for Nashville. He didn’t make it back to our five-year class reunion. I was hoping he might. I guess it would be a little much for a celebrity to return for a high school reunion. And awkward, considering most of his female classmates are now his biggest fans.”

  “Did you know that his first song is about you?” Matthew asks.

  I blush and take a sip of my coffee to hide my red face. “No, it could have been about anyone. Or no one person in particular. You don’t need a real romance to write a love song.”

  “What you two had was more than a romance,” he says, smiling knowingly. “You were inseparable from the time you were ten years old. Always chasing each other through the cornfields or catching lizards in the creek. Mama couldn’t get Luke to come in for dinner at night because you two were always too busy doing something. She’d yell for him until she was hoarse, then she’d go outside and lay down on the car horn.”

  I smile at the memory. “Luke knew the car horn was his five-minute warning,” I say. “No matter how far away we were, we could always hear her car horn blowing. Three times was the signal. When we heard that, he’d take off running back to the house fast as he could go. He said she’d give him a whooping if he didn’t.” I laugh lightly. “We were so young and innocent back then. It was such a long time ago. Things were simple and easy. Living in the country without a care in the world. I doubt your brother even remembers my name.”

  Matthew raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh, I’m sure he remembers the name of the girl who inspired the song he sings pretty much every night of his life now.”

  “Stop it,” I say, holding up my hand. “The song’s not about me. We were only kids. It’s hardly the world’s greatest love story.”

  “Keep on telling yourself that,” he says, giving me a knowing look. “One of these days you might actually believe it.”

  5

  Luke

  The small rural airport for private planes is tiny with a short landing strip no longer than my driveway back in Nashville. The wheels of the chartered plane bump the runaway once before touching down smoothly and rolling to a complete stop. “I enjoyed the flight,” I say to the pilot sitting in the cockpit beside me. Harry had booked him at the last minute so I wouldn’t need to fly commercial. “Thanks for flying me home on such short notice.”

  The grey-haired pilot removes his glasses and cleans them carefully. “Let me know when you’re ready to return to Nashville and I’ll fly you back,” he replies, taking a business card out of his pocket and handing it to me. “It’s not every day I get to shuttle a country music star around the country. It’s good for business.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” I tell him with a polite smile. I exit down the short set of metal steps to the runway with my guitar and one small suitcase then head toward the tiny building to find Matthew. My brother is the reliable one in the family. If he said he’d be here, then I know he will be. He’s never late and always right on time.

  As soon as I step outside the front door of the airstrip, I see Matthew waiting for me in his old black pick-up truck, one elbow hanging out the open window, dark sunglasses over his eyes. He lowers them when I appear, as if to check it’s really me, then a grin appears on his deeply-tanned face and he steps out of the truck. “If it isn’t my little brother,” he says, opening his arms wide to grab me in a big bear hug.

  I hug him back tightly then release him. “I said I’d be here and here I am. I caught the first plane I could get. It was a tiny puddle-jumper. I probably could’ve driven here faster in my car. When we were flying over the highway, I swear the cars were moving quicker than we were.”

  “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He reaches out his hand toward my suitcase. “Hand me your bag and I’ll throw it in the back of the truck.”

  I grip the suitcase tighter. “Don’t worry. I’m still able to lift my own bags.”

  “Is that so?” he says. “I’m surprised you’re still able to pick out your own clothes. Don’t you have a guy to do all that stuff these days?”

  I throw him a sideways glance. The small smile playing on his lips tells me he’s joking. His expression breaks into a wide grin. I load my case into the bed of the truck and place my guitar carefully behind my seat. Matthew returns to the driver seat and we set off down the two-lane road to the ranch. The Texas landscape slowly rolls by. Mile after mile of ranch land. Not a skyscraper or neon light in sight.

  “It’s good to be home,” I say. “I always forget how small this place is. No fast food restaurants or big box retail stores junking things up on the side of the road.”

  “Things haven’t changed much since you were here,” he says. “The fast food franchises haven’t quite made it to Sweet Rose Canyon yet. You’ll have to survive on the food at the Tastee Burger diner if you get hungry.”

  “Is that place still open?” The down and dirty hamburger joint was one of our favorite haunts as teens. Our parents used to send us off with ten dollars in our pockets, and we’d spend all afternoon eating burgers and drinking chocolate milkshakes.

  “Stronger than ever. Tanya’s running the joint now.”

  “You’re kidding?” I say. “It has been a long time. Times sure do change. She was one of my classmates in high school. I’m not sure I want to eat there if she’s doing the cooking. I’d be afraid of food poisoning. One time I signed up for Home Economics class as an elective. She was in there too and couldn’t cook worth a flip. The teacher made us partner up on a cake-making demonstration. Tanya mixed up the measurements and the cake turned out as flat as a pancake and salty as ocean water. The teacher gave us both a ‘C’ for that. Pulled my whole grade down in the class.”

  “Well, her cooking now is better than mine, which isn’t saying much.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I say.

  It’s a blazing hot June day and I can feel the sweltering sun beating down on the fields. I reach my hand toward the truck’s vents and only feel hot air coming out. “Is the truck’s air conditioner broken?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

  “What air conditioner?” he says, laughing at my misery. “You’d better get used to the heat, city boy. We don’t have many luxuries like air-conditioning here. Before I forget, I need to remind you to watch everything you say around Lily. She’s four now with big ears. I don’t want her picking up any bad language. If you’re not careful, she’ll repeat everything you say. And I do mean everything. Last week I almost ran a red light and had to slam on my brakes. Lily was in the backseat and I heard a little ‘darn it!’ under her breath when I almost threw her into the floorboard.”

  “I’ll try my best. I don
’t want to be blamed for corrupting my little niece. Just to be sure, what is considered a bad word?”

  “Anything Mama would have scolded us for. The same rules still apply in the house.”

  “Got it,” I say. “Don’t worry. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what?” Matthew asks, shooting me a look across the seat.

  “Raise a kid alone. Not just a kid, a little girl. How do you know what to do or not do?”

  “I take it one day at a time,” he says. “When a baby’s screaming, you’ll figure out fast how to fix a bottle in the middle of the night or change a diaper to make them stop. After the first few months, everything seemed to get easier. Lily’s a great kid. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter. She’s no trouble.”

  “I can’t wait to see her and Dad,” I say. There’s a bright glare on the windshield, and I tilt my cowboy hat down to shield my eyes since my sunglasses are packed in my bag.

  “I bought you that hat,” Matthew says.

  “It was a going away present, if I remember. When I left for Nashville with fifty dollars in my pocket and my guitar.”

  “Was it?” he asks. “I always thought of it as a peace offering.”

  “You mean for chewing me out about going to Nashville in the first place?”

  “That’s right, and other things.”

  I run my fingers along the brim of the hat and lean my head back against the seat. “I love this hat. I wear it all the time.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t upgraded,” he says. “Maybe to a fancy hat made from the leather of a rare, endangered cow or something.”

  “A rare cow?” I ask with a chuckle. “What is that? If you can find me one, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

  We both break out into laughter. “We always had fun together, didn’t we?” I ask.

  Matthew nods. “Yes. We sure did. Always.”

  I settle back into the passenger seat and start to enjoy the view, letting all the stress and pressure of my latest tour fade to the back of my mind. “It feels good to be back home,” I say.

  Matthew’s face grows serious. “I need to warn you about Dad. He’s a lot worse than when you saw him at Easter.”

  “What do you mean? Worse how?”

  “The Alzheimer’s has sunk its nasty claws in. He’s showing more of the typical symptoms.” Matthew’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, hinting at the stress and pressure that he’s dealing with. “He often struggles to find the right words. He gets angry and frustrated. Some of the time he’s completely confused and doesn’t know who’s who or what’s what. The latest new thing we’re dealing with is the wandering. It’s worse at night.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  “Nowhere in particular. I watch him closely all the time. If I turn my back for a second, he’s likely to go off missing. Whenever I catch up with him, he doesn’t even know where he’s going, or else he’ll say he’s off to do something that makes no sense at all.”

  “Doing what?”

  “The last time he said he was going to buy some sugar and flour for Mom because she wanted to bake a cake.”

  The sadness of that sentence hits me hard. Our mother has been gone for over two years. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad. I should’ve been home before now.”

  “Once it started progressing, the disease steamrolled. Every day I dread getting up to see how bad he’s gotten overnight. At least you’re here with us now.”

  Hearing about how my dad has deteriorated makes me nervous about seeing him. I only hope that I’m not too late. There are things I need to say to him. To tell him how much he’s meant to me.

  A few minutes later, and we’re pulling up on the long dirt road leading up to the ranch house. In the truck’s side mirror, I can see the cloud of dust billowing up behind us. I look out over my childhood home with mixed emotions. I both miss it and am grateful that I left. I always knew I could never be happy staying here as a fulltime rancher. Not with music in my blood.

  “Home sweet home,” Matthew says.

  The house is a large, two-story white building with a wide front porch lined with old, wooden rocking chairs. Four thick white columns hold up the sloping blue roof. To our right is a huge cattle barn with a bright red roof. A metal weather vane of a giant rooster sits on the highest point.

  A few black and white cows are patiently standing around the barn, waiting to be fed. A mama hen with a line of baby chicks following behind her suddenly darts in front of the truck when we drive closer to the house.

  “Yikes!” Matthew yells, slamming on his brakes. “I swear! That Mama Hen acts as if she owns the whole place. I don’t know how the babies stay alive sometimes because she doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

  “Is that old rooster, Jeb, still alive?” I ask.

  “Oh yeah,” Matthew replies. “Don’t worry, he’ll wake you up bright and early.”

  “Is he immortal? I swear he used to wander around when I was just a kid.”

  “Either him or another rooster just like him. Daddy named them all Jeb, so I don’t know how many there were.”

  When we pull to a stop in front of the house, I step out of the truck and breathe in deeply. The smell of dirt, grass, and hay fills my lungs. I look around slowly, squinting against the sunlight, trying to take it all in. “This place never changes,” I say. “It still smells like home.”

  “Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke!”

  I hear my niece’s delighted squeal before she comes tumbling out of the house wearing a denim dress with white frills and a little pair of cowboy boots almost up to her knees. Her brown hair is loose and curly. When she grins at me, she shows off a full set of teeth. Did she have all her teeth last time I saw her? I can’t remember. I crouch down and hold out my arms to her. She rushes into them and I give her a big hug. “Hey, Princess! I can’t believe how big you’ve grown! Are you sixteen years old now?”

  Lily giggles and squirms in my arms. “I’m four,” she says, holding up three fingers then adding one more.

  I’m relieved Lily still remembers me since we only spent a few hours together when I was last here. Releasing her, I rise to my feet. As I glance up, I catch sight of someone I haven’t seen in the longest time.

  Someone I never expected to see here.

  Ginny.

  I’m completely caught off guard. The unexpected sight of her gut punches me and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. After all these years and time apart, there she is.

  She’s even more gorgeous than I remember.

  She’s standing on the porch with her arms folded across her chest and a small smile playing on her face as if I never left. She’s wearing a mid-length yellow summer dress with sandals. Her thick, blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, shining in the glow of the setting sunlight. My heart is pounding so fast and I’m frozen, unable to speak.

  Matthew follows my gaze and grins. He slaps me on the back to jerk me back into reality, and I clear my throat before walking towards her.

  “Well if it isn’t Miss Ginny Phillips,” I say, trying to pretend that seeing her hasn’t rocked my world upside down.

  “If it isn’t Luke Collins,” she replies. Her smile is slightly teasing, if a little shy. I can almost see the same memories that are dancing through my mind playing out behind her eyes. “It’s been a long time,” she says.

  “Yes, it certainly has. I’m surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”

  “She stopped by to stay with Dad and Lily while I ran to the airport to pick you up,” Matthew explains. “It’s hard to find dependable help these days. And impossible at the last minute.”

  “It sounds as if I owe you,” I say to her. I can’t turn away from the sight of her. I’m drinking her in like a man who has been dying of thirst for the past seven years.

  Ginny’s eyes are still the deepest sky blue I’ve ever seen. The kind of eyes songs are written about. Eyes I’ve gotten lost in so many times before. Eyes that I se
e still every night in my dreams. Her face hasn’t changed much either, neither have her full, soft lips lightly tinted with pink lip gloss.

  There’s a hint of a hot summer breeze. It catches the light material of her dress and blows the skirt of the dress slightly. She looks exactly as I remember her. The love of my life hasn’t changed since she was eighteen years old.

  Our eyes meet, and I wonder if she remembers it all too?

  Over the last seven years, I’ve sung in front of massive crowds. I’ve never felt self-conscious or ill at ease in front of them. Yet, standing here in front of my childhood sweetheart now, I feel awkward and nervous. I can’t seem to find the right words to say. I’m completely tongue-tied. “You look incredible,” I tell her. “Every bit as pretty as I remember.”

  She glances out toward the barn. When she twists a strand of hair around her finger, I hide a smile at her unconscious gesture. A habit she never could break. Even now, I can still read her body language. “Thank you,” she says. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  The air is thick with chemistry and unspoken words. So many things have been left unsaid between us.

  Matthew steps in to help us over the awkward hump in conversation. “Ginny works in the drugstore these days. She’s a pharmacist. Aren’t you the head of the pharmacy now too?”

  “Only for the past week,” she says with a nod.

  “That’s fantastic, Ginny,” I say, genuinely proud of her. “You always said that’s what you wanted to do. You loaded up on Science classes in school.”

  “And you always said you wanted to be the biggest thing that ever happened to country music. Now look at you. The next thing you know, you’ll be in the Country Music Hall of Fame.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I say with a self-conscious chuckle. “It’s still too early in my music career to be calling anything like that. I’m just a working man trying to make a living.” For some reason, I’m trying to downplay my success in front of Ginny. I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable around me. More importantly, I don’t want her to think I’ve changed. Deep down inside, I’m still Luke. The guy she used to love a long time ago. Back when I was the luckiest man alive to have her in my life.