Montana Dreams

by Jillian Hart

  * * *

  The kiss to her forehead, nothing but a display of emotion, troubled him. All through the meal, even though Millie stayed with her father, he kept reliving it. While he carried his empty plate to the sink and helped Brandi clear off the table, the experience stuck with him. The sweetness of being close to Millie dogged him, refusing to let go.

  “Look, Brandi.” Simon went up on tiptoe, gazing through the window. “The cats drank the milk. They are gonna figure out that we want to be friends with them.”

  “Yes, they will.” Brandi’s cheer matched the sunshine tumbling through the windows, but it couldn’t pierce the bubble that seemed wrapped around his head. A Millie bubble—all he could hear was the dulcet murmur of her voice down the hall, the comforting lull of her words, the whisperlike pad of her gait.

  He’d kissed her. He’d done it automatically and without thought, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d made a big mistake this time and it wasn’t only the kiss.

  “Our old neighbors had a cat, and I used to take care of Roger when they went on vacation.” Simon scooped the empty glasses from the table, dutifully carrying them to the sink. “He purred real loud, like a motor, when you scratched his chin. We had to move to come here. Shadow and Smokey are sorta mine now, too, right?”

  “Right.” Brandi tugged open the fridge putting things away.

  Hunter tried to pay attention, but his senses were sharpened to what was going on down the hall where Millie was. Sounded like Whip was giving both Millie and the nurse’s aide a hard time. Footsteps padded in their direction, but it wasn’t Millie. He knew her gait by heart.

  “I’ve been sent out to eat before you put lunch all away.” The home-care nurse swept in.

  “Dig in, absolutely.” Brandi snared a clean plate out of the dishwasher. “What would you like to drink? Juice? Milk?”

  “Water, and you don’t need to wait on me.” She flushed a little, passing him by to fill a water glass for herself.

  “Hunter?” Simon called to him. “Can I go down and pet Sundae again?”

  “Sure, kid. He’s yours for as long as you’re here.” Really, really hard not to like that boy. He listened to the drum of steps, the slam of the screen door and reached for the serving spoon to fill Millie’s plate.

  Family life. He’d never thought much of it, and always tried his best not to. Inevitably it pulled up memories of his childhood, Mom’s disappointment, Dad’s failures and the chaos that made everyday life difficult to navigate. But it had been pleasant talking with Simon over tuna casserole. The kid was funny, and Millie made any house seem like home, even if she wasn’t in the room.

  He shook his head, surprised at himself. He was getting soft, wanting what he didn’t believe in. That didn’t stop him from wanting.

  Brandi was busy making the nurse’s aide comfortable, so he grabbed a paper napkin and Millie’s fork from the table and veered down the hallway. No sound came from the room. When he shouldered through the partly closed door, Whip lay sunken and motionless in bed, as if asleep.

  “Hey, what are you still doing here?” Millie, face pinched, clutched the wooden arms of the chair where she was sitting. “I thought you’d be home getting ready to start haying.”

  “That can wait another day.” He lowered his voice, doing his best not to look at Whip. It was sad what that man had to show for his life and sad that it was almost over. “We still haven’t talked price for the hay.”

  “We don’t need to. Sending Brandi and Cal over to help, fighting the fire, finishing my to-do list, being good to Simon. No, I owe you.”

  “Impossible. I’ve been keeping a running tab.”

  Her smile, even a sad one, could put hope where there’d been none before. She rose from the chair. “Is that for me?”

  “Yeah.” He jabbed the plate at her, embarrassed by his softer side. “Take it to your room and eat. Rest, maybe sneak in a nap. I know you’ll be up watching him tonight.”

  “A little alone time sounds nice.” Worry and exhaustion marked her face. Her lovely, lovely face.

  “Then do it. Don’t worry.” He’d better play it smart and not kiss her again. “I’ll sit with him until Rosa gets back.”

  “I shouldn’t.” Her stomach growled, and she blushed. “Oops. Okay, maybe I should eat.”

  “Do you think?” Gently, so gently, he moved over to her and held the door. Fine, so he wouldn’t kiss her but he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to cradle the side of her face. A man could get lost in her big blue eyes.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Caring shone from within her, not just appreciation, not merely gratitude, but something bigger. Something pure and grand and true. “Just forget it, okay?” He couldn’t hide the love in his voice, didn’t try.

  She slipped from the room, leaving him unguarded and overwhelmed with too many feelings to sort out.

  “Still sweet on her?” Whip croaked, cracking open one eye. Slitted, that light shade of blue shone cold. He spoke between heavy breaths, hampered by an oxygen mask. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time, boy?”

  “You’d better rest, Whip.” What he felt for Millie...he swallowed hard, unable to complete the thought. He didn’t do love. He’d always fought loving her. But this time around was different and he was fighting a losing battle. Not that he’d admit it to Whip. “Take it easy. You don’t look so well.”

  “I’m dying. It’s life. You live, you die.” He sucked in air, wheezing as he fought to speak. “There is one thing I’d like to get off my chest before I go.”

  “You’re turning red, Whip.” A little alarming to see the man struggling hard to breathe. “Let me get the nurse.”

  “He’s yours.” Whip’s clawlike grip clamped around Hunter’s wrist, clinging tight.

  “What are you talking about?” Did he mean Simon? He shook off Whip’s hold. “I’m not going to let you mess with me.”

  “She kept it secret. Kept him from you.” Menace twisted the man’s gaunt face. “You don’t believe me? Ask the boy when he was born. Eight months and two weeks after that girl ran away from here, disgraced.”

  “There’s no proof he’s mine.” It couldn’t be true, his brain couldn’t process it. A hum filled his ears. Pain roared through him. He hated lies. “You’ve done what you’ve set out to do. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  “Yep.” Whip’s grin twisted, apparently pleased that as weak as he was, he still possessed the power to hurt.

  It had to be a lie told by a dying man. His feet hit the hall carpet without remembering leaving the room. The affection he felt for Millie was gone and the anger came back. He felt torn up, remembering her long-ago betrayal. Whip was lying, taking pleasure in spreading unhappiness, just like always.

  “Hunter.” Millie stood stock-still, frozen in the middle of her bedroom doorway. Jaw dropped in surprise, she stared at him, her silent apology so sincere no way could he miss it.

  Whip wasn’t lying. The boy, Simon, really was his son.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hunter. I’m sorry.” She was slack with shock, unable to believe what her father had done. “So, so sorry. You shouldn’t have learned it this way.”

  “I should have known.” His teeth clacked together. A muscle bunched along his jawline. “Simon is mine.”

  “Y-yes.” A terrible ripping sensation traveled through her, rending her in two. No way could she look him in the eye. His boots were braced, planted on the carpet like a man ready to fight. His powerful hands balled into tight, white-knuckled fists, proof of the fury he held back.

  “I’m sorry.” She’d say it a hundred thousand times if it would make a difference. Oh, the pain carved into his face broke her heart. How did she make it better for him?

  “Sorry?” Fury lined
his face in deep furrows. “You think an apology can fix this?”

  “I wish it could.” More than he could possibly know.

  “With you it’s one lie after another. Remember you told me about Simon’s father? How he didn’t help out, how he didn’t want Simon?” he bit out through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “I didn’t know if I should.” Honesty was all she had. She drew herself up straight, bracing for the rage she rightfully deserved. “Although what I told you was true. Simon’s father didn’t help out. He didn’t want kids.”

  “I was twenty-two and I was an idiot.” He jerked away, wrath radiating from him as he stalked to the door. “I had a messed-up childhood, no different from a lot of people’s, but I let it affect me.”

  “Affect you? No, it was more than that. How many times did you tell me marriage was stupid? That it was a—”

  “A ball and chain for a man and misery for a woman. I know, I said it a lot, but we’re talking about a child here. You were carrying him and you kept him from me.”

  “I did.” There wasn’t an excuse big enough to justify what she’d done. “I denied you your son and Simon his father. You should hate me for that.”

  “Hate you? You just don’t get it, do you?” He slammed through the screen, his boots pounding on the porch boards. The door smacked the side of the house with the force of his temper and ricocheted, banging shut. The sunshine didn’t dare touch him as he raged down the steps. “You took something from me you can never give back.”

  “I know.” Tears burned in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She pushed through the door. “I wish I could.”

  “Those coupons in the grocery store. Handing back crackers because you couldn’t stretch your budget.” He fished his truck keys out of his pocket. “That’s the life you gave my son? Squeaking by as a single mom. That was better?”

  “Hey, I’ve done a good job providing for him.” Except for the last nine months, but plenty of people had been affected by unemployment lately. That wasn’t her fault. “I work hard to make sure Simon has everything he needs.”

  “Everything but a father.” Bitterness twisted his granite features and he turned away, as if he couldn’t stand to look at her. He yanked open his truck door and strain rippled across his shoulders. Vibrating with anger, he hopped onto the seat.

  “I need to go. Wrap my head around this. Tell Simon I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Beneath his anger lurked an equally powerful pain. Pain he would never share with anyone. That wasn’t Hunter’s way. Never show weakness. And love? That was definitely off-limits.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, hating that she wanted to comfort him. Now that he knew the truth, he was going to hate her forever.

  “Find someone else to fix things around here.” He rolled down his window, not meeting her gaze. The engine roared to life. “I’m done.”

  Bitter words, his wounded heart shining in his eyes. A hurt that looked too deep to fix.

  Please understand, she tried to tell him, hoping he could read it in her, but he drove away. The strength left her knees as she watched his pickup speed down the driveway, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Only then did she put her face in her hands and breathe.

  “Mom?”

  A tentative voice cut through her grief. She lowered her hands, blinking hard. Simon. How could she have forgotten about him? “Hi, kiddo. How are the horses settling in?”

  “Okay, I guess. They’re eatin’ grass.” He plopped down on the porch step beside her.

  Calm down, she told herself. Simon was what mattered here. “Do you like Sundae?”

  “Yeah, a lot.” His face scrunched up in thought. “Is Hunter really my dad?”

  “You heard that, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “He was really angry.”

  “Angry at me, not you. Never you, sweetheart.” She slipped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close, holding him. His little-boy scent, his hair tickling her chin, the cozy-close feeling of her son. Priceless. It was an experience Hunter had never known. “How are you feeling about this?”

  “Okay, I guess.” He blew out a sigh, troubled. “He didn’t want us?”

  “He didn’t know about you. I told you when you were little he just wouldn’t be in our lives, right?” She prayed with all her heart that Hunter could be the father her son deserved. “He’s coming over tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, he told me when we were setting up the hose for the water trough. He’s gonna teach me how to ride. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

  “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.” It was why she’d left this house in the first place, so she wouldn’t raise her child anywhere near Whip. It was why she’d left Hunter, so Simon would never have to face his cold rejection. “For the record, I think you should give your dad a chance. You both deserve to see what can happen.”

  “Okay.” He paused, bit his lip, considering things. “I really like him.”

  “Me, too.” They smiled together, just like always. Some wounds could be mended, but others? No idea. She glanced down the road, where the dust cloud lingered, hovering in the air like the ghosts of the past that would never leave.

  “He has a cowlick just like mine. I noticed when he took his hat off to eat with us.” Hope lit him up. “I’ve been kinda wondering anyway.”

  “You have? You could have said something to me.”

  “He has dimples, too. And when you said you used to date him.” A shrug of his shoulders, a tentative grin. “I just started hoping. A little. You know.”

  “I see.” Maybe she should have been worried about his figuring out the truth instead of everyone else. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes and shoved off the step. “I kinda like it here.”

  “Me, too.” She watched him go, kicking at the dandelions in the lawn as he went. At least he seemed to be handling things okay. That was all she could ask, considering.

  “Millie? Your father wants to come sit in the sunshine.” Hinges squeaked as Rosa eased open the screen door. “I wanted to check with you first.”

  “As long as he feels up to it.” She stood, feeling wooden and hollowed out, like nothing would ever be the same again. She looked toward the hillside, the trees hiding any view of Hunter’s property from sight, but she knew he was there, somewhere. Was he still hurting? Down deep, was he glad at the news?

  There was no way to know. She followed Rosa into the house, praying for the strength to deal with her dad.

  * * *

  How could she deceive him like that—again? He still couldn’t believe it. Hunter tossed a wrench into the toolbox, the rattle echoing in the barnyard. He leaned against the tractor’s fender, staring into the greasy engine. His mind took him right back to Millie standing on the porch with her arms wrapped around her middle, looking beautiful and adorable and sincerely sorry.

  Sorry? What good did that do? His hands fisted, he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing against building indignation. She’d kept the fact of her pregnancy from him, ran to another man and what? Wound up alone when he discovered the truth? Was that how it played out? He had no idea how a woman’s mind worked. He opened his eyes, stared into the engine compartment instead of actually doing his work.

  As long as he stayed angry, he wouldn’t have to look at other things. Like how hard it must have been for her on her own. How lost and alone she had to be after he’d pushed her away. He clamped his molars together so hard his jaw ached. No, he couldn’t start feeling sorry for her. She stole his son. Not one word, not one call, even a letter would have done it. She could have told the truth. She hadn’t wanted to. That was what he had to focus on. Once again, Millie’s deceit.

  “Hey, boss.” Cal str
ode over, boots crunching in the gravel. “Looks like you’re about to do some maintenance. Your brother hired me just to help with the milking, but now might be a good time to point out I’m a decent mechanic. If you have work I can do, I’d be happy to turn this part-time job into a full-time one.”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea.” He liked Cal, and he was a hard worker. “I’m not getting anything done here. I’m not in the mood.”

  “You look like something’s up. Anything I can do?”

  “Woman trouble.” That ought to explain everything. It was crazy, here he was a decade later, torn up over the same girl. Hadn’t he learned his lesson last time? He frowned, trying to remember the saying. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  There wouldn’t be a third time. He’d make certain of that.

  “Yeah, that’ll do it. Women. They can really mess you up.” Cal winked and plucked a socket wrench from the toolbox. “Then again, they’re usually worth it.”

  “Right.” Bitterness flooded him and he stalked away. He couldn’t move fast enough to outrun his feelings. Not this time. They stuck with him, locked in his chest, refusing to let him go.

  The two late-season calves blinked their sleepy eyes as he paraded by. They stirred from their naps curled up in the soft hay and bleated, their baby moos echoing in the empty barn.

  “Go back to sleep, little ones,” he told them quietly. “It’s just me passing through.”

  When he hit the end of the barn, he stood in the sunshine, out of steam. He didn’t know where to go. He sank down on a boulder, just right for sitting, and rubbed his forehead where tension drilled like nails through his skull.

  Millie. He’d never left this valley. If she’d wanted to hunt him down, she could have. He’d been right here, a land owner, living his life, building his business with his brother, living the only dream he could count on. The decent thing—no, the moral thing, would have been to tell him he had a son.

  A son. He blew out a breath, overwhelmed. Simon and his fistful of wildflowers. Simon and his bloody nose. Simon’s excitement over the horses. Each thought pulled up a memory and an image of the boy, making an invisible lasso cinch around his chest and squeeze tight. It pulled tighter until his entire rib cage felt ready to shatter.