He looked easygoing and serious, as he started toward the front of the barn. “Everything comes to an end, Trey. When you’re off singing and touring, and our lives go back to normal, I’ll be the one picking up the pieces.”
“Well, a man’s got to work, that’s a fact.” Half-serious, half-teasing, he kept moving, as if this was only a somewhat important conversation. On her end, dealing with aftermaths took on huge importance, but the frank smile he aimed her way left the conversation open. “That doesn’t mean the kids can’t learn how to work a ranch with Hobbs and Murt, does it?”
“I think it does actually.”
“Why?”
What did he mean, why? “Because we live over here and can’t impose on their hospitality like that.”
“No imposition about it, ma’am. Just bein’ neighbors, by and by.”
“The country crooner in you makes it sound easy. I know better, and when you’re talking kids, it’s smarter to hedge your bets rather than set them up for disappointment. Cade was old enough to realize his father’s choices. He’s young, but he realizes that drugs and alcohol were more important than family, and that’s a harsh reality for a kid to bear.”
Her words affected Trey. She saw it in his face and heard it in his voice.
“I know the truth in that, but training these boys to the saddle is plain sensible from a ranch perspective. In a few years these guys could be great ranch hands, and they live right next door. That’s a plus on any big operation. They’d get the chance to learn from the best of the best, and there’s a basketball court set up in the middle barn. A great place for a kid to think, play, shoot hoops, and grow.”
“You make it sound like bringing the kids over there is a benefit to the Double S, not a hassle. That is a dubious assumption on your part.”
“Well, kids are always a hassle.” He grinned when he said it, so it seemed he didn’t mind the hassle all that much. “But my father wouldn’t pull Hobbs out of the cattle area to help train kids to horse without a plan, and I think having a way to earn some money in a few years is a pretty solid plan for teens, don’t you?”
Temptation lured her to think he might be right, but experience taught her to disregard about ninety percent of what men promised. “I’ll take this all under consideration,” she promised. “My perspective is different. I can’t afford to be simplistic when it comes to them.”
The boys banged through the inexpensive, dented screen door and raced across the stones to the small, easy-to-climb trees behind the sheds. Lucy continued, “Experience has taught me to handle the ups and downs of life. But if I let them get overinvolved only to have the rug snatched out from under them, I’ve got no one but myself to blame. I can’t protect them from every hurt, but I’ve got to be the one on the lookout for imminent disaster. Comes with the job description. And I’m not big on being indebted to anyone, Trey. Especially Sam Stafford.”
“Then we’ll take it step by step,” Trey offered mildly. “And in the meantime, I’ve got to get back to the ranch and spend a little time with Dad. Maybe play him a song or two. Wanna come back over for a campfire, Lucy?”
Of course she did. What normal woman wouldn’t want to sit around a campfire on a gorgeous midsummer night, listening to Trey Walker sing? That made it even more impossible. “As wonderful as that sounds, I’m destined to opt for a more prosaic evening.”
He furrowed his brow.
She pointed to the house. “I’m going to start some laundry, get the kids settled in, and make sure my trimmers are sharpened before tomorrow morning. A day in the trees.” It sounded absolutely delightful to say the words out loud. “I’m sure it sounds silly to others, but I love working in the trees, so I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
Trey looked over her head to the Christmas tree acres. “A quiet place to think and pray and maybe write some music.”
His words surprised her because she did exactly that when she worked the trees alone.
He planted a kiss to Belle’s cheek, set her down gently on the drive, and tipped the brim of his tan cowboy hat, a perfect complement to his hazel eyes. “I’ll be by tomorrow after Dad’s appointment.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Trey!”
“Yeah, bye!”
He turned to leave as Brendan, Mark, and Jacob raced into the barnyard.
“I won!”
“Did not, I had you by a hair! Photo finish goes to the bigger brother.” Mark slung an arm around Jacob’s neck and noogied his head as Rye’s cruiser crunched gravel from the other direction. Then the older Battaglia boy spotted Lucy and yelled.
“Hey, Lucy!”
“Hey, yourself. Are you on the work crew?”
The kid grinned at her. “We did the front today, and I did all the trim. Mr. Stafford said it was good. What do you think?” He was a little taller than Lucy, but faced her like a pup waiting on a treat. “Do you like it?”
“You did great,” she told him, and the kid relaxed. “I’m proud of you, Mark.”
“I know.” He shuffled his hands in a nervous way. “And I’m doing better. Not thinking of dark stuff so much.”
He said the words softly, but Trey overheard.
“When we push the dark stuff away, we make room for the light. God wants us to walk in the light, and he washes us clean, Mark. Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.” He smiled at her as he backpedaled toward Rye’s car. “See you tomorrow!”
Lucy waved as Rye approached them. “Things went all right, I take it?”
“Fine. They worked hard, did good, and got invited back,” Trey answered.
“Glad to hear it.” Rye turned to Lucy. “You’ve made a big difference to that boy, Lucy. And a bunch of others. I know it’s not easy, telling your story, setting an example.”
“If seeing my mistakes helps one kid from falling into a drug-abuse pattern, it’s all worth it.”
Her mistakes? Trey didn’t just hear that, did he?
“It takes guts to do what you do though. Most of us don’t have to air our closet skeletons on a weekly basis. You’re a heck of a gal, Luce.”
Mistakes. Closet skeletons. Heading a drug overcomers group.
Nerves thrummed Trey’s spine. His body tensed.
His hands fisted.
He had to work to relax them, and it took more than a little effort.
Cathy had been clean for several years when they met in Nashville. America had forgiven her childish indiscretions and reembraced her as a darling of country music. And when he’d fallen in love with her, marrying her was the testament he’d longed to make to his deceased parents. That they could have cleaned up their act. They could have been decent, moral human beings if they’d tried.
He’d cruised that moral high road for over two years, fist-pumping the air because he’d done what they couldn’t do. He’d developed a great career with a wife who’d gotten straight and stayed that way.
Until the lying and cheating of a drug user reared its ugly head once more.
His heart chilled.
The boys bellowed from beyond the house, and Trey might have waved before he got into the Double S truck. He wasn’t sure.
But he was sure of one thing. He’d tempted fate before and lost.
There was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to tempt it again.
Lucy Carlton was a former drug user.
It couldn’t be true, but the moment she uttered the words, the light dawned. She’d alluded to mistakes, and when she’d talked about being an example to Ashley, she’d mentioned the Overcomers group…
But he hadn’t put it together, and now he couldn’t pull it apart.
Flames flickered in the high-sided fire pit. No one messed with open fires in Central Washington during summer. The risk of forest fire was too great. Likewise, a smart man who’d already been schooled in the ways of drug addicts wouldn’t give them another chance. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Sam had utt
ered that phrase often while Trey was growing up, and it made even more sense today.
A drug user. Mother of three little kids.
Former drug user; get your facts straight. And you’re being a moron.
Trey shoved the mental scolding aside.
He wasn’t a moron. He was smart. Street smart, out of necessity, which meant he needed to put a lockdown on his heart for the duration of the summer. He’d vowed never to be made the fool again. And he’d meant it.
“Now that’s a sunset to remember.” Sam came up alongside, looking west, drinking in the vibrancy of bent light. Apricot, coral and gold, rimmed with shadowed violet. With so much beauty in life, why would people turn to drugs? Trey didn’t get it, and honestly? He didn’t want to get it. Ever. “Everything just so, layered and lit up. A man could work his way through a lot of days, not lookin’ up, and I’m guilty of that more often than not. Seems a shame to miss even one, doesn’t it?”
Trey shifted his focus back to Sam’s new normal because that’s what he came home for. He came north to help his father. Not flirt with the woman next door, a lesson he should have remembered the past few days. Romance didn’t enter the mix. “It does, but life gets lived and days get hectic, Dad. You had three busy boys to raise and a business to run. We’re all doing okay.”
“Now.” Sam grunted. He propped his feet against the fire pit wall like Trey, but he didn’t look nearly as comfortable doing it. Then he swung his feet down and leaned forward. “This appointment tomorrow…”
Trey kept his eyes trained straight ahead on purpose. “You worried?”
Sam’s words said no. His eyes told a different story.
“We’re going there to hear options, Trey, and that’s all. I’m no different than any other patient. I can wait my turn for a donated organ.”
“And if you die, waiting?” Trey asked. He sent Sam a skeptical look. “That’s not much of an option, Dad.”
“If that’s the case, we’ll call it God’s timing and let it go at that,” Sam declared.
“Well now, all I can think of is that three-boats-and-a-helicopter joke. The guy who kept climbing from floor to floor, waiting for God to save him.” Trey grinned, remembering. “Consider me your first lifeboat, Dad.”
“I’ve been reading up.”
So had Trey. The smile slipped from his face. “Me too. The week of intense pain followed by two to four weeks of extreme discomfort doesn’t exactly sound like a cakewalk, does it?”
“Then why do it? Why risk it?”
Sam gripped Trey’s arm, and there was no missing the true emotion in his expression. Emotion he’d stowed deeply away, but Trey had sensed it as a child. It was good to see that warmth resurface at last.
“We’ll go find out the information about a regular transplant and wait. ‘Wait patiently on the LORD.’ ” Sam quoted the words as if he’d spent his life quoting chapter and verse. “That’s what the Good Book says, kind of, anyway, and that’s what I aim to do.”
“You know the system is stacked against you,” Trey offered mildly. “There’s a bigger need in the heavier populated East and West Coast regions, and not as many donors as in the heartland. So are you going to move to Kansas, waiting on the generosity of strangers? Or sit back, relax, and let me be the hero for a change? Colt’s had his shot, helping the town. Nick’s done his share by bringing the Double S around to fit your dream, and his. Now it’s my turn.”
“Nick didn’t have to risk his life.”
“I’ve seen him ride,” Trey quipped as Nick approached them from the far side. “I’d say both he and the horse are in constant danger.”
“Shut up.” Nick scowled and took a seat near Sam. “I can ride circles around you, with or without your liver.”
Trey laughed.
Sam didn’t. “This isn’t a joking matter.”
“Well, it’s not something I want to talk to death either,” Trey told him. “We’re going to listen to what the doctor has to say, then make our decision. If it will help you get better sooner, then I will gladly donate a sizable portion of my interior. And that’s all there is to it.” He stood and stretched. “I’m beat. I’m not used to hauling lumber and manhandling saws.”
“Are things getting done over there?”
Things were moving along next door, and he’d been a lot happier about that a few hours ago. “You mean at Lucy’s?”
Colt had come their way while Trey was talking. Sam nodded while Nick and Colt exchanged knowing looks.
“Yes.” He answered Sam specifically while ignoring his brothers. “You’ve made her very happy.”
“Nice kids,” Colt observed. “The boys think you’re pretty cool,” he went on as he settled into a chair opposite his father. “Of course, they don’t know the rest of us well, yet, so comparisons will prove inevitable, and that will leave you in the dust. But for the moment, you’ve got them snowed.”
“Part of my skill set,” Trey told him, then he got serious. “They’re good kids.”
“Seems so. And Isabo said the older girl was going to hire on over here to help out?”
“Yes.” Trey stretched the word out. “She’s been testing all kinds of limits, and her mother left her high and dry. She’s got issues, so don’t trust her too freely.”
“How old?” Sam asked.
He faced his father. “Fourteen and thinks she’s twenty.”
“A lot to learn, and plenty of mistakes to be made yet. Luckily most of ’em are small enough that we stay out of jail,” Sam said with a shrug.
“If you get into the habit of excusing the small mistakes, the big ones come calling pretty quick,” Nick reminded him.
“They’re likely to do that if you weigh those first mistakes heavy too. Kids need room to grow.”
“He’s gotten soft,” Colt observed to Nick.
“I know.” Nick looked positively insulted. “Where was Mr. Nice Guy when we were growing up?”
Colt started to make a smart-aleck remark, but Trey leaned down and faced them.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that keeping us working night and day was probably in our best interests.”
Colt concurred. “It kept me out of trouble. And there’s plenty of trouble hanging around, that’s for sure. But nothing so tempting as the woman I love.”
Angelina laughed as she approached them with a plate of miniature cakes. “Ashley made these with Mami when she got home from school this afternoon. She did all right for the little time she was here. Mami was pleased.” She read Trey’s warning look and said, “But we’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”
“Good. It’s fine that she’s excited about this, but she’d like to hang with a rough crowd. Or maybe she is the rough crowd, and we’ve got it backward.”
“We’ll give her time and encouragement. And if she can start making better choices, Lucy is the best thing in the world for her. Nothing like experience to know how to tip the tree so it catches the light. Kids aren’t much different.” Angelina kept her tone mild. “I’m going to bed, it’s an early start for Seattle tomorrow.”
Trey slung an arm around Sam’s neck, bent, and kissed his father’s head.
Nick almost choked.
Colt did choke, but grinned too.
“G’night.”
He walked to the SUV, climbed in, and drove to the cabin. He had to pass Lucy’s driveway, and he wanted to stop. He wanted to stop long enough to have her say he’d misunderstood the exchange, but he didn’t misunderstand. He just wished that were the case.
Kitchen light spilled onto the porch as he went by. Was she working on something? Cooking? Baking? Folding laundry? And how did someone surrounded by the pressures of parenting, working, cooking, cleaning, and juggling bills stay clean when a talented wealthy woman like Cathy succumbed to the allure of drugs?
It didn’t make sense, but it wasn’t his job to reason it out. His task was to focus his attention on one prize, his father’s life. And right now, that prize might lay with
in him. Tomorrow would tell.
San Francisco.
EKG.
Abdominal ultrasound.
X-rays.
Four to six weeks. And then double that for healing. If everything goes right. And if it doesn’t?
“Well.” Sam had been antsy ten minutes into the consult. As the surgeon wound down his assessment, Sam stood. “I’m on the list for a donated organ, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” The surgeon didn’t stand, and his tone commanded Sam’s attention. “But your MELD scores aren’t bad, you’re managing to get by, and you’re way down the list, Sam. Unless you get significantly sicker, or move to the heartland, searching for a cadaver liver, your chances of getting one in our region are slim.”
“He has to get sicker?” Colt didn’t look any too happy, and Nick was similarly distressed. “He doesn’t look sick enough to you?”
“It’s a criteria standard, not a subjective assessment,” the surgeon explained. “There are baseline measurements, and your father is still in the low twenties. The most critical patients are scoring in the thirties.”
“What happens if we wait for Dad to get that bad?” Trey asked. “Will he get a liver?”
“Some do.” The doctor looked Trey right in the eyes. “And some don’t. On a national average we lose between fifteen hundred and two thousand patients per year, waiting for a liver that never becomes available.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Trey said mildly.
Sam turned his way quickly. “Don’t even think it, Trey.”
“Don’t have to think it. I’d rather just do it.”
“I won’t hear of it.”
Trey made a face at him, like he did back in the day, when Sam was big and brave and bold and Trey could coax him out of a foul mood by being funny. “It’s not up to you. My liver, my choice. I’m giving a chunk of it to someone, and I’d prefer it to be you on that second table, but if you decide you don’t want it, I’ll give it to someone else.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being sacrificial.”
That quieted Sam down.
“Like you were,” Trey continued softly, “when you brought a snot-nosed little kid, who still wet his pants fairly often, to your home. You made him your own. You taught him how to hang tough, how to see a job through, and how to sit tall in a saddle no matter what.”
Peace in the Valley Page 16
