Suddenly, to her surprise and dismay, she felt Morgan’s hand on her face. His fingers curled around her cheek as he gently turned her to him.
“You’re not your father, you know.”
She could only stare at him, a chill slipping down her spine. How did he know that was how she felt?
“You are your own person,” he continued. “And while I’m sure you loved him in your own way, you don’t have to take on who he was. You don’t have to make up for who he was.”
“I don’t know if you realize who he was and what he did,” Tabitha said, unable to keep the bitter tone out of her voice. “I get reminded enough.” She wanted to look away and pull away from his touch, but it felt so good to have his hand holding her. It had been so long since she felt that anyone saw her for herself.
Morgan’s fingers caressed her cheek as his eyes traveled over her features. “Is that why you want to leave?”
She held his curious gaze, then gave in to an impulse and lifted her hand, covering his, giving herself a few more seconds of this connection.
“I have to leave” was all she could say. “It’s the only way I can live with myself.”
“Why?”
She wondered if he would truly understand her reasons.
“Please, tell me.”
She thought back to his father. So caring. So considerate.
The difference was too great. So she shook her head and turned away, breaking the moment between them.
* * *
“My dad wants to go riding with me tomorrow.” Nathan was sitting in Tabitha’s truck, looking out the window as they drove down the road to the Walsh ranch Wednesday afternoon. Tabitha had worked at the clinic that morning, then had picked up Nathan from Cord’s place. Ella had been watching the kids. Thankfully Cord wasn’t there. She didn’t want to face his condemnation again.
She and Nathan had spent the afternoon with Stormy and it had gone well.
“I don’t think I want to go riding.”
“Why not? I think it’s a great idea,” Tabitha said. “You like riding, and Stormy won’t be ready to ride for a while, so you may as well ride another horse.”
Nathan was quiet, looking down at his boots. “What if he changes his mind? What if he doesn’t take me?”
Tabitha thought of something Nathan had said to her last week about his mother telling him that Morgan didn’t keep his promises. At that time she had told herself not to get involved and she still knew that to be true, but it bothered her that Morgan was trying so hard and Nathan couldn’t see it.
“Your dad cares about you a lot,” she said, looking ahead at the road, struggling to find the right thing to say that could help these two. “He is taking good care of you. He really loves you.”
“My mom said he didn’t.”
“What?” Tabitha shot him a quick glance, surprised to see the little boy’s deep scowl.
“My mom said he didn’t love me. That’s why he didn’t come and visit me. Or live with my mom and me and be a family. He didn’t want to have me.”
The words tumbled out of Nathan’s mouth in a rush. It was as if he’d heard them so many times, he could spout them off by heart.
Shock and anger surged through Tabitha. How could a mother say that to her child?
“Your father does love you,” Tabitha said, wanting to reassure him. “He wanted so badly to visit you but—” She caught herself there, knowing that her anger with Nathan’s mother would cloud her words and her judgment. No matter her opinion, Gillian was still his mother.
“He didn’t try,” Nathan snapped. “If he did try, why didn’t I ever see him? I wanted to, but my mommy said my daddy didn’t care.” Then, to her dismay, his lower lip trembled and Tabitha caught the glint of tears in his eyes.
The poor kid.
Tabitha pulled over to the side of the road, stopped the truck, unbuckled her seat belt and scooched over. She put her arm around his thin shoulders. Nathan melted against her and started to cry.
Tabitha’s heart shifted with pain and she pulled the sobbing boy close.
“He did try to see you,” Tabitha said, stroking his hair, holding him tight, bewildered at the maternal feelings he raised in her. Surprised how her heart broke at the sound of his tears, at the shake of his shoulders under her arms.
Please, Lord, give me the right words, she prayed. Help me to help this poor child. And his father.
“He did try,” she repeated. “But your mother was so busy traveling all over the place, going to rodeos. He couldn’t always find you.”
Nathan sniffed as his sobs slowly eased off.
“He wanted to find you,” she insisted. “But it’s hard when someone is moving around so much.”
He lifted his head, his glance latching on hers as if testing her to see if she was telling the truth. “Is that for real?”
“It is. I know it. Morgan—your dad,” she corrected herself, “is a good man and he wants to be a really good father.”
Nathan seemed to consider this, and Tabitha pressed the point.
“He wanted to be with you,” she continued. “He loves you so much. But every time he thought you were in one place, you moved.” She was winging it with what she was saying, but she also knew that Morgan would have moved heaven and earth to find his son. “And when he finally found you, he brought you here. To his home. Where he grew up because he wanted you to have a real home.”
“A home here in Cedar Ridge?”
“Yes.”
“And he won’t move?”
“No. He has family here. A dad, a brother who has kids, and uncles and aunts. He belongs here.” As she listed off Morgan’s connections to Cedar Ridge, Tabitha couldn’t stop the usual glimmer of envy. Morgan was so rooted here. Unlike Nathan’s mother, who had always been on the move. Seeming to be avoiding something she preferred not to face.
And what about me? Aren’t I doing the same thing?
The words floated through her subconscious.
Aren’t I trying to outrun what I should face?
Her heart shifted its rhythm as the words accused her.
No. She wasn’t. She had to clean up her father’s mess. Give herself a reason to hold her head up, redeem herself and leave.
She needed to finish the house, clean up the yard and sell, then start fresh somewhere else.
The list of reasons seemed to calm and center her.
“So my dad is going to stay here?” Nathan sniffed, swiping the back of his hand over his nose.
Tabitha reached into her backpack and pulled out a package of tissues. “Your dad is staying here,” she said, handing him a couple. “I know that for a fact. This is where he grew up and always wanted to live.”
Nathan wiped his nose and drew in a shaky breath. “And he loves me?”
“He loves you a lot. Your father is a good man and a good father.”
And listen to me. If he’s such a good man, why am I leaving? I know things are growing between us.
She shook her head as if to eradicate the memories, put her seat belt back on and put the truck in gear.
Stay focused on the next job, she reminded herself. Just do what comes next. Don’t think too far ahead. Don’t plan too far ahead.
It was how she got through all the disappointments in her life. The false hopes. Staying in control and sticking with her plan.
Morgan and Nathan were only a momentary distraction.
But as she drove away, she couldn’t get rid of the idea that they were more than that. Much more.
Chapter Ten
“Not the best weather for riding,” Cord said as he helped Morgan saddle up the last horse.
Morgan squinted up at the low-hanging clouds scudding across the sky. “As long as it’s no
t raining, we should be okay.”
“I think it’s a great idea that you and Nathan go out riding together,” Cord said, yanking on the cinch strap to tighten it. “It’s a good way to spend some time with him. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to take Tabitha along.”
Morgan glanced over his shoulder.
Tabitha had Nathan astride Bronco, a bay gelding, and was leading him around the corral, giving him a chance to get used to the horse. Cord had insisted that she was bombproof and Morgan believed him, but he was still thankful for Tabitha’s help.
“Nathan wouldn’t come unless she came along too.”
Morgan read disapproval in his brother’s shrug. He understood Cord’s concerns, and while he felt stuck between pleasing his son and guarding his heart, pleasing his son was winning out.
Trouble was, the wall around his heart was slowly wearing away the more time he and Tabitha spent together.
“Look, I know you don’t like her—”
“I like her fine. She’s a great girl.” Cord leaned one arm against the horse, looking past him to where Tabitha was leading Nathan around on the horse. “She’s not been quiet about how glad she’ll be to leave this place, so I wouldn’t count on changing her mind. I also see how connected Nathan is to her. So I guess I’m just saying, be careful. Again.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Morgan said. “And I’m trying to be careful. Again. I’m a big boy.” He held Cord’s warning gaze a beat longer to reinforce the point. While he knew Cord was only being a big brother, he also knew Tabitha better than he did. And somehow, in the past few days, he sensed there was more to their breakup than she was telling him.
“Look at me—I’m riding,” Nathan called out, happier than Morgan had seen him in a while.
“Lookin’ good, buddy,” Morgan called out, turning his attention back to his son.
“He seems happy,” Cord said. “Taking him out on the horse will be good for him.” Then he handed Morgan the reins of the horse he’d just saddled and Morgan led it over to where the horse Tabitha would be riding stood ready. “So, you’re good to go.” He grinned up at Nathan astride his horse. “Looking good, cowboy,” Cord said.
“I’m not a real cowboy. I’m not allowed to steer the horse myself,” Nathan complained.
“You will eventually.” Cord checked his stirrups, then took the rope of Nathan’s horse from Tabitha. “Why don’t you mount up? I’ll bring Nathan over to Morgan.”
Tabitha did so but Morgan saw how she avoided looking at him. As if she also sensed his brother’s disapproval of her.
She mounted up in one fluid motion, making it look graceful and easy.
Morgan got on, Cord handed him the halter rope of Nathan’s horse and they were ready.
“I’ll get the gate,” Cord said. “You taking the ridge or going down along the creek?”
“I think we’ll do the creek,” Morgan said. “The terrain is less sketchy.”
“See you in an hour or so?”
Morgan nodded, glancing back at Tabitha, who was looking back at his son.
“Let’s go.” Morgan nudged his horse, adjusting his seat as they moved along, and a peculiar happiness settled on him. The old saying “the best thing for the inside of a man is the outside of a horse” came back to him, and he smiled as they rode through the gate and out into the pasture. Hard to believe it had been years since he rode.
Tabitha came up alongside him, her eyes looking out over the valley. “This view is stunning,” she said, a reverent tone in her voice.
“It is. Even more after being away from it for a while.” He gave her a quick smile, then looked back at Nathan, who swayed slightly with the horse’s movements, his hands planted firmly on the saddle horn. In spite of the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to steer the horse himself, he was now grinning from ear to ear. “How are you doing, son?” he asked.
Nathan gave him a wary look and nodded.
“And how about you?” he asked Tabitha.
“I’m doing great.” She shifted, as if getting settled in. “This saddle is fantastic.”
“Should be. All our saddles were custom-made in Montana by Monty Bannister.”
“Really?” Tabitha seemed impressed. “I’ve heard good things about his workmanship.”
“Yeah, his daughter has taken over the business but it’s still a going concern.”
“Nothing like your own custom-built saddle. Whose was this?”
“Amber’s, and before that, my mother’s.”
Tabitha’s face grew tight, and then she looked away.
“Bad memories of my sister?” he asked, sensing her withdrawal.
She shot him a look of surprise, then shook her head. “Amber didn’t pay a lot of attention to me.”
“So why the tense face?”
She bit her lip, and he could see she was getting her ornery expression on.
“You don’t want to talk in front of Nathan. I get it.” Morgan eased out a sigh then looked out over the hills, green now from the spring rains, the halter rope from Nathan’s horse slack in his hands. “Let’s simply enjoy the ride, then.”
“I like the sound of that.” She seemed to relax and Morgan grinned at her. Their eyes met and she returned his smile. “I know I’m here because of Nathan, but I’m glad to be out riding again.”
“I feel bad that we’ve taken you away from your work on your house.” He hadn’t even thought that she might have other things to do this evening. Nathan had wanted her to come, so he’d asked.
“I gladly came,” she said, looking back at Nathan, who was still smiling. Still enjoying himself. “Besides, the renovations have come to a grinding halt until I can pay—” She stopped abruptly there, looking ahead again.
“Until you can pay what?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He knew she wasn’t going to elaborate. But that quickly reminded him of another obligation. “I’ll write you a check for your work at the end of the week, if that’s okay.”
“I wasn’t hinting at anything.” She looked straight ahead.
“I know, but it reminded me of my own obligations.”
“Because I’m not that broke, Morgan,” she said.
“Of course you aren’t.” She sounded upset and he guessed he had hit a nerve.
“When are we getting to the creek?” Nathan called out.
“In a little while.” Morgan drew in a long, slow breath, looking around as the setting and the rhythm of the horses’ hooves eased away the tension of the past few days. The low-hanging clouds were slowly drifting away, letting beams of sun come through.
“You sound like you’re getting rid of some bad vibes,” Tabitha said.
A quick look over his shoulder showed him that Nathan was looking around, seeming to be off in his own world again.
“Probably am. Past few weeks have been stressful. I wish I could figure out how to connect with him.”
“Taking him out like this is a good start,” Tabitha said, giving him a smile. Then she too looked back as if to see if Nathan was listening. She moved her horse closer to his and lowered her voice. “I need to talk to you later. Just the two of us.”
“That sounds intriguing,” he said, giving her a teasing smile.
She frowned. “It’s about your son.”
He held her gaze a few heartbeats longer than necessary. Then he nodded, pulling himself back to the matter at hand. He had to keep his focus on his son, not be distracted by an old flame.
* * *
“I had such a fun day,” Nathan said as he, Morgan and Tabitha walked into the kitchen of Morgan’s house. “I liked riding horses.”
“I’m glad, Nathan,” Morgan said, reaching out his hand as if to ruffle his son’s hair, then pulling back at the last min
ute, a look of pain on his features.
The gesture broke Tabitha’s heart and she yearned to tell him what Nathan had said right then and there.
“But it’s bedtime now, mister,” Morgan said. “You need to wash up and then straight to bed.”
When they’d got to the creek, Nathan said he wanted to skip rocks, so they’d ridden until they’d found a place where the creek was wider and quiet. Then the three of them had hunted up and down the creek bed looking for flat skipping stones.
By the time they’d got back on the horses, it had been getting dark. Now it was closer to 9:00 p.m. and Nathan was yawning.
“I want Tabitha to put me to bed,” Nathan insisted.
Tabitha exchanged a quick glance with Morgan. While it was touching that the boy was so attached to her, it was also growing more precarious.
What will it be like for him when I go? It’s not fair to keep encouraging him.
“I think your daddy should,” Tabitha said quietly but firmly.
“Can you both tuck me in?”
Tabitha knew she should go home, but she wanted to talk to Morgan about what Nathan had said to her. So she reluctantly agreed to the compromise.
While Nathan washed up, brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas, he chattered about the ride. About skipping rocks and about cutting tree branches and floating leaves down the creek. About his horse and how fast he was and how he wanted to do it again tomorrow.
His cheeks were red and his eyes bright and Tabitha wondered if he would settle down to sleep.
“Come and see my room,” Nathan said, charging ahead of both of them down the carpeted hall, his footfalls muffled.
As Tabitha stepped inside his room, the first thing she noticed was how bare it was. Nathan’s bed sat along the wall under the window with a cute little desk and chair beside it. A dresser hugged the wall to her left and a shaggy rug lay on the floor.
Though a fun animal-print quilt covered the bed, no pillows lay on it. The walls were devoid of any kind of pictures or posters. No knickknacks crowded the dresser or the shelves above. No toys lay scattered on the floor or dumped in the toy box on the other side of the dresser.
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