by Reggi Allder
Chapter 4
Vanna plopped down on Granny’s old overstuffed sofa in the den of Amy’s farmhouse and yanked something out of her cotton bag. “Look, photos of your dad.”
“You’re kidding.” Amy glanced up from the monitor, grabbed her glasses and rushed from the desk to Vanna. “Let me see.”
In the old black and white picture, a young man smiled at her and a chill ran down her back. She recognized his intense eyes. Staring at the photo was like looking into a mirror. knew he had hazel eyes like hers.
“Where did you find these, Vanna?”
“My mom gave them to me. Because you’re getting married, she thought you might like to have them.”
Amy turned the photo over and saw another one behind it. “Why wouldn’t Granny show me these? She must have had a copy.”
Vanna shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want to upset you. He was gone after all and so was your mother.”
“I guess—Sophie is sure this is my dad?”
“Yeah. You never knew him?”
“Nope. He was out of the picture by the time I came along and my mom and Granny never talked about him.” Amy sat back at her desk taking the photos with her. “Just the two of us, Mom and me. I guess I thought families were that way—until I went to live with Granny and Grandpa.”
She caressed the face of the handsome man in the photo. “I don’t know his name, and anyone who did has passed away or—” She hesitated. “I don’t believe my mother’s dead, but I haven’t seen her since I was six years old and came to live on the farm. Maybe she is.”
“I thought Sophie might remember your dad’s name.” Vanna paused. “She didn’t.”
For too many years she’d forced any remembrance of her parents out of her mind. Granny was her mother and Grandpa her father, enough said, but now… “Yeah, ‘I was afraid of that. Guess I’ll never know.” She sighed and peered at the other photo, a wedding portrait. The female dressed in a white suit, she recognized as her mother, but didn’t expect to see worry on her young face.
In every other wedding picture, the bride beamed with joy. Her father appeared stern, handsome, but uncomfortable at best, angry at worst. Not a couple commemorating the happiest day of their lives together.
“Amy, are you okay?”
“Sure.” She held the photos a little tighter and pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Fine.” She tried to force her lips into a smile. “Thanks for the pics.”
“The snapshots remained in our trunk all these years.”
“Thank your Mom for me.”
“Okay.”
“Now at least I have a something to show Bobby if he asks about my parents.” She swallowed hard. “I miss not knowing my Dad. I want to understand him. What was his favorite food, color, stuff like that? Stupid of me, but...”
“Must be hard,” Vanna said. “You know my daddy died years ago, but I can remember him. How he laughed, always joking, and he never missed a school play or an open house. I—” She paused as if recalling an event. “I’m lucky. I didn’t realize it until now.”
Silence lengthened with only the noise of the birds outside the window to break it.
Finally, Vanna said, “Hey, you mentioned men’s wedding rings. I found a guy online who makes custom ones” She handed Amy the phone.
“Whoa, these are beautiful.” Amy checked out the page, relieved to change the subject.
“This one has leaves on the band. It almost looks like an apple leaf. Like my ring.”
“Show me.” Vanna came to the desk and glanced over her shoulder. “Gorgeous.”
“I hope it doesn’t cost a fortune.”
“Well, you only marry once. Right? Or twice,” she said sheepishly.
If this one doesn’t work out there will never be another. “I think if the guy tweaked it a little it’d be perfect.”
“Well, he says he’s a custom jeweler. I guess he could make the ring for you. Why don’t you call him?”
“I will. Hope Wyatt likes it.”
“I better leave. I promised to take Mom out to dinner tonight. It’s hard to talk her into going anywhere these days. I don’t want to be late. See you.”
“Say hi and thank her.”
“Yep.”
Amy heard the backdoor slam as Vanna left.
An hour later, Amy still sat at the computer trying to make some sense of the wedding “to do” list. Too many details, church, invitations, caterers, silverware, tableware, favors and venues.
OMG, who would bake the wedding cake and what was Bobby going to eat with his celiac disease? This time there would be a gluten free dessert. She’d see to that. He couldn’t eat the cake, but he should be rewarded with fancy sweets too. She made a note to check out a baker who might cook something for Bobby as well as a tasty and gorgeous cake for everyone else.
He must feel involved in the wedding. She’d asked him to carry the rings down the aisle. Maybe she did need a wedding planner. No, not in the budget.
She leaned back in Granny’s old desk chair and watched the rain turn the backyard to mud. A June wedding seemed so far off. But she’d read most people had a year to plan for the event. She had less than six months.
Only a few months ago, Wyatt and Bobby worked together like father and son as they painted a sign for the cottage? So much had happened in all of their lives since then.
Absent mindedly, she turned her engagement ring on her finger. What was Wyatt doing this minute? Thinking of her too? More likely he was holding on for dear life on the back of a bucking bronco and adding up the money needed to pull off the wedding.
Did he want to please her by having a big ceremony? Because with his blessing a simple family wedding had blossomed into a grand affair and threatened to be blown out of proportion talking their bank account with it. Now, people she hadn’t seen in years must be invited so as not to hurt any feelings.
Wyatt’s rodeo friends, business partners, and old high school buddies would receive invitations.
The planned casual buffet had become a formal dinner with linen tablecloths and white cloth napkins.
Last night she’d read the catalog of things to do and ended up with a headache. Yet today the list increased. Music and a DJ, she needed to find someone for the reception. What about a web page and a wine list? A photographer and videographer, she wondered where to find them. Maybe in Sacramento?
Wyatt’s words echoed in her head. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride in the world and I’m only marrying once. I want to do it right.”
With love for him raging in her, how could she deny his wish?
***
On his weight bench in the barn behind the farm house, Wyatt’s heart pounded from the vigorous workout. He closed his eyes and considered going back to bed, but without Amy, no point.
Only a hundred more sit-ups and he could reward himself by eating breakfast. He missed having the meal with Amy and Bobby. They’d gone to school early today.
Still, he enjoyed the quiet of early morning on the farm. Even in the winter with the trees stripped of leaves and the threat of rain overhead, nothing could compare to the tranquil beauty. There was no roar of the crowds, no sound of the carnival rides, and the barkers bidding people to spend their money. With a deep slow breath, he enjoyed the scent of pine and fresh hay, so different from the smell of horse stables, sweaty cowboys and stale beer.
Lately, thoughts of what his life would be like, if Granny hadn’t stepped in and helped a floundering teenager so many years ago, haunted him. A kid about to make the most serious mistake of his life, he’d always be grateful for the time she devoted to teaching him life’s simple pleasures, like tending to nature’s bounty and working with animals. It gave this kid a reason to go on after the death of his mother. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else but Granny’s farm with Amy and Bobby. Still, he wouldn’t object if in nine months they welcomed a new family member. He grinned at the thought of another red headed kid running around
the place.
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” He finished another set of one hundred sit-ups. Enough exercise; his abs burned, time to consume strong coffee, orange juice and vanilla yogurt.
If the rain held off, he might take his stallion out for a good exercise session.
He grabbed his towel and headed for the cottage. On the way, he glanced at the house. Without Amy, the place was cold and austere. Her vibration warmed the old place. Not only with the baking which she did often, but by means of her generosity and goodwill. He couldn’t remember a time when, if someone needed help, she didn’t offer aid. Damn, how did he get lucky enough be marrying her? He’d promised his brother and dad never to marry, didn’t want the responsibility of a family and a woman always on his back, but then he hadn’t met Amy yet.
The aroma of coffee greeted him when he entered the bungalow. “Wes, that you?” he shouted as he walked through the living room expecting to see his younger brother, who showed up at various times unannounced. He tossed the towel into the bathroom and followed the aroma of hot java.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Since the divorce of his mom and dad, his father had avoided him. Why now?
The older man sat in an oak chair leaned causally against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. A mug of steaming coffee in his calloused hand, he nodded his hello. His longish gray hair fell over his forehead. Wyatt tensed. “Did something happen to Wes?”
“Nope. Your brother’s as ornery as ever.”
Then what the hell? He held his tongue and took a mug from the open shelving that held his restaurant style dishes. “Want some yogurt?”
“Don’t eat hippie food.”
Wyatt stifled a grunt and filled his cup, grabbed a spoon, and the container of the “hippie stuff” He sat at the table
“Don’t you have donuts, or at least bacon and eggs? A man could die of hunger around here.”
“I don’t cook much.”
“Guess you’re divorced filly gives you everything you need.”
Here it comes. This time it didn’t take long for his dad to get to the point. He usually had to wait through small talk before his father got to what he wanted to say.
“Son.”
“Dad, I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve got to go to Sacramento this morning.” It always irked him when his father called him son, because it was so easy to say, but the man didn’t deserve to use the term with him. He’d never been around when Wyatt needed him. Never helped him. If he was confused and wondering which life path to take, he made the decision alone. As a teen, he’d needed someone on his side, but…. No. This man couldn’t be called father, and he shouldn’t be named his son.
“Hey, I know you and I haven’t— well, let’s just say we got off on the wrong foot with each other. And you think I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been.”
Don’t talk back to Dad. Just drink your coffee. Why say what they both understood? His father deserted him and his mother. Dad never bothered to contact them again, to see if they survived.
“Wyatt, I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made. This woman, Amy, is only using you. Once she gets you in church, she’ll have you paying her bills for the rest of your life. Now don’t get your dander up.”
Wyatt filled his mouth with yogurt and swallowed hard, then nearly scalded himself with a big gulp of coffee. Better than saying things he might regret later, so much for morning peace and tranquility.
A big man reaching at least two inches above Wyatt’s own six feet, his dad stood.
“Younger than you, with my hormones raging, I fell in to the same trap you’re about to jump into. Didn’t comprehend anything about love, just sex, and before I thought about it, you were born. Trust me kid; once Amy puts a ring on your finger it might as well be in your nose. She can lead you around with it.”
Wyatt’s hands fisted. “Dad, I think you better leave.”
“Don’t take this wrong. She’s a pretty filly, I’ll admit. Live with her, just don’t let her rope you and band you with a gold ring. Cause there’s no amount of grief you can comprehend until you’re in that position. Marry and you you’re locked up. Don’t let the little bitch do it to you.”
“Enough. Dad, you have to go because I’m leaving.” His hands fisted and his blood pressure rose heating his face. When his dad called Amy a bitch, it took all his restraint not to hit the old man.
“Just don’t let the bitch rope and tie you, and make you her meal ticket. I won’t say anymore.”
Wyatt walked out of the cottage, leaving his Dad standing in the kitchen. He let the door slam behind him.
His father’s words “Don’t let her brand you with a gold ring,” echoed in his ears.
Chapter 5
Lightning flashed and almost immediately thunder rumbled overhead. Amy ran to the front window of the farmhouse and stared, Why a storm now? She’d prayed the rain would hold off until roofers finished their work.
The sky darkened and the huge evergreen in the front yard bent low and leaves from the other trees swirled in a sudden wind.
Pounding hammered from overhead. Dear God, was someone on the roof in this downpour?
She ran outside and looked up. A blue tarp whipped in the gusts, but someone held on to one end preventing it from flying away. Did the contractors send a guy to cover the hole? If he wasn’t careful the plastic would act like a sail and he’d be dragged off the roof and crash to the ground.
As the gusts became stronger she pushed her hair from her eyes and watched. The man fought to keep a hold on the tarp and the hammer and still stay in place.
He crouched down with his face against the squall. She wanted to yell at him to tell him to come down before he got killed. But would her interference take his attention away from his concentration and cause him to lose his footing?
Frozen in the yard and unable to turn away, she prayed the man would get down safely. As the fabric was hammered in place he became easier to see.
Wyatt. She wanted to screech his name, but if he heard and turned to look low down, he might fall.
With her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she listened to the rhythmic beat of the hammer. Strong, Wyatt’s strength and determination drew her to him, but against the forces of nature and without a safety line…
She couldn’t stand this. “Wyatt, for God’s sake come down!”
If he heard her, he gave no indication. The drumbeat of her heart matched the sounds of the mallet. Unconsciously, she held her hand to her chest.
With the tarp in place, he moved toward the open attic window and disappeared into the house.
Thank God.
She ran inside and without stopping took the stairs to the second floor as he came out from the attic.
“Wyatt, what the hell were you thinking? You might have died.”
“Calm down. I’m fine. I had to do something to stop the leak.” He shook the water from his hair and stripped off his wet shirt. “The storm’s going to last a few of days, if this thunderstorm is as bad as the weather reports say, the attic would be ruined.” He reached for her and she turned away from him.
“You still upset, Amy?”
“That doesn’t begin to cover it. Damn, I thought you would fall and I’d have a perfect view of your death.”
“It’s not dangerous.”
“So, you say.” She poked her finger at his chest. “Are you crazy?” She poked him again. “I’m depending on you to stay alive. It’s bad enough you risk your neck on the back of a horse most days, I don’t need you taking extra chances.”
He flinched and said, “It’s not my first time on a rooftop. In high school, I spent summers helping a one of the local contractors…”
“I don’t care. If you ever frighten me like that again…
“Hush.” His strong arms pulled her to him. She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow as she let
her head rest against his bare chest and listened to his heart’s steady beat.
“I’m okay,” he said as he stroked her hair and then kissed the top of her head as if she were a panicked child.
With her face tilted upward, he met her open mouth with his. She sighed, tensed, and stepped away. “Don’t. I’m mad. You gave me a heart attack.”
Despite her words, she smiled. He kissed her again and heat ran through her igniting a desire only he could satisfy.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You do care.” He grinned.
“Too much for my own good.”
“Mommy, I’m home.”
“I’m upstairs.” She ran a gentle hand over Wyatt’s full lips and kissed him. He brought her to him again until they touched body to body.
“Bobby’s home.” She tried to move away, but he held her firmly against him.
“He understands we’re going to be married. It’s good for a kid to realize his parents love each other. I never saw anything but bickering and hatred when I was growing up.”
“Daddy, why don’t you have a shirt on?” Bobby had run to the second floor and stood staring.
“Uh, I got caught in the storm. Looks like you got drenched too,” Wyatt said.
“Take off your wet coat and I’ll hang it in the laundry room to dry.” Amy took her son’s hand and walked down the hall.
“Hey you two, I’m going to the cottage for a clean shirt. Why don’t you meet me downstairs and we’ll get a snack?”
“Okay,” Amy and Bobby said in unison.”
***
Three days later Wyatt was gone, back on the circuit. Amy woke to the sound of people walking on the roof of the farmhouse. Men shouted, presumably giving instructions to one and another.
She grabbed her robe and glanced out of the window. The driveway was full of trucks and roofing material.
“Mommy, people are pounding on my ceiling.” Bobby stood in the doorway, an alarmed look on his young face.
