The Cowboy's Belated Discovery

by Valerie Comer

  Garret craved finding comfort through prayer, but any glimpses he gained wafted from his grasp like so much steam from a hot cup of coffee. How had he managed to hold himself together after Jenna and then the mess with Chantelle, yet not now?

  Because there was no one who had loved him longer, with a love more pure and sacrificial, than Nancy Morrison.

  Except Jesus.

  But that didn’t count. Jesus was God. Of course, He’d come in first place.

  “Is there anything I can do for you? Or the church?” The pastor looked from Mom to Dad then Garret. “Do you need meals?”

  “No,” blurted Garret. “We’re fine. I can take her to appointments and cook.” Which was a bit of a stretch, since he’d only managed not to burn the eggs twice yet. How could it be so hard?

  “It’s all right to accept help, you know,” Pastor Roland said mildly.

  Mom reached for Garret’s hand. “You can’t do everything, son. You’ve got the business to run. Doing the cooking and cleaning as well is too much.”

  It had been rather too long since the bathroom had been scrubbed and the kitchen counters completely cleared, but Garret wasn’t ready to accept defeat.

  He wasn’t ready for the community — the church — to know how desperate their situation was. He wasn’t ready for pitying looks or well-meant but stupid platitudes people said from the pinnacles of their perfect lives while others suffered.

  Garret knew. This wasn’t the first time he’d been the focus of others’ prying eyes. It would come again. He knew he couldn’t manage for much longer. But not yet. Not today.

  “We’re fine.”

  “If you’re sure.” The pastor turned to Dad. “Our people are always ready to step into the gap for families who need it. You only need to ask, and the church will send food and get some women in to clean. I know you don’t drive much anymore, Tuck. We’ll help with whatever you need. Give us the chance to serve you, as you have served us.”

  Dad glanced at Garret then back to the pastor. “Maybe next week.”

  The man sighed in disappointment but nodded.

  Mom’s eyes had already fluttered shut. She slept so much. Dad was caring for her, helping her to the bathroom, being within reach.

  Was Garret being selfish? His heart cracked just a little. He probably was. Mom needed trained nursing care. Dad needed a break, though he wouldn’t take it. Garret needed all kinds of help. Noela made the difference with the horses, but his office work was piling up, clients needed calling back, and the farrier was due to return next week.

  And Garret was no kind of cook. A slight sniff was all that was required to catch the odor of burned eggs and something more sour that he couldn’t get to the bottom of. It didn’t take more than a quick glance to see dust on the side tables and cobwebs on the ceiling.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. All that stood in the way of getting the help his mom needed was his own pride... and his parents’ understanding that he needed to come to grips with the situation on his own terms and in his own time.

  Maybe that time was now. He rose to his feet and nodded to Pastor Roland. “May I see you out to your car?”

  “Certainly.” The man glanced at Mom, who slept with her lips slightly parted, her breathing shallow, then at Dad. He gripped Dad’s hand. “Talk to you soon, Tucker.”

  Dad offered Garret a sad plea in his eyes, and Garret nodded.

  They stepped out into the lingering heat of a July evening. Once again, Garret marveled that the planet seemed to go right on turning even though there was so much heartache.

  “Friend, I wish you’d reconsider.”

  Accepting words tried to edge past the lump in Garret’s throat, but they failed. He stared at the older man, tears stinging his eyes.

  “For five years, you’ve led our congregation in worship nearly every week. Your passion for the Lord and the way you offer the talents He’s given you have blessed every single member of our congregation. Please—”

  “Yes.”

  Pastor Roland angled his head. “Pardon me? Did you say—”

  “Yes.” Garret scrubbed his hand through his hair. He’d forgotten his hat on the rack. That never happened. “It’s my pride that’s in the way, and that’s selfish. Wrong. My parents don’t deserve to suffer because I can’t accept help.”

  The man’s hand settled on his shoulder. “I get it. It’s hard to let people in. But your mom—”

  “She rescued me, Pastor. Her and Tuck. I was just a little kid, so needy.” His voice caught. Choked.

  “We all need our parents.”

  “You don’t understand. I’d watched my mother d-die of a drug overdose. They adopted me.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “I can’t bear to watch the mother of my heart die. I can’t do it. Why is God asking it of me?”

  “Oh, son.” Pastor Roland’s arm rounded Garret’s shoulder and tugged him close for a few seconds. “If only there were easy answers. If only pastors had a sixty-seventh book of the Bible to pull out in times like this to recite verses that put everything into perspective. We don’t. All we know is we live in a fallen world. We’re beset with trials of every kind. Take courage. Jesus will walk with you through the storm.”

  Take courage. That had been the text for the sermon he’d first struggled with, back when his biggest problem was denying he loved Tori.

  Garret took a deep breath and glanced at the man. As worship leader, he’d had more contact with the pastor on a weekly basis than most of the congregants. He’d never really opened up, but his burden was too heavy to carry alone. All of it. He’d been as strong as he knew how, and it wasn’t enough. He was weak and trembling. Falling. “Can we talk?”

  The pastor chuckled lightly. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “There’s more.” Garret led the way across the yard and stuck a boot on a lower rung of the white fence surrounding the pasture. Trudy trotted over, and he fumbled in his pocket a moment before remembering he hadn’t brought a treat for her. “Sorry, girl.”

  She snuffled him and stayed nearby, apparently forgiving him. If only everyone could do so as easily.

  Pastor Roland rested his elbows on the top rail of the fence beside Garret, gazing out across the pasture, the canyon beyond, and the mountains in the distance. Waiting for him to talk.

  “Tuck and Nancy rescued me from the system and gave me every opportunity. Tuck was an esteemed genetics professor at the University of Kentucky, and they owned a stud farm not far from Lexington. A lot of good racing stock came from his ranch.”

  “He’s told me some stories.”

  “Nancy taught piano lessons. I showed promise early on, and she made sure I had the best when I’d outstripped what she could teach me. I studied music at UK and came home weekends to ride. Until I met Jenna. We were married right after graduation.”

  That got a reaction. Pastor Roland’s head whipped to the side and his eyes widened. “You were married?” Then his voice softened. “What happened?”

  “We were driving to our hotel on our wedding night, and the car was T-boned. She died.” Garret managed to keep his voice flat.

  “Oh, no.”

  Garret tried to find comfort in the distant mountains, in the deep shadows forming along the canyon. How could he keep talking? But he had to. Someone had to know. “I went back to school to get my Masters and met another woman. I was so needy. So desperate not to be alone.”

  The pastor’s elbows settled back to the top rail.

  “Sh-she stole my compositions and pretended they were hers. She stole the career I’d been working toward. She stole more than that. She stole my trust, my hope, my faith.” Garret dredged deep for courage. “That’s when my parents sold out the stud farm — Dad had already retired from teaching years before — and bought this place. They came west for me, to give me a fresh start.”

  “Have you done that?”

  The words were so quiet, Garret barely heard them ov
er the thrumming in his ears. “I’ve let them down, time and time again. And now, nothing I can do will keep Nancy alive longer. She deserves a better son.”

  “Garret.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You’re a child of the one true king. Your earthly parentage has nothing to do with that. Not your birth mom, not the Morrisons. God has invited you into His family, and I believe you’ve accepted that invitation.”

  Garret nodded. Yes, he had, even though at times he felt like he was hanging on by a single strand. Just like Nancy was slipping through his fingers.

  “You know that song, but it’s more than lyrics and music. It’s truth. We are attacked on every side by the whispers of regret and defeat, but you’ve been set free. You know your scriptures, son. Remember this one? ‘It is for freedom that Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.’”

  “Galatians 5:1.”

  Pastor Roland nodded. “Walk in your truth, Garret. Walk in freedom and truth.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I had a phone call I think you should know about.” Mom met her on the steps of the small cabin Tori called home.

  Must be serious, by the solemn expression on Mom’s face. “Sure. Want to come in?”

  “For a few minutes. I know you’ve been busy with that girls’ school all day. All week, really. I bet you’re tired.”

  Tori slid open the patio door to the deck overlooking the lake. “They’ve settled in well. By the end of next week, the place will seem empty without them here. Want a glass of iced tea? I stole a jug from Ollie.”

  “I’d love one. And I’m pretty sure Ollie would give you whatever you asked for.”

  Tori chuckled as she poured two glasses. “Okay, so I didn’t steal. He keeps me supplied.” The resort chef was like a favorite uncle who lived to spoil those whom he loved.

  Mom settled at the tiny table beside the fridge. “It was Bonnie Briscoe. The pastor’s wife.”

  “What’s up?” At least it wasn’t her in trouble.

  “She called about Nancy Morrison.” Mom picked up a couple of petals that had fallen from the wildflower bouquet Tori had set there a week ago when Denae’s flowers had drooped. “It seems Nancy has aggressive pancreatic cancer. Stage four.”

  Tori’s head buzzed as her knees weakened. She sagged into the chair opposite her mother and stared at her. This might explain so many things. “No way.”

  “Bonnie and Roland have known for a couple of weeks, but the Morrisons asked them to keep it quiet for a time.”

  And Tori had thought Garret’s withdrawal had been all about her. Since when was she that important? Definitely not in the face of a parent with cancer. “Why tell us now?” And why had the pastor’s wife called Mom instead of Garret? Because Tori wasn’t really his friend. She’d hazard a guess even James didn’t know. Had Garret kept this to himself completely?

  “But it’s progressing quickly.” Mom inhaled sharply then let it out in a whoosh. “They can’t manage on their own.”

  Tori remembered brushing aside Garret’s mom’s request to join her for coffee a few weeks back. Regret jabbed her. “Do they need someone to drive her to chemo? Or what? We can make meals.” Garret couldn’t cook. She’d seen his pathetic contributions to group potlucks and camping trips.

  “She’s refused treatment.”

  “But...”

  “I know.” Mom met Tori’s gaze. “I understand it wasn’t a good option for her situation. That must be hard for everyone — her and her men — to accept and support. I can’t imagine.”

  How could this be? Sure, Garret’s mom was pretty old, but not ancient. Cancer could be beat. Maybe not every time, but often. And that required treatment or a literal miracle. Garret’s heart must be breaking.

  Tori took a deep breath. “Wow. That’s a blow. So, how can we help?” Not in the way she most wanted to, by wrapping her arms around Garret and holding him up.

  “Gloria Delgado is going over with her housekeeper and a couple of women tomorrow to do a deep clean. Apparently, Nancy hasn’t been well for several months, so more than dust on the surface needs dealing with.”

  “That’s so like Gloria.” She’d been on the front lines helping out on the Flying Horseshoe after Dad’s accident, too.

  “Garret hired Noela Bergstrom to exercise horses and clean stalls a few weeks ago, since Tuck also isn’t well enough to run the business. That was before Garret knew of his mother’s illness. I’m sure you knew about Noela.”

  Thanks to the grapevine, yes. Tori had spent a few minutes feeling jealous before she realized that the likelihood of a romance forming between her favorite cowboy and the widowed mother of three was extremely unlikely. She’d managed to be happy for Noela to have a job with flexible hours that she’d truly enjoy.

  “Bonnie asked if I knew how to set up one of those meal trains online. I told her I’d ask you to take that on. I could probably figure it out, but you’re younger and more adept on the computer.”

  Finally, something Tori could do to actually help. “Definitely. Does she need me to contact the church women or will the secretary handle that?”

  “I didn’t think to ask,” Mom admitted. She took a sip of tea and met Tori’s gaze. “How are you doing? It seems we rarely get a chance to talk one-on-one now that you’ve moved out of the house.”

  She wanted to brush away the question, but her mom didn’t deserve that. “Struggling a bit, to be honest.”

  “Because of Garret?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I pay attention, even when my daughters don’t speak.”

  Ouch. But Meg had been worse. “Well, yes. Partly because of him, anyway. I’m not sure why I fell for him. It’s not like he ever gave me encouragement. Maybe it’s normal to crush on one’s big brother’s best friends.”

  Her mother smiled. “True, but it’s become more than a crush, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “On the contrary, it’s only that. He doesn’t return it, Mom. I don’t think he ever will. I’m trying to think of what my future might look like without him in it, but I’m just not sure.”

  Mom reached across the table and covered Tori’s hand. “You gave up your own dreams to help your father and me with the guest ranch. I’m sorry we asked that of you.”

  “It’s how it was. I understood.” Tori shrugged. “But, now...”

  “It’s not too late to fly the coop.”

  Tori searched Mom’s face. “It seems too late. Especially when I’m not completely convinced I want to. I love it here, especially in the busy season. I love making a difference.”

  “Which is why you wanted to be a teacher. Is that still your dream?”

  Was it? Not compared to marrying Garret. “Maybe? I wish I knew. Deb Gosselin talked to me about it just today, actually, telling me she sees my gift working with the girls. I enjoy them, but a school setting would be so limiting. Yet, what else is there? A boarding school like theirs? I can’t imagine being stuck in a city like Boston. I’d be crying for home every night.”

  “I don’t need to ask if you’ve prayed. I’m sure you have.”

  “Yes. But my... emotions... are getting in the way of hearing any answers.”

  “May I share this with your dad?”

  It was an unnecessary question. Tori knew that telling one was the same as telling both, and it would go no further. She nodded.

  “We’ll pray for God’s clear direction in your life. We’d sure hate to see you leave us — you’re always welcome here — but we also know that, as parents, our job is to raise our children so they can leave home, be responsible adults, and give the cycle of life another push on the pedals.”

  If Mom knew James and Lauren were pregnant, she didn’t say, so Tori didn’t either. Meg already had two kids and talked of more. That left just Tori. “I’d hate to leave you in the lurch, though. An opportunity might not come with the best timing.”

  Mom met her gaze. “Yo
u are terrific with our guests, young and old alike, but we always have more competent applicants than we can hire. Don’t cling to the old if God is calling you to the new on our account. We’ve tried to give you roots, but wings? You have those, too.”

  Tori choked up. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll crack open my laptop and figure out the meal train thing. Thanks for trusting me.”

  If only Garret could trust her. With his heart.

  Call Garret a chicken. He’d stayed away from the house all day, seeing Gloria Delgado’s SUV parked out front. His friends’ mother would want to hug him, look deep in his eyes, and ask how he was holding up.

  He wasn’t holding up, and he didn’t want to talk about it. But now her vehicle was gone and it was time for someone to start the evening meal. Maybe he’d just order pizza from Izzie’s. Grab a bag of salad mix from Manahan’s Grocery. Would that tempt Mom? More than the globs of overcooked pasta and value-brand canned sauce like he’d rummaged up last night. Frankly, that had been disgusting.

  Garret stepped into the kitchen to the faint whiff of lemon. He’d expected the harsher odor of pine cleaner or bleach. Instead, it was more the absence of burned toast and the like. The window over the sink sparkled as sunlight angled through it, and the counters gleamed. A bouquet of summer flowers sat on the table. Even the tile floor shone with no trace of the grime that had been gathering against the cupboards’ kickplates.

  It would be best if he never tried to cook in this room again. If he could just preserve it exactly like this. Pizza was sounding better and better.

  He crossed the space, heading for his mom’s sitting room toward the back of the house, but the sound of a vehicle in the drive turned him around. Who now? A client here to ride? A visitor? Either way, it was all on him these days. And there were too many people.

  The doorbell rang. Garret caught a glimpse of the visitor through the wavy glass of the door. Tori. His heart stumbled and so did his feet. No one else he knew had that short reddish-brown hair.

  Oh, Lord, isn’t this all hard enough?