by Lois Richer
“But why didn’t they say something?” Drew challenged. “We boys could have helped out, financially if nothing else.”
“They didn’t want you to know and I couldn’t contravene their wishes,” Mandy pressed on. “We sold some of the horses. Hay was in high demand that year and we had lots so we made some good deals selling to the neighbors.”
“What else?” He still looked as if he thought she was making this up.
“Lots of things. We rented ourselves to help farmers harvest their crops. I taught trick riding to anyone who would pay the fee. I sold pictures of Ella to a magazine.” She shrugged. “We did whatever we could to make money to pay the bills and keep going until we finally passed all the government inspections and could sell Double H cattle again.”
“No doubt making you their hero,” he sneered. “Are you finished?”
“No, actually I’m not.” Mandy was tired of explaining, but she wanted it all said, everything out in the open. “You challenged my ranching abilities, Drew. Well, when your dad grew more focused on his trekkers, I thinned out your parents’ horse stock and sold off the aging animals for as much as I could get. Once the ranch was cleared by the inspectors, I brought in different breeds of cattle and horses to vary our offerings and get more strength. Successfully, I should say, because now people are asking to buy our cattle and our mares.”
He said nothing.
“I also sacked some of the more inexperienced hands. We couldn’t afford to pay them all. Later I hired new ones who didn’t need me to tell them every move, guys like Oliver.” She glared at him. “I think I’ve carried my weight here, Drew.”
“And probably shoved your daughter on my parents at every opportunity.” It was his annoyance at her speaking, but that didn’t prevent Mandy from being infuriated.
“Ella is your daughter and their granddaughter!”
“So you say.” He looked hard and implacable. How he’d changed.
“I won’t sit here and let you condemn me or our child because you’re angry. I did my very best for the ranch and your parents.” Mandy jumped up from the doorstep. “You’re so good at math, Drew. Figure it out.”
She paused then, unable to walk away with this anger simmering between them, even though there was nothing about Drew’s silence or foreboding expression that encouraged her to stay. They had been so close once. Of course, that was over, but they still had to work together. She had to at least try to reach out.
“I’ve followed your articles, read about and applauded your success,” she offered quietly.
“Oh, I’m sure. You were always so into calculation.” His scathing comment relit the fire inside her.
“That’s your biggest problem, Drew,” she snapped. “You don’t think the rest of us are smart enough to have done well. You can’t possibly imagine that I might excel at something.” Sadness replaced her anger. “You lock yourself in your narrow box with your numbers and a webcam, and you analyze what’s happening in the world. But you see only a tiny pinprick of what’s really happening.”
“And you see it all?” he snarled.
“No. But I do see people. I hear them and I listen to them. Parents who love you so much and worry about you. I hear them when you don’t call, wondering if you’re okay or if you need anything or, most of all, if you even want them in your life anymore.” She felt tears well but refused to shed them in front of him. “I see how much you need them, and I see they need you, too.”
“Let’s get back to the point. Your daughter.” His closed expression told her he’d rejected her criticism.
“Her name is Ella and she’s your daughter, too. Not even you could have forgotten those last hours we spent together.” Suddenly Mandy couldn’t do this anymore. It besmirched the love they’d shared. “Don’t worry, Drew. I don’t want or expect anything from you. You have no responsibility here. All I wanted was to finally tell you the truth.”
Clearly he didn’t believe her. How deeply that hurt.
“Ella is mine. I love her more than life, just as I do Bonnie and Ben. I will do whatever I have to in order to protect all of them.” Mandy inhaled, then looked him straight in the eye. “Even if that means I have to work with you.”
Mandy turned and walked up the stairs. Inside her little log house she closed the door, glad of the strong walls, so thick they would prevent Drew from hearing her sobs of despair.
“I promised I’d work with him, Lord. I promised for Bonnie and Ben’s sake,” she prayed through her tears. “But he’s so hard and bitter and angry. It’s going to make the next few months so painful. Please help me. And God? Please protect Ella. I don’t want her to feel Drew’s disparagement or negativity, though once he knows the whole truth...”
If she’d told Drew everything, he’d have left by now. And she needed him here. So for a while, she’d hang on to her secret.
Mandy got ready for bed knowing there would be little rest tonight. After checking that Ella was still sound asleep and brushing a kiss against her daughter’s rosy cheek, she wrapped her fuzzy housecoat around herself and sank in her favorite chair to read David’s book of Psalms, searching for comfort.
But Drew’s words rode a merry-go-round in her head.
Your daughter.
Meaning he wanted nothing to do with Ella.
So much for those silly reveries of family Mandy had once fantasized. That wasn’t going to happen. As Miss Partridge was fond of saying, the truth always won out.
The only question was when?
* * *
Furious, Drew paced around the darkened ranch. His own parents hadn’t told him the truth. Wasn’t that proof that he didn’t really belong here, that this ranch wasn’t and never had been his real home? And Mandy? She’d kept Ella a secret for years. She deserved his scorn.
Does that make you feel better? his brain demanded.
Drew didn’t feel better. He felt outraged and betrayed and...abashed at the awful things he’d hinted at, sickened by what he’d actually uttered. His appalling taunts to Mandy replayed inside his head, each scornful remark stabbing him with repugnance. In the back of his mind, he heard Ben’s voice.
Shame on you, son.
And Bonnie’s: That was unworthy of you, Drew.
They’d both see his ugly behavior as a reflection on their parenting.
Repulsed by his actions and shocked by how little he’d known about the ranch and Mandy’s part in helping his parents, trapped in a vortex of self-condemnation and fury, Drew walked to the woodpile. As he’d done in his youth when life grew messy and didn’t fit his preplanned paradigms, he began chopping firewood.
Alone with his tortuous thoughts, Drew split logs until his arms grew weak and wobbly and his body burned hot with perspiration. When he was too exhausted to continue, he stacked the pieces under the roofed wood box and then lit a fire in the pit where he’d once shared hot dog nights and sing-alongs with his parents and brothers. And Mandy.
He sat on a hewn-log bench and peered into the flames, struggling to organize what he’d learned into some form of order.
He had a daughter. Ella.
Drew closed his eyes against the truth, not wanting to remember the past. As if he could forget. He didn’t want to think about Ella either, not her chirpy voice or how her charming ringlets danced with every move. He sure didn’t want to replay her asking if he was her daddy.
Drew wanted to deny everything he’d been told. But he’d always dealt in facts. The facts were that while he’d been completely and utterly focused on himself, his life, his world and his future, his parents had been in a battle to save their ranch and the life they loved. Mandy, who was no relation and was already dealing with single motherhood to a special needs child, had selflessly stepped in for him and his brothers. She’d gone above and beyond.
Drew had decried her for that? His dislike of responsi
bility was no excuse. But he would do better. He was here now, and he would put his parents’ needs first.
And Ella? Mandy wouldn’t lie about that. Drew must be Ella’s father. But the responsibility for another life was daunting. Happy, smiling Ella, with soul-deep giggles and big brown eyes that sparkled with fun. It wasn’t her fault Drew was allergic to responsibility.
Yet somehow Ella had crept into his head. What did she like most about living on the Double H? What did she dislike? Did Bonnie hug her as tightly as she’d once hugged Drew? Did Ben rub his whiskers on Ella’s cheek when he teased her, as he’d often done to Drew and his brothers?
What about Bonnie and Ben? Did they like being grandparents? Actually, they already were to Zac’s twin girls. But his parents seldom got to see those grandchildren. Ella was right here, just across the yard.
Did Ella have any of his characteristics? Her hair and eyes were the same shade as his. Mandy was blond with green eyes. Ella seemed tall, like he’d been for his age. Mandy was petite. Ella strode about the ranch with the same inner confidence as her mother, something Drew had always envied. Mandy had always seemed secure in the knowledge that whatever happened, God would be there for her. Ella, too. Drew had never found that security.
The truth was, Drew had missed Mandy without even knowing it. Missed the way she ignored his pretense and forced him to face his underlying issues, as she’d done this evening. Missed her blunt honesty and her challenges to be more than he thought he could be. Missed her kindness and generous spirit.
What if she’d told him she was pregnant? Would he have been as good a father as Mandy was a mother? No. Drew feared responsibility. But he was just as responsible for Ella as Mandy.
He sat alone in the moonlight, watching the sparks fly upward as the truth bloomed. He owed Mandy an apology. A big one. The thought of giving it terrified him, and not only because he was deeply ashamed. Except for discussions about anything math related, he’d always struggled to express himself verbally. He never got the words quite right when important or personal matters were involved. That was why he preferred his computer. If he tried to say he was sorry to Mandy, he’d probably mess up worse than he already had.
Hard to imagine, his brain scoffed.
Bonnie’s advice from eons ago clicked in his brain.
If you can’t say it, Drew, write it.
Yes! He’d write Mandy a letter of apology.
He set the screen top over the diminishing fire to keep the sparks from flying away. Assured that he would not cause an incident on the bone-dry ranch, he went inside, sat down at Ben’s desk and selected a plain white sheet of paper.
Then he began writing.
Dear Mandy
Dear? Drew scrunched up that paper and started again.
Mandy.
I’m sorry and I apologize. For everything. You’ve done an amazing job with the ranch and I know it. I was angry and shocked about Ella and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.
It took forever to write and rewrite his admission of guilt, to ensure he expressed his honest regret and to beg her forgiveness. Hours later Drew was reasonably happy with the final result. He started the coffee maker, surprised to realize dawn had arrived. Then he realized his letter required one thing more if he truly wanted Mandy’s pardon.
I promise I will do my best to work as your employee, to make the Double H run smoothly until Ben and Bonnie return.
Drew added it quickly, before he could change his mind. Satisfied, he took a gulp of coffee for courage and immediately grimaced at the awful taste. After stuffing the letter into an envelope, he sealed it and wrote Mandy’s name across the front in huge letters. The moment he set it on Ben’s desk, the pent-up frustration and bitterness knotted inside his gut eased.
Drew still felt he’d been betrayed by his parents and by Mandy. And he was still scared of being someone’s father. What if he did something wrong? Or what if Ella found out he wasn’t the daddy she wanted? What if, what if, what if? The possibilities for failure grew exponentially in his mind.
Fingers outstretched to grab the envelope and shred it to bits, Drew glanced up and saw Bonnie’s painting of Jesus walking on water. Not just smiling, but laughing, ear to ear, as if he’d never had so much fun in His whole earthly life. The caption read, Fear not.
Bonnie would say he’d just received a sign from God.
Drew swallowed the rest of his awful coffee, picked up the envelope and walked outside, across to Mandy’s house. He shoved the envelope into her doorframe and was almost back at his parents’ house when he heard a child scream.
Though the sound terrified him, Drew scanned the yard until he spotted Ella crouched on the ground beside a massive black Labrador. Had she been bitten? Mauled? Fear grabbed him by the throat, but he ignored it and raced to the child.
“What’s wrong? Did he bite you?” His stomach in knots, Drew searched for something he could do, something he could fix. Wasn’t that what fathers were supposed to do? “Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, Ella.”
“It’s B-Blackie,” she bawled, tears pouring down her cheeks. “He won’t wake up.” She gulped. “Is he d-died, Drew?”
Mandy should be here, dealing with this. Drew had no idea how to handle a pet’s death and given he his fingertips found no heartbeat in the black fur, that’s likely what had happened.
“I’m sorry, Ella, but yes, I think Blackie has, uh, died.” He looked at the dog more closely, remembering his own past. “I think he must have gone to sleep here a little while ago and never woke up.”
“He’s been getting kind of slow. Mama said that’s ’cause he’s really old.” She hiccupped back a sob, climbed into Drew’s lap and flung her arms around his neck. “B-Blackie is my very b-bestest friend,” she said, weeping against him. “I don’t want him to go in the ground, Drew. He likes to run and play, not be died.”
Now what? Drew slid his arm around Ella’s waist because, well, what else could he do? Strangely, he didn’t mind her hugging him.
Drew knew about loss. Trying to remember what Bonnie and Ben had said to comfort him when his own dog had died, Drew tentatively set his other hand on Ella’s curly head and let it slide down her hair, remembering. Perhaps his touch would soothe her the way Ben’s had done for him the day he’d buried his pet.
“Putting Blackie’s body in the ground won’t hurt him, Ella.” Drew tipped her tearstained face up and smiled, hoping he looked reassuring.
“It w-won’t?” Ella’s frown marred her smooth forehead. Her eyes were totally trusting. “How come?”
“Because Blackie’s body was...like his shell,” he told her, feeling his way through the miasma of uncertainty surrounding death.
“A shell—like a turtle?” Ella’s expression said she thought Drew was silly. Maybe he was. But he couldn’t stop now.
“Kind of,” he agreed. “You see, Blackie’s body, and our bodies, too, are what we live in when we’re here on earth. But when we die, we don’t need them anymore.”
“’Cause we’re in heaven with God. That’s what Auntie Bonnie told me.” Ella nodded.
Auntie Bonnie. Not Grandma.
“That’s right.” Was it stupid to feel grateful that Mandy had left that truth unsaid to Ella?
“’Cause we’ll have wings in heaven.” Ella giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, utterly confused by this mercurial little girl.
“Blackie flying.” She giggled again. When her fingertips brushed against his bristly cheek, Drew sucked in a breath, shocked by the stomach-clenching sensation her tender touch caused. “How do you know about dogs?”
“Because I used to have one. His name was Rover. Here.” Drew offered her a clean tissue from his shirt pocket and grimaced as she blew her runny nose. “When Rover died, Bonnie and Ben helped me build a box for him. He’s buried in it underneath a tree.
”
“On the ranch?” When he nodded, Ella glanced around the yard. “Where?”
“I’ll show you.” Drew set her on the ground before rising. Then, with her tiny hand clasped in his, he led her to a huge cottonwood tree. Under it stood a little white cross with Rover painted in black.
The lettering looked freshly done. Ben or Bonnie must have recently retouched it, he decided, moved by such a kind gesture.
“I didn’t know Rover was your dog. It’s pretty here.” Ella’s hand squeezed his as she studied the daffodils flowering around the cross. “Can Blackie have a nice place like this to stay, Drew?”
“I think Rover would be okay with sharing his spot.” He bit his lip for a minute, then spoke quickly, partly to stop her obviously imminent tears and partly because he felt like he had to do something. “I’m not very good at carpentry stuff, but maybe you and I could make a box for Blackie to stay in beside Rover.”
“Really?” She hugged his legs so tightly Drew had to alter his stance to keep his balance. “Yes, please. And thank you,” she added as if suddenly remembering she was supposed to say that.
“It’s okay.” He patted her head, feeling awkward, like a bull in a china shop, and suddenly desperate to escape. “Why don’t I go get Blackie and lay him here on the grass to wait until his box is ready?”
“O-okay.” She sniffed sadly. Then she flopped onto the ground, arms hugging her middle, just as Mandy used to do. Only Ella was humming a little tune.
Jesus loves me. He remembered the song from long ago. Weren’t there some actions that went along with those words? Lost in his past, Drew walked to the dog and lifted the bulk into his arms.
“What’s going on?” Mandy appeared across from him, a worried expression marring her pretty face.
“Ella’s dog died. We’re going to let Blackie rest beside Rover while I figure out how to make a box for him.” Drew wondered if she’d seen and read his letter, if she’d come tell him to mind his own business when it came to Ella and her dog.
