Sullivan's Promise

by Joan Johnston

  When she saw him, Jennie smiled and waved. She said something over her shoulder, and Nate stuck his face out from behind her back. His son grinned at him, but he didn’t let go of his tight hold on Jennie to wave as she had.

  Matt headed toward them walking fast but not running. He didn’t want to do anything to spook the horse. They reached the corral nearest the barn about the same time he did.

  He stood by the horse’s head and stared up at the two of them with a painful lump of joy and pride in his throat. Nathan was wearing a smile so big it hurt to look at it.

  “I’m riding,” his son announced.

  “I see that.”

  “Bareback,” Nathan added.

  “Pretty impressive,” Matt said.

  “Jennie’s steering the horse,” Nathan said. “I’m just holding on.”

  “I see that, too,” Matt said, feeling the tears sting his eyes and nose. “Are you ready to get down?”

  Nathan let go of Jennie and reached for Matt, who opened his arms wide as his son threw himself into them. Nathan’s arms tightened around his neck as he whispered, “I’m not scared anymore, Daddy. Wait till Grandpa King sees me. He’s going to be so happy!”

  “We’ll have to sneak you into the hospital again, so you can tell him yourself,” Matt said.

  Nathan leaned back and said, “I guess I could stand to go back there just this once.”

  Matt laughed and set his son on his feet. He turned to Jennie and asked, “Do you need some help getting down, too?”

  “There’s a mounting block—”

  When Matt held out his arms, Jennie lifted her leg over the horse and slid into his embrace. He was careful to hold her in a way that would cause the least pain, but he didn’t let her go right away. “I have something to ask you.”

  She leaned back and searched his face. “What is it?”

  Matt swallowed over the awful knot in his throat and said, “Will you marry me?” He let her go and dropped to one knee, looking up at her with all the love he felt in his eyes. “I love you, Jennie. I don’t want to spend another day of my life without you.”

  Nathan took a step closer to Matt’s shoulder, looked up at Jennie, and said, “Me, neither.”

  Matt pulled a box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a diamond and sapphire engagement ring. His heart in his throat, he held it up to Jennie.

  She hadn’t moved since he’d let go of her, just stood there with her hands clasped before her.

  “Are you going to marry us, Jennie?” Nathan asked.

  She smiled at Nathan and said, “Yes, I am.”

  Matt rose and took her hand in his. He struggled a little getting the ring out of the box, but once he did, he tossed the box to Nathan, and quickly slid the ring onto her finger.

  She admired the setting for a moment, then put one hand on Nathan’s shoulder and the other on Matt’s chest. “I love you both very much. I can’t wait for us to start our life together.”

  Matt’s stomach was still tied in knots. There was one more detail he hadn’t mentioned. He cleared his throat and said, “Leah invited me to live at Kingdom Come and gave me the quarter horse operation. How would you feel about moving to Wyoming?” He wondered if his face looked as frightened as he felt.

  She searched his features and said, “Are you thinking I won’t want to go?”

  “Will you?”

  She laughed. “Will I move to Wyoming, where my daughter and son-in-law and twin granddaughters make their home? That’s a dream come true!”

  “Are we gonna live near Pippa?” Nathan asked. “And Grandpa King? And Leah?”

  Matt picked up his son in one arm and drew his fiancée close with the other. “You bet we are! We’ll be on our way as soon as we get our bags packed.”

  RYE FELT THE persistent knot in his gut finally ease the day his brother was well enough to come home from the hospital. Unfortunately, Mike’s return meant Rye would have to put his plan to court Vick on hold while he focused on making sure his brother had everything he needed to get well.

  Rye chafed at the delay.

  Yes, he’d waited a lot of years to make his move, but now that the prize was within his reach, he was afraid Vick’s work would send her sprinting off to Washington, D.C., or her family would draw her back to Wyoming or some cowboy in town would catch her eye. He remained calm because he was sure it would only be a few days until Mike was settled, and nothing and no one was liable to cut Rye out of the picture in that amount of time.

  “Boy, am I glad to be home,” Mike said as he eased onto the couch in the living room with a sigh that seemed to come from deep in his soul.

  “What can I get for you?” Amy Beth asked, leaning over his shoulder. “Coffee? Coke?”

  “Black Jack neat,” Mike said.

  “You can’t have alcohol, not with the antibiotics and pain meds you’re taking,” Amy Beth chided. “Iced tea? Water?”

  “Nothing right now,” Mike said.

  “How about a blanket? Are you cold?” Amy Beth asked, despite the unseasonably warm late-April day.

  “I’m fine,” Mike said, rolling his eyes at Rye.

  “Are you sure there isn’t something I can do for you?” she asked anxiously.

  “Don’t fuss over me, Amy Beth,” he said irritably. “I’ll tell you if I need something.”

  Rye took one look at his sister’s crestfallen face, shot a reproachful glance at Mike, and said, “One of those scabs on Mike’s cheek where the stitches came out is bleeding. How about getting him a Band-Aid?”

  Mike put a finger to his cheek, which came away bloody. “Amy Beth, I need—”

  “I’m on it,” Amy Beth said, scampering away like a jackrabbit chased by hounds.

  “God help me!” Mike said when she was gone from the room. “She’s chattering at me worse than a magpie in the woods.”

  “When women love you, they want to do for you,” Rye said.

  Mike laughed. “Now you’re an expert on women?”

  “I’m learning.”

  By then, Amy Beth was back with a box of Band-Aids. She knelt in front of Mike, tracing the many half-healed wounds with her eyes, her expression revealing how much it hurt her to see his face so torn up. It took several winces from Mike before the offending spot was covered to Amy Beth’s satisfaction. “Now what can I do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to lie down and take a nap,” Mike said, easing himself onto his back and lifting his legs onto the couch. Amy Beth’s mouth was already open to speak when he said, “I would love to have some meat loaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, if you could manage that.”

  “Vick’s out grocery shopping right now for some ground pork since we were out of it and I thought you might want meat loaf since it’s your favorite and it tastes better when you mix the beef with pork,” Amy Beth said, all in a single breath. “I could get started peeling potatoes.”

  “Thanks, sis. You’re the best,” Mike said, patting her shoulder with a hand that trembled a bit and looked a lot skinnier to Rye than it had before the attack. Just how weak was Mike? Rye noticed his brother’s body looked emaciated. Apparently, he hadn’t been enjoying the hospital food. Well, home cooking would fix that.

  It was obvious to Rye that his sister wanted to hug Mike but was afraid of hurting him. “Go ahead and give him a hug, Amy Beth,” Rye said. “He won’t break.”

  When Amy Beth was too close to see Mike’s face, Rye’s brother scowled at him. A moment later, his face contorted with pain, despite Amy Beth’s care as she gently laid her hands on his shoulders and bent over to kiss his cheek where stitched spots had barely healed.

  Rye was startled by Mike’s reaction. Why had they let him out of the hospital if such a light touch could cause him so much discomfort?

  Because nobody likes being in a hospital bed d
ay after day. Mike probably lied and told them he was fine, when he’s far from it.

  Rye was going to make it his business to be sure Mike got the rest he needed to get well. Which probably meant he was going to be running interference with all the women who would want to minister to his brother.

  “I am sooooo glad you aren’t dead,” Amy Beth said.

  “Me, too,” Mike quipped. “Now scoot, and let me sleep.”

  Amy Beth reluctantly headed toward the kitchen, glancing at Mike over her shoulder the whole way.

  “Have I mentioned I’m also glad you’re alive?” Rye said when she was gone.

  “I survived that bear attack, but if you don’t do something,” Mike said, “all this attention is going to kill me for sure.”

  Rye heard a commotion in the kitchen, and a moment later his mother fluttered in like a butterfly seeking a flower upon which to land. Angus followed, hovering like a blackbird eyeing the butterfly as potential lunch.

  “You’re awake,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes when she spied Mike. “I was afraid you would be asleep, and I’d miss seeing you. We stopped by to find out how you’re doing.”

  Mike was obviously settled comfortably, but their mother made him sit up so she could put a couch pillow behind his head. She grabbed the blanket she’d always kept folded over the arm of her rocker and spread that over him as well. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good, Mom. Don’t—” He bit his lip and shot a look at Rye, who realized Mike had been about to give her the same admonishment he’d given Amy Beth. Don’t fuss over me.

  “Really, I’m fine,” Mike said instead.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Rye heard voices in the kitchen and realized Vick was back from doing the grocery shopping with Cody in tow.

  Cody raced into the living room and took a flying leap over the back of the couch, yelling, “Uncle Mike! You’re home!”

  He landed with both knees on Mike’s stomach, took one look at Mike’s face, and screamed in terror.

  Rye could see that Cody’s frantic efforts to escape the monster he’d discovered lying on the couch, instead of the doting uncle he’d expected to find, were hurting Mike. He caught his son under the arms and lifted him away as Mike grunted in pain.

  Cody grabbed Rye around the neck and hid his face against Rye’s throat, gasping and sobbing, “Uncle Mike is— Uncle Mike is—” He never finished the sentence, but Rye knew what he was trying to say.

  Apparently, so did Mike.

  Rye’s insides twisted when he saw the horrified look in his brother’s eyes. Rye could easily read Mike’s thoughts.

  Why didn’t you tell me I’m a monster? How could you let me pretend that what I see in the mirror isn’t as bad as it looks?

  When Rye had first observed the stitched-up nightmare that was Mike’s face, his brother had been in a coma and unable to comprehend Rye’s revulsion. Over time, as the swelling had gone down and the bruises had changed color and he’d gotten used to the stitches that reminded him of Frankenstein’s monster, Rye had seen only the improvement in his brother’s condition, not the terrible damage that had been left behind by the bear’s attack.

  His son was seeing Mike for the first time, and seeing him as he looked after a grizzly had mauled him.

  “The bear bit and scratched Uncle Mike’s face so bad the doctors had to sew him back together,” Rye said as he patted his son’s back.

  Cody stopped sobbing, lifted his head, and glanced over his shoulder at his uncle. Rye felt his child shudder before Cody pressed his nose back against Rye’s throat, tightened his hold on Rye’s neck, and said, “He looks too scary.”

  Rye noticed Mike’s eyes were closed, and his jaw was working where his teeth were gritted. He couldn’t bear his brother’s pain or his son’s fear.

  He settled on one knee so Cody’s feet hit the floor and took his son’s shoulders in his hands to separate them, so he could look him in the eye. “I want you to think about how Uncle Mike is feeling right now. He was looking forward to seeing you as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.”

  Cody peered at Rye from beneath eyelashes spiked with tears. “But—”

  “Mike’s face is like a jigsaw puzzle the doctors had to stitch back together after that old bear bit him. When you fit all those scabs and scars back together, you’ll see it’s just Uncle Mike.” He slowly turned Cody so he was facing Mike, holding his position as his trembling son backed up against him. “And you told me just this morning how excited you were that Uncle Mike was coming home.”

  Rye met Mike’s agonized gaze, hoping his brother would do his part in this little drama.

  “I’m sorry I frightened you, Cody.” Mike traced a few of the raised pink and purple scars on his face with a finger and said, “The bear scratched me pretty bad, but it won’t be long before I’m as good as new.”

  Rye wondered if Mike believed what he was saying and realized he must know better. His wounds were too awful. His face would never be the same again.

  Rye could feel Cody trembling, but he’d never been so proud of his son as he was when Cody said, “I’m sorry I screamed like that, Uncle Mike. I was just…”

  “Startled by this face of mine,” Mike filled in for him. “I am a little scary looking right now. But the doctor told me the scars will fade and pretty soon I won’t look so bad.”

  “That’s good.” Cody took a hesitant step toward Mike and said, “Did I hurt you where the bear bit you, Uncle Mike? I’m sorry if I did.”

  Mike reached out and circled Cody’s waist and drew him close until the little boy was leaning against him. “I’m good, little man. Give me another week, and we can play like we used to.”

  Vick called from the kitchen, “Cody! We need your help in here.”

  “I gotta go, Uncle Mike.” Then Cody ran for the kitchen.

  “That sounds like my cue,” their mother said.

  Rye had completely forgotten that she and Angus were there.

  On her way out of the room, his mom paused to lay a hand on Rye’s face and gently touched Mike on the cheek. “You are two amazing men, and I’m proud to be your mother.” A moment later she was gone.

  Where the butterfly fluttered, the blackbird followed.

  When they were alone in the living room, Mike said, “Thank you, Rye.”

  “I should have prepared Cody. I’m sorry.”

  “I’d better get used to it,” Mike said, his voice bitter.

  “The doctor promised the scars will fade.”

  “Doctors lie all the time to their patients,” Mike retorted.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with a lot more sighs and sympathy before you’re through.”

  “Not if I can help it. No joke, Rye. I need some time on my own.”

  Rye was alarmed at the desperate look in Mike’s eyes and the broken sound of his voice. “I’ll do what I can, Mike. Go ahead and take that nap. I’ll make sure everyone leaves you alone.”

  At supper that night, their mother announced, “If you don’t mind, Rye, Angus and I will stay a few days to help take care of Mike. We can sleep in my room.”

  Rye couldn’t send his mother away. It was her home.

  Over the next few days, Cody was delighted to have a grandpa to read to him and a grandma to bake him cookies. Amy Beth loved having her mother back home and Vick seemed delighted to be treated as one of the family at dinners that turned out to be a great deal of fun, although he was usually seated at the opposite end of the table from her. The three women were always involved in some project that kept Vick occupied, and getting a moment alone with her was impossible.

  Rye bit the inside of his cheek raw to keep from saying anything as a few days became a week, and a week turned into two weeks.

  Mike retr
eated to his room and shut the door. Vick took over Rye’s room, at his mother’s insistence, since both Amy Beth and Darcie were using theirs. He was sleeping on the goddamn couch.

  It was not a situation conducive to romance.

  Two weeks and two days in, Rye tried tiptoeing from the living room to his own room after everyone was asleep, to see if Vick could be talked into letting him share his comfortable bed and whatever other bedtime activities she might allow. Unfortunately, Mike had been awakened by a nightmare and caught him sneaking down the hall. Mike’s voice woke their mother, which got Angus out of bed.

  Rye gave up. At least for the night.

  He tried again a few days later, waiting until the wee hours to make his foray down the hall. He was surprised—and delighted—to see a light under the door, but when he eased it open, he found Amy Beth being held by Vick while tears streamed down his sister’s face. From the look on Vick’s face when she spotted him, he was as welcome as an ax murderer.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a sharp voice.

  “I wanted—”

  “Can’t you see your sister’s upset?”

  “Yes, I can. What’s wrong?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Vick said as Amy Beth quietly sobbed. “Go away.”

  He backed his way out in a big hurry. Boy trouble, he thought. What else could it be? He knew how that could upset a person. He was having a bit of girl trouble himself. How was a man supposed to woo the woman he loved when his whole family was in the way?

  His third foray down the hall was interrupted when he heard Cody whimpering. He slipped into his son’s darkened room and eased himself onto the bed, taking Cody in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “Mike’s bear was going to eat me,” his son said.

  “That bear can never hurt anyone again,” Rye said. “Your mom shot it dead.”

  “She did?”

  “She sure did.”

  He heard a relieved sigh before Cody said, “That’s good.” In a few minutes, he fell back into a sound sleep. So did Rye.

  When Rye had given up all hope of finding time alone with Vick, a miracle happened. Her fraternal twin, Taylor, went into labor.