Читать книгу The Cowboy's Return - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 11

Camila locked up for the day and dropped her keys in her purse. Bert Boggs came out of the bank two doors down. “Had a good week, Camila?” he asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes. Thank you,” she replied as politely as she could. She disliked Bert intensely and his son, Vance, even more.

“Just make sure that all you’re selling in there are homemade soaps and quilts.”

Anger jolted through her. “Excuse me?”

“I know all about you, Camila. I’m not easily fooled like the other people in this town. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

She swung her purse strap over her shoulder. “And I’m keeping an eye on you, Bert. If you get slack as mayor, I’ll be running for your position next election.”

“Why you—”

“Have a good evening.” She walked to her car before Bert could say anything else. She’d parked out front earlier because it was her post-office day. If she’d just parked in back, this confrontation could have been avoided. But she wasn’t hiding, even though she hated the way people like Bert made her feel—like a tramp.

Sometimes she wondered why she stayed in this town, although she knew it was because of Jilly. Jilly loved it here and everyone loved her. Camila started the engine and took a breath. It had been a stressful day. Tripp coming into her shop had sent her blood pressure into orbit. She just wanted him to go away and leave them alone. Jilly had said he’d been in the diner and her nerves had coiled into knots as she’d waited for another confrontation. He hadn’t returned.

But she knew she hadn’t seen the last of Tripp.

THAT EVENING SHE SPENT with her daughter. Since Jilly was grounded, Camila and Jilly made popcorn and gave each other a manicure and a pedicure. They laughed and giggled like teenagers and Camila realized this wasn’t much of a punishment. When it came to her daughter, she was weak.

Later, she brushed Jilly’s long hair.

“Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“Mr. Daniels helped me pull Mrs. Shynosky’s trash can to the curb.”

Camila forced herself to keep brushing even though her nerves were as tight as strings on a guitar. “Did he?”

“Yeah. He seems nice.”

“I suppose he is.”

“Mama?”

Camila knew what was coming next. It was like standing on a railroad track and hearing the whistle of a train and not being able to move or do anything, just wait for the inevitable. Wait for the pain.

The brush stilled in her hand. “What, baby?”

“You said I could talk to you about anything.”

“Yes.” The whistle shrilled louder.

They were sitting on the floor in front of the fire. Jilly had her back to her and she turned to face Camila.

“I want to go see my grandparents.”

The train hit Camila then and she struggled to breathe, to survive—for Jilly. She reached for her daughter and held her, praying that she could do this.

“Baby.” She stroked Jilly’s hair. “The Danielses believe that Patrick isn’t your father and I don’t want them to hurt your feelings.”

Jilly raised her head. “It’s okay, Mama. I just want to see if they’re okay. If they’re mean to me, I’ll just come home. And Mr. Daniels said I could visit any time I wanted.”

Camila couldn’t speak.

“You said I could see them if I wanted to.”

Now she had to eat those words. But she was wondering why Tripp had made such an offer if he didn’t believe Patrick was Jilly’s father. Why couldn’t he stay out of their lives?

She swallowed. “Yes. I did.” She couldn’t stop this—just like she couldn’t stop the train wreck of emotions. But it didn’t make it easy.

“And Mr. Daniels will be there and he’s nice.”

Nice and dangerous.

Camila took a hard breath. “Okay.”

Jilly gave her a kiss. “Thank you, Mama.”

She pushed Jilly’s hair back. “Do you want me to take you?”

“No. I can ride my bike.”

“I don’t like you riding alone.”

“Mama.” Jilly sighed in an aggravated way. “This is Bramble and everyone knows me. I’m not a baby.”

“Still, take my cell phone so I can come and get you if anything happens.” She had to have a way to stay in touch, with her daughter.

“Okay.”

“When do you want to do this?” Please, Jilly. Change your mind.

“Tomorrow after I get through helping you in the store.”

It was obvious Jilly had this all planned—probably for a long time. Now Camila had to let it happen. How did she do that? How did she make this easy for both of them? Camila soon realized there wasn’t a set way, but she’d handle it as best as she could.

“I’d rather you went right after lunch. I don’t want you on the road after dark and it gets dark early.”

“Okay.” Jilly hugged her. “I’ll be fine.”

Camila ran her finger down Jilly’s nose. “You’re growing up too fast.”

Jilly smiled her beautiful smile and Camila wished she could freeze this moment in time—keep Jilly innocent and safe. Keep Jilly with her. But that was unrealistic.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” Jilly said. “Mrs. Shynosky’s daughter sent her some banana-nut bread and she gave me some. She said she couldn’t eat the whole thing and she’d rather have the pie that I’d brought her. So I took it to Miss Unie.”

“That was sweet of you.”

“But I think she gave it to Lu Lu. Miss Unie doesn’t eat much.”

“I took her a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread earlier so she has some food.”

“Why is she so stubborn about accepting things?”

Camila rubbed Jilly’s arm. “Unie wants to be independent and she doesn’t like charity.”

“So you told her they were throwing the milk and bread out at the grocery store and she took it.”

“Yes.” Her daughter knew her well. Camila had pulled that trick on Unie before just to make sure she had something to eat.

“You’re smart, Mama.”

“Thank you.”

Jilly settled comfortably in her arms. “Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about Benita.”

Camila tensed.

“She hasn’t called in a long time.”

“Benita lives her own life, but she did call the other day. I was out, though. She’ll come home when she’s ready.”

“Well, the next time I see Benita, I’m gonna tell her that’s mean.”

Camila wrapped her arms around her daughter, wanting to protect and shield her, but Jilly was fiercely independent. She’d always been that way.

Later, Camila curled up in bed dreading tomorrow. Dreading letting go of Jilly. Dreading the thought of anyone hurting her.

Before sleep claimed her, she drifted back through the years. She was seventeen and Tripp was holding her. She was floating on a cloud with her body pressed against the hardened muscles of his. Excitement mounted inside her, excitement like she’d never felt before. And she hated herself for that reaction. Never again would she degrade herself like that.

Never.

TRIPP LEFT MORRIS to finish cleaning the kitchen and followed his parents into the den. He turned off the TV.

“What’d you do that for?” Griffin frowned at him.

“Because it doesn’t need to be on twenty-four hours a day,” Leona snapped.

“I can watch sports if I want to.” Griffin reached for the control.

“Dad, have a seat,” Tripp said, holding the remote out of his reach. “I need to talk to both of you.”

“What?” Grif eased into his chair. “You’re going to leave so go ahead and tell us and get it over with.”

“Oh, no.” His mother began to cry.

“Wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere just yet.” He handed Leona some tissues and guided her to a chair. He then sat facing them. “We need to talk about Patrick.”

“No, no, no,” Leona cried into the tissue.

“Son, why do you want to do this? Can’t you see how much it hurts your mother?”

“Yes, and it hurts me, too. But I’ve met someone I think you need to meet.”

“A woman?” Grif lifted an eyebrow.

Leona wiped her eyes and stared at him. “Who?”

“A young girl.” He paused “Jilly Walker.”

His father looked puzzled. “Who’s that?”

“Camila Walker’s daughter. Patrick’s friend from high school.”

Leona shook her head. “Oh, no, no.”

“Yes, Mom. I feel Jilly is Patrick’s daughter.”

“Like hell,” Grif scoffed. “Camila slept around—everyone knows that. How can you say such a thing?”

“Because I’ve met the girl. She has a lot of Patrick’s characteristics.”

Grif pushed to his feet. “Do not bring that girl into this house, Tripp. I forbid it.” He picked up his cane and shuffled to his room. Leona got up and followed him.

Tripp buried his face in his hands. His parents were never going to accept Jilly.

That bothered him more than he ever thought possible.

THE NEXT DAY Jilly went back and forth from the gift shop to the coffee shop—not able to sit still or concentrate on anything. It was obvious Jilly was nervous. Camila was, too, but she hid it better than her daughter.

Camila folded a baby quilt and put it in a box for a lady. She rang it up and told Amber, one of her helpers, that she’d be back in a minute. In the coffee shop, she caught Jilly by the arm and pulled her to a table.

“You don’t have to do this today. You can think about it for a while.”

Jilly wagged her head. “No, Mama. I want to do it.”

Camila wished she knew what to do, wished she could stop Jilly’s thoughts about Patrick, wished she could’ve stopped Tripp from returning to Bramble. But she couldn’t. Just like she had no control over the past. She chewed on the inside of her lip.

Just tell her you’ve changed your mind and she can’t go. Just say no.

She couldn’t do that, either.

“Well, go now.”

Jilly perked up. “Okay.” She launched to her feet.

Camila hugged her. “If they say anything mean to you, come home immediately.”

“I will, Mama, and don’t worry. I’ll take Button with me.”

“Get my phone out of my purse. I want to be able to call you.”

“Okay. Bye.” In a flash, Jilly was gone.

Camila opened her mouth to call her back, then closed it. Millie patted her on the shoulder.

“Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Millie shrugged. “I can’t. I don’t even know what the right thing is in this situation. We’ll just have to wait and hope Leona and Grif still have a heart. I mean, who could look at that gorgeous face and not fall in love?”

Camila tried to smile, but failed miserably.

“Go to work,” Millie suggested. “Staying busy is the best medicine right now.”

Camila took her advice, but she kept wondering if Jilly was there yet. How were they treating her? What was happening? What were they saying to her baby?

TRIPP HAD SPENT the afternoon riding over the ranch. It upset him that the place was in such bad shape. Pastures were overgrown, mesquite was growing wild again, fences were down and cattle roamed freely from Daniels land onto Boggs property. He’d called Earl several times, but the man never returned any of his calls.

After taking a shower, he changed clothes. He couldn’t find any record of the payments Earl had made in the past year. They were going to talk about that, too. He checked on his parents. Grif was glued to the TV and Leona was listening to a book on tape that the nurse had brought her, so he didn’t bother them. He’d tell Morris he was leaving, then…

There was a knock at the door.

It would be a waste of time yelling for Morris so he answered it himself. He stopped short when he saw who was standing there. Jilly. She held her dog in her arms, like before.

“Hi, Mr. Daniels. I came to visit like you said.”

Oh my God! What should he do now? He couldn’t hurt this young girl and he certainly wouldn’t let his parents do that either.

“Tripp,” Leona called. “Who’s at the door?”

What the hell should he do?

“Tripp,” Leona called again. Tripp made a decision, hoping Jilly had the same effect on his parents as she’d had on him.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside.

Jilly walked in and he closed the door.

“My parents are in the den. Please understand that they are old and say things that sometimes hurt.”

Jilly nodded. “It’s okay, Mr. Daniels. I know all about old people.”

“Please call me Tripp,” he told her. “That’s a strong statement for someone so young.”

“Tripp!” his mother shouted this time.

“Ready?” he asked Jilly.

“Yes,” she answered, clutching the dog, and followed him into the den.

“Mom, Dad, we have a visitor. This is Jilly Walker.”

Grif swung around, but didn’t say a word. Leona pulled off her headphones, squinting, as if she were trying to see Jilly’s face.

Jilly walked to her. “Hi, Mrs. Daniels. I’m Jilly and this is Button.” She held up the dog.

“Button? What’s a Button?” Leona asked.

“It’s a dog,” Jilly said. “A Chihuahua. Would you like to touch her?”

“Yes. I like dogs. I used to have a terrier.” Jilly placed the dog in Leona’s lap and Leona stroked it. Button shivered. “Oh, my. It’s a little bitty thing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jilly said. “That’s why Mama and me named her Button. I’ve had her for four years now and I take her everywhere, except when I go to school.”

“How old are you, child?”

“I’ll be twelve next Saturday.”

“Let me see the dog,” Grif said. Tripp stepped back and let everything happen naturally.

Jilly carried Button to Grif. “She’s a little nervous, but she’ll calm down in a minute.”

“These type of dogs need a lot of care,” Grif told Jilly.

“I give her lots of care and lots of love.”

“Let me hold Button,” Leona said and Jilly carried the dog back to her.