Читать книгу Caitlyn's Prize - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 15

CAITLYN RODE BACK TO THE house about two to check on Gran. She hadn’t been up when Cait had left that morning.

Chance’s truck was parked outside, and when she went in, Gran, Etta and he were at the table, just finishing lunch. Gran was dressed in her normal slacks and blouse, and her hair was pinned at her nape. She looked like she used to, and Cait prayed her grandmother was back to her old self.

“Caitlyn, baby, we have a visitor,” Gran said. “Chance is having lunch with us.”

He winked. “Etta wouldn’t let me leave without eating one of her home-cooked meals.”

“We see you so little.” Etta carried dishes to the sink.

Caitlyn placed her hat on the rack. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yep.” Chance stood. “We’re through at the McGruders and we’re packing up and heading for east Texas.” He kissed his aunt’s cheek. “I’ll call. Thanks for the lunch, Miss Dorie.”

Caitlyn followed him outside. “Would you do me a favor, please?”

Chance settled his hat on his head. “Anything, beautiful lady.”

“If you hear of anyone needing sand or gravel, would you send them my way?”

“Sure. Etta told me about High Five’s problem. I’m sorry, Cait.”

“Thank you. Find me a buyer and I’ll love you forever.”

“Yeah.” He smiled broadly. “They all say that.”

She waved as he drove away, and then she went back inside.

Gran was on the phone. Replacing the receiver, she smiled at Caitlyn. “That was Madison. She’s coming for a visit.” Dorie looked past Cait. “Is your father with you? He’s going to be so excited.”

Cait felt as if someone had just lassoed her around the neck and yanked the rope tight. She struggled to breathe. Gran was not back to normal. The doctors had said to tell her the truth, so that’s what Cait did, even though it made her throat feel rusty and dry.

“Gran, Dad is dead.”

“Yes.” A look of sadness clouded her brown eyes. “I forget sometimes.”

Caitlyn hugged her. “It’s okay to forget—sometimes.”

But Cait never forgot, not for a second. Her father’s death filled her every waking moment and all the dreams that tortured her nights. She wasn’t the son he’d wanted. At her age she should be beyond that childhood feeling of inadequacy. Why wasn’t she?

Gran drew back, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “But it’s exciting that Maddie’s coming home, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. When is she arriving?”

Gran frowned. “I forget.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cait reassured her. She would call Maddie back.

“Okay. I’m going upstairs, to pull out all the dresses that will look great on Madison. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she’d make a great Ingrid Bergman. Casablanca. Oh, yes, we’re going to have so much fun.”