Читать книгу Falling For The Cowboy Dad - Patricia Johns - Страница 13
ОглавлениеGRACE PARKED HER car behind her mother’s SUV and turned off the engine. Coming back to Eagle’s Rest had been filled with reconnections, but meeting up with Billy was different. Billy was supposed to be safely out of the picture. She wanted to smooth layer after layer of life over the hole he’d left in her heart. He belonged to the past. Her mind was still spinning, and her emotions hadn’t caught up.
“Just over two weeks left...” she murmured. And while before that had meant relief at getting back to her apartment in the city again—the quiet, her own routines—now it was taking on a whole new urgency. It had felt good to see Billy again—too good. And she’d come too far to let herself slip into that place where she didn’t feel pretty enough or interesting enough to capture the heart of the one man she loved. Not again!
Grace got out of her car, slamming the door behind her, and headed toward the side door. Someone had thrown down some salt, but the driveway and sidewalk were still slick. She could smell something cooking as she opened the door...but it wasn’t the same, familiar smell of cooking from her childhood. This was different, and had been ever since her mother had retired.
“You’re home,” her mother said as Grace came inside and stepped out of her boots.
Connie Beverly was a short, round woman with eyes that crinkled up and sparkled when she smiled. She wore a loose sweater over a pair of leggings, an apron tied around her ample waist and a pair of slippers. She stood by the counter with a potato masher held aloft.
“Smell this,” her mother demanded. “Seriously. Smell it.”
“I can smell it,” Grace chuckled, slipping off her coat. “That’s not mashed potatoes.”
“You’re just being a cynic now!” Connie retorted, turning back to the bowl. “It’s almost like mashed potatoes.”
Grace winced. Her mother had been saying for years that she didn’t lose weight because she worked full-time and she was too busy to bother. But this year, she’d retired and sworn that she would drop the extra weight.
Grace went over to the counter and looked down into the bowl.
“Mom, cauliflower isn’t a carb,” she said.
“That’s the point. You smash the cauliflower up to look like mashed potatoes, and you don’t miss the extra calories.”
“It looks like sadness to me.” And it smelled like boiled cauliflower.
“It looks like health and longevity.” Connie smiled in satisfaction and turned back to her cautious mashing. “You should give this a try, Gracie. Our genes being what they are—”
“Mom, please...”
It was an old conversation. They came from a long line of “big-boned” women who never had any trouble finding husbands, and whose love language was cooking. Grace had never been thin, and neither had her mom. It was easy enough to love herself, but a little harder to compete with the likes of Tracy. There were times she wished she could be naturally slender.
“You’re turning thirty next week,” her mother reminded her.
“I know,” Grace replied with a grin. “And I’ll turn thirty with real carbs, thank you very much.”
“Well... I’ll agree to that,” her mother replied. “What’s birthday cake if it isn’t sinful, right? So, how was your day?”
“Good,” Grace replied, and she flicked the switch on the electric kettle. “Actually, this afternoon, I saw Billy Austin.”
“Billy Austin?” Carol turned from the sodden cauliflower and frowned. “He’s back in town? Did you see Tracy?”
“Tracy wasn’t with him. They broke up.”
“Ah.” Her mother’s eyebrows climbed, and then she nodded. “What’s he doing back in Eagle’s Rest?”
“He found out he had a daughter, and the mother had some modeling plans in Germany, so she dumped the little girl on his doorstep. Tracy took a big step back, and he came home to raise his daughter.”
“Billy’s a dad!” Connie headed to the fridge and pulled open the door, staring into its depths. “How old is his daughter?”
“Four.”
“Wait—the mother is a model? She’s not from Eagle’s Rest, then, is she?”
Grace had done the same math. “No, it was that summer he spent working a ranch in the foothills. Remember that?”
“I remember the two of you missed each other more than you’d admit,” her mother quipped.
“Apparently he wasn’t quite so lonely,” Grace replied with a wry smile, pushing back a sense of betrayal she had no right to. They’d been friends—nothing more. Her heart in knots hadn’t been his fault.
“You were always too good for him,” Connie said. “You know that. I told you so from the start.”
Was she? Grace didn’t believe it. Billy had been fun and sweet. He might not have finished high school, but he was a hard worker, and he’d worked his way up in the ranks of any ranch that employed him. Those strong hands and laughing eyes—they’d been enough for her.
“I remember Tracy told me that she was going to make a gentleman out of him—My Fair Lady style.” Grace shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me that she left him at the first sign of a challenge.”
“They deserved each other,” Connie retorted.
“No, he didn’t deserve that. If they could have been happy, that would have been one thing, but as soon as Tracy found out about his daughter, she walked out on him.”
“Maybe she’ll come back.”
“Maybe.” But Grace’s heart gave a squeeze at the thought. She wanted Billy to have a full and happy life, but somehow giving him up for Tracy was harder than it would have been to see him move on with some woman she’d never met. “Anyway, his little girl’s name is Poppy, and she starts in my class tomorrow.”
“Two weeks, sweetheart,” her mother said. “You probably won’t see him except for drop-off and pickup.”
The kettle started to boil, and Grace pulled down two mugs. She could get through this, but it wouldn’t be easy. The problem with Billy wasn’t just her feelings for him. Grace had learned some valuable lessons through allowing herself to fall in love with a man who didn’t reciprocate her feelings. No good could come from it! She’d spent too long hoping that he would suddenly see her in a different light and recognize that his best buddy was actually his perfect romantic match. Now she knew she’d never thought it all through.
What happened if he did see her differently? She’d still be the woman who hadn’t been enough to draw his eye for literally years’ worth of friendship. Yes, Grace was plump and round in an age of lithe models, but she didn’t suffer from low self-esteem. Everyone had a type they were attracted to. She seemed to like lanky cowboys. And Billy liked the model type. He always had. There was nothing to apologize for here.
“How did you feel seeing him again?” her mother asked, passing Grace a tin of tea bags.
“I’m okay,” Grace replied. “Billy was a good friend, and our lives have both moved on.”
“Very mature of you,” her mother said, shooting her a smile.
“Thank you. I thought so, too.”
Connie chuckled. “What is his little girl like? Does she favor him?”
“You can see him in the shape of her face... His daughter is gifted, though.”
“Are you serious?”
“It sure looks that way. She’s four, and she sat down and wrote a letter to her father about how she liked his cowboy hat. She called it ‘extra special beautiful.’ She said how she’d never had a daddy before, but she said he could use his muscles to keep her safe, and she hoped he wouldn’t go away like her mother had. She promised to be good so he wouldn’t want to. It was heart-wrenching—and perfectly punctuated.”
“At four,” Connie breathed.
They exchanged a long look.
“He’s overwhelmed,” Grace admitted, and an image of Billy came to mind—those dark eyes, the large, calloused hands, and the tender way he’d held his petite daughter in his arms. Billy might never have loved Grace, but he certainly did love that little girl.
“Gracie, it’s a good thing that you’re going back to Denver,” her mother replied. “He’s a dad now, and he’ll have to figure it out on his own. He’s always been very comfortable leaning on you as his buddy, but you can’t use up all your energy on Billy Austin again. You’ve got your own life to live.”
“I’m not trying to rescue him,” Grace replied. “I won’t go back to that.”
It wasn’t possible to love a man into loving her, and she couldn’t fill those gaps between them with her own hopes and dreams. She was going back to Denver to work her next job, and hopefully one of these days, she’d meet a guy who looked at her the same way Billy had looked at Tracy.
“Let’s see if your father notices these aren’t potatoes,” Connie said, looking down into the bowl she’d been mashing.
“He’ll notice,” Grace said with a low laugh, and she looked down into the bowl. “I think they’re getting soupy, Mom.”
“Oh...” Connie sighed.
“You don’t need to lose weight, you know,” Grace said. “You and I are soft in all the right places.”
“I’d like to have a waist, though,” her mother retorted. “And I’m determined to get one.”
Grace knew better than to argue with her mom when she was on a mission, but Grace’s most treasured memories of her mother included her soft hugs, her delectable baking and the way her chunky jewelry used to clatter when Grace would fiddle with it as a little girl. And when Grace’s father looked at her mother from across the room, Grace had always seen that look of devotion that she longed for from a man of her own.
It wasn’t about weight, because her mother had always been a beautiful woman who could light up a room with her smile and her laughter. She’d had a soft figure, an ample bosom, and she’d always taken pride in her appearance. Her parents’ marriage had been about two people who were so in love that they didn’t need anyone else.
Grace went to a bottom cupboard and pulled out the bag of potatoes. “I’ll just peel a few,” she said with a grin. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Connie looked down at the cauliflower mush in the bowl and smiled sheepishly. “I can have a cheat day, right?”
Grace would not eat cauliflower mashed into fake potatoes. Life was too short for that kind of sadness on a plate. Her life in Denver had been about more than moving on after Billy moved in with Tracy; it was about building the life she wanted—asking for what she wanted.
And tonight she wanted some comfort food and a cozy evening. It wasn’t too much to ask.
* * *
“IS MY PONYTAIL STRAIGHT?” Poppy asked as Billy pulled into a parking spot in front of the school the next morning. It had been a hurried morning. Poppy had refused to get out of bed, so getting her ready for school had been hectic. They hadn’t had anything pressing to do since he’d gotten custody of her, and this morning—his first day back on the job at Ross Ranch—was a taste of real-life parenting.
Poppy didn’t want to eat, didn’t want her hair brushed, didn’t want to wear matching clothes from the small suitcase her mom had dropped off with her. He’d given up on the last one, and this morning she wore blue tights, a pink summer dress and a second-hand Christmas sweater on top of it all. She said Mommy had bought her the sweater, and it seemed unnecessarily cruel to deny her some connection to her mom. It only occurred to him now that she’d probably be expected to play outside, and he didn’t have snow pants for her.
Billy looked over at her for a moment, considering his morning’s handiwork. He’d done his best.
“It’s not perfectly straight,” he admitted. “But it’s not bad. You look good, kiddo.”
With the rest of her ensemble, no one would be looking at her hair, anyway.
“I don’t want to go to school,” Poppy said, her eyes welling with tears.
“This is where you’ll learn the fun stuff,” he said. “A teacher can show you all sorts of things I can’t. Besides, I have to go to work while you’re at school. That’s the deal I made with Mr. Ross.”
Billy had worked at the Ross ranch before he left for Denver with Tracy, and now that he was back, Mr. Ross had been happy to offer him another job. Billy had built a reputation for himself based on his hard work. Mr. Ross understood the complication of having a little girl to take care of, so he agreed to flex-time employment—Billy would put in as many hours as he could while his daughter was at school, and he’d be paid by the hour. It was a generous offer, and one Billy didn’t want to take advantage of.
Poppy was silent, but a tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.
“Did you know that I know Miss Beverly from a long time ago?” Billy asked. “She’s my friend. So she knows how to find me if you get too lonely.”
The poor kid had dealt with so many changes lately, and he didn’t blame her for balking at this one.
“Let’s go inside,” Billy said. “I won’t leave until you’re ready, okay?”
“Okay,” Poppy consented, then looked him over. “Your hat is dirty.”
Billy pulled his hat off his head and saw a few pieces of hay stuck to some stitching. He plucked them off and dropped his hat back onto his head.
“We good?” he asked.
“You’ll do,” Poppy replied, and Billy chuckled.
“It’ll be okay,” he assured her. “You’ll see.”
The hallways were buzzing with students, and Billy walked Poppy through the school, toward Grace’s classroom. Billy had gone to this school, and his memories were filled with frustration. Every year, the work got harder, and his reading remained a colossal struggle. Everyone else could read aloud and follow instructions, while he’d take half an hour to decipher two lines, and then forget what he’d managed to read. So he gave up and put his energy into coping—got other kids to help him do his work, groomed a cocky attitude, made nice with teaching assistants who helped him to keep up with the basics so that he could be pushed forward into the next grade.
The school repeatedly told his mom that he struggled with reading, but no one quite picked up on the fact that he couldn’t read. He’d thought that was a victory. Now he wasn’t so sure. If they’d figured it out when he was young enough, maybe someone could have helped him. But at the age of thirty, how was he supposed to admit to that?
Poppy’s classroom was at the far end of the school, next to the double doors, and as Billy and Poppy approached, he saw Grace helping a student hang up a backpack almost as big as the kid was.
“Good morning,” Billy said, and Grace looked up. Her soft chocolate waves were gathered back in a loose ponytail, and the first thing he noticed was the pink in her cheeks and the shine of her lip gloss. Grace had definitely changed over the last few years—she’d never been the type to wear makeup before. And there was something different about her clothes, too, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She wore a pair of fitted dress pants and a loose pink blouse, with a belt cinched at her waist. She didn’t look like she was hiding in her clothes anymore. She stood out.
“Hi!” she said, rising to her feet. “Poppy, I have a hook all set up for you with your name. This is where you’ll hang your backpack and your coat and your snow pants—”
“We, uh, don’t have those yet,” Billy said. “I’ll pick some up tonight.”
“I do have an extra pair she can borrow,” Grace said. “She’ll need them for recess. We have a special nature walk today, too, so...”
“Thanks.” He nodded quickly. “And I’ll make sure she has her own for tomorrow.”
Billy already felt like he was falling behind as a dad. The other little girls were wearing matching outfits in pink and purple. He looked down at Poppy with her red-and-green sweater, the pink dress poking out the bottom, and he felt a wash of regret. He should have fought harder when she was getting dressed this morning. The kids were going to be cruel.
“You dressed yourself!” Grace said, looking down at Poppy with a big smile. “Didn’t you?”
“Yep,” Poppy said quietly.
“You look wonderful. I can always tell a kid who likes to choose her own clothes. That’s great!”
Billy looked at Grace uncertainly. Was it great?
“I should have put up a bigger fight about that,” he murmured, and Grace shook her head.
“They’re four. The others won’t notice. And when I see a kid who insists on choosing her own clothes, I know that she’s got a strong spirit. That’s a good thing, Billy.”
“I hope so.”
“Relax. It’ll be fine.” Grace put her hands on her hips and regarded him for a moment. “Are you going to stay for a few minutes, or leave now?”
Billy looked down at Poppy and saw she was glancing nervously at the other kids. “You ready for me to go to work, Poppy?” he asked quietly.
“Nope,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know these people.”
Grace smiled. “Your dad can stay for a little bit until you feel better, Poppy. Let’s go inside and I’ll introduce you to the other kids. Okay?”
Grace was different now, he realized. Maybe it was that she was the sun and the moon to a roomful of four-year-olds, but it leant her a certain air of confidence that she hadn’t had in years past. He hadn’t expected her to be any different from the pal he remembered when he heard that Grace Beverly was teaching this class, but his memories of her weren’t like this. Grace had blossomed.
As she started the day with her students, Billy found one adult-size chair next to a window and took a seat. Grace walked Poppy around the room, introducing her to the students individually and keeping her hand in the little girl’s the entire time. Poppy looked up at Grace with a flicker of a smile and big, adoring eyes. It looked to Billy like Grace was winning Poppy over.
“Good morning, friends,” Grace said. “We have a new friend joining us today. Her name is Poppy, and I already like her! Don’t you? Now, let’s all come to the story carpet, and we’ll get ready for the daily announcements and the pledge of allegiance.”
The kids spun in their places, dug toes into the carpet and a couple sat down during the pledge of allegiance. Grace went around, gently tugging them back to their feet and putting small hands over their chests. As she helped the children into the proper, respectful position, she was saying the words aloud with the principal over the loudspeaker.
“...and to the republic for which it stands. One nation under God, indivisible...”
Along the wall under the window, where Billy sat, there were letters of the alphabet on separate laminated sheets. Q. R. S. T. Large letters, separated by inches of wall, made the letters distinct and different in his mind. They didn’t jumble up like they did on a page, and Billy eyed them for a moment, mildly intrigued by his ability to differentiate them.
He understood the basic concept of letters, sounds and the combination turning into words. He looked around at the kids as Grace sat down in front of a large picture graph with different weather symbols on it.
“This morning is sunny,” Grace was saying. “Who can find the picture that tells us that it’s sunny?”
Most of these children wouldn’t even know their alphabets yet, but they would be introduced to the basics this year. An idea was forming itself in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was crazy to even be considering this, but maybe he could start over.
Billy had given up on school and put his energy into avoiding the embarrassment. But maybe as his daughter learned, he could catch up on a few basics he’d missed, too. Maybe, just maybe, he could learn to read.
Billy pulled off his hat and looked down at it for a moment, trying to hide any expression that might be betraying his thoughts right now. He hadn’t changed in his desire to hide his illiteracy, but if he could really buckle down and learn how to read at long last...
It could change everything! He could apply for higher positions at the ranch. He’d figured he’d never be anything more than regular labor, but if he could read, he might be able to work his way up to ranch manager eventually. A whole new world would open up to him, a world of instructions, information and upward mobility.
And at the end of a long day, he could sit down with Poppy and he could read her a book. Instead of pretending that he was teasing her, making up stories that only frustrated her because she wanted him to read the book properly, he could do just that—read his little girl a story.
Billy’s heart hammered in his chest, and he realized that he’d zoned out there for a minute, because the kids were moving off to different corners of the room now, and Grace was coming toward him. Billy stood up, scanned the room and found Poppy at the puppet theater with another little girl, hand in hand.
“You could probably leave now,” Grace said quietly. “Poppy has a friend. She’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed not to have been the one to come to that conclusion first. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Sometimes this is harder on the parents than the kids,” Grace said, putting a hand on his arm. In that moment, she was the old Grace again—the confiding pal who always saw the best in him.
“I’ll be back at three,” he said with a small smile.
Poppy didn’t even look up as Billy made his way out of the room, and he glanced back to see Grace turning toward her class, her figure outlined in the doorway. The same old Grace in so many ways, and yet she wasn’t. Then the door shut with a decisive click, and he heard Grace’s voice filtering out to him in the hallways.
“Michael P., let’s keep our hands to ourselves, please!”
Maybe Billy was crazy to think he could learn how to read, because that classroom door had just closed on his opportunity. Who was he fooling? He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he’d had his chance. Now it was Poppy’s turn to learn “all the fun stuff,” as he’d put it.
Still, he couldn’t quite stamp out that little spark of hope. And he glanced over his shoulder as his cowboy boots echoed down the hallway.
Maybe.
