The Rancher Next Door (12 page)

But maybe, when it was time to go, it would help the leaving part hurt a little less.

Chapter Fourteen

C
aley knocked on Nonie’s open door before entering the room, balancing in her free hand a plate of sugar cookies Ava had whipped up last night after their talk. The cool air inside nearly knocked her backward like always, and she fought a shiver. “Good morning, Nonie.”

Her grandmother slowly turned from where she’d been gazing out the window, her curly hair matted against her pillow. She blinked a few times before rubbing her eyes with the back of her gnarled hand.

“I brought you some cookies.” Caley set the plate on the bedside table, unable to meet her grandmother’s steady gaze. She hated how tired her grandmother looked. Usually when she and Ava came to visit, it was in the afternoon after school. Nonie had been refreshed from a nap and smiled with recently applied lipstick, ready to blast them with her sarcastic wit and pretend to cheat at Go Fish.

But first-thing-in-the-morning Nonie just seemed wilted. Like a stranger, not the woman who helped raised her. It was disconcerting.

Nonie pushed the button that raised the back of the bed and spoke over the slight whirring noise that filled the quiet room. For once, the TV wasn’t playing, interrupting their talks with cheers from contestants or blaring commercials. “Tell me those cookies aren’t my secret recipe.” Her eyes sparkled with hope as life seemed to seep back into her bones. “You never could quite figure it out, could you?”

There
was the Nonie she knew. Caley exhaled slowly as she took the chair beside Nonie’s bed, her pager digging into her hip. Thank goodness her grandmother had pepped back up. Or rather, thank God. She closed her eyes briefly
. God, I’m not ready to give her up yet. I still have too much to make up for.
She opened her eyes, wishing she could be sure God cared to hear her prayers. But she knew without a doubt He cared for her grandmother, so that had to count for something. Surely He’d listen to prayers about her.

Caley tapped the wrapped plate with one finger. “Don’t worry, these are from Ava. Cut and bake.” She’d even let Ava cut the dough herself after a quick lesson on kitchen knife safety.

Nonie reached for the plate, and Caley tempered the automatic urge to ask her if she’d had breakfast first. She was a grown woman. Instead, she plucked a cookie free and handed it to Nonie, then took one for herself. This morning definitely deserved sugary comfort. Amazing how awkward it felt already between them without Ava as a buffer.

“So where’s my little card buddy today?” Nonie asked, as if reading her mind. She took a bite of cookie and nodded at it. “Not bad for cut and bake. She did good.”

“Ava’s at school.” Caley finished her so-called breakfast in two bites. They
were
good. Ava had baked them to perfection, even if she hadn’t actually mixed up the batter. She’d made them in an effort to show her dad responsibility, but unfortunately, Brady hadn’t noticed. Or at least hadn’t by the time Caley went home.

“I thought it was Saturday.” Nonie frowned at the calendar on the nightstand.

“It’s Friday.” She brushed a sprinkle from the corner of her mouth, unsure what else to say. Was the confusion a simple mistake or a sign that Nonie’s sharp mind was slipping after all? Either way, it served as a reminder for Caley that time was short. She rubbed her hands down her pant legs and took a deep breath. “Nonie, you know that elephant that likes hanging out in your room?”

Nonie set her cookie down, only half-eaten, and raised her bed a few more notches. Her wise eyes narrowed as her gaze drew Caley in. “I was about ready to name him.”

“Don’t get attached yet.” She fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans before clasping her hands in her lap. No more fiddling. No more averting. Just honesty.

Even if her stomach had knotted up like a Boy Scout’s practice rope.

She inhaled. “Nonie, I need to apologize.”

“For what? Always forgetting that my secret recipe includes coconut oil?” Nonie gestured to the plate of cookies and winked.

The knot in her stomach unraveled an inch. She relaxed slightly for the first time since stepping into the room. “For leaving Broken Bend. I mean, I don’t regret the choice, but it was too fast. And the fight with Dad after, well...” She fingered a spot on her jeans before forcing herself to meet Nonie’s eyes. “I just wanted out.”

“I know you did, honey. And I didn’t blame you for that.” Nonie adjusted the thin blanket over her legs as she shifted to face Caley. “Small towns can suffocate. They’re not meant for everyone.” She paused, her eyes searching Caley’s. “The way you left is what hurt your father.”

“Hurt
him?
” Her back straightened, every nerve on high alert. “I was eighteen—legally an adult. I told him my plans and carried them out. It wasn’t my fault he wanted to keep me under his control forever.” She knew the words sounded immature leaving her lips, but she couldn’t rein them in. This conversation was so long overdue, it was if her teen self had taken over her tongue. “He was the one who abandoned me afterward. Disowned me.”

“Abandoned you?” Nonie’s penciled eyebrows, smeared from sleep, rose on her wrinkled forehead. “You left Broken Bend, Caley. Not the other way around.” She reached for Caley. “We never went anywhere.”

She stared at Nonie’s pale, blue-veined fingers covering her own tanned ones, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet her gaze. “You didn’t come after me.” The admission still hurt. The memories. The empty seats at college graduation. The unanswered texts and emails to her dad’s phone. Feeling disowned by the family she had left. Her mom had left when she was a child—she’d never thought her dad would follow suit. What made leaving Broken Bend so terrible? What made wanting to make something of herself outside of the county lines an unpardonable sin? It never made sense. Still didn’t.

“Caley.” Nonie released a heavy sigh as she removed her hand and slumped back against her pillows. “There’s a lot here you don’t understand.” She looked tired again, as if the very conversation drained her of all her remaining energy.

“I understand that I invited you both to my college graduation and neither of you came.” Tears burned the back of Caley’s eyes. “I admit I expected that from Dad. But not from you.”

“What invitation?” Nonie’s eyes flashed. “We didn’t get an invitation. Not that I saw.”

“I mailed it three weeks before the ceremony.” She distinctly remembered, even all these years later, clutching the envelope and praying before dropping it down the college campus mail chute. Praying that the invitation would mend fences. Bring her family back. Be the first step toward reconciliation.

Rejected.

“We never got it.” Nonie shook her head. “I assumed you were still angry and didn’t want us to attend. So I respected that.”

“So you’re saying after all these years, it was just the mailman’s fault?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone. It clung to her vocal cords like a poison she couldn’t swallow or cough up. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t know, Caley.” Nonie’s brow furrowed as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I just can’t imagine your father would have received the invitation and not told me.”

Oh, Caley could imagine it all right. That was her dad. His way or the highway. Always had been. She hadn’t wanted to live by his rules forever, so she would pay the price forever instead.

Even after he was gone.

“I guess we’ll never know now.” Her voice cracked as tears reached a crescendo in her throat. She coughed before shoving her chair back. “I’ve got to go, Nonie. I’m sorry, I can’t do this. Go ahead and just name the elephant if you want to.” Blinded, she stumbled over the chair leg and grabbed for her purse. “Enjoy the cookies. I’ll bring Ava by in a few days.”

“Caley.” Her grandmother’s no-nonsense voice froze her feet to the stained floor, but she didn’t turn. Couldn’t face her. Couldn’t uncover anything else that would leave a fresh scar. She was still too wounded by her old ones.

“I’m sorry for my tone, Nonie. I love you.” She started to leave, more ashamed than ever, but Nonie spoke again.

“I need you to remember two things.”

Her tone, gentler now, coaxed Caley to turn. She reluctantly met her grandmother’s stare, one hand braced against the door frame in an effort to hold herself together.

The fire in Nonie’s eyes cooled to a steady ember. “I always loved you, my child. And always will.”

Caley nodded as the tears crested, slipping down her cheeks. She let them fall on her shirt, unable to let go of the door to wipe them away. “And the second thing?”

“There’s more to this situation than you know. When you’re ready to find out, you come tell me.”

* * *

Brady drove slowly down the deserted highway back toward the ranch, thumbs tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. The noon sun beat hot upon his work truck, nearly blinding him with the glare off the hood. He slid on his sunglasses and adjusted the visor. No wonder all the local news stations had been warning about brush fires. Between the heat and the drought, the soil was cooked dry, not to mention the hay and timber. One well-meaning person with a campfire or burn pile could start an unstoppable chain reaction.

As could one ignorant boy with a cigarette.

Brady shook off the memory before it could set its claws in, and turned at Junction 180. He cast a glance in the rearview mirror at the truck bed loaded with hay. With the drought he hadn’t been able to grow enough in his own fields for his cattle this summer—and hay wasn’t cheap. Hopefully he could make this load last longer than the previous one, or he’d see red—literally—in his checkbook.

He drove past the county cemetery, about ten miles out from his property, his stomach still tightening with regret every time he glimpsed the familiar oak where Jessica was buried. But today, a flash of red several rows over caught his eye. He slowed down as the crimson blur focused into a human form, crouched on the ground beside a simple marker. A woman.

The wind stirred her hair from her face as one hand reached up to swipe at her eyes.

Caley.

Without thinking, he slammed on the brakes and made a quick turn into the open-gated lot. He parked and slid out of the cab, pocketing his keys as he jogged to her side. “Caley? Are you all right?”

Her blond head lifted, and she looked up in surprise. “Brady! What are you doing here?” She looked around as if searching for a clue to explain why he’d come, black smears lining the corners of her eyes.

“I was driving back from buying hay, and saw you sitting here. You looked— You seemed...” His voice trailed off. She’d seemed upset, but wasn’t that normal for someone sitting inside a cemetery? Hardly worthy of a rescue. Yet—whom did she know here? He rolled in his lower lip, unsure how to continue. Then he extended his hand, and helped her stand. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need a friend.”

Friend.
The word rolled around his mind and slid off his tongue. He and Caley—friends? In so many ways, it felt like much more.

And in other, more disheartening ways, like so much less.

She stood and slowly withdrew her hand, the surprise in her eyes morphing into something closer to shock—and no wonder, after the heated exchanges they’d had the past few days. He hadn’t really acted like a friend, leaving her house so quickly the other night when that blasted pager went off. But then again, friendship clearly hadn’t been the first thing on her mind as she tried to tell him how to raise his own daughter, either.

But this wasn’t stubborn, fiery Caley insisting she knew best. This was sad, quiet Caley, who looked as though she mourned someone in this graveyard just like he did.

“Did you— Do you...know someone here?” Brady never knew how to regard the dead. In the weeks and months after Jessica died, people kept referring to her in present tense before painfully correcting themselves into the past tense. He hated the effect it left, as if even the person’s impact on the earth had vanished along with their body. It wasn’t right.

“Know someone here? Unfortunately, not well enough.” She gestured to a tombstone with the hand he’d just held, the impression of it still melded into his palm, then shoved her hair back from her face. Her usually neat, shoulder-length cut looked as if it’d been through the wringer, finger-streaked and windblown. And her eyes, red-rimmed and makeup-smeared, were something out of a depressing movie. Yet somehow she’d never looked more beautiful.

She stared at the marker before them. “My dad’s grave.”

Oh.
Brady flinched. Not what he’d expected. “I didn’t realize.” The words fell flat, and he almost wished he hadn’t said anything and just let the chorus of birds chirping overhead fill the silence in the sun-streaked cemetery.

She continued to stare, as if the marker held some sort of control over her. “I never got to say goodbye.” She sank back to her knees, not seeming to care the way the dirt stained her jeans.

Brady slowly lowered beside her, crouching on his boots. “What happened?”

“Heart attack.” She rubbed at her eyes again, smearing black eye makeup almost to her ear. “I wasn’t here.” She sniffed.

Her sun-tinted cheeks flushed redder with emotion. She clearly felt guilty about her dad’s death, somehow, but he couldn’t piece together why. People didn’t make other people have heart attacks. Obviously her guilt was misplaced, but without the details, he couldn’t help her see that. Nor could he play Twenty Questions to figure it out while she cried over a tombstone.

He cut his eyes to Jessica’s marker several yards away. It’d been too long since he let Ava bring flowers. Did Caley know it was there? Did it even matter? He closed his eyes, briefly reliving that tragic afternoon that changed his life forever. Then, connected by their shared grief, he did the only thing he knew to do.

Sank down in the dirt beside Caley and stained his own jeans.

Chapter Fifteen

“R
eally? That’s excellent news.” Caley’s heart rate accelerated as she struggled to hear Captain O’Donnell through her lousy cell-phone reception. She pinched one ear shut and strode briskly up Brady’s living room stairs, hoping the higher level would solidify the patchy conversation. “I appreciate the update.”

“No problem.” Captain’s deeper voice rumbled through the patchy connection, masked briefly by Ava’s moans of homework-related frustration from her room. “Chief is impressed with how many runs you’ve managed to make during your time back in Broken Bend. He can tell you’re a serious candidate for the position.”

Caley exhaled a sigh of relief that she quickly turned away from Ava’s verbal headache. Thank goodness the chief was seeing her the way she’d hoped. She’d sacrificed sleep, down time to herself and, to be painfully honest, even time with Nonie in order to run whenever that pager buzzed. But once she was hired on the department, her schedule would calm down, and she would have set hours and not have to jump at every alarm.

She’d never thought she, of all people, would be ready for a bit of consistency.

“As long as you keep participating and there aren’t any surprises at the annual budget meeting, you should be set.” Captain’s smile shone through his voice, and not for the first time, Caley wondered what it would have been like to hear that fatherly pride from her dad. Captain barely knew her, but was already impressed—as was Chief Talbot—with Caley’s ability and work ethic. Why couldn’t her dad have seen the same, have seen her strengths and her destiny to help others, rather than trying to keep her in a box her entire life?

“I won’t let you down. Any of you.” The promise came from deep inside her heart, and as they disconnected the call, Caley stared at her phone, wishing she could have kept the same commitment to her father. Yesterday’s breakdown in the cemetery had been a lot less cathartic than she’d hoped. She’d gone for clarity and closure, and instead, left with more confusion and heartache than ever. Only adding to her confusion was Brady’s sudden appearance—the last person she’d expected to see riding up like a knight on a metal, hay-strewn steed.

The memory stirred something warm within her. There she’d been, teary-eyed and drippy, a total mess, crying in public as though her father had died yesterday instead of years ago. But in some ways it felt the same. That’s what regret did to a person’s soul. Would she ever find a way through it?

Did she deserve to?

The worst part was, she was still angry. Sorry for her part in their fallout, but more than a little upset over his. Neither of them had ever stepped forward to reconcile.

Wasn’t that a dad’s job, to take the first step? Especially after she’d already made gestures. All he’d had to do was respond. Show up. For the first time in her life, just be there without judgment, without expectation. Just
come.

Apparently that had still been too much to ask.

But Brady had understood, despite the fact they barely talked. His supportive shoulder and the way he filled the silence with his presence, without finding it necessary to speak, spoke volumes in itself. Despite all their differences, he cared. She didn’t know how long they sat kneeling in the dirt, letting the earth seep through their jeans before finally returning to the ranch. She’d gone to her house and he to his, but his departing smile and wave as he rumbled past her driveway had been different, somehow. Deeper. More sincere.

Connected.

A third groan, louder this time, rang from Ava’s room. Caley shoved her phone into her pocket and quickly jogged back upstairs to lend homework assistance. Her homework days were far behind her, but even writing lines would beat daydreaming about Brady. Talk about a dead-end road. She knocked on Ava’s slightly open door and eased it open, the hinges squeaking.

“Math hates me.” Ava stared glumly at the textbook before her on the desk, the pencil in her white-knuckled grip hovering above her notebook full of scratched-out problems. A doodle of a dog that had to be Scooter sat discarded beside the notebook. “And I hate Dad’s rule about homework being done first on a Friday night. It’s the weekend!”

“Rules are rules, kid. Complaining doesn’t change them.” Caley actually thought that rule of Brady’s wasn’t a bad one. It definitely prevented any late-Sunday-night panic over unfinished work. She hip-bumped Ava half out of the desk chair. “Scoot over and let me see.” She bent over the book and determined the topic. “Fractions, huh?”

“We’re not even allowed to use a calculator.” Ava flopped her head down on her crossed arms in true preteen, drama-queen fashion. “And Mandy was supposed to come over after dinner, but now I’ll never finish.”

“Sure you will. The key is not getting so worked up that you can’t even think. Deep breaths.” Caley skimmed the problems while Ava inhaled and exhaled, then worked a few on the notepad. She tapped Ava with the pencil when she finished. “It’s not that bad. You just have to focus.” She pointed to one of the attempts Ava had scratched out. “You almost had it here.”

Caley walked a reluctant Ava through several problems before an understanding light began to shine in her eyes. “I think I get it now.” She did the next problem on her own, and Caley knew without checking it was correct.

“Good job! See, you just can’t give up.” She gave Ava a quick hug before slipping out of the chair to give her space to work. “Giving up means you immediately lose.”

“That’s what usually happens.” Ava wrinkled her nose, half turning in her chair. “When I get stuck on a problem, Dad and I start arguing and we give up.”

Caley nodded slowly. Understandable, but not a great model for education. However, she sensed this wasn’t
really about math anymore. Ava was comparing Caley with her dad. And that was what was doing the most damage to Brady. She’d seen it before when Ava mentioned she’d rather Caley help her clean her room than her dad. And every instance that Brady had to turn her down for being busy with ranch work. He
had
to go, yet Caley was still there by default as her nanny.

And, to be honest, she was here because she wanted to be. She hated watching the strain between Ava and her dad, and anything she could do to ease the gap for Ava, she wanted to do it. The whole situation was too painfully familiar. Yet it seemed Brady’s heart was softer than her own father’s had been. He loved Ava, that much was evident—
he just didn’t seem to know what to do with her.

But had her involvement in Ava’s life pushed Brady further away instead of drawing him closer to his daughter?

She chose her next words carefully. “Ava, different people have different strengths. Your dad might not be as naturally inclined toward math as I am. But there’s a lot of things he’s good at that I’m not.” Like laying down roots. Committing to one place, one community, for a lifetime. She swallowed the examples. Specifics wouldn’t help right now—especially with Ava seeming as naturally stir-crazy in her heart as Caley had been at her age. No need to plant ideas in the girl’s head that would just make her miserable. Besides, Ava’s current issue didn’t seem to be her desire to leave or live elsewhere, so much as it seemed she just wanted her dad’s undivided attention.

Somehow, Caley would make sure she got it.

“Is that why people get married?” Ava hung one arm over the back of her chair, pencil dangling from her fingers. “To help each other when the other person isn’t good at something?”

Caley stumbled back a step before catching herself on the side of Ava’s bed. She swallowed her surprise at the sudden change in topic and sank onto the bedspread. “Uh, that’s one benefit to marriage, yes.”

“You and my dad would make a good team.” A slight smile lit Ava’s face. “You’d be strong where he was weak.”

“And vice versa,” Caley automatically corrected. Then sucked in a regretful breath. Her choice of words made it sound as if she was giving her agreement. Hopefully Ava wouldn’t notice or think that—

“Yep. And vice versa.” Ava’s grin morphed into a near beam of light.

* * *

Something smelled good.
Really
good. He hoped whatever it was didn’t end up on the kitchen floor—or in the trash can.

Brady stomped his boots a few times on the entry mat, then hurried to peek inside the oven. A rush of hot air and the tangy aroma of oregano and cheese blasted his face—followed by a solid
whap
on his shoulder.

He let the door snap shut and turned to see Caley armed with an oven mitt and a feisty smile. “No peeking. This is Ava’s surprise.”

“Ava cooked?” He moved away from the oven and her weapon of choice, then realized that decision put him perfectly in line with the freshly baked garlic bread cooling on the counter. He broke off the end of the loaf and popped it into his mouth, dodging Caley’s second assault with the mitt. The bread practically melted against his tongue, and he resisted the urge to suggest maybe his daughter give Caley cooking lessons. He’d take a steady beating with that mitt in exchange for another bite of bread any day. His stomach growled, and he went to grab a second pinch but Caley moved it out of his way.

“She sure did. And don’t go in the dining room. She’s creating a special place setting, and apparently it’s a surprise, too. She’s really getting responsible.” Caley started to say more but a knock on the front door interrupted. She held up one finger to indicate for him to wait—and probably to also stay off the bread.

“Ava! Your friend is here.” She backed out of the kitchen and hollered toward the formal dining room. Brady swallowed as he eyed the closed doors across the hall. They hadn’t used that room since...when? The holidays last year. And even then, it’d felt pointless. Like a charade. Like they were some kind of fancy, proper family gathered around a perfectly stuffed goose, surrounded by mistletoe and holly and spiced gumdrops.

Last Christmas, he and Ava had dined on ham sandwiches, baked beans and a frozen apple pie.

Caley checked the timer on the oven, then shot an apologetic glance his direction. “Ava said you told her it was okay for Mandy to come over after dinner, but after we finished her homework and she cooked, she was so excited she asked if Mandy could eat with us. She asked me to stay, too.” She donned a second mitt and removed the bubbling dish from the oven. Brady had half a mind to grab it from her, but decided not making sudden movements was probably safer. For both his sake and that of his dinner. “I hope that was okay. I went outside to ask you but you weren’t in the barn.”

“Of course.” Was he so strict they thought he’d mind if Caley stayed and ate? He didn’t even know how to answer that. Then her words finally registered. “You mean Ava did her homework
and
cooked all this?” He waved his hand around the kitchen, noting a full salad in a bowl by the sink, already tossed. He hadn’t realized they’d had lettuce in the house. It didn’t even look bagged. “What about her math?”

“Math is done, along with spelling words and notecards for her science project.” Caley deposited the saucy, cheesy concoction that resembled some sort of lasagna on top of the stove.

Brady couldn’t help but follow her every movement, afraid to fully recognize how natural she looked in his kitchen. How he could watch her bustle around and multitask in his home as if it was her own all day long with zero complaints. His mouth dried, and he was suddenly overcome with the crazy urge to tell her that. “Caley?” Oops. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

She turned toward him, a smear of sauce dotting the corner of her mouth and her upraised hands still encased in mitts. She looked adorable—cute enough he could almost forget all their differences.

Almost.

He reached forward, the urge still there but now restrained, and swiped the sauce from her face. “I just busted you for taste testing.”

Her eyes, wide and luminous with unasked questions, dimmed briefly before igniting with her typical spark. “Guilty. Ava insisted on extra onion powder, and I had to make sure it wasn’t a bad idea.”

Would she even know if it was? He wanted to tease her about her cooking skills, but he feared the banter would lead to more moments he couldn’t resist. In just a few minutes, he’d have more than enough emotion to fight, sitting with Caley and Ava around their dining room table like a real family.

The doorbell chimed and Caley quickly removed the mitts. “I guess I better get the door after all.” She strode past the dining room, calling for Ava a second time just as she rushed out.

“I got it!” Ava sidestepped Caley and shut the dining room door behind her, then practically ran for the entryway. “Hope you enjoy your dinner, Dad.” She flashed him a smile, one without lingering traces of their argument yesterday, and Brady smiled in return as he followed her to the front door. His daughter, growing up. Cooking supper. Doing her chores. What was that Caley had said about responsibility? Maybe—

“See you guys tomorrow.” Ava shouldered a duffel bag that seemed to appear out of nowhere and wrenched the door open.

A humid breeze wafted through the entryway and Mandy grinned from the front steps. “Hi, Mr. McCollough. Thanks for letting Ava spend the night.”

“What? Wait a second.” Brady reeled backward, nearly tripping over Caley, who had come up behind him. He caught his balance. Ava spend the night at her house? Mandy was staying with
them.
His head raced. “What about dinner?”

Ava rushed outside as if she hadn’t heard, grabbing Mandy’s hand and dragging her down the front walk toward her mother’s van. Mandy’s mom waved from the front window, all smiles. She clearly wasn’t surprised. Had he misunderstood? He replayed the conversation he and Ava had that morning before school, when she’d asked to invite a friend over. No, he wasn’t mistaken.

So much for responsibility. Ava was already shutting the van door behind her. He lifted one hand in a wave back at Mandy’s mom, pressing his lips together into a tight line and debating rushing down the driveway and hauling Ava back inside. The problem wasn’t Mandy’s house, she’d stayed there a dozen times before. It was the deceit. Ava had lied—or purposefully misled him. Either way, she couldn’t get away with it, or this wouldn’t be the last time. He took a step toward the van.