Unexpected Family (3 page)

The carpet of the hallway changed to stone as she walked into the dining room and she rounded the counter that separated the kitchen from the eating area. Then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Walter, owner of the Ranch and Mia’s father-in-law, sat on the floor in a puddle of moonlight, small orange pills scattered around him. His face unnaturally pale in the bone-white light.

“Hey,” he said, trying to brace himself against the floor so he could move. But she could see he was in too much pain.

“What happened?” she asked, crouching beside him. She smelled booze on his breath and she stood back up. “You’re drunk.”

“I fell.” His hard face cracked into a grimace. “I think I hurt my leg.”

His ankle, which jutted out from beneath the frayed edge of his light blue pajamas, was swollen and purple. Damn it, it had to be sprained and who the hell knew how long he’d been sitting here.

“You fell because you’re drunk.”

He sighed, looking down at his body as if it had betrayed him.

“I dropped a pill and bent down to get it… . I just lost my balance.”

“Because washing down Parkinson’s medication with whiskey improves balance?”

“Could you…could you just get Jack? Or Mia?” he asked.

Anger popped and pulsed inside of her. “No.” She went back into the mudroom and jammed her feet in her boots, then she grabbed the keys off the counter, calling Walter all the names under her breath that she was raised too well to say to his face. Stomping back into the kitchen she glared down at him.

He stared down at his hands. Ashamed.
Good.

“Sandra—”

“Everybody is sleeping and I’m not dragging them out of bed because you were too drunk to stay on your feet. You’re stuck with me.”

He nodded slightly, his white hair picking up the moonlight and glinting silver. Walter was still handsome, a big masculine man, but all she saw when she looked at him was ruin.

“You’re going to have to help me a little,” she said, crouching beside him and flinging his arm over her shoulder.

He grimaced. Sweat bloomed across his forehead but he didn’t groan. Nope, not Walter. Just like he’d sit here all damn night rather than scream for help.

All that pride wasted when it came to drinking. It’s a shame.

With a lot of effort she got him to his feet and when he shifted his body to go toward the living room she steered him instead to the mudroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine—”

She shifted her weight away from him and he stumbled, catching himself on the counter that split the kitchen from the dining room. Tentatively he put his foot onto the floor and cursed when he couldn’t put any weight on his ankle.

When he glanced at her she shrugged. “It’s sprained at least, and you’ve been sitting there for how long?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Right, then, we’re going to the hospital.”

Hopping and stumbling and then begrudgingly accepting her help she got him out to the sports car.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“It turned into a pumpkin.” Carefully, she eased him into the passenger seat and then walked around to the driver’s side.

She backed the car up, gravel spitting out from under her tires. He didn’t say anything and she drove into the night, the moon’s watchful eye hovering over the car.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Walter said, his chin up, his shoulders back. Clinging to the pride he had.

“Tell that to my mother.”

She stopped, realizing what had just happened. Walter had a sprained ankle. At least. Combined with the drinking, the Parkinson’s…he’d need help. And Sandra needed to be needed. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Walter said.

“No. You wouldn’t.” But, oh, Lord, it was funny. The Fates could not conspire to help her business, but they could conspire to keep her on the ranch.

But at what cost to her mom?

“Not three hours ago Mom was saying she wanted to leave.” Her fingers curled into talons around the steering wheel. “And I had to convince her to stay. And now you have handed us the perfect reason to stay and I can’t…” She stopped at a stop sign and glared at him. “And I can’t abide by the thought of her taking care of you.”

“I haven’t asked her to. I wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. You need her. I couldn’t drag her away if I tried.”

She pushed the accelerator, too hard, and Walter winced as his foot hit the car door. In his silence the past rushed back, drowning her in bitter memories.

“Your wife—”

“Is gone. Divorced.”

“Too late. You don’t win any points for that, Walter! And she tried to kick my mom out of her home after Dad died. My dad, who was your best friend!” She threw the words at him like grenades lobbed across the car. “He was your most loyal employee. And what did you do to stop your wife? Nothing. Just like you did nothing when she was beating up Jack.” He flinched at that and her stomach turned.

This isn’t you,
she thought, but she couldn’t stop. The bitterness was out of control.

“You stood by while your bitch of a wife ruined everyone’s lives and I can’t just shrug my shoulders and let my mom take care of you like nothing ever happened!”

The sound as he shifted in his seat was loud and she glanced over at him, furious.

“Don’t you have something to say?”

“I can’t forgive myself, either. And as for your mom…I don’t want her to stay. Not for me.”

She laughed, dark and resentful. “Well, at least that we can agree on. Not that it will do us much good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like it or not, we’ll be staying.”

CHAPTER THREE

A
FTER
A
FEW
HOURS
of sleep Lucy woke up, got dressed in her favorite jeans and loose white T-shirt, pulled her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and contemplated her jewelry.

Everything was too light, she needed something heavy. Something dark. But her designs never leaned that way. Finally, she settled on the beaded silver hoops.

Sandra was already up, humming as she put scrambled eggs onto a blue plate. She glowed with a grim purpose, which was entirely expected.

Careful what you wish for,
she chided herself.

“Hey, Mom,” she said, grabbing the keys to Reese’s sports car from the dish on the counter where all the keys sat. She opened her purse and pulled out her cell.

Meisha had called four times this morning.

She turned off her phone.

“You’re up early.” Her mother’s voice, softened and textured by her Spanish accent, was still the best sound in the world. And the sight of her in a kitchen was like seeing an animal in its natural habitat. Sandra ruled the kitchen, every kitchen. It didn’t matter where she was, in ten minutes she would have food and drink to end your hunger and soothe your soul. She was magic in a thin, five-foot package. And this morning all that magic was ignited.

“I’ve got to take a car back over to Stone Hollow.”

“You want some eggs?” Sandra put a fork on the plate.

“I’ll take a bite.” She reached for the fork, but Sandra moved the plate out of the way.

“These aren’t for you. I’ll make you some, though.”

“Walter?” Of course she would already be waiting on Walter.

“It was good what you did, getting him to the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say—no good deed goes unpunished.”

“Lucia Marie—”

“Mom.” She took a deep breath and fanned her hands over the counter as if finding, by touch, the argument that was going to work. It was time to get her head out of her own misery and take care of her mom, the way her mom had always taken care of her. “I get it, he needs you, but don’t let him take advantage of you.”

“He hasn’t even let me into his room, honey.”

“You wanted to leave…remember? One more week.”

“He’s going to have that cast for at least three.”

“Jack’s not poor, Mom. He can hire someone to take care of him.”

“And how will that work? Walter—”

“I don’t think Walter gets a vote on the subject anymore.”

“Everyone is allowed their pride, sweetheart.”

Lucy put her head down on the counter. Lifted it and thunked it again. “Mom, he’s a drunk. He will always be a drunk. Caring for that man will bleed you dry.”

“Not if he quits.”

“And you honestly think that will happen?”

“I pray for it.”

Like a true sinner, she wondered what prayer’s success rate was against alcoholism, but she kept her mouth shut. There was no arguing with her mother when she was all hopped up on playing the nursemaid. And Walter was like an amusement park of need.

“Have you forgotten what he did to us after Dad died?” Lucy hated saying the words, bringing the memory up front like this. It made her stomach hurt. It made her want to do over last night and let Walter sit in pain on the kitchen floor for another couple of hours.

“I have forgotten nothing.” Sandra’s tone of voice made her seem a foot taller. “But the man has a sprained foot, Lucy. When did you get so hard-hearted?”

“Me?” Lucy gaped at her mother. “It’s not like I’m saying let’s leave him in the mountains to die. I’m saying you’ve done enough, Mom.”

“How about this,” Sandra said. “We stay until they hire someone Walter can live with to take care of him.”

“That will be forever.”

And that suits your purposes just fine,
a dark voice said.
Three more weeks of not having to face up to the mess you made in Los Angeles. Why are you fighting this?

S
andra licked her lips
.
“I’ll…I’ll do what I can to hurry it along.”

“What does that mean?”

“Walter doesn’t want me here, not really. And when reminded of that, he’ll…” She shrugged. “He’ll agree to have someone else help him.”

Lucy wasn’t going to ask for more information. She had enough problems of her own without digging into Walter’s issues with Sandra.

“Okay, three weeks. That’s as long as we’re staying. I swear, Mom, if I have to drag you—”

Mom lifted a hand, her face unsmiling.

Right,
Lucy thought,
Mom didn’t get dragged. She went willingly or not at all.

“Three weeks should be sufficient,” Sandra said.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Lucy said. “And then I’ll talk to Mia and Jack about getting a nurse.” She grabbed her bag and headed out into the sunny morning.

Once in town, she used what money she had left in her wallet to get gas. She was going to have to get a job soon. Or sell the condo, but she needed to talk to Sandra about that, since she helped put down the deposit, and that was a conversation she wasn’t quite ready to have.

Then she drove by her Civic at the bar just to make sure it was still there. It was. Dusty and red and old. Reese could drop her off here after she returned the car.

She stared at her car for a while, stalling for time, reluctant to go up to Stone Hollow and pretend like that sad desperate kiss had never happened with Jeremiah. Because that was really the only thing to do.

Life sure has gotten complicated in the past twenty-four hours.
She sped out of town, opening the engine up over the pass in a fond goodbye.

She could use a car like this to outrun all the problems after her. Hell, a car like this she could sell and solve most of her problems.

The parking area in front of Jeremiah’s house was empty and she nearly sang a little song of relief. No brooding cowboy problem.
Huzzah.

Once out of the car, she knocked on the door to the house and waited. A long time. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the glass, trying to see signs of life.

Suddenly, there was thump that shook the door. Wary, she stepped back and a small face covered in what looked like grape jelly appeared in the window. A little boy with brown curly hair. His blue eyes not unlike Jeremiah’s.

“It’s a girl!” the boy yelled over his shoulder, the sound muffled by the door. Someone over the boy’s shoulder must have said something because he nodded and turned back to face her.

“Do we know you?” he asked.

“I’m your neighbor.”

“No, you’re not. Mia is our neighbor.”

“I’m Mia’s sister.”

The boy seemed to process that and he turned to yell something over his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked when he turned back around.

“Lucy.”

His face split in a wide grape-jelly smile and Lucy felt herself smile in return.
Heartbreaker.

“My friend Willow has a dog named Lucy,” he yelled through the glass.

“That’s great, buddy, is your uncle here?”

“No.”

She blinked. “Are you here by yourself?”

The door thumped again and the little boy vanished only to be replaced by a slightly older boy. Under his dark hair, dark eyes narrowed in an attempt to be threatening. It was oddly effective.
Troublemaker.

“I’m going to need to see some ID,” the boy said, and she laughed before she realized he was serious. She pulled her driver’s license out and pressed it up to the glass.

The boy studied it and then looked back up at her with his simultaneously young and old eyes. “You here to rob us? ’Cause there’s nothing here to rob. Not even a video game or computer.”

She shook her head.

“You going to kidnap us?”

“What? No!”

“Because you don’t want to kidnap Casey,” the boy said. “He wets the bed.”

“I do not!” a little voice yelled, and the boy jostled and grinned down at Casey, who hit him.

“I’m not kidnapping anyone.”

“That’s the sort of thing a kidnapper would say.”

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but she had no comeback. This boy totally had the better of her. Instead, she held up the keys. “I’m here to give Reese his car back.”

The boy looked down, presumably at his brother, and she had to admit this was the strangest, yet most thorough, interrogation she’d ever been a part of.

There was another thump and the older boy vanished seconds before the door opened.

The two boys stood barefoot in the doorway and somehow the sight of those small pink toes on the edge of the welcome mat brutally reminded her of their situation.
Orphans.

“Where’s your uncle?”

“He’s picking up Aaron from hockey practice,” Casey said, and the older boy punched him in the arm.

“You’re not supposed to say that sort of stuff, remember? We’re supposed to say he’s in the shower.”

“Sorry.” Casey’s lower lip started to shake. “I forgot. There are so many rules now.”

“I’m Lucy,” she said quickly, holding out her hand to the little boy, who grabbed it and shook using his whole body.

“I’m Casey. I’m five.”

“Wow,” she said, putting on a show of being impressed. “Big boy.” She turned to the older boy, who still watched her with suspicion. Which she supposed was a good thing in this situation, but it made the boy look disturbingly old. “Who are you?”

“Ben.” He crossed his arms over his chest, effectively ending that discussion.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you guys. Is Reese here?”

Casey shot his brother a panicked guilty look but Ben just jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Lucy stepped past the boys into the living room, which no longer looked like the love scene between a Laundromat and a sporting goods store. Reese was still there, a quilt-covered blob on the couch. But he wasn’t just covered by a quilt anymore.

Balanced all over his body were toys, glasses and plates. Stuffed animals. A hockey puck.

He looked like an altar.

She glanced, wide-eyed, at the boys. Casey at least had the good sense to look guilty.

“It’s a game we’re playing,” he said.

“It’s a pretty strange game. Some of those glasses look heavy.”

“It’s none of your business,” Ben said.

Reese shifted and a full glass of water that had been balancing on him fell to the ground, spilling water everywhere. A stuffed bear followed and so did a storybook and half a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

“Uh-oh,” Casey muttered, running forward to clean it up.

Lucy stepped forward to help. She grabbed what looked like a dirty towel from the coffee table, but Ben snatched it out of her hands.

“You don’t use that,” he said, handing the green towel over to Casey, who quickly shoved it under the couch.

Ooooookay.
“How about you go grab another towel from somewhere.”

“I’ll get it,” Casey said, darting off into the kitchen. Lucy cleaned up what had fallen off Reese and eyed what was still stacked on top of him.

Careful not to look at Ben, who radiated tension like a nuclear reactor, she picked up a glass plate and replaced it with a throw pillow and on top of that she stacked the stuffed bear and a bunch of Lego pieces.

“See,” she whispered, “you have to put your big things on the bottom so that there’s better balance. And things made out of glass don’t stack as well.” She grabbed a coffee mug from off Reese’s feet and replaced it with three race cars she stacked one on top of the other.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Ben watching her, his neck all red. His body held so taut she thought he might snap right in front of her eyes, as if all the pressure inside of him were pulling him to pieces.

It seemed natural to hug him; it seemed, in fact, like that was exactly what he needed—she would be a heartless monster not to hug him—but when she reached out he jerked back so hard he bumped into the coffee table.

The juice cups and coffee mugs shimmied and toppled. A glass plate broke on the floor.

“What the hell?” Reese yelled, and sat up, knocking all the toys and pillows off.

Casey ran back around the corner and, seeing the mess and his brother’s furious expression, burst into tears.

“Now, look what you did!” Ben shouted. “You made Casey cry!”

“Oh, my God, please stop yelling,” Reese muttered.

So, of course, that was the moment Jeremiah walked in.

* * *

J
EREMIAH
HAD
COME
TO
EXPECT
a certain amount of disaster when he walked back into the house from picking up Aaron every other Saturday morning. He wasn’t a father but even he understood leaving a nine-year-old in charge of a five-year-old for an hour wasn’t the best idea. Or maybe it was okay for other kids…but for Ben it was like an engraved invitation to trouble.

Not that the kid needed much of an invitation.

But he and a few of the other parents carpooled to hockey practice and he couldn’t take Ben and Casey because there just wasn’t any room in the truck. And he couldn’t beg off because he’d done enough of that. Yeah, things were hard here, but it was time to handle it and stop taking every handout that came his way.

So every other week he walked in the front door wondering what it was going to be this time. Shaving the dog? Casey tied up in the closet? The kitchen the scene of a breakfast cereal war?

The last thing he expected was Lucy on her knees in front of Reese with Casey—holding every kitchen towel they owned—crying in the corner.

Ben, with his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at Jeremiah was, however, totally expected.

“What’s going on?” Jeremiah asked, throwing his keys on the ledge by the door.

Aaron bumped into him from behind with his hockey bag. “Take all of that stuff into the laundry room, Aaron,” he said. “I’m tired of washing clothes that have been sitting in that bag all week. It’s gross.”

Aaron nodded and stepped toward the laundry room in the back but stopped when he saw Lucy. Jeremiah had to admit, she looked just as gorgeous as she did last night, even without the feathers and boots and moonlight.