When It's Right (6 page)

 

Chapter 8

G
illian tried to help Dee clean up the kitchen. The only thing Dee let her do was wrap up the last few pieces of cornbread. In hog heaven, Justin sat at the table devouring a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream and a cookie. Given half a chance, Dee would spoil him rotten. Gillian kind of liked the idea. Justin deserved to be spoiled after all he'd been through.

“So, if you're my grandfather, how come you never came to see us?” Justin held his spoon of ice cream halfway to his mouth.

Gillian waited for the answer despite Justin's rude question. She'd always thought her extended family, whoever they were, didn't care about her. That didn't exactly sync with what she thought of her grandfather now.

“I tried to keep in touch with your mom before she died and your dad after that, but they moved a lot. Ron didn't particularly want to see me,” her grandfather answered.

“Why? Are you mean, too?”

“Justin,” Gillian warned. “Mind your manners.”

“No, Gillian. He wants to know, and I think that's a fair question under the circumstances.”

All for honesty, she waited for his answer.

He turned to Justin and sat forward so that he was close and at Justin's level. “I don't believe in hurting ­people or animals. When your dad was young, I remember him as a nice boy. When he grew up and was a little bit younger than your sister is now, he got in with some bad ­people. He started taking drugs, and they changed him. That's why I didn't like him seeing my Erin. She didn't see that he wasn't good for her.”

“Gillian says that drugs are bad. They killed my mom.”

Bud glanced over at Gillian as she sat silently staring out the dark window. No doubt she listened to every word, despite not looking at him and Justin. He couldn't imagine what she'd been through living with Ron and Erin, watching them destroy their lives so recklessly. He couldn't imagine how she must have felt losing her mother to an overdose, and then having to raise her brother on her own.

No doubt Ron hadn't had a hand in raising the boy, who looked to Gillian for everything. When Justin finally felt full with dinner, he'd asked her for permission to be finished. He asked her for more milk. Every time, she made sure he minded his manners and sat up straight at the table. Not for show but to raise him right.

Bud glanced at Dee, who watched from the kitchen. She smiled her encouragement.

“I'm real sorry about your mom. I wish she'd let me help her.”

“That's okay. I got Gillian. She's a good mom, even if she is my sister.”

“Your sister's the best mom. You're a lucky kid to have her for a sister.” Blake barely knew her, but she'd earned his admiration. He wanted to reach out, cover her hands, give her some kind of comfort to ease the pain etched into her too-­pale face.

Tears slid down Gillian's cheeks. She didn't brush them away, just let them fall one by one and drop onto her folded arms on the table.

Justin looked at Blake warily. He didn't see his sister crying, but he leaned over and grabbed her shoulder to pull her down to him.

Gillian winced, but she didn't let him see that it hurt her. Blake got it. She didn't want Justin to ever think that he hurt her in any way. Discreetly, she brushed the last of the tears from her cheeks and listened to Justin whisper in her ear.

“We'll talk about that when we've settled in here and you're back in school. I haven't decided if you're ready to take care of one on your own. It's a big responsibility.”

“But you'll think about it?”

“Yes. I told you I would. You could ask if there's already one here. It's a big place, and maybe they have one that you could practice with before I decide.”

Blake leaned forward. He glanced at Bud and Dee, both as interested as he was in what the boy wanted.

Justin looked at his grandfather with all seriousness and eager eyes. “Do you have a dog?”

Justin had been through hell the last week—­through most of his life—­and he wanted a dog. A friend. Blake wanted to laugh at the pure anticipation in the boy's eyes. He wished at that moment that instead of sixty plus horses on the ranch he had a hundred dogs to give the boy.

Bud chuckled and sighed with a shake of his head and a soft smile. “I'm sorry, son. We don't have a dog. We have horses. Lots and lots of them. You can pet them if you want. I could take you over to where we have some of the foals, and you could pet them.”

“What's a foal?”

“What's a foal? Well now, son, we have to educate you on the family business. A foal is a baby horse. They're small and soft. Just the right size for you to pet.”

“I want to see them.” Justin jumped up to stand on his chair.

“Sit down, please,” Gillian said firmly. “Justin, we need to talk about living here. You can't run off whenever you want to see the horses. They're big, and I'm sure your grandfather has some rules that you need to follow. The first one is that you don't go near the horses without an adult.”

If any kid could pick a mom, they'd pick Gillian. Blake wondered if she wanted to have kids of her own. He imagined her with a dark-­haired bundle in her arms, pressed to her heart. He'd never thought about having kids, but the idea started when he discovered that his brother Caleb and his wife, Summer, were expecting. Another generation of Bowdens would start with them. Gabe and Ella were getting married in May. Soon they'd start a family, too. The more Blake thought about his brothers, how happy they were with the women in their lives, the more he wanted something like that for himself. He'd never envied his brothers. Competed with them, yes. Nature of having siblings. Still, he envied them the women sharing their lives, the love and happiness they'd found. He wanted the same. He'd just never realized how much until now.

He turned his mind back to the conversation about the horses and having a six-­year-­old running around the ranch. Could be a dangerous situation for a boy who hadn't grown up around horses.

“Bud, how about I take them on a tour of the ranch tomorrow and go over the rules for young Justin.” Blake looked at the boy. “Your sister is right about the first rule. You don't go near any of the horses without an adult. Most of the horses are nice, and you can pet them. They'll love it. But they're very big, and they could step on you and hurt you. Some of them bite, just like dogs. Okay?”

Justin spooned another mouthful of ice cream into his mouth. A dollop dripped down his chin, but he nodded to Blake.

“I think that's a great idea,” Dee said. “We'll all take a tour tomorrow morning. It'll be a nice thing to do. Will you be able to walk around, Gillian?”

“I'll be fine. I want Justin to know his limits. If he breaks the rules, there will be consequences. Right, Justin?”

“Yes,” he said, exasperated. Then he yawned so big his eyes squinted shut.

“Temperature check.” Gillian leaned into Justin and kissed his forehead. “You're burning up, little one. Let's get some medicine into you, and then you can have a bath and go to bed.” She looked to her grandfather and Dee, who was sitting beside him. “Would that be all right?” Another dose of bitter pride slid down her throat. She'd never had to answer to anyone before. Here, she did.

“Make yourself at home, Gillian, because that's where you are.” Her grandfather smiled to make her feel more comfortable.

It seemed genuine. Maybe he was happy to have her and Justin here. Things had never gone this smoothly for her, so she waited for the other shoe to drop, dread a constant in her gut as anticipation stretched with every passing minute.

“Absolutely,” Dee confirmed. “I'll go up with you and show you your rooms. I put extra towels in the bathroom for the both of you.” Her gaze fell to Gillian's arms. “If you'd like some help, I can wash your hair in the sink if it'll be easier. I'll get you a plastic bag to go over your cast, and you can soak in a hot tub.”

Gillian bit her lip and continued to stare out the window. Her eyes shined with unshed tears. No one had ever wanted to help so much.

“Accept the help, Gillian. I know it goes against everything in you, but we aren't going to stop offering.” Blake raised his hand to place it over hers, but he set it back in his lap at the last second.

What would she do if he touched her? Flinch away, like she'd been taught by a man who never touched her in kindness? Get up and leave altogether? Or allow the sweet contact and fall apart right here in front of everyone?

Her raw emotions rose to the surface faster than she could squash them down. If she let herself feel one thing, she'd feel everything. Better to remain numb.

She hated that everything about her told him not to touch her, when a flicker of something in her heart begged for him to hold her and make all the bad go away.

Blake was bigger than her father, but nothing about him scared her. In fact, everything about him pulled at her, like he had his own gravity and she couldn't help but get sucked in.

Unable to look at him, she stared at her reflection in the black windows. He'd spoken so softly and with so much truth. It did go against everything in her to accept help. She'd done for herself or done without for so long that she didn't know how to ask for or accept help.

Justin. His name came to mind, and she knew that she had to do it for him. She had to try. It's what she'd been trying to teach him. She needed to do it herself.

“I can't take a bath with the stitches, but a quick shower would be nice. If you don't mind doing my hair in the morning, I'd appreciate the help. I just don't have it in me to bend over the sink while you do it tonight.”

She couldn't sit still in her chair because she was in so much pain that she needed to keep moving to get comfortable. If Blake hadn't thrown the jacket with her medication into the fire, she'd have had her meds. She didn't blame him. He'd done it to make Justin, and her, feel better. A sweet gesture, she admitted, but one that cost her dearly. The frown and the apology in his eyes every time he caught her squirming made it easy to forgive him. He cared. That thought made her uncomfortable. She didn't know what to do with a man who actually cared about her feelings, so she ignored it.

She put her head down and held her throbbing temples between her two hands.

Justin put his hand on her shoulder. “You can cry if you want. I won't tell anyone.”

Pull it together, Gillian. Don't lose it now. You're just tired. Don't let Justin see you break down.

She turned, took his face in her hands, and kissed him smack on the mouth. “I love you, baby. I'm not crying. I'm just really tired. Let's go get your bath done. I'll give you some medicine to make
you
feel better, and it's off to bed. We could both use some sleep.” She stood and almost lost her balance again.

Blake didn't touch her, but grabbed her cast to hold her up straight. “Easy now. Come on, Gillian. I'll walk behind you up the stairs. That way, if you fall, I can catch you.”

“Nobody needs to catch me. I'm fine.”

“Yeah, you look it.” His irritation came out in his voice. “Stubborn,” he said under his breath, but she heard him.

“Yep.” This time, she met his gaze, and they shared an intense stare-­down. He wanted her to give in. Not her style, but wouldn't it be nice to let someone rescue her? Especially if that someone turned out to be a handsome cowboy. The idea appealed, a lot. Okay, so she wasn't exactly immune to his charms. He didn't have to know that. Besides, she had no experience with men, especially one as old and experienced as Blake. Better to stick to the real reason she was here—­Justin.

Bud and Dee showed Justin up to his room. Gillian took the stairs at a much slower pace. “Maybe we can get you some fire truck sheets to match your backpack,” she heard Dee suggest to Justin.

Then Gillian heard Justin jumping on the bed upstairs and chattering about it being the biggest one he'd ever seen. “I can't believe it's all mine.”

Over her shoulder, she told Blake, “Justin shared my twin bed with me in the apartment once he outgrew his playpen.”

“I don't know how you did it. You were just a kid.”

“He was just a baby. It wasn't his fault his parents were useless drunks.”

So matter-­of-­fact. So sad that's how she felt about her parents. “So you managed to go to school, and then home to him when he was a baby.”

“Yes and no. I would take him to a sitter in the morning and go to school. Then I'd go to work, and then I'd pick him up. Our father couldn't be relied on to pay the bills or buy food, so I got the paperwork to set us up for some social ser­vices, and that helped with the rent and food. I had to pay him fifty dollars to sign the papers. Whatever was left from the state checks, he drank, smoked, or popped. The money I made I used to buy Justin clothes, food, and diapers. Without me, he'd have ended up in the system or dead. Our father wasn't capable of taking care of himself, let alone a baby. I wouldn't have been surprised if he dumped Justin with the first person who'd take him. For a price, of course.”

She struggled to get up the stairs. Blake stayed two steps behind her, and even though he had her bags in his hands, he was ready to catch her if she fell.

“You've done a great job raising him. Most fourteen-­year-­old girls are worried about their hair and if a junior or senior will ask them to the prom.”

“I wasn't a contender for an invitation to the dance, let alone a date.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “You're beautiful. I can't imagine any guy passing up the chance to take you out on a date.”

She ignored the compliment. In her condition, let's face it, he was just being nice. “Who wants to hang out with the girl who has a drunken drug dealer for a father and a baby to raise. I was a lot of fun on a Friday night. Poopie diapers, spit-­up, and formula. It's real easy to lose a lot of friends when your excuse for not going to the movies is that you have a baby to put to bed.”