A Cowboy's Touch (20 page)

He shrugged. “Fine by me.” His eyes grew shadowed, and he frowned. “Guess her room is kind of bland. Probably should’ve done it before now.”

“It’ll be a fun project for us. Hopefully it’ll go better than the garden.”

“Just cosmetic stuff?”

“That’s the plan. Can I borrow the truck when Maddy’s finished? I thought we could run to town and pick out the paint.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I was just headed there.”

“Can we can come along? I can get Maddy now if you’re in a hurry.” Two birds with one stone.

“I can wait. It’s not every day my daughter cleans her room.”

Abigail changed the timer on the sprinkler, then went to tell Maddy her dad was waiting. Forty minutes later they were tucked into the truck’s cab, an excited Maddy fidgeting in the middle.

“I can’t get over your room,” Wade said. “Hasn’t been that clean since we moved in.”

Maddy’s smile made her face glow. “I can’t wait to redecorate!”

Abigail noticed a new bracelet on Maddy’s wrist. “Hey, it matches your necklace.” She turned the knotted hemp on the girl’s wrist.

“Olivia made it for me. She’s really good at jewelry.”

“That was nice of her,” Abigail said. Olivia was sure a giving little girl. She was glad Maddy had given her a second chance.

“What about lime green paint?” Maddy asked a moment later.

“On the walls?” Wade frowned as he turned onto the main road.

“That might be a little . . . bright,” Abigail said.

“But it’s my favorite color, and you said I could pick.”

Rats. She had said that.

Wade’s scowl passed over his daughter’s head and landed on Abigail.

“What if we make lime green your accent color?” Abigail said.

“What’s an accent color?”

“The color for things like throw pillows, lamps, your new rug. Things like that. That way if your favorite color is purple in two years, you can easily change it.”

“Rug?” Wade asked. “Her room is carpeted.”

Whoops. “I was thinking we could pull up the carpet and see if there’s hardwood underneath.”

“And if there isn’t?”

She shrugged and winced. “Cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“Please, Dad? I hate that old brown carpet. And I want a rug with my accent color.” She looked to Abigail for approval on her new word.

Abigail winked at her.

“I can see when I’m outnumbered.” Wade shifted in his seat. “Guess I should be glad she’s not wanting lime green carpet,” he mumbled.

“Thanks, Daddy!” Maddy wrapped her arm around his bicep and held on.

Abigail watched Wade melt under his daughter’s affection. Abigail had known her dad was putty in her hands, but Maddy seemed unaware of her influence.

“So what about the walls?” Maddy asked.

“Well, since you want a horse theme, maybe you can make your accent colors lime green and brown. Then you can choose something more neutral for your walls.”

“Where you going to sleep while all this painting is going on?” Wade asked.

Abigail hadn’t thought about that. “I guess we won’t be able to get it done in a day’s time.”

“Not hardly.”

“She could sleep in my room,” Abigail offered. “I have a full-sized bed.”

“Maddy thrashes when she sleeps. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“Heeey . . .” Maddy gave him a mock frown.

Wade shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Maddy said. “I can see where I’m not wanted.”

“Better you than me,” Wade said.

Maddy poked him with her elbow.

An hour later, after finally choosing beige paint and a border from the scant selection at Timberline Hardware, Abigail and Maddy stood in front of the store with a sack of supplies and two gallons of paint.

“There he is.” Maddy looked both ways before darting across the street toward the truck.

Wade eyed the paint cans as they piled into the cab. “Tell me it’s not lime green.”

“Plain ol’ beige, Dad, but the horse wallpaper is sweet!”

“Wallpaper?”

“Just a border.” Abigail patted his arm and found it rock solid. “Relax, Dad.”

“Can we start today?” Maddy asked.

“It’s almost suppertime,” Wade said. “And you’ll have to move your things away from the walls and tape off the trim first.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this a time or two,” Abigail said.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t.” Wade turned out of the parking lot.

Abigail lifted her chin. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Like you figured out the garden?”

She sent him an exaggerated glare, which he missed entirely. “Low blow, Ryan.”

“We can move furniture and stuff tonight and paint tomorrow,” Maddy said.

“Tomorrow’s Abigail’s day off, squirt.”

“Will you help me, then?” Maddy asked her dad.

Abigail started to speak, then decided to wait for Wade.

Maddy nestled against Wade’s arm. “Please, Daddy?”

Maybe Maddy was starting to realize her power. Abigail suppressed a smile.

“Suppose we could trim after church and chores.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

“I guess I could help too,” Abigail said.

Wade’s lips pressed together.

Well, tough luck, cowboy. She had to get to know him better if she wanted the truth, and the only way to get to know him was to spend time together.
Besides
, she thought, assuaging her guilt,
it’ll be good for Maddy
.

“Can we pull up the carpet?” Maddy asked after they’d piled most of her belongings in the hallway.

Abigail surveyed the ugly carpet. She hadn’t noticed the stains until the room was cleared. “I think we’d better leave it, to catch the drips.”

“Just a peek?”

Wade dumped the painting supplies from the bag. “Suppose so.” He got on his knees and ripped the carpet from the tack strips with ease.

Abigail and Maddy peeked over his shoulder as he pulled the stained pad back.

“Hardwood.” Abigail sighed with relief.

“Yay!”

“Hope it’s in decent shape.” Wade put the carpet back.

“Of course it is. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking there must be a reason someone laid carpet.”

“Oh, Dad.”

Wade and Abigail taped off the wooden trim while Maddy paced the room, eager to wet the first roller. But by the time they finished taping, it was after ten, and Wade declared it quitting time.

“Please, Dad? Can’t we paint a little while? Just one wall?”

Abigail stepped in. “We’ll have all afternoon tomorrow, Maddy. Your dad’s had a long day.”

Maddy’s shoulders drooped. “All right.”

“Let’s grab your pillow and blanket and make up the sofa,” Abigail said.

Maddy exited the room and Abigail followed. She didn’t miss the gleam of appreciation in Wade’s eyes as she squeezed past.

20

A
bigail went to church with her aunt, then they grabbed a quick lunch at the Tin Roof. As they were about to leave the café, Aunt Lucy couldn’t find her car keys. They searched her purse and the booth area for ten minutes and finally found the keys in the car’s ignition. On the way back Abigail dropped a hint about a checkup, but her aunt didn’t pick up on it. She just talked about her latest idea for a Colonial doll. Next time, Abigail resolved, she would outright suggest Aunt Lucy make an appointment.

By the time Abigail returned to the house, Wade and Maddy were already in their paint clothes and wielding wet brushes.

Abigail didn’t have an old shirt, so Wade offered a gray Texas Longhorn T-shirt, which was long enough to cover the shorts she hoped to preserve. She’d hardly started painting when Olivia called, and Maddy took the phone downstairs. Ten minutes later she was still chatting with her friend.

“So much for her eagerness to paint,” Wade said.

“I think she’s more eager to have the room done than to actually do the work.” Abigail wet her brush and swept it along the window trim.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Wade said from his spot on the floor. “You should be resting.”

“I think painting is soothing.”

“If you say so.”

They worked in silence, then a few minutes later they reached into the paint can simultaneously.

Wade gestured for her to go first. “How’s Miss Lucy?”

“Good, I think. I enjoy her company—you never know what she’s going to say next.” Abigail swept the brush across the can’s rim, removing the excess paint.

“She’s a character.”

“You have any colorful relatives back in Texas?”

Wade wet his brush, then went back to the trim. “Not really. A few cousins running around, an aunt and uncle, but they’re relatively normal.”

“I always wanted cousins.”

“You have a sister.”

“She’s a few years older, so we didn’t play together much. I always wanted those big family get-togethers with kids running around everywhere.”

“Know what you mean, being an only child. That’s where neighborhood friends come in, I guess. I’m thankful I had Dylan.”

“Yeah.” She thought of Julia. “I had a good friend who lived two doors down. We walked to school together, played at recess together . . . she loved to play in the rain. Used to say it was just like taking a shower except for the clothes.” She wasn’t aware of the sadness in her voice until she noticed Wade studying her.

“What happened?” he asked.

Abigail’s brush paused. She’d never told anyone outside her family about Julia. She sneaked a peek at Wade and got caught in the warmth she found in his earnest gaze. She somehow felt he’d understand. She reached for more paint. “One day I was going to her house, and Julia was in the garage with her father. He was hitting her.”

“You saw it?”

She squatted down and swept the brush under the window trim. “I heard it.”

“How old were you?”

Abigail smoothed out a few brush lines. “Ten.”

“A year younger than Maddy.”

Abigail loaded her brush.

The action seemed to set Wade in motion. He wet his own brush and started back to work. “That’s terrible. What happened?”

Sometimes she still wondered if she’d imagined it, and she’d replay the scene to confirm her conclusion. She replayed it now and found the recollection fresh and raw and convincing.

Abigail pulled herself from the virtual nightmare. “I sneaked away before they saw me. She never mentioned it, but I think he abused her regularly. I saw bruises on her arms sometimes.” Her mouth was dry as sawdust. “I never told.”

She couldn’t believe she’d told him. She hadn’t even told her sister and mom until she was an adult.

“You were only ten. Must’ve been afraid.”

Why had she started this? She cursed herself for bringing up the subject.

She was making a mess of the trim, but loaded up again anyway. If she stopped, she’d have to look at Wade. And if she looked at Wade, she’d see accusation or disappointment or some other emotion she couldn’t bear.

“I should’ve told anyway. She was my best friend.” She clamped her mouth shut, wondering why she was going to this place, with Wade of all people.

“What happened to her?”

Abigail shrugged. “She moved away when we were thirteen. Kept in touch awhile, but then I lost track of her.”

A few moments later, Wade lowered himself to the floor next to her and wet his brush. “Don’t know how someone could do that to a child.”

“I don’t either.” She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It made her feel too raw, too vulnerable.

“Wasn’t your fault, you know.”

The words were balm to her wound, but she didn’t let them soak in too far. “Well, I can’t do anything about it now.” She couldn’t go back and fix it. She’d always regret that she hadn’t told, would always carry the weight of knowing she could’ve stopped it.