Big Sky Eyes (7 page)

Chapter 10

The knee-length dress skirt she packed was far looser on her
now than it had been when she packed it. Mackenna smiled, knowing that finally
her winter weight was leaving her. She looked at her reflection in the
floor-length mirror of the loft. Her outfit was flawless except for the bulky
black leg brace that stretched up from her ankle to disappear beneath the
flowing, flower-patterned fabric. She’d been wearing Bev’s skirts since her
jeans would not fit over the brace. It was good to be back in something that
was hers.

Her top was a light blue simple material that stretched over
her chest, looking fuller now that the belly beneath it was shrinking. A pair
of crutches jammed up into her armpits and her hair had grown long enough to
touch the tops of them. She left it down for the first time this summer and it
gleamed in golden thickness around her made-up face.

Today, they would barbeque with just the family. Sundays
were usually the only days that the ranch was emptied of guests, whose stays
lasted from Monday to Saturday. The McCraes and their employees usually took
the “day off” to clean up after the tourists by tidying up the guest cabins and
washing linens and their own laundry, cleaning tack, checking emails or going
into town for some errand or another.

Bev had declared this Sunday a day of recreation and ordered
that no work be done. While everyone was happy with the news, they also knew
that it meant a longer Monday was to follow. Bev also announced a surprise that
affected Brent deeply. His mother would be joining them for the entire Sunday.
Mackenna was happy to see the joy in his face at this and it made her
immediately anxious to meet the woman who had mothered the man she was giddy about.

It had been two weeks since Buddy had taken out her knee, an
injury which thankfully only required a brace, crutches and four weeks off. Mackenna
was halfway through that prescription and had spent it helping in the kitchen,
the laundry and in any other way that Bev would allow her. She was upset to
miss the days on horseback, trading barbs and looks with Brent, and Kelly’s
daily recaps of her interactions with him was nourishing a jealousy that
continually needled her. She was determined to make up for lost time on this
rare day off.

Sure that she looked her best, she turned toward the doorway
to find Kelly standing there, leaning casually against the jamb smiling at her.

“You look really pretty,” Kelly said.

Mackenna looked her friend up and down. She wore a tight,
pale yellow sundress. Her cleavage spilled out of the halter top and her long,
lithe thighs revealed themselves beneath the short skirt. Her beautiful
burgundy curls tumbled down all around her making her light green eyes shine in
compliment. Mackenna felt a stab of inferiority in her chest and she swallowed
passed it to return her best friend’s smile.

“And you look gorgeous, as always,” she said lightly.

“Oh, shush,” Kelly dismissed as she swiped at the open air.
“I’ve come to help you down the stairs.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mackenna reassured. “I’ve already got two crutches.”

“Well, if you insist.” She stepped out of the doorway and
motioned for Mackenna to go first.
“After you.”

Mackenna eased passed her and used the crutches to prop her
weight down the steps, one at a time. As the main floor below appeared, all
those assembled looked up at the clacking of the crutches. She smiled down at
them before making a quip about her awkward slowness. She sought and found
Brent. He was standing casually near the doorway, his hands thrust into his
jean pockets with only his thumbs hooked out. His plain white tee-shirt laid
across his chest in a way that belied the bulk beneath it. His blonde hair hung
down to his shoulders and had the crisp look of hair that had been washed and then
dried naturally by the mountain breeze. He grinned when they made eye contact
and her heart soared all the way into her smiling eyes.

“Isn’t she recovering quickly?” Kelly called and Mackenna
saw Brent’s eyes flit to the woman behind her on the stairs. The smile went slack,
along with his jaw and the brightness that had lit his eyes a moment before
darkened to a deep and hungry blue. Mackenna felt something inside her crumble
and her face sagged with emotion. She nearly stumbled. Several bodies moved
toward the stairs to help as Kelly wrapped an arm around hers to steady her.

With humiliation and heartache coupling inside of her, she
did her best to descend swiftly. When she reached the bottom of the stairs,
Brent was there.

“Hey, stranger,” he said.

“Hey,” she said sadly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as they walked toward the screen
door.

“Nothing,” she hedged as he held the door open for her.

What really could she say? Her own thoughts and feelings
were at war inside of her. She hated the way she was beginning to foster
feelings of bitterness and competition toward her best friend. Kelly was a true
and loyal companion to Mackenna and they had albums full of fun times created
over half of her lifetime. The guilt of her private war ate at her every time
she looked at her.

So, they liked the same guy.
Neither one
of them had any claim on Brent and
he didn’t seem wholly interested in
either of them. Where he was obviously drawn to Kelly’s physical beauty, he indulged
in Mackenna’s personality. She supposed she should find that flattering, but
she didn’t. She wanted to see that hunger in Brent’s eyes when he looked at
her. She wanted him to watch her the way he watched Kelly dance their second
night on the ranch.

She tamped down the jealousy that was becoming
all-too-familiar and forced reason back into her resolve. She would not let a
man come between their
friendship
. The summer was
halfway over and then they’d all return to their real lives, leaving this tiny
slice of Montana behind them. While she could no more control her feelings
toward Kelly than she could toward Brent, she made a firm promise to herself
that she would not act on either set of emotions.

“Man, something is definitely working its way around your
brain,” Brent said, breaking through her train of thought. “What’s wrong?”

She smiled in reassurance. “You know what? It doesn’t
matter.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“I know better than to ask a woman that question three times anyway.”

“Well, at least you’re finally accepting me as a woman,” she
said playfully.

“My mistake,” he answered. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Careful,” she warned. “I’m armed now.” She lifted a crutch
as though to swing it at
him
and he laughed, backing
out of range.

It felt good to be teased again, he thought. Ty’s humor was
dry, knowing and sparse. Kelly was ostentatiously flattering. The guests he’d
been working with were a variety of prissy, whiny females and macho, wanna-be
cowboys. Compared to the company he’d been surrounded by the past two weeks,
Mackenna was a fresh breath of relaxed and easy enjoyment.

Brent could be civil to anyone, but the truth of it was that
most people he simply endured. Very few actually interested him and even then
they tended not to hold his interest long. He and Ty had the mortar of shared
experiences and circumstances. They were both thrust into positions they
neither wanted nor could walk away from. It was something they both
acknowledged, and something that they never spoke of. They just helped each
other live it.

Mackenna was far more than he had expected, which wasn’t
much. She was funny, strong-minded and willed. She never complained. She worked
hard and what’s more, she loved every minute of it. There wasn’t a moment out
there when she didn’t look like she was having the time of her life. She had a
good heart and disarmed him far more easily than she knew.

 
At first, he had
wondered why he allowed her to access certain parts of him that he shut off
from others, but then the reason occurred to him. She was safe. No matter how
mature she was, the truth was that just six months ago, she was sixteen years
old. He was twenty-four and for that reason alone she was safe to befriend.
Kelly was a few months shy of nineteen and therefore on the cusp of being a
potential conquest.

A car rolled down the gravel road toward them and Brent
acknowledged it with a smile. He left Mackenna on the porch and went to greet
it. His mother, Mackenna thought, but she frowned when the driver emerged as a
young woman dressed in nurse scrubs. The woman made her way to the car’s trunk
as Brent threw open the passenger door. He bent over and seconds later emerged
with an older woman cradled in his arms.

“We won’t need that, Emma!” he shouted gleefully to the
nurse who was in the process of unfolding a wheelchair. He spun around and
strode toward the porch while the woman he carried latched her arms around his
neck and giggled. They spoke to one another in voices too low for Mackenna to
understand but she could tell by the unmistakable pride in the woman’s face, and
the absolute love in his, that this was mother and son.
 

Mackenna discreetly watched the woman’s legs dangle
lifelessly as they approached and she wondered what had caused her condition.
When Brent finally made his way to the porch, the line of McCraes that had
emptied from the cabin began greeting his mother with hugs and kisses. Bev was
last and she threw her arms around the pair and squeezed with all of the gusto
her personality normally carried. Then, Brent turned to Mackenna.

“Mom,” he began, “this is Mackenna. She’s the friend of the
McCraes I was telling you about on the phone. Mackenna, this is my mom, Alora
Thompson.”

Mackenna’s eyes widened with the knowledge that he’d been
talking about her to his mother. What had he told her?
All
good, she hoped.
When she eyed the woman in Brent’s arms she was stunned
to find that she was nowhere near as old as she had looked from afar. Her long,
straight hair which looked gray before, was
a light
silver streaked with the blonde that her son wore. Her eyes matched Brent’s in
shade and hue and the resemblance ended there.

Where Brent’s face was angular, his mother’s was round and
soft. Where his eyes were round, hers were slightly slanted on the outer edges,
giving her a flatteringly feline look. Sadly, the skin beneath those eyes was
shadowy and the rest of her pale face bore lines that advertised the hardships
she’d undergone in recent years. Her body was small and fragile-looking, but
her smile was bright and maternal. Mackenna smiled in return.

“So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Thompson,” she said. “And
please don’t believe anything bad he’s said about me.” She flicked her head
toward Brent as she teased. Alora laughed.

“Please, call me Alora,” she said warmly. “I’m no longer
Mrs. Anything and that title always made me feel old anyway. I see no reason to
feel any older than I am.”

Alora held out a hand and Mackenna shook it.

“Alora it is, then,” she said.

“Good, and don’t you worry. Brent has said nothing bad about
you.”

“Sshh, Ma!” Brent said jokingly. “Don’t spoil Mackenna’s
opinion of me.”

They laughed and made their way to the barbeque pits, where
Grant McCrae was tossing soaked hickory chips onto the fiery coals. The smoking
meat filled the air with a delicious aroma and every stomach grumbled in
response. Brent found a shady spot for Alora and placed her gently onto a
wooden chair. Her hand soon held a glass of iced tea and Brent never left her
side. As Mackenna watched the animation and affection in his face while he
visited with his mom, she completely forgot her plan to steal all of his
Sunday.

Chapter 11

Sass’s muzzle was soft and warm as she pressed it to
Mackenna’s forehead. She stroked the sides of the horse’s nostrils gently as
she apologized for not being able to ride. The sun was nearly set, casting
everything in an even charcoal shadow. The noises of conversation, crackling
bonfire and country music played over the sound system reached her mutedly as
she leaned against the paddock fence.

The day had been pleasant, but as the music started up and the
fire was lit, the crowd partnered up to dance. Mackenna couldn’t combat the
self-pity that welled inside of her, so she decided to indulge in it privately.
She hadn’t much time with Sass since her injury and the horse behaved as though
she felt responsible for it, hanging her head and nuzzling. Mackenna sent
reassuring words into the fuzz of her ears and the horse neighed happily.

A high-pitched, feminine squeal pierced her solitude and she
recognized what followed as Kelly’s laughter. She turned and watched as Brent
led Kelly through a quick succession of twirls and rock steps to a fast-paced
country song. Kelly was in pure ecstasy and even as Mackenna’s heart sank a
little deeper, she smiled softly. Her friend was beautiful and blissfully
happy. Even Brent seemed to be enjoying the dance.

Mackenna didn’t realize she was crying until a salty
teardrop made its way to her lips and she tasted it with her tongue. She chided
herself with a single laugh and roll of her eyes. What was she doing? Warm air
from the fire floated on the breeze around her. Millions of stars were winking
overhead. Music and laughter completed the perfect soundtrack to what should
have been a perfect evening and she was spending it away from everyone, crying
because she couldn’t dance with the man she wanted.

“Oh, Mackenna,” she breathed to herself. “Get a grip, girl.”

She wiped her eyes and gave Sass a final pat and hobbled
back over to the group. She leaned on the crutches, watching the dancers in the
firelight until Alora’s voice gained her attention.

“Come on over here,” Alora called. “This section is for the
cripples.”

Mackenna blanched.

“What?” Alora teased. “Are you surprised I called myself a
cripple, or surprised that I called you one?”

Mackenna stumbled for words. “I’m…just surprised that you
would use that word.”

“Well, shouldn’t I know better than anyone that I’m a
cripple?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t think of a response that
wasn’t offensive so she chewed her bottom lip worriedly until Alora’s laughter
tinkled around her.

“Good Lord, I was led to believe that you had a better sense
of humor than this,” Alora said in jest. Mackenna’s grim expression finally
faded into a laugh and she found a seat beside Brent’s mom.

“I’m sorry,” Mackenna said. “I guess I’m not feeling like
myself tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a terrible blow to lose your
legs.”

“But I didn’t lose mine,” she replied, blushing with
chagrin. What right did she have to self-pity, indeed?

“Sure you did,” Alora returned. “You just lost them temporarily,
but you still lost them. Anyway, it’s nice to have someone to chat to during
the revelry. Oh, I’m sure you’d rather be out there, spinning away beneath the
stars, but seeing as how you can’t, I’m appreciative of the company.”

“As am I,” Mackenna said with a smile.

“I do miss dancing though,” Alora said wistfully. “And I was
damn good at it, too. Ah well. What about you, Mackenna? Do you dance?”

“I love to dance,” she answered. “I’m not very good at it,
but I think
it’s
good fun.”

“How do you know you’re not good at it? Has someone told you
that?”

“No,” Mackenna answered with a chuckle. “I just don’t get
asked to dance that much. I figure that’s as good a sign as any.”

“Oh, honey, no it ain’t. Never judge yourself based off of a
man’s behavior. If a man won’t ask you to dance, it doesn’t mean there’s
something wrong with you. More’n likely the problem is with him.”

Mackenna didn’t want to be rude and argue, so she shared her
piece with a bitter laugh.

“Don’t believe me?” Alora asked, understanding the meaning
beneath that laugh.
  

“Umm…maybe believe isn’t the right word,” Mackenna said
politely. “I think I just disagree. If the problem is with the man and not with
me, how come Kelly never lacks for partners? Men are obviously not afraid to
ask her to dance. So, the thing is that they just don’t want to dance with me.”

Mackenna didn’t know it, but the expression on her face and
the focus of her gaze made it blaringly obvious to Alora just which man she was
talking about. Alora leaned toward her and clasped her hand.

“I didn’t say the problem was that he didn’t want to ask
you. I just said that the problem was with him, not you.”

What does that mean
,
Mackenna wanted to ask. Alora was staring deeply at her, as if trying to relay
a message without speaking the words. After a long moment, she straightened and
released Mackenna’s hand with a gentle pat.

“Anyway, if you’re having fun and he’s having fun when you
dance, then I’d say you’re a good dancer,” Alora said with finality.

Brent sent Kelly into another twirl. As she spun around, his
eyes darted to his mother and Mackenna sitting side-by-side, conversing. He’d
rather be sitting with them, or better yet, dancing with one of them. When
Kelly had approached him for a dance, it was on the tip of his tongue to
refuse. Had it not been for his mother’s warning pinch on his upper arm, he
would have done just that. He would have refused her and humiliated his mother
with the rudeness of it. So, he accepted.

As the song wound down to its final beats, another just as
quick began. Kelly was content to carry on dancing, but he pulled away and
motioned to the two seated women.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I think everyone should
enjoy this party.”

Before Kelly could speak, he headed toward the pair he’d
been eyeing. Both watched him approach and both sent him dazzling smiles that
he couldn’t help returning. He ran a hand through his hair and tucked the sides
behind his ears. When he stood before them, they spoke their greetings and
before another word was said he bent over and hoisted the woman into his arms.

Mackenna gasped as she was lifted into the air, her crutches
clacking as they tumbled to the earth. Her hands flew around his neck as she
settled into the crook of his arms, her braced leg shooting out straight as a
board. He laughed at her surprise as he spun around and went into the dancing
crowd. She looked over his shoulder at Alora, who was all smiles and waving.
When Mackenna finally looked back at Brent, he was smiling down at her.

“Does it hurt your knee to be held?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered, knowing perfectly well that even if it
did, it didn’t.

“Good!” he exclaimed before spinning around in one fast
revolution. Mackenna yelped and tightened her grip on his neck.

“Brent!”

“What?” he asked in mock innocence as he rocked her back and
forth to the rhythm of the
music.
“Don’t you want to
dance?”

“Yes, but…” her words were cut off by another round of
spinning.

She decided not to fight it but relaxed her neck, leaning
her head back as Brent turned round and round. When he finally ground to a
stop, wisps of her hair whipped across her face and stuck to her bottom lip,
shining like spun gold. Her eyes were bright and glistened with the reflection
of dancing bonfire flames. She was panting mildly from the whirl. Brent studied
her face and felt a sudden urge to kiss her. Slowly, she smiled.

“Dizzy?” she asked, throwing ice water on his heated
thoughts.

Whoa
, he thought.
Where did that come from?

“A little,” he answered, then began to rock and dip to the
beat of the music while Mackenna laughed and grinned in his arms. When the song
came to an end it was replaced with the slow strumming of a guitar. Instantly,
Brent’s movements slowed to match the beat and his awareness of every detail
grew. He realized how light Mackenna was in his arms, how cool her fingers felt
on his warm neck, how long and soft her hair was as it fell over his forearms.

“Aren’t your arms getting tired?” she asked.

He chuckled. “What? Holding you?”

She nodded.

“Not hardly
,” he shrugged. “You’re
not heavy enough to give me a workout.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted and rolled her eyes. “You and I
both know I’m a bigger girl.”

Brent frowned, almost angry. “Mackenna, the only thing big
about you is your heart.”

And it’s all
yours
,
she wanted
to say as his words pierced her soul.

He continued to sway with the music, watching her eyes smile
with the enjoyment she always found in life. Tim McGraw’s voice cried overhead
with words that penetrated Brent’s thoughts
.
Look deep inside the eyes of a woman, see the man you want to be.
A sudden
smile tugged at her lips and he answered it with his own, knowing that an idea
was about to spill from her lips.

“Dance with your mom,” she said.

“What?” he asked, not expecting that.

“Dance with your mom,” she said with growing excitement.
“She was just telling me how much she misses dancing.”

He watched Alora eye the dancers with amusement and longing.
Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it? He looked at Mackenna with gratitude
and affection for her thoughtfulness. There were so few pleasures he could
offer his mother and such a simple one had nearly escaped him.

“Thank you,” he said with emotion.

She smiled out of one side of her mouth, creating soft
becoming lines staggering up her cheek like ripples in a pond and he once again
fought the urge to touch those lips with his own. Instead, he walked toward his
mom and set Mackenna down gently only to extend his hand to Alora. She looked
at it with a questioning brow.

“Come on, Ma,” he said. “Come dance with your son.”

Alora burnished the most magnificent smile as she placed her
hand in her son’s. Brent held her easily and returned to the crowd to finish
out the song with his mother. Alora smiled softly up at her son, her only pride
and joy now.

“I remember when I used to hold you like this and dance,”
she said with a mother’s emotion straining her voice. Brent smiled and she
continued, cupping his cheek with her hand. “It’s so good to see you smile
again.”

“What are you talking about, Mom? I smile.”

“I don’t mean smiling for my benefit,” she said pointedly.
“I mean smiling for yours. Smiling because you’re happy and you want to smile.”

“Don’t be silly,” he dismissed.

“I was right to force you here this summer. It’s been good
for you to be away from me, for you to actually enjoy a little bit of life.”

“Mama, let’s not go through this again,” he said seriously.
“I enjoy life with you, and I’d take you home tonight and stay with you if
you’d let me. This tourist gig is not for me.”

“Oh, Bull!” she roared with a laugh. “You can’t lie to your
Mama. You’re having fun out here. I can tell.” She sent a nod toward Mackenna.
“And I know who to thank for it, too.”

“Ma,” he said in a warning tone.

“She’s lovely.”

“Mom…”

“And good looking, too…”

“Mama…”

“And hopelessly smitten with you.”

He paused.

“No, she’s not,” he said after a thought. “We’re pals.”

“You very well may be, but I’m telling you that girl has
stars in her eyes when she looks at you. And why shouldn’t she? You are a good
catch.”

“Why shouldn’t she? Because you said it: she’s a girl. Six
months ago, she was only sixteen years old. Good Lord, Mom. What do you think I
am?”

“Semantics,” she dismissed with a wave. “You could say six
months ago she was sixteen, or you could say she’s halfway to eighteen. It’s
not that big of an age difference. Besides, women mature faster than men, so
you’re actually probably the same age anyway up here.” She tapped his head.

“Thanks,” he said dryly and she laughed.

“I’m teasing you, honey.
Really though,
why not Mackenna?”

“I don’t know,” he shifted uneasily. “It’s just not like
that between us. She’s like…she’s…like
..”

“She’s like
who
?” Alora asked,
already knowing the answer.

“She’s like Nat.”

Alora’s eyes brightened with sad remembrance of the daughter
that was no more and she swallowed passed the lump of emotions crowding her
throat. Brent immediately regretted his words, but he could not recall them.

“She’d be Mackenna’s age if she had lived,” Alora said
quietly.

“I know.”

Alora’s smile faded and she withdrew into the quiet place in
her mind that she often retreated to and Brent’s gut wrenched with guilt. He
sighed, wishing he could redo their entire conversation.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Alora pulled herself up to kiss his cheek.

“Brent, when are you going to accept that
you
are not responsible for my troubles?
Not for any of them.”

He hugged her tightly to him, unable to form words. What was
he doing here? This frail, courageous woman carried more burdens than was fair.
He was the only one who could help her and protect her and he was out here
playing tour guide. What’s more, he had been enjoying it, just as Alora said.
For that, he hated himself.