Donovan (8 page)

I was
rather surprised that my dad had not placed the responsibility for the ranch on
either Cameron or Shane's shoulders. I wasn't surprised that such
responsibility hadn’t been left to me either, as I had been out of the picture
for quite some time.

"What's
going to happen now?" Tammy broached, her eyes filled with tears and her
voice uncertain.

"That
I can't tell you," the attorney said. "I'm sorry that the news isn’t
much better. The only thing that might delay any foreclosure process is for
some kind of a good faith payment to be made against the debts that have
accrued."

Julie and
Tammy glanced at one another, and then at Cameron. "But none of us has
even close to that kind of money. What kind
of a payment are
we talking about?"

The
attorney shrugged. "Five to ten thousand would be a good start," he
said.

Mom
uttered a low moan and placed her head in her hands. I wanted to say something.
"Mom, we'll figure it out—"

"And
how do you propose to do that, Donovan?" Cameron demanded.

I tried to
maintain the voice of calm, as everyone in the room appeared to be quickly
headed to a state of panic. I forged ahead. "I've got some money put away—"

"Nobody
wants any money from you!" Cameron interrupted. "Who do you think you
are, just popping back into our lives after you've been gone for nearly ten
years, and now here you are, claiming you can save the day? I
oughta
—"

"Boys,"
my mother interrupted. "This is not the time, nor the place."

My pride
in my mother surged as she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and looked
at the attorney. "We'll figure something out,” she stated firmly. “We're
not going to lose that ranch."

With that,
my mother stood, the girls following suit. The attorney glanced at me, shoveled
some papers and handed me copies of Dad’s will as well as the paperwork
associated with the ranch. I would have to take a good, close look at it later
on, and then I needed to talk to Memphis. She had to have known what was going
on, and I needed to know why the hell she hadn't divulged the information to
the family.
Or me.

Chapter 8

Memphis

I was in
town just finishing up some shopping when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out
of my pocket and pressed answer without looking at who was calling, my usual
habit. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized the voice on the other end.

"Memphis,
Donovan here."

His voice
sounded subdued. I frowned. "Donovan?" I knew the family had gone to
meet with Frank's attorney this morning, and I could only imagine that they had
been told about the financial status of the ranch. I had urged Frank to discuss
the situation with someone in the family.
If not Lisa, then
surely Cameron.
He had adamantly insisted that not one word was to be
shared with anyone else in the family.

"We
need to talk," Donovan said.

"Sure,"
I said, placing the last bag of groceries into my truck cab and closing the
door. I walked around the back end of the truck to climb in on the driver side.
"Are we counting this get-together as one of our dates?" I knew the
question came out a bit sarcastically, and I regretted it, but did not amend my
comment. I wasn't sure how I felt about these dates, or if I even wanted to be
around Donovan anymore. To be completely honest with myself, it hurt. While
part of me still longed for him, and I probably would always feel that way, I
didn't want to end up some spinster who had pined for a man loved and lost for
the rest of her life.

"Can
you meet me at the Chit Chat tonight at seven? What’s your work schedule
today?"

I didn't
want Donovan to know that I was not scheduled to work today, just in case he
decided to drag on the date any longer than I wanted. "I'm not sure. I'll
have to check." I felt a little guilty for deceiving him, but again, I was
only trying to protect myself – my heart. "I need to go home and put some
groceries away and do some other things, but I can meet you at the restaurant
at seven."

"Okay,
see you there.”

The call
was disconnected and I frowned. I imagined that he wanted to talk about the
ranch, but I was sure by now he knew everything there was to know. The entire
family would. I felt incredibly guilty for having been part of Frank’s
deception, but I had been nothing more than his employee and obligated to abide
by his wishes. I didn't know if Lisa, the girls, or Cameron or Shane would be
upset with me, but I figured they would. After all, that was a pretty big
secret to keep.
I expected it, and wouldn’t blame them a bit.
I’d have felt the same way if the shoe was on the other foot.

I drove to
my small apartment. It was quiet, so I quickly unloaded my groceries and put
them away. After doing chores around the house I had about twenty minutes
before I needed to leave to meet Donovan at the restaurant, and glanced down at
my clothes, wondering if I should change. I wore my usual attire - jeans,
cowboy boots, a tee-shirt, and unbuttoned flannel shirt over the tee. I
snickered. Since when had I dressed up for any date with Donovan? He knew me
and my clothing preferences. I certainly wasn't going to get all gussied up for
him. In fact, I wasn’t going to do or hope for anything, knowing that he would
be blowing out of Stinnett as soon as he possibly could. Come to think of it,
perhaps it was a good idea for us to have a few of these dates. I had my own
set of questions to ask.

*

Around
seven o'clock, I pulled off the highway onto the dirt parking lot of the Chit
Chat restaurant. I glanced around at the nearly empty lot and then spotted Donovan's
beat up old F250 at the far side. I drove my own truck over, parking close to
his truck. I recognized Violet’s sun and sand-damaged Corolla a short distance
away. As I approached, he climbed out of the cab of his truck and made his way
toward me as I parked, turned off the engine and climbed out. Once again, I
felt a betraying tingle as his gaze passed over me and a brief grin flashed
over his features.

"Thanks
for meeting me," he said.

I
shrugged. "That’s the rules," I stated. "Meet me here, and drop
me off here."

"Do
we have a time limit?" he asked, the grin broadening.

"That
depends on how things go," I said, gesturing toward the restaurant.
"Want to go in for a bite?"

He shook
his head. "No, but I sure could use a drink.
You?"

I frowned.
"So you’re going to try and get me drunk, huh?"

"One
beer certainly won't hurt," he said. "You game?"

I
shrugged, thinking that maybe having a beer wasn't a bad idea. I was already
nervous, not only about the upcoming conversation about the ranch, but about
more personal aspects that might come up along the way. I followed Donovan into
the Chit Chat, where a slow crowd had gathered. Being a Monday, it was one of
the slower days of the week, so I hadn't expected many people in here, and
there weren’t. Two older couples sat in small booths near the front corner,
while a young couple sat at another in the opposite corner. Donovan made his
way toward a booth near the other front corner, where we would have some
privacy. Over his shoulder, I noticed Gina standing near the kitchen door,
wiping her hands on a towel. She gave me a wide-eyed look, winked, and then
grinned as we sat ourselves at the table. She walked over, order pad in hand.

"Well,
if it isn’t Donovan Sanderson," she said, giving him an obvious once over.
"Didn't take too long to claim your first date with Memphis, did it?"

Donovan
looked up at her and smiled.
"How you doing, Gina?"
 

She was
obviously surprised that he remembered her. She shot a quick glance at me, and
then back to Donovan. "Just fine, as you can see.
Still
workin
’.”

Donovan
nodded, and then gestured.
"Two beers, please."

Gina
lifted an eyebrow at me and I merely shrugged.

"Bottle,
can, or glass?"

"Give
us two frosty glasses, Gina," I sighed.

Gina
offered a slight chuckle and then retreated to the bar, where she removed two
frosted glasses from the freezer under the bar. She took her time pouring two
draft beers and then walked back to our table, unable to stop grinning at me. I
gave her the eye as she set the beers down. “Thanks, Gina,” I said, effectively
conveying that enough was enough. With each of us cradling beer mugs, Donovan
and I stared at each other.
 

"Can
I get you anything else?" Gina asked.

Donovan
shook his head, and Gina looked at me. I shook my head as well. She lingered
for a moment, and then turned and strode back into the kitchen. I turned to Donovan.
"Okay, spit it out."

"Why the
hell didn't you tell anybody that the ranch was going under?"

I didn't
suppose he would beat around the bush, but the brusque quality of the question,
and the tone in his voice did take me by surprise. "Because Frank asked me
not to," I said simply.

"Dad
asked you to keep it a secret?" He frowned. "Why?"

I sighed.
"I don’t know, Donovan, I was only an employee, not his confidant. I can
only surmise that he didn't want Lisa to worry," I paused. "Donovan,
you haven't been around for years, and I doubt if you've noticed anything
untoward, but your mom isn't as strong as she used to be." He opened his
mouth to disagree, but then closed it. I continued. "For the past five
years or so, your mom has grown a little less able to handle stress," I
explained. “About five years ago, Frank started noticing some subtle changes in
her personality—"

"What
do you
mean,
her personality?" Donovan asked.
"I haven't noticed anything."

I merely
lifted an eyebrow at him. "Donovan, you haven't seen your mom in what,
almost ten years? Are you telling me you don't think she's any different?"

He
frowned. "We'll of course she's older, she looks older, and right now,
she's under a great deal of stress what with Dad’s passing. But I haven't
noticed anything—"

"Well
I have, and I can assure you that everyone else in your family has as well. At
any rate, Frank didn't want your mom worrying, so he swore me to silence."

"How
long has this been going on?"

"By
the time I took over the books, probably a year or so before that."

"But
how—"

"A
bad crop year here, low yields on beef prices the next, needed repairs on
equipment, new equipment purchases, repairs to the barn, repairs to the
irrigation system, you name it. Donovan, the ranch has been bleeding money for
years."

"Why didn't
anyone tell me?"
 

"Why?
How?"
I demanded, striving to keep my voice down.
"Donovan, you walked away eight years ago. You made it clear that you
didn't want to have anything to do with the ranch, running the ranch, or
anything else associated with the ranch. What did you expect anyone to
do?" I shook my head, my ire growing. I took a sip of beer to calm my
emotions. "Frank always thought that the next year would be better, but
there was always something else that needed fixing, feed prices were up, bad
weather… you know how life is for ranchers and farmers out here.” I paused,
turning my mug around in front of me. “At first, he was able to keep up all
right… robbing Peter to pay Paul, that kind of thing. He’d take the money for
hay and put it toward repairs, or take money he’d tucked away for a new tractor
and put it toward grain, seeds for the new crops, or repairs. Still, the debt
just grew to the point that neither he, nor I, to be completely honest, thought
it could ever be repaid."

Donovan
sat silent, took a sip of beer as he gazed out the window. "I wish I had
known," he said simply.

"And
then what? You would've rushed back to fix everything?" I asked.
"That's not how it works and you know it. Your dad would've been the last
one to accept charity from anyone, especially you. Even if—" I didn't even
want to get into it. I had started to say even if he had come back or had known
about the problems. He and his dad had been estranged for years, and I knew
Frank well enough to know that he never would've taken a dime from Donovan. No
sense in rubbing Donovan's nose in it though.

"I
could've helped," he sighed.

"Be
that as it may," I said, taking another sip of beer. "Frank still
wouldn't have accepted it from you."

Donovan
said nothing for several moments, but merely continued to sip this beer,
staring out the window, a frown of concentration furrowing his brow. "What
are you thinking?" I asked, while at the same time wondering why I even
cared.

"Honest?"

"That
would be nice," I remarked.

"I
regret leaving the way I did. I regret not making an effort to smooth things
over with Dad. Now, it's too fucking late. I can’t
fucking
turn back time."