Forever in Love (Montana Brides) (24 page)

Amy pulled her keys out of her pocket and laid them on the counter. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Jackie stood quietly beside her. “Just be yourself.”

CHAPTER TEN

Nathan held his breath and then slowly relaxed his hold on his horse’s reins. He moved his weight forward, gripping the saddle between his thighs when Chan stomped his feet, impatient for a run over the icy ground.

“Are you going to move, or sit up there like royalty for another ten minutes?”

Nathan glanced down at Sean. His brother had been outside most of the day, chopping firewood and stacking it in the lean-to their dad had built on the side of the barn. Unfortunately for Nathan, Sean had decided to head inside about the same time he decided to put a saddle on Chan.
 
He’d go crazy if he didn’t ride soon, and regardless of what Doc Johnson told him, he knew he was ready.
 

Leaning forward, Nathan patted Chan’s neck. “I’m beginning to wonder why I let you help me.”
 

“Could have had something to do with not being able to get on your horse.” Sean crossed his arms in front of his chest, casting a weary glance over Chan. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
 

“What do you think?” After saddling up Chan, they’d argued about Nathan wearing a rib and chest protector. The conversation had taken a turn for the worst when the word ‘helmet’ came up for discussion. His brother wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Nathan trussed himself up like a chicken on learner plates just to get away from his paranoid brother.
 

He’d thought getting on Chan would be easy. He should have known better. They’d spent another twenty minutes figuring out how a two hundred and thirty pound male could mount a horse when the same man had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. In the end they’d resorted to using a ladder. If it hadn’t been for Sean’s threat to strap him into a hoist if he didn’t get his backside on his horse, he might still be glaring at the saddle.
 

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Sean growled. “What did Amy say about riding?”

“Amy didn’t say anything because I didn’t ask her.
 
Haven’t you got something more productive to do than stare at me?”

Sean leaned the ladder against the side of the barn. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. If you fall off mom will skin me alive.”

Nathan took a deep breath and felt Chan’s powerful body beneath him. After eight months of not being able to ride he was damned if he’d miss out on another second.

 
“I’ll be back in an hour.” He nudged Chan forward before Sean decided to go with him. Putting up with his brother breathing down his neck wouldn’t cure the restlessness that had sent him out here in the first place.
 

“Where are you going?”
 

“Toward the northwest boundary,” Nathan tossed over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, sitting deep in his saddle, testing out his back and shoulders as they rode across the ranch. Cold air stung his face and he grinned as he pulled on the reins, forcing Chan into a slow cantor as they made their way up the mountain.
 

He’d missed everything about riding. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been on a horse, finding some excuse to spend an extra half hour in the saddle. Over the last few months there’d been times when he doubted he’d ever be able to ride again. He’d watched his brothers mount their horses, working the ranch without a care in the world.
 

As summer had rolled into fall he’d almost given up on ever finding the peace and solitude he craved in the mountains with Chan. Then the first snow of winter arrived, tipping the balance of his resolve. It was now or never. If he didn’t push himself, haul his ass onto Chan, then he wouldn’t be able to ride for months.
 

As they came to a rocky plateau he pulled Chan to a stop and took the time to appreciate the sprawling view below him. He’d often come here to think. To be grateful for what he had. Pride and a sense of belonging had always anchored him to this land like no other force on earth.
 

His eyes skimmed across the ranch buildings. Even though ninety years had passed, not much had changed since his great grandfather first laid eyes on this slice of heaven. The ranch had grown from four hundred acres, slowly expanding until his family owned almost seven thousand acres of rich Montana soil. Homesteaders had come and gone in the early days, lured to Montana with the railroad and stories of wealth and a lifestyle second to none. Nathan could only imagine the hardships his great grandparent’s had endured as they’d carved an income from land that refused to be tamed.

And soon the ranch would be his responsibility. His chance to make a mark on the world, leave a legacy that the next generation of Gray’s would appreciate.
 

He choked back a laugh. That’s if he ever found the courage to stick his neck on the block and marry someone. It had been bad enough dealing with his scars. Finding out Amy thought the rest of him needed work had hurt worse than the first time she’d left. Damn woman had spent most of her life tying him up in knots so tight that he’d never get her out of his head.

Chan tossed his mane, pulling Nathan back to the view in front of him. He rubbed his hand along his jaw and felt the stubble of four days growth scraping against his gloves. He’d last shaved on Saturday, right before he’d taken Amy and Catherine to see their mom. He hadn’t heard from her since. Not that he’d expected a heart-to-heart conversation about what had happened. But he had expected to at least get second-hand gossip from his sister. Sally, for once in her life, had decided Amy was off limits for family discussion.
 

A flash of light bounced off the fields on his right. Chan stomped his feet and Nathan moved toward the outer edge of the ridge. Leaning forward, he raised himself off the saddle to get a better view of the land. Whatever was down there flared again, brighter than the afternoon sun. Before he’d taken another breath Chan lost his footing, hooves scrabbling against loose rock and shards of ice.
 

He realized too late what was happening. His feet slipped out of the stirrups and gravity finished off what curiosity had started. He flew over Chan’s head, tossed in the air like a bull rider somersaulting off his mount.
 

As he hurtled toward the snow packed earth, he rolled into a ball, protecting his back and right shoulder as best he could. Fat lot of good that did him. As soon as he hit the ground, air whooshed out of his lungs and he felt like he’d been pummeled by a freight train. His body twisted and turned, finally coming to rest with an almighty thud against a big old pine tree.

For a few seconds he stared up at the branches, more concerned about breathing than figuring out if he could move. Then the pain hit and he knew he was in trouble.

“Thank you for meeting me today.” Carmen sat in the same seat she’d used when they’d met at the weekend. Her eyes kept darting toward Jackie, waiting for a signal from Catherine’s case worker before continuing. “I need to tell you something, and I need to do it today, before I leave.”

Amy nodded, not trusting her voice. She’d spent more time with her mom over the last twenty-four hours than she had in years, and she knew no more about her than before she’d arrived in Bozeman. They’d talked about Catherine, Amy’s job at the hospital, the new man in Carmen’s life - the one that had changed her life.

“I didn’t have much self esteem when I was younger,” her mom began. “Your grandpa didn’t believe in education. He thought life held all the lessons a girl needed to learn and they started with the belt around his waist.”
 

Carmen picked up her mug of tea, sipping the hot liquid slowly, then placing it on the table with shaking hands. “When I was fifteen I met your father. He wasn’t much older than me. Neither of us knew what we were doing and when I told him I was pregnant I never saw him again. When I told my parents they threw me out of their house.” Carmen looked at Jackie, waiting for her nod.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go so I stayed on the street for most of my pregnancy. I met a woman at a shelter and she put me in contact with people that could help me. They wanted me to think about giving you up for adoption. They told me I could go back to school, get an education, give you a better life with someone else. I nearly...I nearly signed the papers, but the moment I saw you I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

Jackie nudged a box of tissues across the table. As Carmen wiped her eyes, Amy tried to imagine what her mom’s life had been like. She’d been alone and unwanted, a child with a new baby to look after and no one to help. “Did your parents come and see you after I was born?”

Carmen blew her nose, dropping the wet tissues into a bin under the desk “I wrote to your grandma. She came and saw me once. I don’t think she agreed with what your grandpa had done, but she didn’t want to make him angry. She gave me the address of a cousin in Utah and enough money to get there. Your grandma hadn’t told them about you, and they weren’t too happy about providing a home for an unmarried teenager with a baby. They let me stay with them until I had enough money to pay for somewhere for us to live.”

“What did you do to earn money?”

“I worked nights at a supermarket, restocking the shelves, and during the day I volunteered at the Logan Library. The librarians let me bring you in with me and they brought you little treats. It was warm and safe and much better than spending the days with my cousin. I thought I’d found heaven after the year I’d been through.”
 

Amy couldn’t remember anything about Utah, but she did remember her mom taking her to the libraries in the towns they’d lived in. When she was old enough, she’d walk to the public library after school and stay there until her mom picked her up. If she didn’t make a fuss and kept to herself, most people didn’t mind her sitting in the corner, reading a book. And sometimes, when the library had afterschool programs, she’d sneak into the back of the room and join in with the other kids and their parents. About the only constant thing in Amy’s life had been the libraries. No matter how bad things got at home or at school, she had the library.

“I eventually got a job on checkout and we rented a trailer on the outskirt of town. We moved around a lot after that. I guess I was always looking for something better, but nothing lasted.” Carmen looked Amy in the eye for the first time since they’d been in the room together. “I did the best I could, but I know I let you down.”

Amy looked away. She’d seen her mom cry bucket loads of tears when she was drunk, but never when she was sober. Even though she’d dreaded coming here today she felt sad for her mom and for what she’d gone through growing up. She glanced at Jackie, waiting for her to say something, to fill the silence suffocating the room.

Jackie sat quietly in her seat, returning Amy’s stare. She looked as if she was prepared to stay there all night if that’s what it took for the conversation to continue.

The room started to feel small and hot. Amy couldn’t sit still any longer. She stood up and walked across to the window, watching people dodge cars and buses as they carried on with their lives. She thought about all the times she’d had to make excuses for her mom. The times when she’d visited food banks because they didn’t have enough to eat and her mom couldn’t make it to the door without falling over. She remembered the other kids at school, whispering behind her back and calling her names because she wore the same clothes every day.
 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her mom struggling to pull herself together. To do what she’d always done so well; put parts of her life into storage and slam the lid shut on all the issues she couldn’t deal with.
 

Carmen pulled more tissues out of the box and rubbed her red eyes. “You were a good girl. I don’t know where you got your head for schoolwork, but you passed all your exams and didn’t get into trouble.”

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t let herself get emotionally involved in her mother’s life again. It had nearly torn her in two when she’d been younger, the constant highs and lows of her mom’s life, and she wouldn’t let it happen again. But the memories Amy had tucked away to make the tough times bearable came crashing back. Like the pull of an ocean wave they tossed and turned inside her head, spilling out in front of her, teasing her. Making her believe that everything could get better. If her mom was different. If she was different. If pigs could fly.

Amy walked back to the table and sat down.
 
When her mom wasn’t drunk she’d been a good person. She’d read Amy stories and played make believe. They’d visited thrift stores, pretending they were shopping in fancy boutiques, looking for the latest fashions. Instead of pretty pink dresses with frills and buttons, they’d leave with jeans and sweaters. And jackets that would keep out the bitter cold when her mom forgot to pay the power bill.
 

“I was too proud to ask for help, but that’s changed now.” Carmen blew her nose and picked up her bag, unzipping a side pocket. She pulled out a small plastic folder, then walked around the table to Amy. “Everything changed for the better when I moved to San Francisco.”

Amy’s head shot up and panic raced through her body.
San Francisco?
That was thousands of miles away. She’d never see Catherine, not unless she moved to the West Coast and started a new career. Her gaze shot to Jackie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Carmen looked between Amy and Jackie, a confused frown on her face. “I moved there three months ago. I thought Catherine’s case worker in Chicago would have told you.”

Amy shook her head, “I didn’t know.”
 

Jackie opened the brown folder sitting in front of her and read through the notes. “The case worker in Chicago visited Catherine two weeks before Carmen moved. They made a note in the file, but it doesn’t look as though they followed through with a letter to you, Amy.” She turned another page over and looked up. “It took a few weeks to transfer Catherine’s file across to the Montana office. That’s probably why the information wasn’t passed on. But as I mentioned earlier, as long as Catherine’s care can be monitored it doesn’t matter where each of you live.”