Loving A Cowboy (24 page)

She looked again at the phone number. It was a Portland area code. That would be quite a trip. But her father was doing better, and she could leave the dealership in Ed’s capable hands for a few days.

“You going to call her?” Her father slowly scuffled into the great room, a cup of coffee (decaf) in his hand. He was dressed as if he was going to the office, which he wasn’t. The only difference was the brand spanking new slippers with the nonslip surface he was wearing instead of his dress shoes.

“I don’t know. It’s a risk.”

“It surely is.” Sam sat down next to her, his weight causing the cushions to jiggle. “Likely he’s not going to take kindly to the interference.”

“So you don’t think I should call.” Libby looked up, searching her father’s face for the answer.

“Depends on what you’re hoping to accomplish.”

“I’m curious, of course. Given what you told me, seems she had her reasons, reasons he needs to hear. I guess, ultimately, I’m hoping for a reconciliation.”

“A happily ever after?” Her father took a sip from the cup.

“That’s the goal. Because maybe if Chance had someone he could call family, he’d understand the ties of family and the choices I’ve made.”

“Can’t blame him for not being happy you’ve come back here and left him.”

“I’m surprised you don’t blame him. He’s not your favorite person.”

“He hasn’t been,” her father acknowledged. “But once I was convinced you loved Chance and he loved you…”

Libby didn’t hide her surprise or skepticism. “How can you say that now, while I’m sitting here alone?”

“Seeing you at his ranch, seeing the way you looked at him and he looked at you, didn’t take much to figure out. And he actually was civil to me.” Her father laughed. “I didn’t expect that. That’s when I knew he must love you very much. And one thing’s clear—I won’t be around forever. I’d like to see you settled and happy before my time is up.”

“Daddy, don’t talk like that.” His words sent a chill through her.

“It’s the truth. And I’d do something if I could, but it’s for you two to work out.”

“Now you decide not to interfere.” Libby shook her head. “I wish I was as sure as you. I don’t know what else to do to get his attention and change his mind about letting people into his life.”

“He may resent your meddling. What then?”

She let out a deep sigh. “I’ll have tried.”

* * *

Chance stared at the pretty, young blonde-haired woman dressed in a pink T-shirt and a denim skirt standing by the registration desk at the Western Hotel in Puyallup. As he strode closer, he was barely able to believe his eyes. He’d just come off a terrible ride where he’d scored a mere seventy-nine points, and he’d been beating himself up the whole way over to the hotel. The score was enough to keep him in the hunt for tomorrow, but not enough, he knew, to win significant prize money. That had been the story of the last four weeks.

His heart rate kicked up a notch as his eyes reassured him that it was indeed Libby. What was she doing here? Why had she come? But at the moment, he didn’t even care to know the answers. She was here, and he had missed her.

“Libby?”

“Hi, Chance,” she said, her hand smoothing back her hair as she stepped forward to meet him. “Surprised?”

“Yes.”

“So am I.”

He wanted to reach for her, hold her, kiss her. He had missed her more than he thought possible. But something held him back. Something in the way she looked at him, like she was nervous and uncertain.

Well, he could understand that. They hadn’t spoken since that day he left. The daily text messages were more ritual than substance. He was feeling a little nervous and uncertain himself.

“What brings you to Puyallup?”
Me, I hope.
Although what he would do if she said that, he wasn’t sure. She’d made her choice. There was no going back.

“I…I wanted to talk to you.” He noted the thin veneer of perspiration on her brow. It wasn’t particularly hot out.

He pulled up, afraid to get too near, lest he reach for her. Given how they’d left things, that wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Is there anything left to say?”

“Yes.”

“Let me get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you at the bar.” He’d need a stiff drink if he was to get out of this without leaving his heart on the table.

“I need you to come up to my room. I’ve got something for you to see.”

What could she possibly have for him to see? It wasn’t like Libby to play games, like making up a reason to get him alone. He’d take her at her word, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what she had to show him that he hadn’t seen before, or that would make a difference.

“Sure you can’t wait? Sure the bar wouldn’t do?” Being alone with Libby in a hotel room wasn’t the best idea for either of them, given the issues that separated them.

She nodded. “I’m sure. It’s important, Chance, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Now she looked like she was ready to run, and that just didn’t make sense since she had come all this way to see him. And that made him all the more tense, like a cougar on the alert for danger.

“Let’s go then.” He touched the small of her back and felt a tingle of electricity as they walked to the elevators.

Inside the elevator he asked about her father, and she answered that he was coming along, without further elaboration. Outside her room, she fumbled for the key card, and her hand actually shook. “Chance, there’s something I have to tell you before we go in.”

Something in her tone made his heart shudder. He stared at her, waiting. Her face was pale. Her lips trembled. This was going to be bad. Very bad.

Libby inhaled, hoping the gulp of air would calm her nerves. She’d taken a big risk—and it might be the worst mistake of her life. Worse than walking out on Chance the first time.

“What?” he asked, his tone guarded.

“There’s a surprise in my room.”

His expression shifted to worry. “By the way you’re acting, I’m guessing it’s not a good surprise?”

“I think it is. But you might not.” That was an understatement. “Just don’t hate me,” she managed to say before she slipped the key card in and opened the door.

The petite blonde woman, dressed in a loud print dress, probably her best one, with her hair teased into a bouffant do that was the style thirty years ago, stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her lipsticked mouth in a forced smile—and fear in eyes the same gray as her son’s.

* * *

“Hello, Chance.”

Chance stopped in the doorway and spread his legs in a gunfighter’s stance for support. For a moment, he couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe.

His mother.

She looked old. Much older than he remembered. Lines flared out from the corners of her eyes. More lines etched her brow and feathered around her mouth. The ravages of alcohol, smoking, and age, he guessed, and in that order.

She was the last person he wanted to see.

And Libby had brought her there
.

Like steam rising, anger bubbled up inside of him. What right did Libby have? What right did his mother have to interfere in his life? Now? When he was trying to forget what could have been, trying to stand on solid ground again while the earth kept shifting beneath his feet. Instead, here he was hanging off a cliff of flat-out misery, ready to drop.

“Why are you here?”
After all this time
. He swung his gaze to Libby. She looked terrified. As if he was going to hit her or something. “Why did you do this, Libby?”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, and like a rabbit scurrying into a burrow, she turned tail and closed the door behind her.

Libby Brennan was a coward.

Well, he wasn’t one. Much as he felt like fleeing, he wasn’t moving. Deidre Cochran would be leaving.

“She’s a nice girl, Chance. Like her mama. You’re a lucky man.” That voice, sweet and gentle in its cadence, washed over him, pulling along memories. Too many memories.

“Am I? Funny how I’ve never felt lucky. Not once in my life. And Libby isn’t mine. She walked out on me too. Seems that’s what the women in my life do.”

Deidre cringed. Like when his father would hit her.
Hell.

“She’s here now. She convinced me I should come. I was pretty sure it was a bad idea. But I hoped.” Deidre rubbed a hand over her face. But if she was trying to rub away the terrible memories, he could tell her they never went away. They might hide, but they were always there. He expected she knew that.

“It was a bad idea. So you can go.” Chance stepped to the side to allow her to pass. He wanted her out, gone. She’d given up all rights to call herself his mother a long time ago.

But instead of leaving, she squared her bony shoulders. He didn’t remember her being so small. Or frail. She looked bird-like. Scrawny. Not necessarily unhealthy, but as if she’d led a hard life. Guess they both had.

“I’ve got something to say, and unless you plan on carrying me out, I’m saying it. And then I’ll go.”

“No, I’ll go,” he turned toward the door.

“You don’t owe me anything, Chance. Not even to listen to me. But I owe you a lot. Not the least of which is an explanation. I’ve told it to Libby. I’d like to tell it to you. Then I’ll go. I promise.”

Chance whirled back around, surprised to find Deidre trembling. She looked fragile. Her eyes watery. She had cried a lot back then. He suspected she still did. Angry as he was with her, part of him wanted to listen. Wanted to understand why she’d done what she had. And he hated himself for being so weak that he needed that.

“I left. It was wrong. You needed me,” she said.

“Damn right I needed you.” That anger bubbled like a geyser ready to blow.

She flinched. “I didn’t know what to do. How to get rid of him.” She paused for an extra second. “Except to kill him.” She stared at him clear eyed. It was the first hint of anger he’d seen from her. “And I did think about doing just that. More than once.”

“You didn’t think I could protect you.”

“I knew you wanted to. And I knew you’d get hurt trying. Your father was a big man. Bigger than you are now, even.”

“And yet you abandoned me to him.” God, why did it still hurt?

She shook her head. “They didn’t have much in the area for battered women. Or children. But they did have foster care. If I wasn’t there, I thought you’d have a better chance of being placed with another family.”

“So you left me to face him, hoping I’d get placed in a foster home after he beat the crap out of me, near killed me?” Chance could feel his heart banging hard against his chest, like it was pounding on the bars of a cage, demanding to be freed.

Tears streamed down Deidre’s face. Chance tried not to care. Instead, he let the anger he’d carried for so long fill him, hoping it would protect him.

“I called Child Services as soon as I left. Told him he was beating you. I hoped they’d get there before he got home. Find you abandoned. Save you from him. I learned later that they hadn’t gotten there fast enough.” A sob wheezed out. “I hated him so much. But I didn’t know no other way to save you. I was told the Larsons were decent people.”

Chance took a deep breath. Whatever his mother thought she had done, it wasn’t enough. “Not that you cared enough to let me know you were even alive.”

“I was afraid to. Afraid he’d find me through you. Once I learned he was dead, I tried. You never called me back.”

“I would never have left a child of mine to that bastard of a man, knowing what he would have done to me.” Chance choked on the last word, his mouth dry as a desert floor.

“No. I don’t suppose you would have. You’re strong. Not just physically, but in all ways.”

“No thanks to you.”

She sniffled. Chance could feel the pull of her tears. He resisted.

“No, no thanks to me. I’m not strong. Never have been.”

That was it. She’d been weak. And they both had paid the price. She more than him, it appeared. For all he’d had to overcome, he’d done it. She looked like life had gotten the better of her.

“If that’s what you’ve come to tell me, you’ve told me. You can leave now,” he said before he started feeling sympathy. Anger had been his companion a long time. A few words weren’t enough to give it up.

She nodded, wiping a tear away. She moved toward him, staring at him with the gray eyes they held in common. “Not that it will matter to you, but I want you to know I’m proud of you. Proud of the man you’ve become despite everything. I know more than anyone what you’ve had to overcome. You’ve made something of yourself. Something good. Without me.” She stopped a few steps before him. With misted eyes, she stared at him an extra heartbeat. He could hear each pulse of blood coursing through his veins, bringing feelings he didn’t want to have.

“Maybe that’s why you were able to make something of yourself,” she said. “You didn’t have me around your neck. Or your father to contend with.”

Chance watched her move toward the door. Her gait was arthritic, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Life had clearly been hard for her.

Something like empathy gnawed at the edges of his anger.

“You need anything?” He waited for the real reason she’d come. Money, for sure. She apparently knew all about him, so she would know he’d hit the million-dollar mark.

But she surprised him by shaking her head. “I’m doing okay. Been sober ten years now. I waitress. I clean the houses of Portland’s finest, too.” Her weathered face cracked a smile. With that smile, Chance caught a glimpse of the lovely young mother she’d once been. Before the alcohol, before the fighting. “Thank you for asking though.”

He nodded, feeling a lump fill his throat.

With her hand on the doorknob, she turned toward him. “Don’t be hard on Libby. She thought seeing me might help you realize there are many sides to a story. Seems she’s got some ‘sides’ she’s hoping you’ll see. I don’t know what went on with you two, but I’m not too old to know love when I see it. She loves you. Doing this took real courage.”

Libby. Chance still had to deal with Libby. She was probably expecting a happy ending. Well, life didn’t work quite the way it did in books.