Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (16 page)

When Danny dropped by their house a few evenings later, Celia pulled him into her backyard garden, closing the slider behind them. “Has Addie mentioned anything to you about the possibility of us, um, moving to Holley, Texas?”

“Yeah, she has. Are you thinking about it?”

Looking at him, Celia’s courage faded. Why had she wasted her time and Addie’s hope even considering the idea of Holley? They couldn’t leave Uncle Danny. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s going to happen—”

“Worry? I’d love to move to Polly, Texas.”

Celia’s attention honed on him.

He shrugged then smiled, the whites of his eyes bright against his tan. “I’m ready for a change, you know? I’m not used to staying in one place too long. It’s not good for my adventurous vibe.”

“You’d be willing to move with us?”

“Wherever you go, I go. We’re a team.”

Gratitude and love coursed through her.

“Besides, the dating pool here has run dry, C. In a bad way. Did I tell you that it didn’t work out between Sandy and me?”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I could deal with her ventilator’s squeaky little wheels and the tube under her nose and all, but when she told me she doesn’t like the beach because its
too windy
?”

“You knew right away she wasn’t the woman for you.”

“I bet they have some fine women down there in the Lone Star State.”

In bed that night, Celia’s mind was filled with the decision that hung before her. She had her finances to consider. Schools. The packing and unpacking. That gingerbread house. The question of whether she could stand to live so close to Ty. The question of what would be best for Addie.

“Daddy’s hurt, and he needs us
.
”
She recalled Addie speaking those words at the bus stop the day she’d run away. The breeze had stirred strands of her hair and emotion had glittered in her eyes.
“We have to go to Texas.”

Celia shifted onto her side, then her stomach. Finally, she flipped
onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She’d just made her choice, a realization that caused her pulse to pick up speed.

In the end her decision had had little to do with the gingerbread house and everything to do with the thing she cared about most in the world: her daughter’s well-being. Addie’s contentment was her only goal, and in Holley, Addie would be able to live near Ty. She wouldn’t be split across a country, always missing him.

Celia might come to regret every microfiber of this decision. Probably would, in fact. But there were no guarantees in life. You had to navigate the path the best you could, try to discern what was right, and then hope mightily for the best.

They were going to move to Texas.

C
elia and Addie sat side by side and held hands as their 737 made its final descent into the Dallas–Fort Worth Airport. A bright and cloudless afternoon sky surrounded them. Below, a metropolis waited.

From her middle seat, Celia could see freeways, a cluster of skyscrapers in the distance, tracks of homes, lakes, and brushstrokes of brownish vegetation. No hills or thick swaths of green trees. No bowl-you-over natural beauty. She swallowed a queasy ball of second-guesses and moved her attention to her daughter.

No uncertainty there. A grin stretched Addie’s cheeks as she pressed her forehead against the porthole-style window and devoured the view.

The plane turned, righted itself, turned. The landing gear moved into place with a grind and a thump, then at last they landed with a set of bumps. Addie shot Celia a look of breathless delight. “We’re here!”

“Yes.” Texas. A state famous for barbecue, ranches, the Alamo, and the assassination of JFK.

Addie bounced, buzzed about Ty and Ty’s house and Holley, then returned to gazing out the window.

Celia rested her head against the seat back and let her lids sink
closed. Everything had happened too fast. She’d decided to relocate just ten days ago, ten days that had passed in a blur and left her with a sentimental burn in her throat.

When she’d turned in her notice at work, her boss had immediately promoted the girl who’d been holding the position under Celia’s. Her replacement was so adept that Celia had been asked to stay at her post for only one additional week.

Her boss had assumed she was doing Celia a favor. But in some respects, Celia would have preferred to work longer so that she’d have had more time to say good-bye to the town that had been her home since the age of eighteen.

From halfway across the country and convalescing from a blown-out knee, Ty had organized their relocation at warp speed. He’d had movers at River Run carrying her bed from her apartment before she’d been ready. He’d bought them plane tickets before she’d given final approval to the flight schedule. He’d called and asked Uncle Danny, without her permission, if they could stay with him their last few nights in Corvallis so that the truck with their stuff and the person driving their Prius cross-country would have a head start.

Celia and Addie waited to deplane, then walked through the terminal to a revolving door leading into the baggage claim area. A middle-aged man stood a short distance away. He wore a neat black suit and held a sheet of paper that said
Sweet One
.

Hysterical,
Celia thought darkly.

She and Ty had haggled over the issue of who would pick them up from the airport. Ty’s doctors had forbid him from driving, and Celia had asked Ty not to send his family. The Porters were a large group, strong-willed, and probably not very kindly disposed toward her. In the end, Celia had agreed to let Ty send a driver to meet them at DFW.

She approached the man and gave him an apologetic smile. “I think you might be here for me.”

“Your name, ma’am?”

“Celia Porter.”

His eyes crinkled with good-natured humor. “I am indeed here
for you.” He took their carry-ons and led them toward the automatic doors. When they exited the heavily air-conditioned airport, they walked into greenhouse-humid, furnace-hot outside air. It enveloped Celia with such ghastly power that she cut to a stop and wheezed. Addie looked around, beatific. Their driver continued on.

What
was
this temperature? 115? 150? Hot enough to slow cook a roast, that’s for sure.

Addie took her hand and tugged. “C’mon, Mommy!”

They followed their driver into a covered parking area. Celia had been expecting a simple town car, but the man stopped next to a . . . a stretch limo. Its long white body had been covered at all angles with gaudy cartoon-style artwork depicting broncos, spurs, ten-gallon hats, stars, and footballs. The slogan
Everything’s bigger in Texas
scrolled across the side in cursive. Texas flags whipped from all four corners and longhorns had been mounted on the car’s front, like the masthead of a ship.

Addie giggled.

An embarrassed blush darkened Celia’s cheeks. She’d been on Texas soil for less than thirty minutes, and already she wanted to kill Ty.

“I wish Uncle Danny were here, Mom. He’d like this car.”

“Yes, he probably would.”

“When will he get here?”

“He said he’d be here by your birthday.” Danny had opted to hit the open road and spend several days en route between Oregon and Texas, stopping wherever spontaneity led.

The driver held open the limo’s rear door for them, and Celia had no choice but to bundle Addie into the yee-haw limo and scoot in after her. Was it safe for a child to ride in this thing? The Texasmobile had space for twelve adults, two flat screens, and a bar. She and Addie took the spots at the rear. In the event of a collision, Addie would be thrown forward twenty feet.

“Isn’t this fun? Look at this!” Addie pointed to the carpeted ceiling and the LED lights embedded in it.

Once she’d gotten Addie into her booster and fastened their
seat belts, the car started forward. Air vents pounded Celia’s face and chest with artificially cold air.

What
have I done, moving here?

Addie spent the next hour peppering Celia with questions, sipping ginger ale on the rocks, and flipping TV channels.

Eventually, the city’s sprawl fell away. Fields opened around them, and a good while later they passed Holley’s city limit sign.

Celia’s first impressions: space and flatness. Electrical poles marched down the road, upright and symmetrical. Open, slatted fences enclosed plots of land—some bare, some dotted with horses or cattle. They passed an old clapboard church with a historical placard out front, a few windmills, and a sign advertising a cowboy church held at the Swingin’ S Ranch. Holley’s police station, city hall, and volunteer fire department all shared the same parking lot.

Eventually, the limo hung a left onto a street that felt far more country than residential. Ty didn’t live in a neighborhood of homes so much as a neighborhood of ranches. As the street carried them further from civilization, Celia spotted occasional houses set back amid the dip and roll of trees and acres.

“Are we almost there?” Addie asked for the twentieth time.

“I think so.”

“Is this where Daddy lives?”

“It looks like it. See?” Celia pointed to a mailbox inscribed with
Porter
. They turned onto a paved drive that took them gently uphill. A fenced pasture hugged the road on the right side. The left side had been left to fend for itself. No sign of a house yet.

Inside Celia, nervousness hummed. She’d spoken with Ty often but hadn’t laid eyes on him since his last visit to Corvallis.

She glanced down and smoothed her white peasant shirt. The flat-front turquoise shorts and T-strap sandals she’d chosen to wear with it had seemed presentable when she’d picked them. Now she wasn’t so sure.

A house came into view—big and expensive, with simple landscaping that could have been managed by sprinklers and a mowing crew alone. Too new, in Celia’s opinion, to have much character.
Brown brick covered a majority of the exterior, smooth stucco a minority. Other than the dark wooden posts and buttresses that framed the front entry, there wasn’t much decorative detail about the place and certainly no feminine touches.

Celia and Addie unfolded from the limo into the fist-punching heat. Addie’s hand whispered upward and found Celia’s. Her girl, who’d been so confident, looked to have been stricken by a sudden case of self-consciousness.

The front door opened, and a couple hurried out. Ty’s parents, maybe? They were about the right age. A hearty-looking brunette wearing beige capris, a melon-colored cotton top, and sensible sandals led the charge. A slim cowboy, neat as a pin, followed her.

Celia and Addie walked toward them, tense. These two had reason to dislike her, Celia knew. She only prayed they wouldn’t make their dislike obvious in front of Addie.

“Welcome,” the woman called, waving. “Oh, have we been looking forward to this! John and I’ve been waiting there in the front room all afternoon, thinking you might drive up at any moment, and here you are.” The couple drew within speaking distance. “I’m Nancy, and this is John. We’re Ty’s parents.”

“I’m Celia.” The person who married your son in a twenty-four-hour Las Vegas wedding chapel, then hid your granddaughter from you. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Good to meet you,” John answered, his expression friendly.

The gray streak that ran through the front of Nancy’s hair matched the color of her eyes, eyes that shone with what looked like true affection. She reached out and gave Celia’s upper arm a squeeze. “I’ve been nagging Ty for weeks about wanting to meet you. What a pleasure.”

Celia had no idea how to react in the face of their undeserved grace.

Nancy and John’s attention focused on Addie with fascination, admiration, and tenderness. A shine came into Nancy’s eyes. She placed her hands together and lifted them to cover her chin and mouth.

“This is Addie.” Celia smoothed a hand over her daughter’s hair.

Nancy lowered onto her knees before the girl, bracing her palms on her thighs. She gave Addie a smile of such love-struck joy that the sight of it caused emotion to clutch at Celia’s throat.

“I’m glad you’re here, Addie,” Nancy said. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome.” Addie pushed her teal glasses higher on her nose.

“It makes us so happy.” Nancy reached out for John, twining his hand with hers and bringing him forward. “It makes us both so happy that you and your mom are going to live here.”

“It makes me happy, too.”

“Oh, sweetie. My, oh my, you’re a beautiful girl.”

“Thank you.”

“Ty says that you like princesses. Will you come inside and tell me about them?”

Addie nodded.

They walked up the pathway parade style: Nancy launching into conversation with Addie, John and the driver insisting on pulling the carry-ons.

Like the exterior, the interior of Ty’s house served up the color brown: walnut-hued wood floors, khaki walls, furniture that wasn’t modern or traditional but somewhere in between. It reminded Celia of a pared-down furniture showroom, with no personal element to it.

“Oh!” Nancy pressed a hand to her forehead. “I was supposed to tell Ty the minute ya’ll pulled in. I got so excited I forgot.”

“No problem.”

“He’s not going to be happy with me. He’s been a bear to deal with while he’s been waiting for ya’ll to get here.”

“I’ll go tell him we’ve arrived.”

Nancy explained where to find the master bedroom, then she and John ushered Addie into the kitchen with the promise of a drink and a snack.

A Berber-carpeted hallway on the far side of the foyer took Celia
past what she assumed to be Ty’s home office to a half-opened doorway. Ty’s bedroom. Stopping on the threshold, she peered in. He was reclining on his bed, propped up by pillows against the headboard. He had in earbuds, was reading an issue of
Money
magazine, and was wearing reading glasses. Glasses?

Light from the lamp on his bedside table shifted through his hair and glinted off his sterling watch. He wore a gray T-shirt that said
Under Armour
across the front. Since their high school days, she’d never seen him in anything but jeans, but this afternoon he had on a pair of cargo shorts, likely to make room for the bulky brace on his leg that began at some point beneath the hem of his shorts and continued to below his calf.

He’d focused his attention on the magazine, but he didn’t appear at peace. A troubled groove etched between his brows, and his profile had an air of pained darkness to it.

A rush of treacherous compassion washed over Celia. Ty had always been healthy, handsome, and a little too devil-may-care daring. But in some mysterious way, that was how Ty Porter was meant to exist in the world.

They had their issues. Even so, they’d managed to establish an odd sort of friendship. She was sorry he’d lost his bull riding, which had meant so much to him. Sorry, too, because by the looks of his expression, the leg hurt him mercilessly.

Toughen up, Celia
. She had a lot of tenderness to give to a man some day. She just couldn’t afford to give it to this
particular
man.

She pushed his door open.

Instantly, Ty’s face turned in her direction. Those blue eyes, eyes that could twist a girl’s soul into a knot, focused on her intently. For a long moment he said nothing, and neither did she. The air hung between them, thick, but drawing thinner and thinner.