Mom in the Middle (16 page)

“As a matter of fact there is, but it'll be later this afternoon. Just have a seat, put your feet up and enjoy some more lemonade. Leah knows we'll be out of pocket for a bit, but she's got everything under control.”

“What's wrong, Guy?” Abby's pressed for details. “My legs may have atrophied but I assure you my brain hasn't. Tell me what's troubling you. Let me help.” As always, before she even heard the problem, Sarah Reagan was certain she had the answer.

Guy's eyes narrowed while he appeared to think it over. He was so kind to give the impression he was taking the offer seriously but no way would he do it. Abby was certain of it.

A smile spread across the charming face of the man she'd come to love desperately. With his right hand he snapped his fingers and then pointed.

“You're on, Mrs. Reagan. Let's go for a ride.”

A
t three o'clock, Guy stood atop the flatbed of an H&H delivery truck that had been called into service for the day to haul a portable public address system.

“An interesting coincidence has developed that we think everyone will enjoy. We're going to move the final hours of our Employee Appreciation Day activities over to the Luedecke Arena where some of your hometown heroes are about to practice their bareback riding, steer wrestling, team roping and barrel racing. There will even be a mutton bustin' for our aspiring little buckaroos to join in the fun. So you folks come cheer on the local cowboys and cowgirls!”

Hoots and hollers went up from the crowd over the prospect of an impromptu rodeo, an event that even the most urban of Texans claim as genetically ingrained culture.

From Guy's vantage point, he had a clear view of Abby. He watched her eyes grow round with a
mixture of emotions before she looked across the crowd and up into his face. Knowing it had been years since she'd had the freedom and finances to enjoy her sport made the sad smile that flitted across her very kissable lips easy to decipher. As he watched, the light seemed to dawn in her eyes. She shook her head, bent to pick up Dillon and then turned away.

If she knew he'd cooked up the whole scheme as a gift to her, would she view the opportunity to ride as a personal challenge or just one more stressor in her life? And if she agreed to participate, would it be because he asked her to do it for him or because she truly had an interest in reconnecting with the wild-at-heart cowboys of her youth?

Youth.

Guy suddenly felt like an old-timer compared to some of these kids. They would take chances and create physical dares as much for bragging rights as for the prize money he'd personally agreed to put up as a silent sponsor for the hastily arranged competition.

“Y'all enjoy the games and rides for a spell longer and then mosey on over to the arena,” he drawled as best he could.

During the laughter and enthusiastic applause, Guy turned the mic over to Casey. He climbed down the makeshift steps and strode toward the Reagan clan where Abby's back remained turned. She'd squatted, ostensibly too busy with the business of shoelaces to notice him.

Shorty's dark eyes glinted with mischief; his mouth twitched with the effort to hold back a wide grin. Guy had never seen Shorty look more pleased.

“She's on to you two.” He wagged a finger at Guy and Sarah. “Claims she won't do it. I got a silver dollar says she will.”

Guy turned to Sarah. “And what do you say, ma'am? Will she do it?”

Sarah had been a huge help, riding to the house with Casey, giving instructions on where to find everything Abby would need if she agreed to mount up and ride. Though the woman hadn't been inside her own house for nearly two months, she'd even agreed to wait in the car so no welcome-home surprises would be spoiled.

“I can't say for sure, but she's her father's daughter. If he says she'll run the pattern, my guess is she will.” Sarah squeezed Shorty's hand and turned adoring eyes on her husband, giving him credit for their child's tenacity. A trait Guy was certain had been passed down from mother to daughter.

“Once Abigail pulls on those smelly old boots and that sweat-stained hat and she gets a look at the two mounts you lined up, I don't see how she can resist.”

“Wish me luck?” He held up both hands, fingers hopefully crossed.

The edges of Sarah's mouth curved upward and she angled her head slightly. From what Abby had
said, that was probably the closest thing to approval her mother ever gave.

“You got it…my boy,” Shorty agreed.

My boy?

The address caught Guy by surprise. He looked from Shorty to Sarah and back again as he swallowed down what felt like a teaspoon of flour in his throat. He opened his mouth so speak, to say
thank you,
but words fled. The ability to express gratitude that always came so easily was a lost art for long moments while he tried to think of something memorable to say.

“Well, Walgreens Wrangler, you gonna stand there all day or go get my little girl atop a quarter horse for the first time in more than five years?”

 

“I can't do it.” Abby's voice gave no clue as to the reason for her refusal. She yanked the tips of Dillon's shoelaces securely, and he was off on sturdy legs, looking for adventure.

“Why?” Guy pleaded. Not that the money mattered, but he'd invested thousands arranging for this “coincidence” and it sounded like she might balk and prove them all wrong.

“I just can't.”

“Are you nervous because you haven't ridden in so long? Are you afraid you might get hurt?”

She gave an adamant shake of her head.

“Are you worried about the horses? Because I went to your Rockin' R friend, Garrett, and asked
him to personally arrange a couple of seasoned barrel horses for you to choose between. He remembered you and was glad to do it.”

She dipped her chin, hid her eyes behind the palm of her right hand. “Oh, Guy, I wish you hadn't gone to all that trouble. Now I'm obligated.”

“Don't feel that way, hon. Won't you just relax and have some fun?”

She held her arms out. “I'm dressed for a picnic, not a rodeo.”

“Objection overruled. With your mother's help, Casey went back to the house and got all your gear. Sarah is so excited to see you ride again.”

Abby's eyes narrowed; the brown depths sparkled with disbelief.

“My mother approved?”

“Of course. She's onboard with everything. And it goes without saying your daddy is, too.”

Abby pressed her lips together, stared hard for several seconds.

“Well, what'll it be, cowgirl? You gonna ride with the big boys or sit on the porch?” He tried for a little Texas levity.

She blinked several times. Exhaled loudly and held her palms aloft in surrender.

He opened his arms, an invitation.

She stepped into them and slid her palms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his chest.

Father, show me how to be what Abby needs most
of all. Right now I think that may just be a good friend, but I want to be so much more. I want to be her everything.

 

Abby listened to the cadence of Guy's heart and bit back what she wanted to say aloud, offering it up in prayer instead.

Lord, You know I've never ridden without Phillip there to support me. Daddy's health kept him away from the dusty arena most of the time and Mother had no interest. At least I never thought she did. All I had was Phillip. Please send me a man one day who wants to be my everything.

“You don't have to do this, Abby. It was just meant to be something fun, something you'd enjoy. If it's not…” His voice rumbled beneath her ear. He held her in the circle of his arms, his large hands lightly stroking the tense muscles in her back. She knew people must be watching, but she had nothing to lose by hugging the man she loved.

“It will be fun. I'm certain of it.” She gave him a quick squeeze, released him from the kind embrace he'd offered and then fluffed her wilting curls.

“We're burnin' daylight, Mr. Hardy. Let's saddle up!”

 

“Y'all give another round of applause for Brittany Gennadopoulos on Beauty. Brittany is our reigning champ with a personal best time of 14.897. Up next
is Brittany's baby sister Monica riding Cricket. Monica, come a runnin'!”

The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers in the Luedecke Arena, a place Abby had raced dozens of times during her high-school career. Applause and cheers echoed in the alleyway where she sat astride one of the finest quarter horses in the state of Texas.

It had been ages since she'd made a practice run, much less a timed competitive ride and never on an animal this fine. A horse knew nothing of judges or subjective opinions. This event was all about cooperation between a mount and rider. A run against the clock.

With butterflies crowding her belly, she stretched her legs, pressed downward on the souls of her beat-up old ropers to stand tall in the stirrups. She leaned from the hips and stroked the neck of Restless, the prize-winning sorrel that Garrett had graciously loaned her.

He had remembered her after all. When they'd shaken hands with Guy looking on, Garrett had held hers too long for comfort and said things most young women would have crash-dieted for a week to hear.

“How could a man forget a little beauty like Abby Reagan? You look just like Goldilocks underneath that Resistol.” He'd boldly flicked one springy curl with the back of his index finger. Abby had felt Guy stand taller, lean closer. Garrett had noticed, too, because he'd wisely withdrawn the offending hand
and hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans before he'd continued.

“Why, I'd have taken a five-second penalty on my best ride if you'd have looked twice at me back then.”

He'd been making most of it up, of course, but it was interesting to see Guy's reaction. He'd squinted in that way that accentuated the character lines around his endearing blue eyes and mimicked a smile. But she could tell from the way his neck had tensed that he'd been clenching his teeth. Her mother had assumed the same facial expression when she'd been forced to attend her daughter's public exhibitions, so Abby knew it well. It was ten percent approval, ten percent veneer, and the other eighty percent was annoyance, plain and simple.

The crowd in the arena cried, “Push! Push! Push!” as the rider broke into the last stretch, spurring her horse hard to bring it home.

Abby shivered with nervous excitement. She was up. Everybody she loved was out there in the grandstand, waiting for her.

Everybody but Phillip.

He'd been her champion in all she'd done for as far back as she could remember. And she'd been the same for him. During the years they'd been best friends and for the few months they'd been husband and wife, she'd given Phillip her all. Today would be her last ride dedicated to her first love. And next weekend when she dedicated the playground at New Harvest, she would allow her mourning to come to an end.

It was a time for beginnings. A time for joy.

Time was what she needed most.

If she only had more of it with Guy, she felt certain he would begin to see how much she loved him. He'd shown her with his kindness that he cared. He'd shown her with his kisses that he was interested. But he was a man committed to his career and his family. Was he capable of changing the course he'd set for his life?

More importantly, was he willing?

Restless snorted, shivered his impatience for the open arena and the three barrels that marked the cloverleaf pattern he would run.

Abby put aside all thoughts of spectators and became the partner Restless demanded. She took the lead, began the ritual of kickin' and kissin' that would whip the sorrel into a frenzy as they entered the chute.

“Folks, please help me bring out a young lady who used to be a regular. This is her first ride in a month of Sundays, so give her some encouragement. Let's welcome Abby Reagan Cramer on Restless. Abby, come a runnin'!”

The adrenaline rush hit her full force as the champion barrel horse proved the reason he came with an asking price of forty thousand dollars. She worked the over-under whip attached to the saddle horn and spurred Restless into the arena where they tripped the timer and started the clock.

They took the first barrel with textbook grace. She sat back, grabbed the saddle horn, made the turn and looked for the second barrel. Restless did his job,
charging in the direction his rider looked, responding to the pressure of her spurs, the urgency of the whip. They rounded the second barrel in a cloud of dust, searching for the final barrel, heading for the end of the pattern. The drill was perfect once more, second nature to horse and rider.

Now only the home stretch lay ahead. The arena came alive with cheers.

“Ride hard!”

“Haul out, Abby!”

“Bring it home!”

Abby's breathing was as frantic as her mount's. She was certain her lungs would explode. She leaned forward, pushed hard, whipped Restless to give up all the speed his owner was so proud of. The race to the finish was where the heart of the team came alive. The cowgirl and barrel horse did not disappoint as they crossed the electronic timer.

They'd run a clean pattern! There were no penalties! She looked at the timer. Good enough to keep her in the money if this had been a real competition.

“That was Abby Reagan Cramer on Restless with a mighty fine time of 15.599 seconds. Welcome back, little lady. I believe you wanted to say a few words.”

Breathless with exhilaration, she guided Restless to the announcer's box. She reached a shaking hand to accept the microphone, worried now that she'd made a mistake by asking for this moment in the spotlight.

She scanned the lower level of the grandstand for
the handicapped seating no more than fifty feet away. Her daddy beamed. Her mother smiled brightly.
Really smiled.
Approval was evident in her eyes. Behind them on bleacher seats, Casey and Guy applauded.

 

Guy's pulse had raced right along with Abby, keeping time with the hammering of hooves on the arena floor. He'd never held his breath so tight, clenched his fists so hard, made such a spectacle of himself by cheering so loud. And beside him Casey acted every bit the fool, loving the winning heart behind Abby's effort as much as he had.

He watched her run the tip of her tongue across her lips, saw her chest expand with a deep breath as she raised the mic.

“I won't take long but I need to say thank you to some folks. To the Hearth and Home family for making this day of
dry
fun possible.”

The H&H employees laughed and applauded in agreement.

“To my parents for always finding a way to support me and my dreams even when the way seemed blocked.”