Night Prey (13 page)

“I understand.” The anxiety he saw in her expression tore at his gut. But he would not manipulate the situation. This had to be Jenna's decision.

Richard passed by a window. Jenna took in a breath.

“I spent a lot of my life focusing on what I didn't
have, a dad. I couldn't see that I had cool grandparents who loved me. I always thought what you and your father had was pretty special.”

“My dad is special. He can be…wonderful.” She pressed her lips together then turned to face him. “Keith, you just don't know the whole story.”

“Try me.” Was she ready to share?

She stared at the ground for a long moment, then tilted her head and blurted out, “My father has a drinking problem. Last year, it got so bad that he ended up in the emergency room.” Her voice cracked. “I will not watch my father commit slow suicide. I have to keep myself healthy and not get caught up in his craziness. It hurts too much.”

“What if he stopped drinking?”

“That has happened a bazillion times. He always goes back to it. I can't live through that cycle of becoming hopeful only to have that hope crushed again. If that makes me the world's worst daughter, then so be it.”

“I would never think that about you. I can see how much you love your dad. And sometimes love means being tough.”

She studied him for a moment. Her expression registered surprise, as if she hadn't expected him to say what he had said. Her eyes glazed. “That's what makes it so hard. If he was just a big fat jerk, I could walk away. I would have moved somewhere else after college.”

He laced his fingers in hers.

“I do care about him.” Strength returned to her voice.

“You'll know when the time is right.”

“I think it is today.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “Will you be the one to knock on the door?”

“Sure.”

He led her across the street, and as he walked, each step was a prayer that he hadn't been out of line and made her feel pushed to do this. Time apart from someone with a drinking problem could be a positive thing for everyone involved, especially if it led to reconciliation. It had taken him twelve years to come back to his grandparents. He prayed that the outcome would be good for Jenna too. Her hand tensed in his when he lifted his free hand to knock on the door.

They waited for what seemed like an eternity. Footsteps crescendoed toward the door. Jenna squared her shoulders and straightened her spine.

The door swung open.

H
er father's eyes widened when he opened the door.

Jenna planted her feet and fought the urge to run away. Her heart hammered in her chest. As if sensing her anxiety, Keith leaned closer to her.

The memory of the last time her father was in the hospital hit her like a punch to the stomach. As he lay beneath the blue hospital blanket, his skin had been almost yellow. Even in his sleep, his hands had been palsied. The words of the nurse on duty floated back into her head. “If your father doesn't stop drinking, he'll be dead in six months. He's done so much damage to his body already.”

The warning echoed through her brain as she studied her father standing in the doorway. In the past year, Richard's skin had lost its sallow quality. He looked like he was getting a little sun. His eyes were bright and clear.

He said her name. “Jenna.” He offered Keith a nod of recognition.

His voice pierced through her. Like an intense gust of wind, all the years of pain and secrecy hit her full
force. If it hadn't been for Keith standing beside her, she would have turned around and walked away.

Keith cleared his throat. “Mr. Murphy, we thought we would come over and say hello.”

Jenna almost laughed at the understatement. The need to laugh rose from nervousness. Keith spoke to her dad like they were old friends, which didn't make any sense. Maybe they had passed each other on the street and exchanged small talk, but she doubted they'd done any more than that. Keith hadn't been back in town that long.

Richard angled to one side. “You can do more than say hello.”

They stepped inside. Bird cages containing finches and shelves of books filled the living room. The worn leather chair with the stack of novels beside it was still situated so the sun would warm it in the early morning. Her father had kept her papasan chair where she used to curl up to read. The plaid throw she covered herself with in the winter was flung over the chair as if he expected her to come home at any time.

The grandfather clock ticked away the seconds, punctuated with the chirping of the birds. The smooth voice of Frank Sinatra spilled from the radio in the kitchen. Her dad had always liked the Rat Pack crooners.

Jenna pointed toward one of the cages. “You've got a robin?” All the other birds were the domesticated species he had always had.

“Yes, that little girl who lives off Madison Street brought him to me. He got caught in some mesh that was put over a cherry tree to keep the birds from eating them.”

She pointed to a cage that held a turtle dove. “Where is Maurice?”

Richard walked the few feet to the cage, opened the door and let the bird step onto his hand.

He brought the turtle dove over to Jenna. Her father cooed at the gray white bird. “I am afraid Maurice didn't make it through the winter.” He tilted his hand.

Without thinking, Jenna lifted her arm, allowing the bird to transfer to her hand. “So Maureen is all by herself now.” The thought of the turtle dove losing her lifelong partner caused a sadness to swell in her heart. The sorrow was so intense; she knew it wasn't just about the death of the bird. The bird fluttered its wings. Jenna's throat constricted.

Her father stood close.

“You look good, Dad.” She had not intended to whittle away the time with small talk, but what really needed to be said was so difficult. Everything they were saying was coming out in code.

Her father took a step back and blurted, “I haven't had a drink in almost a year.”

Jenna glanced toward Keith. “How did you know?”

Keith looked at Richard, who nodded. “I have been sober for twelve years, but every once in a while, I still need a meeting.”

Had her father really joined AA? And stayed sober for a year? This was different than the other times. At most, his past sobriety lasted a week. A small seed of hope budded inside Jenna. She looked back at her father. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I figured you would come to me when you were ready.” Richard held his hand out for the dove. “I didn't
want to hurt you again. I saw that look in your eyes in the hospital.”

There had been harsh words between them. Guilt had fueled much of her anger that night. If she had not kept his addiction a secret, thinking she was somehow protecting her father for so many years, maybe it wouldn't have gone this far. After a year apart, she understood that the responsibility to change was her father's.

The time apart had been good for both of them. All the anger she had wrestled with a year ago had dissipated.

He returned the bird to her cage. “Things are going so much better now.” A sparkle flashed through his eyes and he raised his finger. “I want to show you something.” He left the room, feet padding softly on the carpet.

Jenna mouthed a
thank you
toward Keith. Whatever the future held for them, Keith's gentle urging had led her to discover the change in her father.

Richard returned holding a stack of typed pages. “I'm writing again. My novel.”

Her father hadn't written in years. When she was little, he had talked of writing a book. He would work on it in fits and starts and then Jenna would find the pages in the trash can or the kindling box. After that, she would catch her father flipping through photo albums, staring at pictures of her mother, usually with a drink in his hand.

“I even have a publisher who is interested.”

“Daddy, that is wonderful.” All of this was different. He wasn't trying to quit on his own. He was going to meetings. He was taking it seriously. And he'd done it
for her. The tiny seed of hope inside her budded and pushed through the fragile earth.

“Some afternoon when you have time, I would love for us to talk through what I have written.” He gripped the manuscript as excitement entered his voice.

“I'm not an editor or anything.” Her father's enthusiasm made her smile.

“But you are a reader. You know a good story. I value your opinion.”

The clock struck midnight. “You have to get to bed, don't you?”

Richard set the manuscript on a table. He grabbed her hand but then pulled away as though he had been too impulsive.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I will come by the next time I am in town.”

“I'll make a big pot of tea.”

Her father sounded hopeful, too. Maybe things could be repaired. That night in the ER, she had let go of her father, left him to die. She had felt guilt over that decision, guilt that came out in anger. In retrospect, they had been like two drowning people trying to save each other. Now they had a life preserver between them.

Richard held out a hand for Keith to shake. Keith pulled the older man into a back-slapping hug.

As they stepped outside, Jenna knew she had to be realistic. This time was different, but she still needed to be cautious about imagining a life with a sober father. She looked at Keith. He really was a different person.

The wild seventeen-year-old kid who had broken her heart and frightened her so much was gone. They crossed the street angling toward Keith's truck.

Jenna opened the passenger side door. “So did you totally give up on rock climbing when you left twelve years ago?”

Keith got into the cab and stuck the key in the ignition. “Pretty much, but I'd start it up again with you.”

His smile sent shock waves through her. “You're the only person I trust to belay me.”

Keith cranked the gear shift and hit his signal before pulling out into the street.

“I don't think I even have any gear still.” She had gotten rid of everything that reminded her of Keith. She hadn't been climbing in twelve years. “I'd have to buy some.”

His face glowed with affection. “We're both a little out of practice. I'm just starting to get some strength back in my arms.”

Keith drove Jenna back to her house with the promise of bringing her car by later before he went out with his grandfather to spot cattle. Even though her head still hurt, Jenna felt lightness in her step.

She was okay with the kiss from Keith. She wasn't keeping secrets from him anymore. She was at a place of new beginning with her father. As she wandered to her house to get some sleep, Jenna found herself hoping for more kisses from Keith.

 

Keith turned slowly and stared down the path at his grandfather. The old man kept up pretty well. Keith remembered being a teenager and hiking this mountain with Gramps. Then, he was the one who had been challenged by his grandfather's huge strides.

Norman King peered out from beneath the rim of
his weathered cowboy hat. “Don't go stopping on my account. We're burning daylight.” Keith lifted his head and laughed, knowing they had hours before sunset.

Keith took the final few strides to the summit. They were nearly to the top of Cascade Mountain, the highest point on the ranch which provided a panoramic view of the valley. If they couldn't spot the unaccounted for cows from here, the cows were really lost, and they'd have to hire out a search plane or helicopter.

Summer on a ranch was mostly about upkeep and repair. The cows were turned loose to forage for themselves on the abundant grass. Once the weather grew colder, the cows would be brought in and fed hay until they were ready to sell and ship to the Midwest for fattening in November. February and March were the busiest months because the cows they kept would be calving. Depending on where he found a job, he hoped to at least get back to help Gramps with the calving.

Keith took in a deep breath of thin mountain air. A marine friend had called him with a lead on an EMT position in Denver. The job would provide some additional support while he went to college on the G.I. bill. The summer had done the healing he had hoped for. Leaving had always been the plan. What he hadn't anticipated was a renewal of his feelings for Jenna. He still wasn't sure what to do about that. She loved working at the center and things had been patched up with her dad. For sure, she wouldn't be open to moving. Long distance relationships usually fell apart.

Keith put the binoculars to his face, searching for the moving black dots that were the missing Angus. When he had enlisted and been deployed, his ability to
identify objects at a distance had turned out to be an asset in the desert. Because most people were used to being surrounded by buildings, their eyes were trained to see only short distances.

“Spot anything?” His grandfather came and stood beside him, huffing for air.

“Not yet.” He handed over the binoculars to the older man. “You want to take a turn, eagle eyes?”

Norman lifted the binoculars, peering at one spot, turning twenty degrees and studying another area on the landscape. “Two of them at twelve o'clock.” With a look of triumph, he handed the binoculars to Keith.

Keith focused the binoculars on the place where his grandfather had just looked. He stared until two distinct black dots separated out from their surroundings. “Well, how do you like those apples.”

“The old man still has it, huh?” Norman slapped his grandson on the back. “Think they'll be okay down there?”

“They will be all right. There is a water hole over there.”

“Small one. Might be dried up. We'll have to check it.” His grandfather grew serious. “Keith, we sure have liked having you here this summer.”

Keith pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. “You have no idea what it has meant to me.”

Norman stroked his chin. “I can still wrestle a calf to the ground as fast as a man half my age.” His bushy eyebrows shot up. “You know that.”

“Sure.”

“But just because I can doesn't mean I should. Etta
would like to spend some time down in Arizona with her sister. The winters get kind of hard and long for her.”

“Wouldn't you go a little crazy with nothing to do but sit in the sun?” He couldn't picture his grandfather in a Hawaiian shirt and white shoes and black tube socks.

“This isn't about me. It's about Etta. She's lived through all these winters without complaint.”

His willingness to sacrifice for his wife was a testament to why their marriage had lasted so long. Keith had a feeling where the conversation was leading. “That would mean you would need someone to watch the ranch for you over the winter.”

“Not watch. Run, yearlong. You're my only grandkid. After I'm gone to heaven, this place would be yours.”

A lump formed in Keith's throat. “Gramps.”

“That Peter Hickman has offered to buy it, but I don't like the idea of selling it off to a stranger. I want to be able to come back to the place and help out. I'd rather put it in more trustworthy hands.” He cupped his hands on Keith's shoulder and squeezed it tight. “I know that wasn't what you planned. Take some time to think about it.”

Keith's mind spun with what the offer meant. He couldn't imagine any better way to make a living. Ranching brought him a contentment he wasn't sure he could find anywhere else. Only one part of the picture was unclear. Jenna. They had both been operating on the assumption that he would be leaving at the end of summer. How would she feel about him if she knew he was going to stay around?

“Yes, I do need some time to think about it.”

“We still have three unaccounted for heifers.” Norman handed him the binoculars. “Earn your keep.”

Keith turned toward the east, studying the lay of the land without the binoculars. In the distance, he could see Craig Smith's water tower and the road leading into Craig's property. “Where's the boundary for your property again?” Not that cows paid attention to any boundaries. Much of the ranch was unfenced. If the cows had wandered onto Craig's land and were eating his grass, it was Craig's responsibility to call and let them know.

Norman leaned close to Keith and pointed along a river and some lower hills. The vastness of the ranch had always taken Keith's breath away. He drew up the binoculars and scanned along the border between the two ranches.