The Cowboy's Homecoming (14 page)

“Not this time.” She looked away from the car, back to the church and to the people she'd known all of her life. “No, I'm not going to feel guilty for what he did.”

She'd done that too many times in the past. She'd changed her mind, told the officer she wasn't pressing charges. Her husband was sorry. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Now, remembering, her heart shook. She had been the victim but each time the police came, and he had made her feel as if she deserved the abuse. She had deserved the bruises.

In the end, the broken arm.

But she hadn't deserved it. She had been a victim who didn't know how to walk away. She had believed him when he told her the abuse was her fault.

“He has a problem.” She was proud of herself for being able to make that statement. She knew it had to be a huge first step in being strong and moving on with her life.

Step two would be convincing herself that someday someone could love her without seeing all of her flaws. Eight years of being told no one else would want her had left scars far deeper than anything he could have put on her body.

She smiled up at her brother. “I'm worth more than that.”

Jason's strong arms wrapped around her in a giant brother-hug. “I'm glad to hear you say that.”

“Thank you for all the times you tried to convince me to leave.”

“I'm your brother, I wanted to do more.”

“You gave me the way out.”

“I guess I would have done anything to get you back home safe.”

She nodded and wiped at her eyes. Their dad was still talking to the deputy. He walked away and joined them, his smile a little fierce. He hugged Beth tight, holding her against him in a choking hug that buried her face against his shoulder.

“Dad. Can't. Breathe.”

His laugh was shaky and he let her go. “I'm glad we're all together.”

“Me, too.” Beth glanced toward the RV and the empty parking space. Jeremy's truck was gone. He was gone.

“He left a few minutes ago.” Jason sighed. “Let's get back to this picnic. Our town could use a little bit of a break. So could we.”

“Vera brought a dozen pies.” Buck Bradshaw had bought the pies. Beth would keep that secret for her dad. He often did little things for people in the community and rarely did anyone find out that he was the person responsible.

When Camp Hope had hit a financial snag last year, her dad had been a factor in keeping the camp going. He said it was a good thing to give kids a place to go in the summer.

It all felt a little empty when she thought about Jeremy leaving the picnic. When she thought about him leaving at all.

“Do you think he feels guilty?”

Jason stopped walking. “Chance?”

“No, Jeremy. Do you think it bothers him to watch people enjoying the church when he's planning to knock it down in a matter of days?”

Jason shrugged. “I don't know. I guess it would bother him. Or maybe he's changed his mind.”

“I don't think he has.” But last night she'd given him the note and he hadn't been as happy as she would have thought.

An old sedan pulled in the parking lot. Jason raised a hand in greeting. “I'm going to help Etta. She went home for some clothing Alyson's mom sent to help out.”

“That's nice of her. How's Alyson feeling?”

“Very pregnant.” He grinned. “Want to help me grab this stuff from Etta's car?”

“Sure.” But her mind tripped her up. Because she'd always wanted a baby of her own. She had always wanted to be a wife, a mom. But it was easier to help Jason than to think about the future, or about Jeremy walking away. Jeremy shouldn't be in her dreams of forever. But she had a hard time erasing those thoughts.

J
eremy left Tim Cooper's on Monday and drove down the narrow paved road to the trailer he'd grown up in. He'd always known the truth about this place and his upbringing, but seeing it after being at the Cooper ranch made it seem all the smaller, made his childhood a little sketchier.

He walked into the dingy single-wide that had been his home for the first eighteen years of his life and he let out a deep breath, whistling as he looked around. He should have come sooner. He'd just been putting off the inevitable.

Ten feet wide, fifty feet long. Two bedrooms and a bathroom with a floor that sagged. He stood in the tiny living room and tried hard not to go back in time, to sleeping on that old, plaid sofa every night.

He wasn't here for a trip down memory lane, he was here to pack. He'd met with his mother's doctor that morning and the nursing home director. She wouldn't be returning home.

He glanced around the room with the fake wood paneling and carpet from the 1970s. Maybe one of the
families that had lost their home could use this place until theirs was repaired. He'd talk to Wyatt.

As much as he didn't want to take a trip back, the trailer did it for him. He walked down the narrow hall, past the room where Elise had slept. It wasn't any bigger than his walk-in closet. It had room for a twin bed and a dresser, but not much else.

It should have been easy to put this behind him. He should cowboy up and let it all go. But it wasn't that easy. He could tough it out on the back of a bull, ride through his injuries, but this place held a lifetime of bad memories.

Too much of the past included how this place treated his sister. A guy could pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and let it all be good. A girl, not so easy.

Elise had cried as they stood at the edge of the yard waiting for the bus. She'd cried because she was cold. She'd cried because her jeans were too short. And too many times she'd cried because she was hungry. It hit him deep, because as a kid he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

His mother had been drunkenly oblivious to his little sister's pain.

He slammed his palm against the wall. The first time didn't do it. The second time helped. The sting bit through the skin of his palm, but it didn't lessen his anger with this past. He walked back down the hall and out the front door.

The porch sagged and a couple of the boards were splintered. The handrail had long since fallen off. Jeremy jerked off his hat and swiped his arm across his face. Man, it was hot for so early in the summer. He walked down the steps to his truck. He had boxes from
the convenience store in the back. Not that there was much in this place to pack up.

A truck turned the corner and eased up the road, stopping at his driveway. He shook his head and leaned against the bed of his truck. Beth didn't know how to leave well enough alone.

He grabbed the boxes out of the back of the truck and leaned them against the back tire. Beth pulled in the drive and stopped. She didn't hurry to get out of the truck she'd been driving. One of her dad's old farm trucks. She smiled through the tinted window.

Was she waiting for an invitation?

Yeah, probably. He nodded and she jumped out of the truck. What he didn't get was why in the world did this all get a little easier when she showed up?

“What's up?” She slowed her pace as she got closer, as if she suddenly doubted the decision to stop. Second thoughts. Yeah, that made two of them.

“I need to pack. I guess maybe someone could use a temporary place to stay.”

“That would be nice.” She glanced at the trailer and back at him. “What about your mom?”

“She won't be coming home.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that's the way life is.” He picked up the half dozen boxes and walked toward the trailer. Beth followed, her pace a little quicker to keep up with his.

He slowed.

“I'll help you.” She followed him up the steps.

Jeremy stopped at the screen door, held it open and turned to look at the woman behind him. The memory of Chance going after her flashed through his mind.
That fresh anger pushed the past to the far recesses of his mind. He couldn't change the past.

No reason to dwell there, either. At this point he sure didn't know what the future held.

Beth took a step back and nearly fell backward when her foot hit one of the broken steps. His hand shot out and he pulled her back up.

“Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I'm not sure what I was thinking.”

“Beth, stay.”

He touched her cheek, the place where Chance's hand had connected with soft skin. The blue and green of the bruise had spread out across her cheekbone. She flinched when his fingers touched the area.

Something shook loose inside him. He pulled her close and held her tight. When she relaxed against him, he kissed the top of her head, getting lost in her, in the sweetness of her hands on his arms, the soft scent of her, the way her head fit against his chest.

“I would never hurt you.” Jeremy whispered the promise and he knew it shouldn't matter so much. How did he keep a promise like that when nearly everything he had planned would hurt her in some way?

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Let's get stuff packed.”

With a nod he opened the screen door again. He grabbed the boxes and held the door open for Beth to take that first step into the home where he'd grown up. He hadn't brought anyone here as a kid, not as a teen, not ever. Most kids wouldn't have wanted to come here. Most parents wouldn't have allowed it.

He watched her expression, saw the flicker of emotion in her eyes. He glanced around, seeing what she
saw. The living room and kitchen, dirty dishes still in the sink and empty bottles of booze on the counter. The trash overflowed and flies swarmed.

“Where do we start?”

He smiled. Was that all she had to say? He handed her a box. “I guess we pack up all this junk my mom called her ‘collectibles.'”

“Do you have tape?” Beth grabbed one of the flattened boxes and pulled it into shape.

“In the truck.” He walked to the door. “Thanks for helping.”

“Jobs like this are easier with a friend.”

He nodded and walked out the door. Man, he'd never needed fresh air so badly in his life. He needed space. He stood in the yard and scanned the field, the neighboring farms. He'd lived here his whole life but he'd never seen it like this, as a place he didn't want to run from.

And inside the trailer, Beth was packing up junk from his past. He needed to get his head on straight and remember his plan. It was getting a little easier with the ruling from the historical society in his favor. In a few days the planning and zoning committee would make a decision on the petition, to zone or not zone the property for commercial use.

Too bad he no longer knew what his plan was. Yeah, the church, the business; but Beth had changed everything, right down to his old resentments that had driven him to bring that dozer to Dawson. Revenge wasn't quite as sweet as he'd once thought it would be, back when it was all about him.

He kind of missed the old Jeremy, the one who knew how to let go and not take relationships too seriously.

Beth was the type of woman a guy married, had babies with, grew old with. She'd already been hurt. She deserved a lot better than a guy with his kind of baggage. That was one thing her dad had been right about. When he'd caught him by the ear that summer at the rodeo ground, he'd told Jeremy that Beth was worth way more than some kid who didn't have squat to his name.

Jeremy wasn't that kid anymore. He jerked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

The tape gun was in his truck. When he walked into the living room of the trailer a few minutes later, Beth had taken pictures off the walls. He glanced at the school pictures in cheap frames and shook his head. He'd always been surprised that his mom bought the school pictures each year and framed them.

“This is you when you were ten.” Beth held up one of the photographs and smiled. “I remember that black eye.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He'd been fighting with Jackson Cooper at church. Tim had pulled them apart and given them both a sound talking-to. He still remembered being a scrawny kid looking up at Tim Cooper with that eye swelling shut and Tim seeming like the biggest man in the world. That's what he thought back then.

He'd wanted a dad real bad.

“Your mom has all of your school pictures.”

Jeremy nodded and reached for one of the boxes and the tape gun. “Yeah, she did that. She always tried to dress us up that one day. And that year she tried to convince me to put makeup on my eye. I didn't.”

“Of course you didn't.”

He took the picture from her hands and set it down. He didn't want to think about that day and his mother telling him not to fight with Jackson. Because she'd known that Jackson was his brother. He grabbed newspaper and wrapped the picture.

“Was your mom always…” Beth bit down on her bottom lip and one shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I'm sorry.”

“Beth, I'm thirty years old, not fifteen. Yeah, there are memories here, but I'm not a little boy who needs Band-Aids and lollipops. My mom is an alcoholic. And yeah, most of our lives she was drunk.”

“But our mothers were friends in school.”

“Yeah, they were. I think my mom was okay as a kid. She was raised by an aunt. But for some reason her aunt left when my mom turned about fifteen.”

And then her high school boyfriend had been killed in a car accident.

Life hadn't been easy for Janie Hightree. She'd done her best to pass that legacy on to her kids, to keep the cycle going. He and Elise had pulled it together somehow, some way. He hadn't thought about it before, how they'd survived and actually done something with their lives.

 

Beth stopped asking questions. Jeremy grabbed a box and walked into the kitchen. He looked around and shook his head. She understood why. The room was a disaster. Dishes in the sink, empty bottles and cans, the trash overflowed and flies swarmed. The place had a stench worse than any barn she'd ever been in. It smelled more like the county landfill.

“I think the only way to deal with this mess is to
throw it all in the trash.” He shuffled through cabinets and pulled out a box of trash bags.

Beth couldn't agree more.

“You know, I don't really need help. This is more than you expected and I really can do it alone.”

Beth wrapped another photograph and placed it in the box. She walked into the tiny kitchen and pictured him there, a boy trying to take care of a mom and a little sister. As a teenager, even from the time he was eleven or twelve, he was always working odd jobs around town. Vera had put him to work washing dishes. Buck had hired him to clean stalls in exchange for riding lessons. Until Beth had been caught making eyes at him, and then he'd been sent packing.

She smiled, remembering him in that barn, faded jeans, worn-out boots and a threadbare T-shirt. She hadn't seen any of that. She'd seen a smile that set butterflies loose in her stomach and eyes that always looked deep into hers, as if he really cared what she had to say.

Even then he'd been different. He'd been two people—the tough kid and the sweet guy. Now he was the man who made her forget fear, forget all of those years thinking she wasn't worth anything.

And he was the man most likely to hurt her.

“I don't mind helping. I can even wash the dishes.”

“No, these are going in the trash.” He had already filled one garbage bag.

“What about the bedrooms?”

“There are two. Elise's room is cleaned out. Mom probably sold what she could, if there was anything to sell.”

“And your mom's room?”

“More stuff to throw away. I went to the store the other day and bought new clothes for her to wear. The stuff in there isn't worth taking to her or giving away.”

“So pack it all in garbage bags unless we find something worth keeping?”

He stopped stuffing trash into the bag. “There won't be anything worth keeping.”

Okay, she knew when to let it go. She grabbed a trash bag and headed for the back of the trailer. The floor had weak spots that sagged and the paneled walls were dingy and stained by years of dust and nicotine. The bedroom at the end of the hall was a little bigger than the first, but not enough to count. A double mattress on a frame was pushed against one wall, the sheets a jumbled mess, an old quilt thrown over the whole mess. The closet was full of old housedresses, worn polyester pants and shirts.

The dresser held more of the same. The drawers didn't pull out straight and the top of the dresser was covered with books, papers and old dust collectors that had obviously done their “dust collecting” for years. She hated to throw away the figurines, thinking that at one time they had meant something to Janie Hightree.

As adamant as Jeremy was that it should all be thrown away, she wondered if Elise would feel the same way. These were her mother's few possessions. Beth grabbed an old shirt and dusted a few of the figurines. One was porcelain and dated. Had Janie kept it for a reason?

She placed it in a box and as she dusted, she added several more to the collection. Ten minutes later she was shoving clothes into a trash bag when booted footsteps came down the hall. She glanced toward the door
as Jeremy walked into the room. He walked over to the box and picked up one of the figurines.

“What's this?”

Beth shoved the last of the clothes into the bag and pulled it closed.

“I don't know, I guess I just thought that Elise might feel differently. She might want some of these. Or perhaps you could put them in your mom's room.”

Jeremy exhaled a sigh and put the figurine back in the box. He shook his head. “I don't really want that and it won't mean anything to Elise.”