True Colors (7 page)

“Sadly for you, you’ve missed him, but my Bits and Spurs 4-H Club would
love
to hear a real live veterinarian talk to them.” She turned. “Wouldn’t you, girls?”

A chorus of approval greeted her question.

Luke moved into the group easily, charming the girls as he talked to them about conformation and its importance in choosing a horse. He patiently answered questions until the girls’ mothers began to show up.

At nine o’clock, when the house was quiet again, Vivi Ann grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed him one, saying, “You were a good sport about that.”

“They treat you like a rock star.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

They sat down on the sofa and put their feet up on the coffee table. A log crackled in the fireplace and thudded off the grate, sending a shower of sparks flying.

“You don’t really remember me, do you?” he said. “I waved at you at the gas station last week and you didn’t wave back.”

“I remember you, of course, but I don’t
remember
you. You were the boy who lived next door, my mom’s best friend’s son. I was too busy with horses to spend any time with you. You moved when I was, what, fourteen?”

“About that. All I really remember about you is every time I saw you, you were on that little Welsh pony of yours, running like the wind. And later . . . it was your mom’s quarter horse.”

“I still spend most of my time on Clem, trying to reach Mach 1.”

“How come you never went away to school like your sisters?”

She laughed. “Oh, I went away. I just came right back. Too much beer and too many boys and too few books. Besides, my dad needed me.”

He took a sip of his beer. “My mom figured you’d be here; she even guessed you’d be the 4-H leader.”

“How could she know that?”

“She said you were just like Donna. All heart.”

“That’s nice to hear. I don’t remember Mom as much as I wish I did. What did you need to talk to my dad about?”

“Henry left a message that he wanted to talk to me about using my field. Do you know what that’s about?”

Vivi Ann launched into her idea about the future of Water’s Edge, from the first barrel-racing series to her hopes for team-roping jackpots, then she waited for his response.

“What’s a jackpot, exactly?”

“It’s like a rodeo with just one event, and the teams get more chances to compete. There are several go-rounds, or heats, I guess, and the guys can pair up in different combinations. Fifty guys can make up two hundred teams, or more. It gives everyone more chances to win.”

“It sounds like a good idea.”

“I think it is, if we can pull it all together. It’ll take some money, which Dad doesn’t really have. I’ll get a chance to test it with the barrel-racing series.”

“Well, I’m a new vet in town. I could use some publicity, so how about I donate free vet services for the winner? One hundred and fifty bucks’ worth.”

Vivi Ann had never thought of sponsorship, but now that he’d said it she saw how natural a fit it was. She could get gift certificates from all kinds of local vendors to supplement her prizes. The feed store, the tack shop, the boot maker. “I’d say that’s an ice-cream-worthy idea. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen.

“Ice cream and beer? Does that go together?”

“Ice cream goes with everything. And thanks to Winona, we’ve got every flavor.” She opened the freezer, revealing at least seven quarts of ice cream.

He looked them over. “Chocolate cherry.”

“Perfect.” She got his flavor and hers and scooped out two bowls. Then they went back into the living room.

“I was right. This beer tastes like crap now.”

She grinned at him. “Don’t worry. The ice cream won’t last long.”

“Will you have another beer with me?”

“Just try to stop me, Doc.”

All that week, while Winona saw clients and read contracts, she thought about the future of Water’s Edge. As much as she wanted to dismiss Vivi Ann’s idea out of hand, she couldn’t quite do it. Neither, however, could she embrace it, and on top of all of that indecision lay the irritating fact that
she
hadn’t come up with the idea. In many ways, it should have been obvious. Finally, at eight o’clock in the evening she gave up and drove over to the ranch.

Knocking once, she went into the quiet house. A lamp in the kitchen was on; another one in the living room cast light on the plaid, skirted sofa and wagon wheel coffee table. She moved forward, crossed the honeyed oak floor, and stepped onto the oval blue rag rug that had been in this room for the whole of her life. “Dad?”

She heard the rattling of ice and saw him in his study, staring out across the backyard to the purple and black Canal beyond. She’d expected to find him there; it was where he always stood when he was unhappy. For the entire first year after Mom’s death, he’d practically been rooted to that very spot. Only Vivi Ann, who’d never been afraid to take his hand and tug, had ever been able to make him move.

“Dad?”

He took a sip of his bourbon, and without turning said, “You come to tell me what to do with my own land?”

She knew right then how this would play out. He’d made his mind up and chosen Vivi Ann—again. Big surprise. Now Winona could either get on board or be shut out. It was an easy decision. “I’ve got money in the bank. It’s probably enough for the steers and a bigger tractor. The chutes don’t cost that much. Materials, mostly. We’ve got plenty of friends who’d be happy to help us build them.”

He turned slowly to face her. “You want me to take your money?”

She couldn’t tell if she’d touched him or offended him. Or maybe both. “Water’s Edge is all of us, Dad.”

She waited for him to answer, say something, anything, but he just stood there. It was one of a thousand times in her life she wished she knew him better. “At the very least, I can help. I can manage the finances, pay the bills. And I’ll do the hiring. Vivi Ann makes the worst hiring choices I’ve ever seen. That Travis Kitt is a joke . . . and people in town are talking about how stupid it was to hire him.”

“That’s what they’re sayin’?”

Winona nodded. “About the money—”

He gave her a hard look; there was something behind his eyes, a darkness that could mean anything—regret, sadness, anger. She didn’t know, had never known, how to read his face. It was something Mom would have done someday, defined him for them, put him in some kind of context. Without that lesson, they had all been left in murky water, and Winona most of all. Before she could guard against it, worry tightened her stomach. She couldn’t help thinking that she’d been wrong to offer her money to him.

“I ain’t gonna take money from my daughter.”

“But—”

“Go talk to Luke. He’ll let us run steers on his land. See what he wants to charge us. And hire someone who’ll stay. Make sure he knows his way around horses.”

Before she could even come up with an answer, he was leaving her, just walking away.

He hadn’t even thanked her for the offer.

A week later, on a cold gray day, Winona took her place at the end of the dining room table, seating herself in the chair that had once belonged to her mother. Aurora sat on the left side of the table, and Vivi Ann was on the right side.

Her father sat at the other end, his face still dusty from the day’s work, his hair damp and flattened to his forehead by the hat that now hung on a hook by the front door. Only someone like Winona, who’d made a habit of studying his face for the slightest change or emotion, would have noticed the intensity of his gaze. She wasn’t sure that he really wanted to go forward with Vivi Ann’s plan, but he’d made up his mind, gone public with the news, so there was no way he’d back out. All that was left for Winona now was to protect him and his land to the best of her ability.

“Okay,” Winona said. “I’ve gone over all the loan documents and the finances. The good news is that it didn’t cost as much to get things started as we’d originally thought. All in all, we should be good borrowing fifty thousand dollars.” She slid the paperwork toward her father. “The loan is collateralized by this property. If the monthly payments aren’t made in a timely fashion the bank has the right to accelerate the note, demand full payment, and if none is forthcoming, begin foreclosure proceedings.”

No one spoke, so Winona pushed another piece of paper toward him. “That’s what you and Vivi Ann will need to generate in income to break even every month. If you’d like, I can act as financial manager for the first year or so. Pay the bills, watch expenses. That kind of thing. And, of course, I’ll hire a full-time hand to help out around here.” She glanced pointedly at Vivi Ann, then at her father. “I’ll figure out a way to make sure he stays awhile.”

“Thank God,” Vivi Ann said, laughing. “We all know I suck at hiring.”

Dad grunted something unintelligible and got up from the table. Without looking back, he headed into his study and closed the door behind him.

Winona sat there, irritated that once again she’d let herself expect something from him. Gratitude at the very least.

“Don’t worry about Dad,” Aurora said. “You did a wonderful job. We see that, don’t we, Vivi?”

“A fabulous job. Really,” Vivi Ann agreed. “He’s just scared. I say we celebrate with a little ice cream.” She got up and hurried over to the kitchen. Claiming her favorite flavor, she went out to the porch.

Winona and Aurora followed her. Aurora picked her favorite—pralines and cream—and got two spoons.

Winona’s favorite flavor wasn’t there, so she took a pint of rocky road out onto the porch and stood with her sisters. They’d done this dozens of times over the years, come together on the porch, eating ice cream, and talking. “Hey, who ate my chocolate cherry?” she asked.

Vivi Ann answered, “Luke Connelly dropped by. I didn’t even recognize him. He looked so different. Way cuter than I remember.”

Aurora threw Winona a sharp look.

“What did he want?” Winona asked, hoping she sounded casual.

“To see Dad. The poor guy came during my 4-H meeting, so I made him talk to the girls. He was cool about it, though.” Vivi Ann took another bite of ice cream and said, “He asked me out.”

Winona knew she should just stand there and pretend it didn’t hurt. It was what she’d always done around Vivi Ann, but this time she couldn’t manage the pretense. “I gotta go. I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow . . . lots of papers to hear. Read. I meant read.”

“Me, too,” Aurora said. She wrapped an arm around Winona and led her down the porch steps toward their two cars. If Vivi Ann noticed anything odd in their behavior, she didn’t remark on it; instead, she called out a goodbye and carried the ice-cream containers back into the house.

As soon as the door banged shut, Aurora turned to Winona. “Are you going to tell her or am I?”

“Tell her what?”

“Don’t insult me. You have to tell Vivi Ann you’re interested in Luke.”

“And make myself look even more pathetic? No, thank you. I
knew
he wouldn’t want me. Why did I let myself think otherwise? Who would want the fat girl when Michelle Pfeiffer is standing right there?”

“Tell Vivi Ann. She’ll break the date and never make another one.”

Winona could almost taste the humiliation of such a conversation; it would be bitter and sour at the same time, like a lime gone bad. “No way. Besides, Vivi Ann goes through men like I go through Post-it notes. Luke is way too quiet for her; you know she has a wild streak when it comes to men. It won’t last long.”

“You can’t count on that. You have to tell her.”

“No. And you have to promise not to say anything, either. I’d be mortified if Luke knew how I felt. Obviously he doesn’t feel the same way.” At Aurora’s unconvinced look, Winona said, “Promise me.” She knew that Aurora didn’t make a promise lightly, and once made, she kept it.

“I’m not going to say anything. It’s your life and you’re a grown woman . . . but you’re making a Godzilla mistake here. You’ve always had a chip on your shoulder about Vivi. This could turn it into a boulder. And it’s not fair to Vivi, because she doesn’t know a thing about it. She’d never hurt you if she knew.”

“Promise me.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Win.”

“Promise me.”

“Oh, damn it, okay. I promise. And I won’t say another word about it. Except I have a bad feeling about this. You’re making a mistake.”

“Thank God you didn’t say anything,” Winona said grimly. “Now let’s go home.”

In late February and March, rain pelted Oyster Shores. Mud oozed up through the pastures where the horses stood and pooled in brown bogs. Silver streams formed overnight, rushing in gullies on either side of the driveway. The poor purple crocuses that dared to peek up from the mud were soon pounded down by the rain.

The weather matched Winona’s mood. Not perfectly, of course. A precise reflection of her emotions would have been a bank of swollen charcoal clouds gathering for a coming storm, but still it was a mirror. So much so that in April, when the sky caught its breath for a few moments and the pale, watery sun came out from its hiding place, she found herself missing the rain. The golden sun pissed her off.

The beautiful plum trees on Viewcrest burst into bloom, and all throughout her garden she saw signs of new life. The velvet-green start of tulips, the first lime-green buds on the tree branches, a row of butter-yellow daffodils. It was a daily reminder that the seasons were changing, that the steel-gray winter was giving way to a bright and shiny spring. Usually Winona loved this season of flowers, when pink blossoms floated through her yard like cotton candy bits, layering the ground, but this year time was not her friend. This year time was measured by the days Vivi Ann spent with Luke.

They had been together for almost three months now, and sometimes, when Winona lay in her lonely bed at night, she found herself counting the days Vivi Ann had stolen from her. Saturday nights at the Outlaw Tavern, dancing with Luke; Sunday mornings after church; evenings around the house, while Dad was there. Winona wasn’t stupid, nor was she mentally ill. She knew these imagined moments had never belonged to her, that Vivi Ann had in fact stolen nothing, but still she felt cheated. Every day she woke thinking,
This will be the day she dumps him,
and she conjured scenarios in her mind to follow: how Winona would comfort him, hold his hand, and let him talk, how he’d finally turn to her and see the truth and be saved by it.