Chapter 4 #2
“It’s not a theory. Don’t patronize me by pretending it is.
I was poking around the library in the inn one night, looking at all the books and some of the paintings and photos they have up.
Can’t help but be a little curious about what the neighbors have been up to, you know,” she tosses in like that somehow covers her nosey nature with a veil of pretext.
“I saw a picture of a girl and her mom. Dressed up in old west-looking outfits in one of those photos they like to take up in the tourist towns. The girl had your eyes. And then I looked at her mom, and she looked just like that girl I saw you with in town one day years ago. An older version of her, to be sure, but her all the same. Asked a few questions about the family when the innkeeper was taking us on a tour. Doing the math, I could guess the daughter woulda been old enough to be yours before you took off.” She looks me over and shakes her head.
“But those eyes were undeniable. Just like you and your mom.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I figured you’d tell me when you wanted.
But I’m getting tired of waiting. You’re on a clock, you know?
I’m not getting any younger, and frankly, I’m ready for the good Lord to take me whenever he’s ready.
These knees are killing me, and this arthritis in my back makes me so cranky any given day that I’m ready for my welcome margarita at the pearly gates whenever he is. ”
“I thought you wanted whiskey? Isn’t that what you told Chase?” I grumble.
“I just like to send him on a mission now and again. Makes him feel important, you know. He’s always been jealous that your dad paid more attention to you than him.”
“I would have been happy to share that kind of attention.” Chase was spared a lot of my father’s wrath, and I’d imagine the fact that he didn’t have my mother’s eyes had a lot to do with it.
“Well, he doesn’t realize how hard you had it.
” She looks me over like she’s assessing me.
“It’s a wonder you turned out so well under all that stress.
I guess that’s how they say diamonds are made, right?
” Her eyes soften, and she offers me a sympathetic smile.
“You’re mine anyway. Better than your grandfather and your father. I’m proud of you, you know?”
“Where’s all this coming from?” I rub my knuckles over my sternum and reach to take another sip of my lemonade to wash down the heartburn of the bad memory-compliment sandwich she’s just handed me.
“I’d rather see this ranch go to you than him or your distant cousins.
I know you’d do right by it, but I have to be fair.
Your grandfather will haunt me all the rest of my days if I just give it over without making you work for it.
” She blames him, but it’s as much her belief as anyone’s.
I suppose her life wouldn’t make much sense if she didn’t believe pain and suffering weren’t a requisite for success.
“I don’t think I can meet the terms of your conditions, Grams. My daughter doesn’t know me yet, and her mother—well, I’m not her favorite person.” That’s the understatement of the year.
“I imagine not, given your disappearing act. Didn’t make any of our best lists with that behavior. I hope you didn’t run when she told you the first time. Stockton or not, she deserved to have your support.”
“I had no idea. If I’d known, I’d have stayed.”
“Well, let it be a lesson to you about running.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So the only way back to your daughter is through getting back in the mother’s good graces then, I assume. Or you planning to fight her for custody?”
“I’m not fighting Aspen Stockton. I’d be outmatched and outgunned.”
“I thought you were friends with the one Stockton boy.” She narrows her eyes. To her, we’re all still boys, meant to listen to our elders and get in line.
“I am.”
“That doesn’t count for anything?”
“Against his own blood? I don’t think so.”
“I thought they counted you as family. Wasn’t that the speech you gave me when you told me you weren’t coming to Christmas dinner anymore as a teenager?
” Her snow-white eyebrow lifts with the memory.
She’d given me grace and understood why I couldn’t pretend even on the holidays anymore after the day Aspen found me in the homestead.
But having her grandson falling in with the rival family on the other side of the mountain still ate at her soul, nonetheless.
“They did.”
“And you are now. By all rights.”
“Her brothers don’t know that, and if they did…” I let the words die on my lips. I don’t know what they would have done. I can guess. Levi might have found forgiveness in his heart. Ramsey, too, under the right circumstances. But Grant was another story entirely.
“They’d put you six feet under like they do all their problems, I imagine.”
“The one time he’d caught me looking at her too long, he’d threatened as much.”
“I don’t expect you’ll let that stop you though.” It’s a directive as much as it is an observation.
“I’d like to be back in their lives. Yes.”
“I understand wanting your daughter. But why would you want that she-devil over someone like Tiffany? Doubt she’s gonna make you a home-cooked meal or clean your house lest she risk breaking a nail or losing one of her dozen diamonds down the sink.
” My grandmother purses her lips in disapproval as if she doesn’t live in the most expensive assisted living facility in the state with a waitstaff that obeys her every whim.
She’d argue she earned it after all her years putting up with the men in this family, and I’d be inclined to agree with her.
But I’d guess Aspen could make a similar argument.
“Like I said, I don’t need a cook or a housekeeper.”
“I suppose she has both if she’s willing to share. But she doesn’t seem like the type.” There’s another look of disapproval before she turns her eyes back on me, bright with concern. “All the challenges you’ve seen in your life, don’t you want a softer place to land?”
It’s a fair question, but I already know the answer.
“She was my softer place. We understood each other.”
“I doubt she’ll have that same kind of understanding now.”
“I’d rather have her mean than anyone else sweet.” I shrug.
I wasn’t going to get into the fact that Aspen’s particular brand of mean only spurred me on.
Because once you finally proved yourself worthy of her trust, she gave with everything she had.
Without question. Her unwavering support when we were kids had saved me a much worse fate than I might have faced otherwise, and it earned her a lifelong pass to be as mean as she liked in my book. My disappearing only justified it.
“You sure about that? I’d guess your grandfather would have said the same thing about me before the wedding. He might not have been so sure after the fact.” My grandmother smirks.
“Absolutely.” I’ve had fifteen long years of drought to be sure, and the last several months to drive it home. I’m a wanderer in the desert, and Aspen’s the only oasis. If I die trying to get back to the water, then at least I’ll know I gave it everything I had.
“Then win her back. If anyone can, I’d put my money on you.” My grandmother’s skepticism turns to support.
“I’m not sure it’s quite that easy.”
“No one said anything about easy, pumpkin. But it’s the difficult things in life that are worth having.”
“I think she’d take offense to you calling her difficult.”
“Well, get her to come here and say it to my face. Or better yet, I can come down there. Help you with convincing her. Sell your best traits like I did with Tiffany. I could bring the girls and make a weekend of it. Betty still goes on about that man who showers outdoors and how cute his sculpted, naked butt was. Maybe they can get him to do an encore.”
“I’ll think on it.” I grin at my grandmother, wondering what the hell she’s even talking about. I’ll have to ask Hazel what kind of shows they’re having at the inn.
When I get to the ranch, I see someone walking from the parking lot to the back of the house on wobbly legs, grasping for the handrail as she starts to stumble.
I squint as I get closer in my truck and see the dark waves of Aspen’s hair down her back.
She takes one uneasy step and then another, almost like she’s drunk.
But it’s still early, and she’s not usually a daytime drinker.
Not unless something’s gone terribly wrong.
I pull into a spot at the back of the house, grabbing my hat and hopping out, hoping I can catch up with her.
But before I can even take two steps out of the truck, she’s tumbling down the steps, spilling onto the pavers on the walkway beneath them.
I run. As fast and as hard as my legs will take me. It’s just a short distance, and I close it in record time. But she’s not moving, not attempting to pull herself up from the ground, or even moaning in pain. She’s horrifyingly still.
“Aspen!” I shout her name, falling to my knees as soon as I reach her and carefully brushing her hair back from her face.
It was only a few steps. But if she hit her head or broke something, I don’t want to jostle her too much.
“Talk to me.” I brush my fingers over her cheek, trying to get her to react.
“Please talk to me. Wake up.” I plead with her motionless body, and a chill runs down my spine as my heart takes off in my chest.
Her cheeks are warm and flushed bright red. I can see her nostrils flare as she breathes, and that at least brings me a bit of relief. I press my palm to her forehead. She’s burning up. A fever. A high one if I’m any judge.
“Aspen, honey, I need you to wake up for me.” I turn her over gently, her head in my lap, as I check her for any injuries.
I see where she’s ripped her pants in the fall; her knees are bleeding, and her palms are dirty and scratched from trying to brace herself on the way down.
There’s a scrape on her elbow, too, that’s ripped through her jacket and clothing.
Bleeding pretty good by the looks of it.
“Look at me, Jones. I need you here with me, okay? Wake up!” I call louder, shaking her gently, and her lashes begin to flutter. They feather open, slowly taking in the bright light and trying to focus on my face.
“Are you okay? Can you understand me?”
“Bishop?” she whispers. She shifts in my arms but falls still again, taking a deep breath like she can’t move.
“Yeah, Jones. I’m here. You all right?”
“Dizzy. I think I passed out.” Her voice is whisper-soft.
“You did, and you fell off the steps when you passed out. Are you sick?”
Her brow furrows in contemplation as she struggles to remember the last few minutes.
“I didn’t…” She pauses, trying to wet her lips as she searches for words, her brows knitting together. “I didn’t feel well on the way home.” She closes her eyes, wincing as she tries to sit up. Her voice so weak I can barely hear her.
“Don’t move, honey. I got you.”