Chapter TwentyGoing Home, Pt. 2
The Montana landscape unfolds around us in undulating waves of green and gold, and rolling hills unfurl toward the jagged mountains. Jo's been quiet for the last hour, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against her thigh. I never would've believed she could get this anxious.
"You okay over there?" I ask, glancing sideways at her.
"Just peachy," she says, but her voice has that tight quality that tells me she's lying. "I'm about to meet the family of my formerly fake fiancé. Does your family know about the sham relationship?"
"No. I would never tell them without your permission. But since your family knows now..."
She covers her face and groans pitifully. "What if they hate me for what I convinced you to do?"
"When we told your gigantic family, none of them cared. Your dad didn't pummel me until I bled, and he never even issued scary threats."
"That's not comforting, Clay."
I chuckle, keeping my eyes on the winding road. "Nobody's gonna bite you or scratch your eyes out. Well, except maybe Grandma Esther, but she only does that when she's feeling ornery."
"Clay!" Jo's eyes bulge.
"I'm kidding, darlin'." I reach over to squeeze her hand. "Everyone will fall for you on sight---just like I did."
Jo's lips curl into a reluctant smile as she grips my free hand with all the strength of a dog with a bone. "I didn't think Clay McKendrick did falling."
"Never had until I met you." I lift her hand to kiss the knuckles. "Now, I keep falling over and over every time you smile at me."
Jo rubs her cheek on my shoulder. "Same for me." She turns her face toward the window. "Your sister knows the truth, right? About how this all started?"
"Sarah knows we weren't exactly planning on forever when we first got engaged," I hedge, taking the turn onto the long gravel drive that leads to the ranch. "But she doesn't know all the details. Most everybody has heard about it already, thanks to the tabloids."
"I'm so sorry, Clay. I know I'm acting like a crazy person."
"Unless you start foaming at the mouth, you are not crazy."
The McKendrick Ranch sign comes into view, weathered and familiar against the big sky.
My throat constricts, partly because I haven't been home in such a long time and partly because I can't wait to share my love for Jo with my family.
While we bump along the familiar ruts in the gravel, I catalog every little thing---from wildflowers to clouds.
I'm home. Even after all these years on the circuit, this place still feels like the center of my universe.
Jo sits up straighter, her hand gripping my thigh. "Oh my God, Clay. It's even more beautiful than I remember."
The main building sprawls ahead of us, a two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch that's seen more family gatherings than I can count.
The barn sits off to the left, its red paint faded but not erased.
Beyond that, the pastures stretch toward the mountains where our cattle graze in lazy clusters.
"Wait until you see it at sunset," I tell her, pulling up next to the porch steps. "The whole sky turns purple and orange, and---"
The front door bangs open, and my sister Sarah bursts out, practically vaulting over the porch railing in her excitement.
"They're here!" she hollers back into the house before racing toward my truck.
I barely have time to put the vehicle in park before Sarah yanks open my door.
"Move your butt, big brother," she demands, shoving at my shoulder. "I've been dying to talk to Jo."
My fiancée grins.
Sarah has that effect on a lot of people. She's eternally cheerful.
Mom and Dad make their way out of the house, though Dad still needs a bit of help getting up and down steps, stairs, and other sorts of inclines.
His knee surgery was supposed to fix things, but he's still recovering.
Mom hovers near him, one hand discreetly at his elbow while pretending she's not helping at all.
"I'm moving as fast as I can," Dad shouts to Sarah. "Some of us don't have springs for legs."
"Clay!" Mom hollers, waving enthusiastically. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back in its usual practical bun, and she's wearing the apron I got her for Christmas three years ago. "Bring that girl of yours up here so I can give her a proper hug!"
Dad smirks. "That means she wants to suffocate her."
Mom shakes her head, though it's an affectionate expression.
"Clay!" Sarah practically drags me out of the truck, wrapping her arms around my midsection in a fierce hug. "You've been gone way too long."
"It's only been a couple months, squirt." I ruffle her hair, something she hates, and she predictably swats at my hand.
"I'm twenty-four, not twelve," she reminds me, but her mock scowl dissolves into another grin when she spots Jo climbing out of the passenger side. "Jo! I'm so glad you're finally here!"
Jo barely has time to close the truck door before Sarah engulfs her in a hug that would put a grizzly to shame. To her credit, Jo returns the embrace with just as much enthusiasm, her nervousness seemingly forgotten in the face of Sarah's boundless energy.
"I've been texting her non-stop," Sarah explains to me over Jo's shoulder. "We're practically besties now."
I raise an eyebrow at Jo, who shrugs and mouths, "She's persistent."
"Let the poor girl breathe, pumpkin," Dad calls out from the porch, his voice gruff but warm. "You're worse than a barn cat with a new litter, Sarah."
The youngest McKendrick reluctantly releases Jo but immediately links their arms together. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour while Clay deals with the bags. Mom's been cooking since dawn---hope you're hungry!"
"Starving," Jo says, allowing herself to be led toward the house.
As I watch them go, I feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension swirling inside me. Sarah's clearly taken to Jo like a duck to water, which is exactly what I hoped for. But now comes the real test---Mom and Dad.
"You gonna stand there gawking all day, or are you coming up here to greet your old man?" Dad hollers, though there's no real irritation in his voice.
I grab our bags from the truck bed and jog up the porch steps. Dad's waiting with his arms open, and I set the luggage down to give him a careful hug, mindful of his still-healing knee.
"Good to have you home, son." He claps me on the back, and I swear I detect tears gathering in his eyes. He wipes them away quickly, returning to his usual gruffly kind demeanor. "Been too quiet around here without you stirring up trouble."
"I never stirred up trouble, Dad. That's pure propaganda."
He raises his brows. "What about that motorcycle you bought with the money you earned from mopping floors in the hardware store? It was so loud I could hear it from our front porch, ten miles away."
Mom appears at my elbow, not waiting for an invitation before pulling me into a fierce hug. "Oh, my sweet boy, you look too thin. Have you been eating?"
"Yes, Mom," I say automatically. It doesn't matter that I'm thirty-two years old and have been feeding myself successfully ever since I turned eighteen. She'll always think I'm starving.
Her gaze flicks toward the house where Sarah has already ushered Jo inside. And Mom pats my cheek. "Your girl is the prettiest thing I've ever seen, sweetie. Those tabloid photos didn't do her justice. But I'm so happy you finally found the right woman, Clay."
"Thanks, Mom."
She dusts off her apron. "Time for dinner. Then you and Jo will want to get some rest after your long road trip to get here. We assumed you two would share a bed."
"Yeah, Mom, we will."
As always, the meal Mom whips up is homemade, homegrown, and absolutely delicious.
Meryl McKendrick knows how to feed her family---and a passel of guests too.
Tonight, however, it's just me, my parents, my sister, and Grandma Esther.
Grandpa passed away fifteen years ago, but becoming a widow hadn't toned down her feisty nature.
The woman of the house sits at the head of the table, her silver hair pinned in a perfect chignon.
Despite being ninety-three years old, Grandma Esther still serves as the head of the household.
Her sharp blue eyes---the same shade as mine---take in every detail of Jo's appearance and mannerisms with the precision of a hawk sizing up prey.
"So, my dear," Grandma Esther begins, setting her fork down with deliberate care, "you're the barrel racer who stole my grandson's heart."
Jo straightens in her chair, meeting Grandma's gaze head-on. "Yes, ma'am. Though I'd argue Clay stole my heart first."
Sarah snorts, trying not to laugh, while Dad coughs to cover a chuckle. Mom shoots them both warning looks, but I notice the corner of her mouth twitching.
Grandma Esther remains impassive for a moment, then she breaks into an impish smile. "I like this one, Clay. She's got gumption."
"Thank you, Mrs. McKendrick."
"Call me Esther, dear. Or Grandma, since you'll be family soon enough." She winks at me before turning her attention back to Jo. "Now tell me, how many championships have you won? Clay mentioned you're quite the accomplished rider."
Jo launches into a modest recounting of her career highlights while I watch my family lean toward Jo, completely captivated by her tales.
Sarah peppers her with questions about training techniques, Mom wants to know about her favorite horses, and Dad nods approvingly when Jo mentions her dedication to proper animal care.
When Jo and I finally get to our room, we're so tired that all we want to do is undress and go to sleep.
The next day, we meet with the Western Heritage folks in Laramie to map out a year-long plan for our reality show. It's really happening. Jo and I are about to become celebrities.