Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Monty sure had called it. When his grandma hugged him goodnight, she asked if she could pop over for a cup of coffee sometime. He had the next day relatively free since it was Sunday, so he suggested ten in the morning. Luckily he still had sticky buns.
She arrived promptly and asked if they could sit on the front porch.
“Absolutely. It’s beautiful out there.”
“That’s not the only reason I asked. I told everybody I’m gonna find out what the heck is going on. If they see us sitting on your porch they’ll know I’ll have the scoop. They won’t need to pester you.”
“I see.” He set the tray loaded with two mugs, a carafe and a plate of sticky buns on the small wooden table between the two rockers.
“I always loved that tray. Rustic, yet elegant.”
“I use it all the time. Thanks for leaving it for me.”
“We’re chock-a-block with trays at the Dorm. Ezzie and Carmen have ones from Mexico and Kat has ones from Paris, Rome, Switzerland, you name it. She was a traveling fool.”
He smiled at the description of his feisty Auntie Kat. “Do you ever get on each other’s nerves, packed into that small space after having houses of your own?”
“All the time. That’s the fun of it. When we lived separately, we had to put on clothes to go find someone to argue with. Now we can argue in our nighties. It’s terrific.”
He laughed, but her phrase stuck with him. Someone to argue with. She’d said it with affection, and he’d heard those women sparring with each other. It was the kind of teasing that grew out of love and years of friendship.
His mom and dad used to do it all the time. Adam and Tracy were falling into that pattern. Luis and Jordan, too. Mila and Cole were still acting like newlyweds, but he could see them settling into that kind of relationship soon.
He envied them. He’d enjoyed trading barbs with his siblings, especially when he and his brothers shared the bunkhouse, but now that they all lived separately, it wasn’t the same.
Was there something about shared living quarters that created the dynamic? If so, and he stayed on his current trajectory, he wouldn’t—
“Looks like I’ll need to start this conversation.”
He blinked. “Sorry. Something you said got me to thinking.”
“About?”
“The benefits of living with someone.”
“If you want to invite Zinnia to live with you, we’re all for it.”
“I won’t be doing that.” Yikes. Never occurred to him.
“Why not? You might need to wait a few days because it might be too soon to move that foal, but—”
“Grandma, none of that’s happening. Zinnia and I have decided to back off.”
“Back off?” Her blue eyes widened and she put down her coffee. “Are you nuts?”
“Probably. But I’m not ready to be that little guy’s father.”
“Tell that to someone who didn’t see how you patiently waited while he opened all your presents. You should have seen your face. In fact, I might have a picture on my phone. I left it in the house. Stay here and I’ll get it.”
“It doesn’t matter how I looked. I’m not—”
“Stay put, please. I’ll be right back.”
He sighed. Once again, his impulse to be nice to Tex was biting him in the butt. So what if he looked fatherly in a picture? That didn’t make him a father, for God’s sake.
She reappeared, definitely on a mission. Usually she looked angelic with her white curls and pink cheeks. But when she got a bee in her bonnet, as Auntie Kat liked to say, she was a force of nature.
“Look at this.” She held out the phone. “There’s more than one. Scroll through them all. And then tell me you’re not ready to be his father.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They’d all learned at an early age that when Grandma Doris took that tone, they’d better do as she said or there’d be hell to pay. They’d suddenly find themselves assigned to the nastiest chores on the ranch.
She’d taken a ton of pictures. He flipped through them and handed back the phone.
She refused to take it. “Go through them again, please. Slowly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bracing himself, he focused on each frame. He couldn’t argue with her conclusion. Any stranger who saw these shots would assume he was the dad of this serious little boy.
She’d even taken a video of Tex watching him pull off every blessed strip of tape the kid had stuck on the wrapping for Rance’s book. The video continued, recording his pleasure at seeing the book’s cover and Tex jumping up and down with joy. Pure joy.
His throat tightened.
“You love him.”
He nodded.
“Do you love her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself.”
He glanced up. “You can’t fall in love that fast.”
“Oh, no? Your father did with Raquel.”
“And look what happened!”
“What do you mean? It all worked out. They had a wonderful—”
“And then he died!”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? Is that why you’re backing off?” She made air quotes.
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s taking on the responsibility of a family that makes me nervous. I’m not ready for that.”
“Hm. Care to elaborate?”
“The way I see it, you do your best, and your family comes to depend on you, and then you die and pull the rug out from under them. I don’t want to put Zinnia and Tex through that. Or anyone.”
“You’re planning to stay single?”
“For now. Maybe someday I’ll change my mind, but at this stage, it’s not for me.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, just gazed out toward the pasture where the horses grazed, tails flicking away random flies as they savored new grass and warm sunlight.
Finally she turned and picked up a sticky bun. “I’m having one of these. Kat can just suck it.”
“What?”
“She’s on us a lot about our diet and she’s right. We’ll all live longer and be healthier because of her, but sometimes you just need a sticky bun.”
“True.” He followed her lead. “If everyone swore off sticky buns, Greta would go out of business.” Maybe their conversation about Zinnia and Tex was over.
“Exactly. If you don’t pig out, you’ll be okay. I also need to ditch this coffee and get a refill.”
“Let me.” He held out his hand but she waved it away.
“Thanks. I’ve got it.” Putting the half-eaten bun on a napkin, she stood, walked over to the railing and poured the cold coffee in the flowerbed where iris had just started poking out. “Looking good.”
“I put mulch on them last fall.”
“Noticed that. You take excellent care of this place.” She came back with her mug.
“Because I love living here.” He reached for her mug and poured her a fresh cup from the carafe.
“Alone?”
“You did.” He handed over the coffee and she settled back in the rocker.
“I was technically alone, but you kids were always over here, even spending the night sometimes. I didn’t feel alone.” Picking up the rest of her sticky bun, she took a generous bite.
“Neither do I.” He wasn’t sure that was true. Waking up to find Zinnia gone had been a lonely experience. Coming home to an empty house after the party last night hadn’t felt great, either.
“You never got to meet your Grandpa Bridger.”
“Which makes my point. That had to be tough on you and Dad, just like it was for everyone when Dad passed.”
“It was, but I wouldn’t change anything. Well, maybe I’d be more forceful about changing Joe’s diet. Kat and I both tried, then tried again with Spence. Those two were so alike.”
“And I’m my father’s son. So’s Adam, for that matter.”
“Do you think he made a mistake marrying Tracy?”
“I have to wonder if he’s thought about his odds.”
“I don’t know if he has or not, but I’d say his odds are excellent. He’ll live a long, happy life.”
“Why? He works too hard and takes on too many obligations just like Dad. Heart problems run in the family, at least for the men.”
“What you said is true, but it doesn’t have to be a death sentence. According to his doctor, Joe could have beat the odds by doing two things — eat better and ditch the belief that the fate of the world rests on his shoulders.”
“That sounds familiar. Mom used to say that to Dad. Something like the world won’t end if you don’t do such and such.”
“But he didn’t believe it. Neither did Joe. They bought into the myth they had to do everything, fix everything. Not being able to save your mother was unacceptable to Spence and it was slowly killing him. I could see it.”
“Just a couple days ago Graham told me why he insisted on calling me Montgomery.”
“Spence never told you?”
“Nope.”
“Shame on him. Wish I’d known that. Anyway, he took his cue from his dad and lived his life the same way Joe did. You might see Adam doing the same, but he isn’t.”
“Looks like it to me. He’s got all his responsibilities here and now he’s the mayor, just like Dad was.”
“It’s partly Tracy’s influence that keeps him from over-estimating his importance in the grand scheme of things.”
“Interesting way of putting it. You think Dad did that? Thought he was more important than he was?”
“I know it sounds critical, but basically, yes. Joe did the same. But Tracy grew up with a father who doesn’t buy into the all-powerful savior role. Whenever Adam starts sounding like he’s Atlas holding up the town, she calls him on it. I’ve seen her do it.”
“Huh. I might have heard her do that, too. But does he listen? Dad never did.”
“He does listen. He loved your dad. We all did, but Adam doesn’t want to end up dying in his fifties under the weight of that kind of thinking.”
“I guess I’m not as much like Dad as I thought. I don’t consider myself some all-powerful savior.”
“But you think you have to be.”
“No, I don’t. It’s just the odds I don’t like.”
“What if you can change the odds? What if Zinnia, who’s a strong person who doesn’t require a savior, could help you change those odds?”
“Maybe she could. I get your point about Tracy being a good influence on Adam. I have noticed he doesn’t eat like Dad and if Zinnia knew about the heart thing, she’d be on it.”
“Because she’s in love with you just like you’re in love with her.”
“I’m not sure about that.” But it created warmth in his chest to hear her say it, even if Zinnia never told him.
“Then I guess you haven’t been paying attention. Everyone else can see it.”
“You notice Adam and Tracy haven’t had kids yet.”
“I’ve noticed. They’re busy with the town council.”
“Or maybe Adam’s nervous about having kids. Maybe the heart thing still bothers him the way it bothers me.”
“I doubt it, but that might be an interesting conversation for you to have with him.”
“At least he’d start with a baby. I don’t know anything about raising a five-year-old. I’d screw that up, for sure.”
“So could Zinnia. Parents make mistakes all the time.”
“Yeah, but I’m this person coming in partway through the story, learning on the fly. I’m bound to let that kid down, and he—”
“He’d be fine. Listen, Monty. Having a dad like yours can make it look like husbands and fathers are required to be superhuman. Some even get away with it. Joe couldn’t. Spence couldn’t.”
“I see what you’re saying.”
“Do you? Because I think you’re still caught up in the idea that you have to be a perfect father for Tex, just like you have to be a perfect vet, sacrificing sleep to stay overnight with a sick horse or a pregnant mare.
And if you can’t, then you hook up those cameras of yours and monitor your phone constantly. ”
“It’s called being good at my job.”
“I’ve heard Graham calls you Supervet.”
“It’s a joke, Grandma.”
She speared him with a blue-eyed gaze that saw way too much. “Is it?”