Chapter One
Garrett’s gut churned as he turned his back and walked away. His hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to pummel the man Snow apparently fell for in such a short time. Whatever. He refused to chase after women who didn’t want him.
The thought stung as he climbed into his truck and drove down the driveway.
Knowing his assignments included the daily chores, he parked his vehicle and entered the bunkhouse.
Frank Houser narrowed his eyes as Garrett changed his clothes, not bothering to give him the time of day.
He went about the ranch finishing his assignments, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Instead, his thoughts drifted to his mom. The first woman to let him down.
She knelt on one knee before him. “Listen, Garrett. Grandpa wants you to stay with him for a while. When we get settled, I’ll send for you. Be a good boy for Gramps.”
“But I don’t wanna stay with him,” he complained as he glanced at his grandfather’s stern face.
“Don’t be silly,” she chastised. “You haven’t gotten to know him. Listen to me, Garrett. Jim doesn’t want a seven-year-old ruining our good time. I need him to warm up to you, and then you can come live with us,” she cajoled. “It’ll only be for a little while. You’ll see.”
Yeah, he saw her all right. She left him with the old bastard.
He beat and pushed Garrett to the edge. If he didn’t do things correctly the first time, his grandpa tore it up and made him begin again.
If he burnt dinner, Garrett went without.
If he didn’t finish a chore, he found himself with double the next day.
Every single day, he watched the driveway for any sign of her, but he returned to his bed, disappointed.
Bernice took eight years to retrieve him from his grandfather’s house of hell. When the car pulled up, Garrett didn’t recognize her as she stepped out of the vehicle. Her gaze drifted to him, making him feel conscious of the ripped T-shirt, the too-short jeans, his dirty hair, and bruised body.
He ran his hand down his shirt as he stared at her.
Bernice held out her arms as she glanced at him with pity. “Don’t you recognize me, sweetheart? It’s me, your mother.”
His brown eyes narrowed at Bernice, showing he never forgot her leaving him at seven years old.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“I came to get you. Remember, I promised,” she said sweetly.
“You abandoned the boy,” his grandfather said behind him. “It’s up to him if he wants to go with you.”
“Of course he wants to go,” his mother snarled. “I gave him to you to care for. I can nearly count his bones, and he’s filthy.”
“Don’t be acting all indignant. If you cared for him, you would’ve sent money like you promised,” his grandfather reminded her.
Unwilling to listen to them talk about him as a commodity, Garrett dropped the rake in his hand and climbed into her car.
He watched as the two adults argued before his grandfather turned and went into the house, slamming the door.
No tearful goodbyes, hugs, or even I’ll miss you came from him.
Bernice slid into the driver’s seat, glanced over at him, and sent a hesitant smile.
“Life will be different for you and me from now on,” she told him.
“First, we’ll get you some clean clothes, and I’ll introduce you to Boyd.
You’ll have to remember to stay quiet when he’s around.
He’s not a fan of children, but you’re a teenager now.
You know how to behave,” she said matter-of-factly.
Boyd didn’t seem pleased to see him any more than his grandfather. He finished high school and, without a second thought, joined the military.
On his second tour, he received word his grandfather died. Granted a leave, Garrett attended the funeral. Hardly anyone attended except his mom and a couple of seniors.
A stout man dressed in a suit approached him and shook his hand. “You must be Garrett Johnson. I’m Barney Cofield, your grandfather’s lawyer. He asked me to pass on a letter to you. Can you meet me at my office in town tomorrow morning at eight?”
Confused, Garrett nodded his head. “I haven’t seen him in almost seven years. Why did he write to me?”
“I don’t know the personal contents of the letter,” the lawyer confessed. “I’m reading his will, and he requested your presence there.”
Garrett gave him a chin nod, watching his mother and her current boyfriend sneaking alcohol into their coffee like two teenagers. Disgust ran through him as he turned to leave. He departed in three days and didn’t plan to spend the remaining time with his family.
The following day, he entered Mr. Cofield’s office.
His mother sat in the corner, tapping her shoes, eagerly awaiting the reading.
“It’s about time you showed up. Mr. Cofield refused to tell me anything about the will until you arrived.
It’s not as if we don’t know how this will go.
I’m his only daughter,” she said, trying to convince herself.
Mr. Cofield cleared his throat. “If you’re ready, we can begin.”
Garrett sat down, and his mother sidled up next to him, leaning in to hang on every word.
“I, Gerald Johnson, being of sound mind and body, hereby bequeath my farm, all of my belongings, and my assets to Garret Gerald Johnson. To my daughter, I leave the sum of one hundred dollars. Maybe this will teach her to stop living off men and get a job.”
“What?” his mother screeched, standing. “The bastard left everything to him?”
The lawyer passed her a single one-hundred-dollar bill. “I wrote the will myself. He seemed rather adamant that everything be left to Garrett.”
His mother spun around, angry with him. “What did you do? How did you convince him to leave out his only daughter, who cared about him?” she demanded.
“The old man never laid eyes on me after you picked me up all those years ago,” Garret said slowly, attempting to hide the resentment he held for her.
“Give it to me,” Bernice ordered. “I need the money. You joined the military, and you’re only useful to me if you die.”
Garret took the will and thanked the lawyer. “I’m returning to my unit in two days. I’ll leave you my contact information. Since I don’t plan on staying there, can you arrange for the sale of everything?”
“You’re selling it?” she screeched. “I want my share of the money.”
His gaze fell on her hands. “It appears you already have your share.”
Garrett turned and left, leaving her to stare after him.
For nostalgia’s sake, he turned toward the old farmhouse.
Driving up the dirt drive, Garrett stopped in front of the big white house.
The old man didn’t treat him kindly, but he taught him how to survive.
Maybe his grandfather knew what his mother was capable of.
Grabbing his go bag from the trunk, Garrett decided to spend the night.
He entered the house and gazed around. It seemed as if life stood still the moment he climbed into his mother’s car all those years ago.
The same furniture, the identical window hangings, and his grandfather’s sweater lay across the worn recliner.
He dropped his bag on the sofa and entered the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, he took out the bottle of vodka and poured a healthy portion into a clean glass.
“To you, grandfather,” he toasted. He walked around the house and added a picture of his parents on their wedding day. His father left long ago, adding to the list of people who never wanted him.
Climbing the stairs, he gazed over the fields, showing the cattle, hay, and cotton.
He owned all of it for miles around and yet, it didn’t fulfill him at all.
Garrett entered his old room, plucking the model cars he spent all his free time designing and making.
His grandfather taught him how to whittle and use a knife.
The cars reminded him of his accomplishment.
Grabbing a box, he dumped them all inside and took them to the head of the stairs.
He went into the old man’s room, noticing pictures of him hung all over the walls. He took out the envelope and opened it.
Garrett,
You must think me a mean son of a bitch. I don’t blame you. To prepare you for your mother’s return, I pushed you. Yes, I can make excuses, but I’m six feet under, rotting in a grave. What’s the use of lying now?
Your life won’t be easy. As much as I wanted to protect you, I knew she’d fight me tooth and nail and end up winning.
Your mother grew up as a wild child. We never knew what she’d do from one minute to the next. She’s never changed and never will.
Forgive me for the way I treated you. I wanted you to have a fighting chance, and I’m sure you learned the lesson the day you got into your mother’s car.
I leave you all my possessions, which never amounted to a hill of beans, but I have faith you can turn them around.
Do with it as you will, and I hope you find some amount of comfort in knowing you were always wanted and loved.
Gerald Johnson
Garret carefully folded the paper and slipped it back into the envelope.
Wanted and loved seemed as far away as it did before.
The day wore on as Garrett placed the few mementos he found in the trunk of his rental.
He opened the freezer and took out another premade meal his grandfather insisted on making.
The date on the container marked the contents as three weeks old.
He microwaved it to thaw, then placed the ingredients in the oven to bake.
The smell of freshly roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and garden-fresh green beans filled the air.
Garrett smiled as he recalled his grandfather teaching him how to can, garden, and waste nothing. The old bastard made it hard to live with him, but the knowledge he passed on became Garrett’s saving grace with his mother’s last boyfriend.
He dined alone and washed the dishes. Garrett debated whether to keep the place and make it a home when he finally returned from his tour.