Home on the Ranch: Texas Cowboy, Be Mine Page 7
There was silence on the other end of the line for a long moment before he replied, “Angel?”
“Yeah, how’s it going?”
How’s it going? Make that a romantic movie with an awkward teenage girl protagonist.
“Okay, you?”
“Fine.” Just do it, you goob. “Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner.”
Had she asked that as fast as it had seemed, as if it was all one word?
Again with the pause. “I’d really like that.” Another pause while it sounded as if he walked away from wherever he’d been standing. “But I’m afraid to leave Mom by herself.”
Angel’s hope fell out from under her, but she couldn’t be upset. She knew this wasn’t a brush-off because she could hear the sadness in his voice. How could she help alleviate it?
“How about you and your mom come over for dinner with my family? Mom makes a killer chocolate cake.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but it’ll be nice. Mom loves nothing more than cooking for people. And the house is a lot emptier than it used to be.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Hunter, it’s not imposing if someone invites you.”
She caught the slightest hint of a laugh. “Okay, that sounds nice. What night works for you?”
“How about you talk to your mom and let me know? We’re flexible.”
“Sounds good.”
Yeah, it did. It wasn’t the date she imagined, but this was probably better, less awkward and risky.
Also much less chance of a good-night kiss.
She shook her head. Her mom was right. She was getting way ahead of herself instead of focusing on the fact that she’d see Hunter again. The thought made her giddy.
* * *
Hunter stood in the laundry room staring at the phone in his hand. All the time he’d spent imagining ways to ask Angel out and she ended up being the one doing the asking. Not that he minded if it led to the same result.
Well, not that he and his mom going to the Hartleys’ house for dinner was a date, but at least he’d be able to see and talk to Angel. Maybe between now and then he could figure out a way to keep his mom safe so he could ask Angel out on a real date. Guilt gnawed at his middle. He hated it any time his mind even hinted at thinking his mom was a burden. She wasn’t. Her condition was just a fact of life they had to deal with now.
“Who was on the phone?” his mom called from the living room where she’d been watching TV.
He walked back to the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Angel Hartley. She just invited us over for dinner with her family.”
For a moment, she looked confused and his heart sank. Had she forgotten who Angel was? But then she smiled, and there was a mischief in that smile that surprised him.
“That right? You sure I was part of that invitation?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?” He wasn’t going to tell her that the family dinner had been the second option Angel had given. She’d likely feel guilty, and that was the last thing he wanted her to feel. How many times had she given up something she might have wanted to do so that he could have fun instead?
“Just seems to me I’m not the one she wants to see again.”
A thrill went through him that maybe the time had come when he could do more than imagine being with Angel. Sure, his life wasn’t carefree. There were obstacles, but what relationship didn’t have those?
“She said her mom really likes cooking for people and she has fewer to cook for now that all of Angel’s brothers and her sister are married and in their own homes.”
His mom searched his face, probably trying to figure out if he was bending the truth. He held up his hand. “Scout’s honor. You can call and ask her yourself if you like.”
She waved away that thought. “No need.” She was quiet for a moment. “Is this because of what happened last night at the gallery? I don’t want people feeling sorry for me, feeling like I have to be coddled.”
Hunter crossed the living room and sank onto the ottoman in front of her chair.
“Mom, listen. I don’t have any reason to doubt the sincerity of what Angel said, but you’re also going to have to accept that people are going to feel sorry for you. It’s human nature. Remember how you felt sorry for Mildred when Shawn was in the hospital? You wished you could help make it so that Mildred didn’t have to go through all the pain and worry. That’s how people feel when they hear someone, especially a good person like you, gets an unfair diagnosis. They can’t help it.”
She let out a long sigh. “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier. This isn’t who I am,” she said, motioning toward her head, where the disease was progressing.
He took her hands in his. “I know. Everyone knows. But don’t you think that you should live every moment you have to the fullest and go to dinner when someone invites you?”
She locked gazes with him. “Your father would be so proud of you. We couldn’t have raised a better son.”
That damn lump made a return appearance in his throat, and he felt desperate to lighten the moment. “You’re right about that.”
As he’d hoped, his mom laughed. “Okay, I’ll go, even though I still think this was just a ruse so she could see you again.”
Fearing his mom might be able to see the heat rising up his neck into this face, he stood. Instinct was to deny what she’d said, but he found he couldn’t. Not when Angel had called to ask him out on a date. He managed to keep his smile hidden until he made it to the bathroom. As he took off his clothes coated with another long day of ranch work, the smile continued to grow until he was pretty sure it could light up the bathroom like the midday sun.
Maybe tonight was the beginning of his life taking a turn for the better.
* * *
It was times like this when Angel wished she had Lauren’s talent in the kitchen. Or her mom’s easy way of putting together what seemed like effortless but delicious meals. Even though she knew her mom didn’t mind the extra work of preparing food for two additional people, it didn’t feel right since it had been Angel’s idea to invite Hunter and his mom to dinner.
So Angel did what she could until her mom ushered her out of the kitchen to go pick up Julia from the school bus. It was a big day not only for Angel but also for her daughter since today marked the end of the school year and the beginning of summer vacation.
But instead of the big smile and boundless excitement Angel expected to see, the moment Julia stepped off the bus it was obvious she’d been crying.
Angel’s stomach sank. Julia wasn’t much of a crier after she reached her toddler years. Something was very wrong for her to look red-eyed and upset. Angel hurried toward her daughter and dropped to one knee in front of her.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?”
Julia shook her head as her eyes began to shine even more.
“Did your real mom throw you in the trash?”
Angel nearly fell over backward as if she’d taken a physical blow.
“Why would you say that?”
“Cara said your mom didn’t want you, so she threw you in the trash. That I’m trash, too, because all Indians are trash.”
Angel experienced a surge of rage like she’d never had in her life. She wanted to throttle Cara’s parents because she knew that was where their daughter had learned that racist viewpoint. Not for the first time, she wished teaching children to be racist bigots was a crime. But she couldn’t let Julia see the anger seething inside her. Julia’s childhood innocence had already taken a hit today. But she knew the time to tell Julia the full truth had finally come.
“Cara is wrong. We are not trash. That’s just a mean thing some people say to feel better about themselves.” Angel was no stranger to the occasional racist remark herself
—either because she was Native or some ignorant fool lumped her in with her Hispanic classmates as if that was a bad thing.
“How about we grab some of Grandma’s cookies and go for a walk? It’s such a pretty day and you’re officially on summer vacation!”
Julia’s face brightened a little, but it was obvious this was something that had really wounded her. Angel pulled Julia into her arms and put all her love into the hug before escorting her back to the truck.
As she drove back to the house, it took all her willpower to appear calm when what she really wanted to do was go give Cara Dalton’s parents a very large piece of her mind. Maybe even a kick to Danny Dalton’s man parts if she was being honest. But Julia’s feelings were a million times more important than her own at the moment.
When they reached the house, Angel went to the kitchen to get some cookies while Julia dropped off her backpack in her room. Angel’s mom looked up from where she was frosting her famous chocolate cake, and immediately concern transformed her expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“Today’s the day.”
Her mom looked momentarily confused before realization clicked. “Someone said something?”
Angel nodded. “Danny Dalton’s girl.” She didn’t say anything else because her mom knew exactly what kind of person Danny was. She’d been forced into a come-to-Jesus meeting with his parents when he’d said some truly awful things to Angel when they were kids. Racism, unfortunately, sometimes got passed from one generation of a family to the next. Her mom looked ready to do battle again, so much so that Angel gave her a big hug.
Her mom patted her on the back. “You’ve got this. And Julia is a strong, smart girl. She’ll understand.”
As anxiety gripped her middle, Angel truly hoped her mom was right about that. She’d thought maybe she’d have a bit more time before she had to divulge what had happened to her, how she’d come to be a Hartley in the first place, but perhaps it was better to get this conversation over with before Julia got any older. It’d be worse if Julia reached an age where she could harbor resentment toward her mother for keeping the truth from her.
Their walk didn’t take them very far. With the way Julia was looking down at her feet as she walked, she wasn’t seeing any of their surroundings anyway. Best to get this conversation over with.
“Here, let’s sit and have some cookies.” Angel indicated one of the picnic tables beneath the shade trees.
When Julia only picked at a cookie she normally would have devoured, Angel took a deep breath and dived in.
“I’ve always told you that I—like your aunt and uncles—am adopted, but I haven’t told you the whole story. I want to tell you now so that you’ll know the truth if anyone ever says anything mean to you again, okay?”
Julia nodded, making eye contact with Angel for the first time since they left the bus stop.
How she wished she didn’t have to tell her daughter about the reality of who her birth grandmother was.
“Unlike my brothers and sister, I didn’t ever live with my birth family. I don’t even know who they are or where they’re from. My birth mother left me at a hospital with only a note saying that my name was Angel and she couldn’t take care of me. Your grandparents took me in straight from the hospital.”
“So your real mom didn’t throw you in the trash but she did give you away?”
“Yes. Sometimes it’s for the best. They do it so that their baby can have a better life.”
“Then she loved you?” Julia’s forehead scrunched as she obviously tried to understand how a mother could love her baby but give her away.
“I’m sure she did.” Actually, she wasn’t sure of any such thing. The note left with her at the hospital could have been a lie, something to cover up a crime or that her birth mother really just didn’t want her.
But that was a bit too much harsh truth for a child Julia’s age.
“Do you think she thinks about you?”
How many times had Angel wondered that same thing? “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe.”
The truth was Angel had no idea if the woman was even still alive. Despite having a wonderful family, Angel couldn’t help feeling a certain rootlessness sometimes, as if she had one foot in some mystery world she couldn’t identify. If nothing else, she’d like to know her heritage, what tribal connections she had. She wanted that knowledge—for herself and Julia—but she’d also always been afraid to pursue it. What if she didn’t like what she found? If she did by some miracle find her birth mother, it was possible she’d also find out the woman had never cared for her at all. And what if she was the kind of person Angel wanted nowhere near Julia? Maybe some things were best left unknown.
Julia still had a puzzled look on her face.
“Do you have more questions?”
“Why did Cara say Indians are trash?”
Angel pushed down her anger again and spent several minutes trying to explain racism to a first grader.
“That’s dumb,” Julia said when Angel told her some people believed that white people were better than those who had different-colored skin.
Angel smiled. “I agree. It is dumb.” She had stronger words for it than that, but dumb would suffice in the presence of her child.
She watched as Julia took another bite of her cookie. She’d swear she could hear the gears turning in Julia’s head.
“How exactly did the topic of race come up with Cara anyway?” After all, Julia had never said anything about the girl giving her trouble before.
“Mrs. Hanson said next year our teachers will have us do family trees, so we might want to start working on them over the summer.”
But how did Cara know the story about Angel being abandoned? Had her father told Cara the story for some reason? If so, he was even more despicable than she remembered.
“Cara said I’ll fail the assignment since I don’t know who my family is.”
“But you do know. I’m your family. And your grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Family means lots of different things, and you are a Hartley. Don’t ever believe anyone if they say you’re not.”
“But we don’t look like everyone else.”
“No, we don’t, but you’re every bit as beautiful as your blonde aunt or your curly-haired uncle.”
Julia giggled. “I’m going to tell Uncle Adam you said he’s beautiful.”
Angel’s heart lifted, thankful to see a smile on Julia’s face again.
“You know, I bet Aunt Lauren will back me up on that one.”
They sat and ate the rest of their cookies. Angel was aware that the appointed time for Hunter and his mom to arrive for dinner was getting closer, but she wasn’t about to rush Julia in case she had more questions.
“Do you wish we looked like everyone else?” Julia asked.
“No. We’re special just the way we are.” Although there had been times when she’d thought maybe life would be easier if she did look like her parents. Maybe then she wouldn’t wonder so much about where she came from. She’d probably still wonder about her birth parents, but it wouldn’t be the same. She didn’t think she’d also always wonder about her cultural identity.
“Do you think your mom who gave you away would like me?”
“Of course, sweetie. What’s not to like? She would count herself lucky to have such a kind, smart, beautiful granddaughter.” Angel hoped that was truth, and for a moment she wished she could give that to Julia. But then she remembered that her parents, the ones who counted, loved Julia enough for a dozen grandparents.
They sat for a few more minutes, but Julia finally ran out of questions.
“Okay, we need to go back to the house. We’re having company for dinner tonight.”
“Who?”
“Hunter Millbrook and his mom. They came to the art exhibit opening the other night.”
Angel hadn’t realized that Julia knew about that. “Yes, but don’t mention it.”
“Okay. Is it because she’s old? Amber says her grandpa gets lost sometimes.”
“Partly. She has a disease that makes her forget things, but not all the time. But we don’t want to mention it and make her feel bad.”
Julia nodded. “Got it.” And then she made the motion of zipping her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder.
As they walked back to the house, hand in hand, Angel prayed that Julia never had to watch her slowly lose her memories and grasp the present. She couldn’t imagine a worse fate for a child, and her heart broke once again for the future that lay in front of Hunter and his mom.
Chapter 6
It wasn’t Angel who greeted Hunter and his mom at the front door to the Hartley house but rather her sister, Sloane, wearing a smile so wide one would think she’d just won the title of Miss America.
“Welcome,” she said and held the door open wide for them to step inside.
Angel entered the living room from a hallway off to the right, looking a little frazzled if he had to name her expression. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth at the thought that having him here in her home unnerved her in a good way.
After a brief smile shot his way, she shifted her gaze to her sister. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”
There was no mistaking a bit of suspicion in her voice.
“We heard Mom was making chocolate cake, so we couldn’t pass that up.”
“We?”
As if to visually answer Angel’s question, Ben Hartley and his wife, Mandy, as well as a man who must be Sloane’s husband came into the living room from what looked to be a combination kitchen and dining area.
Angel seemed to shake off whatever annoyance had been there a moment before and set about making introductions. When she shook his mom’s hand, she said, “I’m so glad you could make it. You’re honestly making Mom’s night.”
“That’s true,” her mom said. “I’m happiest when cooking for a lot of people.”