Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (9 page)

“No.”

“Shoot, Celia.” He stuffed his hands into his back pockets and regarded her with amusement. “What fun is this relationship going to be if there’s no touching?”

“This relationship isn’t going to be any fun. It’s going to be torturous.”

His dimple made an appearance. She hadn’t expected anything about Ty to resemble Addie. But that dimple, just on the one side, matched Addie’s precisely. And Addie’s hair was just a few shades lighter than his. “Is this why you needed to speak to me?” she asked. “To hear all the reasons why I dislike you?”

“Just for the record, I dislike you, too.”

“Fine. Is that why you wanted to speak to me? To tell me that?”

“Nah, I actually wanted to say thanks for letting me come over tonight. I think it went well between Addie and me.”

It had certainly looked that way to Celia. While she was glad that Addie seemed to be taking the situation in stride, it had also chafed to see admiration in Addie’s eyes when she’d looked at Ty. Celia had no reason to believe that Ty would prove himself worthy of Addie’s admiration. Her daughter’s feelings for him may well end in heartbreak.

“As soon as Addie found out that I have horses in Holley, she suggested that the two of you move there.”

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water. “Not a chance.”

“I told her I’d speak to you about it.”

“We’re absolutely not moving. Corvallis is our home.”

He considered her, taking his time. Right when she was about to launch into a tirade and list all the reasons why she’d never leave Corvallis, he lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “Okay.”

His capitulation made her suspicious.

“I’m leaving town. I have to be in Colorado tomorrow night for an event.”

She’d known it! Unreliable wretch—

“Don’t give me that look,” he said.

“What look?”

“That look that says you knew I’d disappear the first chance I got.”

“Are you providing evidence to the contrary?”

He whistled under his breath. “Man, you’re sassy.”

“With everyone else I’m perfectly agreeable.”

“I told Addie why I had to leave, and I told her I’d call her every night while I’m gone. Is that all right with you?”

“From now on, I’d like you to ask me first before you tell Addie you’ll do something.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“It’s the best I’ve got. Can I call and talk to Addie?”

She sighed. “Yes, but you’re going to have to call between six and eight. Any later and she might be asleep for the night.”

“Got it.” Before she could blink, he swiped out a hand and moved the curl he’d tried to reposition earlier. There and gone, quick as a flash.

She yelped. “No touching!”

He chuckled and strode down the hallway as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “A man’s got to have some perks in a relationship, sweet one.”

“And
don’
t call me that
!”

“I’ll try to remember that, too.”

C
elia had given Christianity a try. More than once.

Her parents had taken her to church occasionally when she was young. As she’d gotten older, extracurricular activities had squeezed out the majority of Sunday services, but even so, she’d gone to church camp with Lacey two different summers and shown up at high school Bible studies whenever her friends invited her. Those influences had motivated her to recommit herself to her faith several times across her teenage years. Each time, she’d determined to read her Bible and pray daily like she knew she was supposed to. Each and every time she’d failed. The whole thing had left her with plenty of guilt and very little peace.

Midway through her college years, she’d set aside religion like a coat she’d outgrown. She’d clicked along, happy and secure in her own capabilities. She’d graduated with honors. She’d gotten a job as a sous chef, rented an apartment, enjoyed her network of friends.

And then Las Vegas had happened.

“What is it, Mommy?” Addie asked from the bus seat next to Celia.

Celia looked down at her and raised her eyebrows.

“You just made this sound.” Addie did a mad face and mimicked an angry sigh.

“Oh, sorry.” Ty’s fault! His return and his visit with Addie last night had stirred up thoughts that had been lying dormant at the bottom of the pond of Celia’s brain for years. “It’s just been a long day, Punkie. That’s all.”

Addie patted Celia’s forearm consolingly.

Celia adjusted the sack of groceries on her lap, covered Addie’s hand with her own, and returned her attention to the view out the bus windows.

When she’d come home to Corvallis after having her sliced-up heart handed to her on a platter by Ty in Vegas, she’d spent a month wallowing in depression and devastation and fury. It had been an awful,
awful
month. So bad, she hadn’t thought things could get any worse.

Until she’d begun to suspect that she might be pregnant. The possibility of a pregnancy had struck her, a then twenty-four-year-old without a husband, as a whole new level of
worse
.

In desperation, she’d turned back to the God she’d left behind. She’d prayed on her knees each morning and night for a week straight before finally screwing up the courage to take an at-home pregnancy test. While the test had been processing, she’d knelt on her bathroom floor and prayed with everything she’d had. She’d wept and shivered with abject fear. She’d
begged
God not to be pregnant.

When the timer had gone off, and she’d stood looking down at the positive result on the test stick, she’d known that God had heard her prayer. Heard it and refused to have pity on her. She’d not been a good Christian, and He’d held her mistakes against her.

Celia, in turn, had held His unforgiveness against Him. Some people were DIY with home renovation. Since the day that test had confirmed her pregnancy, Celia had been DIY with life, work, and motherhood.

Truthfully, she hadn’t missed Christianity’s rules or the sense that she wasn’t—and never would be—worthy enough to satisfy God. Religion’s departure from her life had left nothing behind but a small and benign emptiness. Most of the time the hole within her existed in such a quiet state that it didn’t even bother her.

Ty’s return had upset her mental equilibrium, though. Having to deal with him had placed a new and heavy layer of stress on her, causing the space within her that God had once occupied to grow large. Noticeable.

Times like these made her wish God was someone she could rely on. Even for a week. Goodness! Even a day.

The bus arrived at their stop with a shrieking of brakes and a prolonged shudder. Celia ushered Addie out. In unison, the trek to River Run and Addie’s familiar complaints about the trek began.

“Mommy, I’m tired.”

“I know. We’ll be home soon.”

A few minutes later. “My feet hurt.”

“Uh-huh.”
Try wearing shoes other than cowgirl boots
.

Later: “Do you have a drink? I’m really thirsty.” Addie took a few weaving steps. “I need a snack.”

Later still, a tortured groan. “I can’t walk
so far
.”

“If I can do it carrying groceries, Addie, you can make it the rest of the way.”

As usual, Celia had to take Addie’s hand and tow her, tugboat style, across the final stretch to their apartment. Celia lowered the sack and was rummaging in her purse for her keys when she spotted a small box hanging from her doorknob. Its pink paper and purple ribbon matched the wrapping on the gift that Ty had given Addie the night before.

Celia paused. A surprise gift for Addie from anyone else would have been wonderful to receive. But a gift from Ty made Celia’s stomach knot. What was he doing? Trying to buy Addie’s affection with presents?

Addie had seen the box, too. She turned excited eyes up to Celia.

“Looks like someone left you a present.” Celia tried to sound less resentful and worn out than she was.

“That’s not my name.” Addie moved aside a section of ribbon to reveal that
Celia
had been written on the tag attached to the package.

For her? She couldn’t imagine Ty wanting to give her anything
except a lecture. Celia freed the box. As she removed its wrapping paper she noticed that Addie was bobbing up and down on the balls of her boots, pressing her hands together and smiling. “Do you know anything about this?” Celia asked.

“No, Mommy.” Her tone held such solemn honesty that Celia knew she was lying.

The paper gave way to a plain, unmarked white box. She removed the lid and uncovered a key ring. The silver charm attached to it formed the shape of a peace sign and had been stamped with the words
Give Peace a Chance
. Hilarious. The ring held just one other item. An electronic . . . smart key? It reminded her of the kind of gadget people used to activate alarms remotely or to start new-model cars—

Oh no.
No
.

Addie hadn’t told Ty about their broken-down car, had she? Mortifying thought. Even if Addie
had
grossly humiliated her by spilling the beans, Ty wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, done anything about their car situation. Surely.

Celia pointed the smart key in the direction of the parking lot and pressed the Unlock button. A car parked just a few spots away beeped and flashed its lights.

She could not believe it. Could. Not.

Her eyes bugging out and mouth ajar, she moved toward the car.

Addie dashed ahead of her. More bouncing. “It’s this one, Mom!”

Celia stopped directly in front of a brand-new light teal Toyota Prius. Teal was exactly Celia’s bright and happy kind of color. And though she’d never told this to a single soul, the Prius was the make of car that she’d have chosen for herself if money had not been a concern. Oh, the safety ratings, the outstanding fuel efficiency.

How could Ty Porter, of all people, know her so well? It bowled her over, this gesture. Was it generosity or foolishness or a bribe or lavish craziness? What? It must be a mash-up between craziness and a bribe.

“Mommy, let’s get in it. Let’s drive it.”

“Let’s maybe just get in it for now.”

As the two of them slid inside, the new-car smell welcomed them. Celia couldn’t spot a speck of dust on anything, not the dash, the console, the seats. She’d never had a new car in her life. She had no frame of reference for such a flawless and shiny interior.

“Do you like it?” Addie beamed at her expectantly.

Celia couldn’t recall when her even-tempered girl had ever looked so elated. “I do.”

“Now we won’t have to take the bus.”

Celia remembered all of sudden what Addie had said the night their old car kicked the bucket.
“
I’m going to buy you a new car, Mommy
.
”
At the time Addie had planned on raising money through a lemonade stand. It appeared she’d found something a lot more lucrative.

So many misgivings crowded into Celia’s brain, she couldn’t begin to unravel them all.

“Isn’t this car awesome? I think it’s brand-new!”

“I think so, too.”

“Wasn’t it nice of Ty to get this for you?”

“Yes, it was. But, Punkie . . . it’s not good manners to go around asking people to buy you things.”

“I didn’t, Mommy.
He
asked
me
what he could do.”

“He did?”

“Yes. You’re going to record his show tonight, right? I really, really want to watch it.” Addie had voiced this sentiment no fewer than ten times today.

“Yes, I’m going to record it.”

“And I can watch it in the morning?”

“Yes.” She’d refused to let Addie watch Ty’s bull riding live. For one thing, it would air past her bedtime. For another, Ty might be gored by a bull at any moment, and she didn’t want her child to see that and be traumatized for life. She planned to screen the rodeo herself this evening and make sure it was fit for a pre-kindergartener’s consumption.

They sat inside the car for ten minutes, examining everything, talking about each detail. Afterward, as Celia went through the
evening routine of making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, and giving Addie a bath, her brain kept trying to grasp the fact that Ty had given—
given?
—her a car. She didn’t know what to do with this information. It didn’t fit inside the compartment marked
Bad
Guy
that she’d stuffed Ty into.

The phone rang as Celia was brushing the tangles from Addie’s wet hair. Addie rushed to answer it, her Ariel nightgown billowing behind her.

“If it’s Ty, I’d like to speak to him when you’re done,” Celia called after her.

It was Ty. And from what Celia heard, most of their long conversation revolved around the Prius and the boy at day care who’d gotten into trouble for biting his friends.

“Mommy wants to talk to you,” Addie said to him at last. “. . . Okay, ’bye. Thank you for the car. ’Bye.” She extended the phone to Celia.

Celia took it and pressed it against her chest. “Go brush your teeth and start picking out books. I’ll be right behind you.”

Addie headed off, and Celia let herself outside and retreated to the far corner of the garden. A misting rain fell, dampening her hair, the bridge of her nose, her shoulders. She moved under a tree limb. “Ty?”

“Hey.”

“I came home from work tonight and found a key on my doorknob.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The key came with a car.”

“Huh.”

Based on the background noise, Celia guessed he was already at the arena in Denver. “Am I right in thinking that you’ve given us a
car
?”

“I asked Addie yesterday if there was anything she needed. She seemed pretty sure about the answer.”

Celia’s shoulders sagged. “Well, children can be dramatic. I think we’ve . . . we’ve been doing fine without a car.”

“The bus working out for you?”

“Um,” she said faintly, finding it hard to drum up enthusiasm, “the public transportation in Corvallis is perfectly adequate.”

He snorted. “Really?”

Celia pressed her fingertips into her forehead. “The car was a nice gesture, Ty. But honestly. I can’t keep it.” She was a single mother used to doing everything for herself. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting that kind of a gift.”
Least of all, from you
.

“I’m not taking it back,” Ty answered. “It’s a free country, though, so if you want to walk by the car every day on your way to the bus, then you’re welcome to.”

She considered taking up her old nervous habit of picking at her cuticles. “If I were—hypothetically, you understand—to accept the car, what would I owe you in return?”

A pause that crackled with static and distant voices filled the line. “Nothing.”

“C’mon, Ty. The car has to be a bribe. I need to know the terms.”

“No terms. It’s a gift, free and clear.”

“I can’t believe you’d just give us a car.”

“Listen, I must owe you a fortune in unpaid child support, right? So if you have to, consider the car a down payment on that.”

“How about you cut me a check for the child support?”

“How about you thank me for the car?”

Her tongue and mouth froze.

“Still hate me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He laughed.

Her animosity seemed to provide him with no end of amusement. “Do you still hate me?” she asked.

“Sure do. Nice talking to you, sweet one.”
Click
.

“Don’t call me that!” she growled into the silence.

It would indulge her vindictive side to scorn the Prius and leave it sitting in the parking lot. It really would. But what would Addie think? The way Addie had looked earlier, when they’d been sitting in the car together! Addie clearly believed that she herself had
procured a car for her mother. How could Celia now tell Addie that she’d decided to reject the Prius?

You see, Addie, this is my chance to
shove something back in Ty’s face the way that
he once shoved the love and intimacy I offered him
back in my face. Do you understand? No? Well, Addie
, your mother is too proud to ever, ever, ever accept
anything from anyone.