A Man to Hold on to (A Tallgrass Novel) (3 page)

Therese shot her a look so hard that Abby should have fallen backward from the impact. Sullenly, she let her hand drop, then took a few steps away, her bottom lip poked out.

After a moment’s stare, Therese looked at the bra. Catherine hadn’t bothered with Victoria’s Secret, judging from the padded cups, red lace edging black satin, and breakaway front clasp. She’d gone straight to Frederick’s of Hollywood. For her thirteen-year-old daughter! She dropped it into the suitcase, closed the flap, and zipped it before reaching for the smaller bag.

Quivering with anger, Abby went to the closet. “You have to let me wear them.” She threw open both bi-fold doors, then clenched her fists. “I have nothing else. I left all my other clothes there because I knew you would do this. I told Mom so.”

She wasn’t exaggerating by much. Except for her school uniforms and the dresses she wore to church, her closet was practically empty. A few pairs of jeans, a couple of old T-shirts that had sentimental value but no fashion sense, two hoodies. There were gym shorts and underwear in her dresser, but she’d taken practically everything else with her.

“You’d better call your mom and ask her to ship them back, then, or you’re going to get awfully tired of wearing the same things all the time.” Therese sorted through the second bag, confiscating three more pairs of ridiculous heels, two more bags of cosmetics, and—she gulped silently—two of the skimpiest swimsuits she’d ever seen. She was surprised thunder didn’t roll across the plains from Paul’s roar of disapproval.

“I can’t do that, because we threw them away.”

Therese hoped she was lying, but it sounded like exactly what she and Catherine would do. Catherine might be Abby’s mother, but she didn’t want to be. Occasional friendship without real responsibility better suited her nature, and conspiring with Abby to thwart Therese would be an easy way to cement that friendship.

“If that’s the case, you’ll have to buy new clothes from your allowance.”

She expected another roar, but the girl just stared at her. In that moment, there was nothing of Paul’s baby in her, just quiet fury. Malevolence. Sheer hatred. Her eyes were like chocolate ice, her rage unflinching, but when she spoke, her voice was far calmer than the shriek Therese was used to.

“You know, I don’t pray very much because I don’t think God really listens, but I do pray for one thing every night. I pray for you to die.”

A
ll his life, Dalton Smith had found comfort in the Double D Ranch. He lived alone, worked too hard, and didn’t make much more than a living wage, but it didn’t matter. This was where he was born. Where he was raised. Where he was meant to be.

His parents had left it. Once they’d been sure the ranch was in capable hands, they’d invested in an RV and had been seeing the country ever since, winters down south, summers up north, stopping off at any place that caught their fancy and had hookups.

His little brother, Noah, would probably leave, too. A sophomore at Oklahoma State, Noah had decided he wanted to be a vet. While he said of course it would be around Tallgrass, Dalton knew his brother liked a lot of things, and small-town living wasn’t one of them. Besides, Tallgrass already had enough vets.

His other brother, Dillon, was gone, too, but what was the saying? Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And what was that other saying? A bad penny always comes back.

Nah, Dillon would never return, and if he did, Dalton would meet him at the property line with a shotgun. More likely, he would just beat the tar out of him and throw his worthless carcass into the bar ditch on the other side of the road. It would be easier than explaining to his mother why he’d shot his twin brother.

With a brother like that, he didn’t need enemies.

He rocked back, the creaking noise an accompaniment to the breeze blowing from the northwest and the soft snoring of the dog on the floor beside him. The Australian shepherd had wandered down the road yesterday morning, burrs in all four paws, flea-bit and tick-bit and twenty pounds underweight. Dalton didn’t want a dog; he had enough four-legged creatures depending on him already, plus one two-legged, since he was paying for Noah’s schooling. But the dog didn’t understand he wasn’t wanted, or just didn’t care.

So it appeared Dalton had a dog.

The floorboards inside the house creaked, too, a moment before the screen door was shoved open and Noah stepped out. He was home from college for the weekend and had done more than his share of the work today. Unlike Dalton, who’d sunk down in the rocker afterward with a bottle of cold water and hardly moved, Noah had showered and changed into clean, pressed indigo jeans and a pearl-snapped shirt. He wore a rodeo championship buckle on his belt and his good boots and carried his good hat.

Dalton knew from the clothes that Noah was partying in Tallgrass tonight. Local girls seemed to appreciate the genuine cowboy look more than they did in the cities an hour away in each direction.

The scent of cologne reminded Dalton that he stank, his skin was taut from the gallons of salt he’d sweated, and his clothes could probably stand on their own. His mother would have thought twice about letting him inside even the back door.

Noah sat on the rail. “Me and some guys are going out to dinner, then hitting some of the clubs. Wanna come?”

Dalton gazed to the west. He was twelve years older than Noah and his buddies. He’d likely changed diapers on every one of them when he was a kid. They would eat like refugees, party it up, and at least some of them would find girls who appreciated genuine cowboys to spend the night with.

Would one of them be a pretty redhead with exotic green eyes? Willing, wearing clothes that fit her hard little body as if made just for her, tossing back more than a few drinks with them before singling out one and suggesting the nearest motel? And would she forget their names before the booze was out of her system, the way she’d forgotten him?

“No, thanks.”

“Aw, come on. You haven’t gone out drinking in longer than I can remember.”

“Maybe that’s because you go out drinking too much.”

Noah didn’t even have the grace to make his grin abashed. “College,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You can at least have dinner with us. Anywhere we go’s got to be better than what you fix.”

“Nah. I’m tired.”

Noah pushed away from the rail, tall and lanky, strong but leaner than Dalton. “You know the Smith family motto. Work hard, play hard, live hard, love—” Abruptly his face turned red, and he clamped the hat on his head. “If you change your mind, you’ve got my number.”

Love hard.
Dalton had done that twice. He’d loved Dillon like a best friend and his wife like his life. Dillon could be dead for all anyone in the family knew, and Sandra
was
dead, buried in a sunny plot at Fort Murphy National Cemetery. She’d died in Afghanistan.

Because she hadn’t loved him enough to live.

Grimly, as Noah drove down the gravel lane, Dalton shoved to his feet and stomped to the door. He stopped long enough to toe off his boots, then shucked his dirt-crusted jeans and left both in a heap next to the door. In grimy socks, ripped T-shirt, and boxers, he stepped inside, then scowled at the dog. “You coming?”

As if he’d been extended the most gracious of invitations, the mutt got up, trotted across the threshold and down the hall to the kitchen.

Yep, Dalton definitely had a dog.

It was five thirty, and Therese was curled in her favorite easy chair in the living room when her cell phone rang. She didn’t have to look to see it was Carly. “Happy Together” was the song she’d programmed in for her best friend just yesterday. She considered leaving the phone there on the table, on top of the Bible she’d been trying to find comfort in, but it was a general rule that she didn’t ignore her margarita sisters.

“Sorry I missed your call earlier.” Carly sounded the same as always, just somehow lighter. Happier. A few months ago she’d been in the same situation Therese was in, minus the Princess of I-Hate-You, then Dane had come into her life and suddenly she wasn’t alone anymore. She wasn’t just a widow. She was a woman in love with a man who loved her every bit as much. It made Therese happy and sad and so very hopeful.

Not for herself. She wasn’t looking for love. She just needed courage and sanity and peace. But Fia, Ilena, Marti, Lucy, Jessy—all the other members of the margarita club—deserved it. They were all too young, even the oldest ones, to live the rest of their lives alone.

“Don’t worry,” Therese said drily. “I’m sure you had way more fun this afternoon than I did.”

“I know a place just outside town that’s isolated. Do I need to bring over a shovel and a flashlight?”

Therese’s smile was faint. “She’s much too alive to bury. Though if you made the same offer to her, she’d probably take you up on it since she’s been praying for me to die.”

There was a moment’s silence, then, “Aw, Therese.”

The sympathy in Carly’s voice was almost Therese’s undoing. Her eyes grew damp, her nose got stuffy, and she was sure she would cry if she gave herself half a chance. And what good would it do? How many gallons of tears had she cried over Abby, Jacob, and Paul, and how much difference had it made?

“So tell me about the platinum hair and the streetwalker clothes. And just what size are those high heels? I know I could never squeeze into even two of her outfits, but my feet just might fit the shoes, and Dane has this thing for trampy shoes.”

Therese chuckled. “Don’t ever tell anyone I said this, but she really looks amazing. The teenage boys across the street were too stunned to move when they saw her. But she’s thirteen. It would break her daddy’s heart to see her dressed like—like her mother.” Of course Catherine had approved the clothes. It was her own style. Fine for a thirty-some-year-old woman in most universes. Not for a barely adolescent child.

“Did you take the clothes away?”

“I did. They’re in the attic, in the dustiest corner in a box marked Old Drapes.” Therese heaved a sigh, massaging her temples with her free hand. “So what have you and Dane been up to?” The last time she’d seen Carly was Tuesday, when Dane had gone down on his bionic knee and proposed to her in front of everyone on the Three Amigos restaurant patio. Carly wasn’t the only one who’d gotten teary-eyed at such a public profession of love and commitment. “He took you home?”

“He did.” Small words to contain so much pleasure.

“I noticed your car was still in the parking lot Wednesday night. Or was it Thursday?”

“I picked it up Wednesday night. Very late Wednesday night.”

“I guess sex isn’t on the list of things you miss anymore.”

A loud rumble came from across the room, and Therese looked up to see Jacob coming down the last few steps. His scowl was tinged with red. “There are kids in the house, you know.”

A comment from Jacob when normally he would have walked past without noticing her. Better, a comment lacking the sullen tone both kids affected so well. “Sorry, Jacob.”

“He asked me to marry him, Therese,” Carly said with a sniffle.

“I know, sweetie. I was there.”

“He wants to set a date. He wants to buy a ring. He wants to meet Jeff’s family and mine. He
really
wants to marry me.” She sounded so full of wonder and awe. Therese understood. She’d felt that way when Paul had proposed to her. It seemed an eternity ago, so special and amazing that she wondered if she could possibly ever feel that way again.

At that instant, a door slammed upstairs and footsteps that would do a dinosaur proud headed down the steps. She couldn’t be in a worse possible place for even thinking about falling in love. She had nothing of herself left to offer. It took all her strength to get through everyday life, and even that required medication. Her only list right now consisted of things to survive. Romance, sadly, didn’t make the cut.

Abby stomped down the stairs and turned down the hall toward the kitchen. She didn’t spare even a glance toward the living room, but Therese felt the hatred radiating from her. A direct look from her enraged brown eyes probably would have pulverized Therese where she sat.
Nothing left but a layer of dust,
the cops would say, shaking their heads in amazement while sweet, angelic Angry Girl looked on from the sidelines.

Forcing her stepdaughter from her mind, Therese concentrated on Carly. “Have you set the date yet?”

“We’re thinking the first weekend of June. I know that seems fast since we only met in March, but…”

She didn’t need to say it. Life was short, time was fleeting, and so on. No one had ever expected Jeff and Paul and all the others to die as young as they did. That was why so few of them had started a family. They had plenty of time. One deployment here, another there, the war would surely end, the troops would draw down, their husbands would come home. There was always next month, next year, the next duty station.

Except when there wasn’t.

“Will it be here in Tallgrass?”

“Yes. My friends and church are here. His friends are all over the world. His mom can come up from Texas, and it’ll do my family good to come out of their labs into the real world for a few days.” Carly hesitated. “I told Mia and Pop. We cried. But some of it was happy tears.”

Carly had remained very close to her former in-laws. Therese envied her that. About the only contact she had with Paul’s parents involved their grandchildren, whom they didn’t want to raise, but they didn’t believe Therese was doing a competent job, either.

Her latest decision regarding the kids would probably sever contact between them forever. At the moment, she couldn’t decide whether that would be a good thing or a bad one.

“You know Jeff’s parents will always love you, and it sounds like Dane’s willing to include them in your lives.”
I want to have little Jeff Juniors and Dane Juniors and Carly Juniors to chase after with you,
he’d said when he’d proposed. He knew she’d loved Jeff dearly, and he didn’t feel threatened by it because he also knew she loved him dearly.

Could Therese ever have that again? Maybe when the kids were gone. Maybe when she’d regained control of her life. But perfect loves weren’t out there floating around for the taking. She’d already had one. Unlike what happened with Carly, one might be all she was entitled to.

“They’re going to come down before the wedding so they can meet,” Carly was saying when Therese tuned in again. “It’s going to be fine, isn’t it? We’re all adults, and we can work things out.”

“It’ll be better than fine. Mia and Pop already love him just for making you happy, and they’ll love him even more for himself. They’ll probably adopt him for their own, the way they did you.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Carly murmured. “Is there anything I can do to help with Abby?”

“Just pray.”

“I always do. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

With a sigh from deep in her heart, Therese repeated the answer. “Just pray.” For strength, for courage, for wisdom.

Saturday night in Tallgrass, Oklahoma, was like being nowhere at all.

But almost immediately Keegan contradicted that. Tallgrass was much bigger than Leesville, where he lived, and offered a lot more than miles of businesses butted up to one busy road. He arrived around sunset and drove through the town. There were the usual fast-food restaurants, bars, and churches that any town had, but also a sense of a real town, not just a place that existed to support the Army base. It had a thriving downtown, and there was action other than prostitutes and drugs—restaurants open, a few shops getting ready to close for the day, regular people strolling the sidewalks.

Murals of oil rigs, cowboys herding cattle, wild horses, buffalo, and Indian encampments covered entire brick walls, along with old-timey ads for soda fountains and cigars. The downtown area looked solid, as if it had endured the Dust Bowl, drought, and tornados just fine and wasn’t planning on surrendering to any other disaster. It had a sense of permanency that appealed to him.

He’d driven down Main Street from one end to the other, past the national cemetery and the two main entrances to Fort Murphy, then took First Street all the way from the south edge of town to the north. He would find food, then a room, just as soon as he checked out something else.

The address was already in his Garmin, and the cheeky Australian voice he called Matilda led him through a few blocks of commercial property, then into residential neighborhoods. The houses in this part of town were mostly old, mostly well maintained, with mature trees that towered overhead and neatly mowed yards. The farther north and east he went, the bigger they got, the pricier, until finally he found himself at the curb across the street from 718 Cheyenne.