DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE) (14 page)

C
an't I trust anybody
?

First Noah, then this? What did I ever do to deserve this shit?

I put the environmental papers in a folder for Jacey, then bury my head in my hands. I've never felt this disappointed. Ever.

I think about all the times Clif and I shared. He charmed me, and I didn't even think he was trying. I respected him. I fell for him. I was ready to start a family with him.

How could I be this naive, this misguided? I can't even trust myself.

I think about the day when he finally opened up to me. That whole time, I kept thinking I might be the only girl he'd ever talked to like that. I'd never felt that close with anyone before. Not with Noah, not with my father, no one. I know that's when I fell head over heels for Clif Jackson, the man with the most fucked-up childhood I’ve ever personally met.

I want to feel that way again: truly intimate. Trusted. Close. I don't want to doubt...everything. No matter what happened to me in my life, I had always believed the world was a good place. I thought everything happened for a reason.

Now, I'm not so sure. I'm even starting to think that Clif manipulated me. It's unthinkable, I know, but maybe I was just too naive and love-struck to interpret the situation rationally. I'm no dummy: so much of my work fundamentally has to do with human psychology and social behavior; few people are aware of the manipulations that occur in everyday life like I am. But apparently I’m just one of the mindless, bamboozled herd. I still don't know shit about men, and maybe I'm paying for it. And Coralie. I feel so bad for her.

I have to go home. No, rather, I need to get the hell out of this suffocating little town.

And then it happens: I break down. I can’t take it anymore. I feel so weak for crying at my desk, but I'm at my wits end.

It's a long while until I stop, but when I do, I finally feel a little better.

I
can't take
it any longer.

I did everything right with Katie. She's got to know she can't just use me when she's lonely, then push me away. Especially not because her two-faced, castrated, hipster boyfriend wants to maintain some kind of fake relationship.

I fight the urge to throw my computer screen against the wall. Next thing I know I’m marching down the hall towards Katie’s office.

"Noah's a goddamn pussy. He's an emasculated little pussy who is stringing you along! Why can’t you open your eyes and see it?”

"Go fuck yourself,” she looks up at me and lashes back. “How dare you, you hypocritical son of a bitch! Of all people to go around moralizing and judging and spewing out dating advice! Holy shit! You’re a real piece of work, you know that? And you know something else? Your girlfriend's pregnant! Yeah, the one you conveniently forgot to tell me about! Just thought you’d like to know you two-timing manwhore!”

Stunned doesn’t even come close to describing my reaction. “W-what?!” I stutter. “What the fuck are you talking about?! Have you gone off your rocker?!”

“Don’t ‘what’ me you lying son of a bitch! You know exactly who I’m talking about! Coralie! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about her?”

"You’re mad! Absolutely insane!
Who the hell is Coralie?!
What are you talking about?! I didn't get anybody pregnant. You really have lost your flippin’ mind!"

"Skinny brunette with long straight hair, dresses like some sort of New Age, flower power hippy? Looks like a supermodel? You knocked her up, don’t lie to me! She told me herself!"

I feel a cold sweat prickle over my skin. I know exactly who she’s talking about: Taylor Dell. There's a remote possibility it might be true, but Taylor was so fucking crazy I took extra precautions. Still...

Getting a grip on myself and taking it down a few notches I say, "You must mean Taylor."

"Taylor, Tanya, Tasha, whatever. She says she's going to have it. I just fucking knew it was all a big mistake getting involved with you. I just knew it. Goddamn myself!” She sinks into her chair, tears dripping off her cheeks.

“Katie, I—“

“Go to hell! There’s nothing left to say. My contract is up, my dad is sick, and I need to be there for him. And you need to be there for Coralie or Taylor or whatever her stupid fucking name is! And
your
baby,” her voice cracks.

"Please, just stop. Give me a chance to look into this. There’s…it’s gotta be a misunderstanding, a mistake. Taylor hasn't called me in weeks. I don’t know what kind of game she’s playing, but she's not trustworthy, she’s crazy. She even lied to you about her
name
. Just give me a chance. I'm begging you, please."

"Screw it. You’ve blown through all your chances. I'm going home a day early. This was all a mistake. And you will pay me the full amount we agreed on."

All I can do is stand there and watch as Katie closes her laptop and slides it in her bag. She packs up her few things and then walks out the door.

And out of my life.

And just like that, it's over.

T
here's not
much to pack.

Just the clothes I flew in with, one suitcase of luggage, and a couple of cheap things I bought in Coal Butte. There's a pair of silver earrings sitting on the counter—they're from Clif. I pick them up, remembering the night he gave them to me. A tear comes to the corner of my eye.

I leave them there.

I just want to forget about all this. I want to forget, and be there for my father. It's where I should have been all along while I was out screwing around, literally. I was so so so so stupid thinking I could ever change someone like Clif.

I still don't get it—
what was I thinking
?

It felt so right, so genuine. Now it feels like I'm back where I was when I arrived here, hurt and confused.

No—it’s infinitely worse now: now I'm pregnant with Clif's baby.

I run my hands over my tummy, thinking about the little life growing inside of me.

I think about raising him—or her—on my own. Alone. Like always, I'll be the responsible one. I was so stupid fantasizing that I could have a romance. A real life, exciting, storybook romance of my own. Clif
had to have known
; he played me, just like all the others.

Oh God. What am I going to do with a baby?

I'm not that far along. It would be so easy to walk into a clinic and let them... A sob chokes my throat. But no, the thought hurts too much. I sit down on the bed. There has to be a silver lining to all of this; maybe it's that I can give my father a grandchild. I don't know. I just can't find a crumb of hope in this shit situation.

Insensibly, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring off into space.

My phone rings. Thank God it’s not Clif. That’s the last person I want to talk to right now.

“Hello?”

"Hello? Ms. Fischer?" It's a man voice, soft and gentle.

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Jackie, I’m a charge nurse at New Day Medical Center.”

No no no no! I look up at the ceiling and tell God I’m sorry for saying Clif was the last person I wanted to talk to, then beg for his forgiveness. I take a deep breath. "This is about my father, isn’t it?"

"I'm afraid so. I’m so sorry. He had another heart attack; his condition is critical."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

D
amn
, it's cold.

It snowed over a foot last night. The storm must have moved out around midnight, leaving the morning clear and frigid. My horse snorts at something and stops; we've been riding for an hour, following elk tracks high up a ridgeline in the steep wooded foothills above town.

"Whoa, easy girl!"

My horse nickers and throws her head again. I look around, my eyes focused intently, penetrating the deep woods as best I can. I then I see it: a black bear with two cubs.

“It’s okay, girl,” I say calmly. “Just momma bear and her cubs. She doesn’t want any trouble. C’mon, git.” I drive her away from the bears and towards another slope.

It's so quiet and peaceful out here. We ride another half hour until we're high on a hill, overlooking the valley.

Where did I go wrong in life?

All those years, I thought I was just out having fun. Just drinking and being young, like I was supposed to. Everyone wanted my lifestyle. That's what made it easy for me to believe my own bullshit. All those years and I thought that I was in control—turns out I wasn’t.

But Fear was. I could face down violent men, killer waves, fierce bulls. I could tame wild horses. But I didn't have the courage to ever be myself around a woman.

I wasn't living. I was running. Running from love.

Running from my past. And those cutthroat years in L.A. didn't help. They just reinforced my notions that the world was a dog-eat-dog kind of place, every-man-for-himself, fuck the rest. It was just too easy to believe my own cynicism. That's what turned me into my worst version of myself. I thought I had grown up, made myself a man, but all that time, I was still the same scared little kid, afraid of being hurt. Afraid of being abandoned.

If only I'd found courage before I found Katie. She could have been mine. Too late for that now.

Maybe I deserve all this.

I can’t help but think back to my mother. I know I was a terror to her, but I did love her. I wish I could take back all the mean things I said. I wonder where my mother and sister are now…are they even alive?

What does it matter? No use fretting about the past, as Uncle Robert used to say.

But Katie doesn’t feel like the past, even if she is. I hurt her. And knowing that destroys me more than having her leave.

The thing is, she made me want to be a better person, and all I gave her in return was another burden. No, I'm not going to chase her. The best thing I can do is let her go. She’s a tough woman, she’ll find her way.

And she deserves so much better. She won’t see my face ever again.

There's only one thing I have to do now: Man up, look ahead towards the future, and be a good father to Taylor’s baby.

My baby.

"
H
e's in ICU North
, room five,” the greeter at the main entrance of the hospital tells me.

"Thanks!" I barely have time to catch my breath before I'm running again.

"Ma'am. Ma’am!” she cries out after me. “Please wait! We have a question regarding your insurance.”

I don’t look back and I don’t respond. Fucking soulless parasites!! Don’t these people have hearts?? Why does it always have to be about money, money, money?? Screw those assholes! I'm just grateful I could get here before it's too late. The doctor said he was barely responsive, and the notion that he might not recognize me or be conscious positively crushed my soul. I feel nervous and sick to my stomach as I approach his unit. I should have been at his bedside this entire time.

Now I'm standing at the threshold, heart pounding. Time, which was speeding by so fast before, seems like it has come to a screeching standstill.

His eyes are closed. Wires and tubes and monitors surround him. "Daddy?" I call out softly. He looks thin and brittle, as if he might blow away at the slightest gust of wind. My lips start to tremble—am I strong enough for this?

Miraculously his eyelids flutter weakly. Then they open. "Hi, baby," he whispers, his head turns slightly in my direction.

“Oh Daddy!” I rush to his side, tears streaming down my face.

Thank God! I’m not too late after all! I'm so happy even though I’m devastated at the same time. I gently caress his forehead and cautiously give him a kiss, being careful not to bump or dislodge any of his many tubes or wires. He looks so thin, so frail, much more so than when I saw him last. It’s as if all the medical equipment has sucked the life out of him, rather than inject it back in like it is supposed to; all that's left now is a pale, dried up, withered old husk.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry I didn’t come earlier, I'm so sorry." I’m practically on my knees, begging for his forgiveness, gripping the railings of his bed.

He extends a bony, fragile arm. "Kathryn, come here. Let me hug you." His voice is flimsy and hoarse, but it's so incredibly comforting to hear it again. I lean over his frail body and give him an embrace, my head lying gently on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady. It breaks my heart how weak his pulse is.

"I'm so happy to see you again, Buckshot." I smile through my tears—Buckshot was my nickname when I was younger because, as he put it, I was all over the place. He hasn’t called me that in years; suddenly I’m his little girl again, sitting on his lap.

He clears his throat. "But let's stop this nonsense and cut to the chase." He releases me. I do my best to smile, despite myself. These might be his last days on earth, but he's still his cantankerous old self, that same hardworking man who raised me all on his own.

He looks me straight in the eye without a hint of sadness or remorse. "Kathryn, I'm dying. What I mean to say is, we don't have a hell of a lot of time left together. I want you to know that I know you did your best for me. Don't waste time on apologies or regret, it won’t do you any good, believe me. Take it from a dying old man. The past is past.”

“Oh don’t say that!” I cry harshly. “There’s still a chance, you’re not dead yet Goddamnit!”

“Stop it, Katie!” His voice becomes sturdier. “You can talk death and destruction all you want when I’m gone. For now, all I want is to hear about your life. What happened these past few weeks? Did you enjoy yourself? Tell me everything. Talk to me about your life, that's all I want from you." He lays a wrinkled hand on mine and looks expectantly into my face.

I rub the tears from my cheeks and take a big gulp. He looks at me discerningly—he’s always been able to read me like a book. Oh hell, what’s the point of beating around the bush? He knows I’m concealing something.

I pull up a chair next to his bed and sit down. Taking a deep breath I announce, "I'm pregnant. It happened in Wyoming sometime these past few weeks. It was an accident. I’m scared and don't know what to do."

He remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

I stare blankly at my left hand folded between my legs. "Noah called off our engagement. Part of the reason I took the job in Wyoming was to get away from him and the ever-present dark shadow of our relationship. A connection with my new boss in Jackson somehow developed. I really fell for him, Dad, I did. But then an ugly thing happened: an old girlfriend of his called me saying she was pregnant with his baby. I was so hurt and disappointed I left the day before my contract was over."

"Does he know you're pregnant?"

"No. I was going to tell him the day his girlfriend called. All of this is so degrading. I still can't believe it happened. I really felt a connection to this guy. I really believed he was genuinely a nice person. I never thought in a million years something like this could happen to me."

"You need to tell him."

"Yeah, I know. I thought about calling him. But I don't want him to think I’m using the baby as some sort of bargaining chip to make him commit to me. That’s certainly the last thing I want him to assume. I'm not going to manipulate him, and I definitely don’t want anything to do with him now."

There's a quiet moment. I'm holding his papery hand in mine.

"What are you going to?"

"I don't know. I don’t know if I can raise a child by myself without the help of a father.”

With some struggle he props himself up and angles towards me. “Yes. I had the same doubts when your mother died,” he sighs wistfully. “I remember thinking ‘What the hell I’m going to do now?’ But, you know, you simply take things day by day. Soon enough the years breeze by, and before you know it your toddling little child is fully-grown. Sweetheart, it was never my intention to raise you alone. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to crying myself to sleep on more than one occasion. But you turned out to be the most beautiful gift I ever received. I’m the luckiest man on Earth to be able to watch you grow up and blossom. Right from the start you were a smart, lively, independent little girl, and I knew you'd take the world by storm one day, never a doubt in my mind. Kathryn, you're the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and if anyone can raise a child by herself, it’s you.” He pats my hand.

“Oh Daddy,” I weep, breaking down. I’m trying not to cry, but that was the kindest, most heartfelt thing anyone has ever told me.

“A child doesn’t need a father. A child needs a dad. Anyone can make babies, but not everyone can be a good parent. You will make an excellent mother if you decide to have the child, you certainly don’t have to question your capability in that department. And I know, because I raised you.” He smiles at me compassionately, his eyes watering. “And I know something else: you haven’t seen the last of the kid’s father.”

We look at each other, and instantly we both know my decision: I'll keep the baby.

It's only the second time in my entire life I have ever seen my father cry. If I'm really as strong as he believes, it's all because of him.

I cry harder than I ever have before, and sit with him until late in the night. I'm holding his hand when he falls asleep.

The nurses don't bother us. They know visiting hours don't apply to Death.