First and Again (3 page)

“I’m happy enough. The fishbowl thing doesn’t bother me.”

“That’s good.”

“But if you’re going to live in a small town, you’d better get up to date on your gossip. I’ve been single the last ten years.”

The news took her by surprise. Was he single because of divorce or because his wife had died? “Oh, I’m sorry. Celia didn’t tell me.” She wondered why her sister hadn’t filled her in after all this time.

Jack shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

He offered no further information and she decided not to ask any more questions. After all, she barely knew him anymore.

He pulled the truck to the side of the motel, in a spot that couldn’t be seen through the front window of the bar. She unbuckled her seat belt.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. Now hurry up and get inside before we start a rumor we’re secretly engaged and running off to Paris together.”

Bridget’s hand stilled on the door handle. For a moment she was seventeen again, standing on the edge of her future. Jack was begging her to stay in Paradise till he came back from the Texas oil fields with enough money to buy a ranch and marry her.

He looked away first. “Sorry. That was a stupid joke.”

She got out of the truck. They could tiptoe around the past or they could confront it head-on. She took a deep breath and faced him once more.

“Look, Paradise is a small place. We’re bound to run into each other, so let’s try to forget the past and move forward. I’ve got bigger problems than worrying about things that happened twenty years ago.”

Jack gave a brisk nod. “All right.”

She searched his face for a moment. “I’m glad we understand each other. Thanks again for the ride.”

She closed the truck door, then watched as he sped off toward the highway in a cloud of dust. Letting out a pent up breath, she entered the motel through a back door to the kitchen, wondering if she’d been too hard on him. After all, he’d only been trying to help her, and she’d been curt and dismissive about their past.
No.
She couldn’t deal with any more problems right now.

The door from the bar opened and Mavis entered, a coffeepot in her hand.

“Hey, you’re back,” her mother said. “Where did you disappear to?”

Bridget couldn’t bring herself to talk to her mother about the guilt and panic that had driven her out on that country road. And she didn’t want to tell her Jack had given her a ride home. The last thing she needed was for Mavis to think there was something going on between them.

“I needed some air so I went for a walk.”

“You look like a girl with a lot on her mind. Is there anything you need to talk about?”

“No, I’m fine, but thanks. I just needed to walk.”

A look of disappointment flitted over her face. “I hope you feel better. All I want is for you and Rebecca to be happy again.”

They stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable moment. An invisible wall had stood between Bridget and her mother ever since she could remember. After so many years she couldn’t surmount it. She didn’t even know if she wanted to.

“We’ll be okay. I want to thank you again for letting us stay with you.”

The corners of Mavis’s mouth turned down in a frown. “For heaven’s sake, Bridget, this is your home. You don’t have to thank me, and you certainly don’t need permission to be here. Besides, you’re working for your keep.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying.” Mavis set her coffeepot on a counter. “I’m well aware that moving back to Paradise certainly wasn’t your first choice. I know if it wasn’t for the horrendous way that ex of yours treated you, you wouldn’t be here. It’s one thing to abandon a wife and quite another to abandon a daughter. The least he could have done was to help support her.”

“Mom, please,” Bridget said wearily. “Let’s not get into this again.”

Mavis held up one hand in surrender. “Fine. But I don’t understand how you can defend him.”

“I’m not defending him. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

Mavis had never liked Ben, and even though she never said it, Bridget could hear the I-told-you-so in her voice every time she spoke of him.

For one moment Mavis looked as if she wanted to say something else, but then she sighed and picked up her coffeepot. “I’d better get back out there before the natives get restless.”

“I need to get back to work too.”

“The old place has never looked better,” Mavis said. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Thanks.”

Bridget hurried out of the kitchen, not knowing what else to say. She pulled the old Hoover from a closet. As she pushed the machine over the worn carpet of the bar, she wondered if the wall between her and her mother would always keep them apart.

Chapter Three

Jack measured a concoction of oats, supplements and canola oil into a bowl for each of his ten horses. Dallas Green, the young farmer from down the road Jack had hired to help with the horses, heaved hay into the trough.

“Sasha’s looking like she’s lost a bit of weight,” Dallas said. He put down his pitchfork to run a hand down her flanks. “I think she could use some extra rations.”

Jack smoothed his hand over the mare’s neck and back, checking for tick bites, or perhaps a scratch or lump that didn’t belong. The horses were the cornerstone of his business and needed to be kept in excellent condition. Aside from that, he looked after what belonged to him.

“I think you’re right. Let’s give her an extra scoop of oats. We’ll have to keep our eyes on her.”

“I’m on it,” Dallas said.

When all the horses were fed, he left the barn and headed for his office in the house. The end of summer meant the ranch vacation season was over, as well. The group of corporate executives from Minneapolis he’d hosted the previous weekend had been the last booked for the year. While he never actually closed over the winter, not many visitors considered the depths of a North Dakota winter an ideal time for a trip to the country. He supplemented his winter income by holding sleigh rides that ended with a moonlight skate on the pond next to the horse pasture. His two Percherons, Peggy and Babe, seemed to look forward to the work every winter.

He booted up his computer, intending to immerse himself in pasture rotation records and updates to the ranch’s website, but found himself staring out the window, unable to concentrate. Instead of the lawn and flower garden views, all Jack saw was Bridget’s face. He chuckled as he remembered how determined she’d looked as she marched down the gravel road in her pink apron. Determination was one thing about her that hadn’t changed. Her determination to leave Paradise had ended things for them twenty years ago.

He gave up all pretense of working and put his feet up on the desk. Despite the prickly exterior she now showed to the world, he’d caught intriguing glimpses of the girl he’d fallen in love with. Bridget was still a beautiful woman and he found her just as attractive today as he did all those years ago.

He grunted in disgust. He’d have to be crazy to get involved with her again. She’d broken his heart back then, and his life had changed drastically after she’d left him.

But he’d gotten over it, over her. He’d never let himself fall into that trap again.

His mother’s car rumbled into the yard, pushing the unwanted thoughts away. Jack made his way out to the deck. A moment later his mother unbuckled his daughter’s seat belt. She burst from the car and hurried toward him with her awkward gait.

“Daddy, Daddy!”

He walked down the steps to meet her. Leslie threw herself at his legs and clung to him, nearly bringing him to his knees. He laughed, then bent over to hug her.

“Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Oh yes!” Leslie’s slightly crossed eyes were shining, her round face pink with excitement. “Grandma’s friend has kittens! They were purring when I held them.”

“That means they were happy. They liked you.”

“I liked them too.” She hugged his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”

He buried his face in his daughter’s hair. “I love you too, baby.”

He wouldn’t change the past even if he could. If he hadn’t gone through his difficult marriage to Victoria he wouldn’t have Leslie today. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Though she’d been born with Down syndrome, she was his sunshine, his bright star in a cold and dreary world, and he loved her with a ferocity that sometimes scared him.

He held her a little closer. No, he wouldn’t change anything. But sometimes he couldn’t help wondering what his life would have been like if Bridget hadn’t left him.

* * *

Bridget fought to control a rising sense of panic as she waited outside the principal’s office. Rebecca had only been in Paradise High School for three weeks and this was already her third visit to the principal. She was on a first name basis with Sally Smith, the school secretary, and with Keith and Mark, two teenaged hellions who were also frequent visitors.

Principal Stewart bustled into the room carrying an armful of papers. Gloria Stewart was an energetic woman in her thirties who wore stylishly casual clothes and wore her blond hair in a ponytail. The first time Bridget had seen her she’d mistaken her for one of the students.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Grant. I was getting ready for tomorrow’s pep rally.”

“I understand,” Bridget said, nodding her head slightly. “I know you wouldn’t call me unless it was important.”

“Yes,” Ms. Stewart said. “Why don’t you step into my office? I need to deal with my two young friends first.”

She got to her feet as the principal addressed the boys. “Now, what do you think is appropriate punishment for being unruly in Miss Dillon’s English class? I’m leaning toward having you two wash the spitballs off the ceiling of her classroom. What do you think?”

If there was one thing she’d learned about Principal Stewart in their short acquaintance, it was that she was very creative when handing out punishments. The first time Rebecca had been caught smoking in the girls’ bathroom, she had been sentenced to cleaning the toilets and watching a graphic video depicting the ravages of cancer on longtime smokers. According to Rebecca the video was gross. Unfortunately her disgust hadn’t translated into an abhorrence of smoking. She’d been caught smoking a second time, which resulted in three more days of toilet cleaning duty. It was as if she was deliberately seeking negative attention.

A moment later the principal entered the office and shut the door. “I called you because I’m concerned about Rebecca.”

“In what way are you concerned?”

“She’s having a hard time fitting in with her peers. As you know, she’s been caught smoking in the girls’ bathroom twice, and lately she’s become somewhat...disruptive in class.”

Bridget swallowed, struggling to keep her features composed though she felt like crying in frustration. “How has she been disruptive?”

“Yesterday after chemistry class, she set off a stink bomb.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake. Maybe she just mixed the wrong chemicals together?”

“I might be inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt if she hadn’t set off the stink bomb in the ventilation system.”

She could only stare at the principal. “The ventilation system?”

“We had to evacuate the school and call in our heating expert. There wasn’t much he could do except to turn off the air-conditioning and recommend we open all the windows.”

“How do you know Rebecca is responsible? It could have been some other kid.” Even as she said the words she knew she was grasping at straws.

Ms. Stewart surprised her by smiling. “Because she admitted the whole thing. She even seemed quite proud of it. She told the chemistry teacher how she helped herself to a couple of chemicals and smuggled them out of class.”

“Are you going to expel her?” She held her breath, afraid of the answer.

“No. I believe Rebecca needs to be in school.” Ms. Stewart opened a drawer and pulled out a file. “Her file from St. Agnes Academy paints a picture of a high-achieving student who never had any kind of discipline problems. She’s obviously a very talented and smart girl. Despite the disruption to the school, I had to admire the fact she knew which chemicals together would produce the worst smell.” The principal smiled briefly. “Not that I condone that kind of thing.”

“Of course not.”

“I also looked at her records from her next school, Thomson Public School. Her grades slipped alarmingly while she was there, and the notes in her file indicate several infractions—smoking, talking back to teachers and so on. I believe we have to nip this problem in the bud before it gets out of hand.”

“What do you suggest?” she asked warily.

“I understand your family has gone through some painful adjustments lately. Perhaps Rebecca needs someone to talk to, some safe place to vent her anger. I’m proposing that we arrange counseling for her.”

Bridget’s heart fell. “We tried that at her last school. She refused to cooperate and eventually we had to abandon the idea.”

Ms. Stewart flipped through the papers. “Yes, I read that in her file, but I think counseling is important for her.”

“Yes, so do I, but I don’t know how we can convince her of that. Her old school took away some of her privileges and she still wouldn’t budge. I can’t see her going along with counseling now.”

The principal steepled her fingers together. “It’s been my experience as an educator that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve always found that kids respond to positive reinforcement far more strongly than the negative kind. Punishment usually just makes a student hate school even more, but if you can show them the positive things they can receive by cooperating with the school, you’d be amazed by what they can do.”

“I don’t think I understand,” she said, shaking her head. This principal certainly was different from any she’d had in school.

“It’s quite simple, really. Instead of punishing Rebecca we offer her a positive incentive to cooperate with counseling. What’s something she loves, something that might entice her to see the counselor?”

Bridget knew the answer immediately. “Horses. She loves to ride.”

“Excellent. Perhaps you can offer her a chance to go riding if she’ll talk to the counselor.”

“Yes, perhaps.” Horses were Rebecca’s passion. But even if she found somewhere for her daughter to ride, how was she supposed to pay for it?

“Please think about what I’ve said and get back to me as soon as you can. I don’t want to expel Rebecca, even for a short time, but if she continues to be disruptive I may not have any other choice. I have to think of the other students.”

Bridget nodded, feeling numb inside. She’d failed Rebecca so many times, from breaking up her family to taking her out of her favorite school. This time she couldn’t fail her, no matter the cost. It was their last chance.

* * *

The Friday night crowd at the bar kept her busy all evening. A sudden afternoon thundershower had halted progress on the harvest, making the crops too wet to combine, the hay too soggy to bail. As a result, several of the local farmers and ranchers had headed into town to relax and visit with neighbors.

The bell tinkled over the front door, and she glanced up to see Celia entering the bar. Her jaw tightened. Celia was the last person she wanted to see today. Or any day. Did she think she was just going to get over her betrayal, as if it had been nothing, as if she hadn’t been shattered to her core? Bridget’s hand shook as she put glasses on her tray.

Celia immediately headed toward her, a grim expression on her face.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” she said.

“You didn’t think what was possible?” She avoided looking Celia in the eye.

“That one person could manage to avoid another for this long in a town as small as Paradise. You must have set a new record.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to pop into my shop for a visit and a lousy cup of coffee? Too busy to return my calls? My hair salon is just down the road, so you can’t use distance as an excuse for not visiting me anymore.”

Bridget grabbed a cloth from behind the bar and wiped a couple of empty tables. The last thing she needed was a lecture from Celia. “I didn’t feel like visiting.”

“I know the move’s been a big adjustment for you. All the more reason for you to rely on your family. Why don’t you and Rebecca come over for dinner on Sunday? We’d love to spend some time with you, get to know both of you better.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” She could hear the frustration in her sister’s voice.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You’re always angry about something, Bridge. Ever since we were kids you’ve been mad at me for something. What is it this time?”

“Don’t talk to me as if I were a two-year-old having a tantrum.”

“Then quit behaving like one. If something’s bothering you, just tell me instead of acting like some kind of martyr. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you all the time.”

She threw down her wet cloth. “Unlike one of us, I’m not the chatty type. I don’t gossip about things that are none of my business.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She lifted her eyes to Celia’s, keeping her voice low. “Don’t insult me by playing dumb. You know exactly what I mean.”

Celia threw up her hands, her voice rising. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You want to fill me in on my supposed crime?”

Conversation abruptly stopped around them as people turned to stare. Bridget grabbed Celia’s arm, pulling her toward the empty restaurant.

“Can’t you keep your mouth shut about anything?” she said under her breath as she dragged her out of the bar. Celia wrenched her arm free.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She closed the door to the restaurant. “I’m talking about telling Tina Wilson all the gory details about my divorce.”

“All I told Tina was that you and Ben had divorced and that you were coming to live here for awhile.”

“Then how did she know about Ben’s affair with a younger woman? I sure as hell didn’t tell her, and I didn’t tell anyone else except you and Mom.”

“I told you, I didn’t tell her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Celia’s eyes went wide with shock but she didn’t reply. Silence stretched between them. Finally she spoke, her voice tired and her eyes filled with resignation.

“You can believe what you want. Nothing I say will change your mind if you’re determined to think the worst of me.”

She started for the door and then stopped, one hand resting on the knob. “I’d hoped that when you moved back it would be a new start for us. I thought maybe for the first time we could be like real sisters to each other, sisters who can tell each other anything, who stick together no matter what. I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted that, but I guess it’s not meant to be.”