“I wrote. I called.”
“When you felt like it—which wasn’t very often.” “Aunt Mae—’ ‘
“Don’t ” Aunt Mae’ me,” Mae scolded.
Jodie shifted from foot to foot. She had been lax about keeping in touch. But it was for this very reason, to avoid what was happening now.
Mac’s hawklike eyes narrowed as if she sensed a weakening. “I raised you like my own daughter since before you could walk. I didn’t teach you to be inconsiderate.”
“I didn’t do it to be inconsiderate, only to avoid unpleasantness. This kind of unpleasantness.”
Mac’s features tightened. “Surely you didn’t think you could just waltz home and no one would say a word?” ‘
“No, I knew you’d be bound to say something.”
Mae glared at her. Then she motioned for Jodie to accompany her to the sitting area. As they settled on
either end of the dark green couch, she asked stiffly, “Did you get anything of value out of your year away?”
“I believe so.”
“What?”
“An appreciation of life outside Texas. Different people, different places, different ways of thinking.”
“Better ways?” Mae demanded sharply. “Sometimes, yes,” Jodie replied honestly.
Mae shook her head and risked. “How can a Parker say that?”
Jodie rolled her eyes.
Mae saw and demanded, “Are you still ashamed of who you are? Is that why you did what you did to your hair? But if that’s the case, why’d you choose black? It just makes you look more like one of us.”
The physical resemblance among the family members was striking–black hair, black eyes, strongly carved features. Jodie had always been the odd person out with her coppery-red hair, hazel eyes and ga-mine-like features. Her goal in London, though, hadn’t been to look like a Parker. That had been the last thing she wanted.
Mae watched her keenly. “You are still ashamed,” she said flatly, answering her own question. “I’d hoped…” She sighed. Then, shoulders sagging, she murmured, “I’m too old for this, Jodie. There’s not all that much time left.”
Her great-aunt seemed to undergo a transformation right in front of her eyes. The fierce matriarch changed to a tired, frail, overburdened woman who looked every one of her eighty-eight years. Then the
illusion vanished Mae’s shoulders were back in place, her chin jutted forward, a defiant look in her eyes.
Had she only thought she’d seen something? Jodie wondered. Col3fused, she failed to register Mae’s next words and stammered, “Wh—what did you say?”
“I said I’m disappointed,” Mae snapped. “You’re too old to behave so foolishly. But it’s not surprising, considering that you always did jump into things without taking time to think ‘em through. The best example I can come up with is that mess you got into with that young cowboy.”
Jodie stiffened. “That was a long time ago, Aunt Mae.”
“What was his name? Rio, wasn’t it?”
An old mixture of shame and resentment burned through Jodie. “I was seventeen!”
“I tried to tell you what would happen. So did Rafe. So did Shannon and Harriet. But did you listen? No. You ran off with him, expectin’ him to marry you. If Rafe hadn’t gotten the truth out of Jennifer Cleary” — the daughter of the rancher whose property bordered the Parker Ranch and who’d been Jodie’s best friend at the time “—Lord only knows what would have come of it!”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been marriage,” Jodie said bitterly. “That wasn’t part of Rio’s plans, remember?”
“He just let you think it was.”
Jodie stood up, rubbing her arms as if they were cold. “Do we have to go through this again?”
“Then your change of plans at the university,” Mae continued, undaunted. “First you wanted a degree in business. You took all the
necessary courses, made excellent grades, then you decided business didn’t interest you. Art history was your cup of tea. So you shifted everything to that, even though it meant adding another year before you could graduate. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were determined. Then, after I went to all the trouble to arrange a position for you at the Hof-inze Museum—one of the most respected in the country, I might add—you ran off to play in Europe!”
“I’ve apologized for that,” Jodie said tightly.
Mae tugged on Jodie’s arm. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Missy. It’s you.t” she said. “How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? When I was your age I’d already lived through one world war, the Great Depression and several terrible droughts—one so bad we almost lost the ranch! The way you’re going, you’re just wasting your life! Letting it trickle through your fingers. And what you let trickle through, believe me, you won’t ever get back!” She paused, then asked, “What are your plans? Do you have any? Have you even thought about it?”
“No,” Jodie admitted.
Mae sighed in exasperation. “You have to set yourself a goal and work toward it, Jodie. Would you like me to”
“I don’t want you to do anything?” Jodie interrupted her fiercely. “I’m perfectly capable of”
“There aren’t many art museums out here,” Mae cut in. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about that, tOO.”
Jodie’s cheeks were flushed as she walked to a narrow table on which various old family photographs were displayed. An entire range of
emotions was washing over her, from the shame she still felt at being duped by Rio to fury at Mae’s scolding. “Do you want me to leave the ranch?” she asked stiffly. “Is that it?”
“No!” Maesaid quickly. “You just got here. And contrary to what you might think, I—we all missed you! What I want, is for you to turn your back on your irresponsible ways. Have the backbone to pick something and stick to it. Make up your mind that whatever it is, you’re goin’ to see it through.”
Jodie had a hard time meeting her aunt’s eyes. If Mae was frustrated by what she saw as her niece’s continuing inability to settle down, it was nothing to Jodie’s own frustration. She, better than anyone, was aware of her restiveness, of her inability to decide what she wanted from life. Was that natural for someone of her age? Or was it because she was too much like her mother and ill suited for a settled life?
Joale .
Jodie looked up.
Her great-aunt’s expression changed as she crossed to her. “I don’t want to be too hard on you,” Mae said mildly, taking her hand. “Just hard enough to make you understand. You’re the closest I’ve ever come to having a child of my own. Do your old spinster aunt a favor and tell me you’ll try. You’ll at least do that for me, won’t you, Jodie?”
The Parker charm. Jodie knew it well. If you couldn’t win a battle by direct confrontation, win it by persuasion. But something made her pause. That momentary sense of her great-aunt’s frailty.
Jodie glanced away for a second, then looked back. “Tn try, Aunt Mae,” she promised quietly, and when
her aunt reached out to hug her, she felt her love for this steel-hard woman break through in response.
THE HOUSE was quiet as Jodie made her way back to the front door. Made must have taken off—she was probably hiding out at the ranch hands’ cook house visiting Axel And the family, knowing of the command appearance, had stayed clear, as well.
That didn’t mean they weren’t interested, though. On her way past Rafe and Shannon’s house, Jodie was waylaid by Shannon and Harriet, who, “coincidentally” , were just coming out with their young children.
Both five-year-old Anna, Harriet and LeRoy’s younger daughter, and Ward, Shannon and Rafe’s four-and-a-half year-old son, looked inquisitively at Jodie before running off to play under the trees in the center courtyard, a golden-haired puppy gamboling at their heels. Nathan, Shannon and Rafe’s three-year-old, showed no interest in Jodie at all as he hurried to catch up with the others.
“They don’t remember me,” she murmured, looking wistfully after them.
“A year is a long time in a child’s life,” Shannon said.
“Oh, you’ll be back in their good graces before you know it,” Harriet said. “All you have to do is pay attention to Shep, Jr. Someone wrote to tell you about him, right? The kids got together and named him in honor of old Shep, Shannon told them he’d already been given a name at the kennel, but they said it wasn’t the right one. What was it, Shannon? Duke or Domino or something like that?”
“Duke,” Shannon said, smiling.
“Rafe sided with them, and since the puppy was his present from Shannon, that settled it.”
“I thought Rafe didn’t want another dog after…”
“He said he didn’t,” Shannon replied, but he never got over losing Shep. Even after three years I’d catch him looking around as if he expected Shep to be there. They’d been part of each other’s lives for so many years. One day I just did it. His face lit up when he saw the puppy, then the kids wanted to name him Shep, Jr . It was really Gwen and Wcs’s doing. ” She named Harriet’s older children. ” Ward! Ward, stop it! ” she called when she saw her older son thump his brother with the puppy’s rope chew toy.
“If those two don’t look like Parkers,” Jodie said softly.
Shannon laughed. “They seem to have missed my genes ai together ” Ward! ” she again warned her older son. ” Tn be back in a second,” she said in exasperation.
Jodie watched as Shannon went to administer justice, her wheat-colored hair swinging against her shoulders. It was hard to believe that seven years had passed since Shannon had arrived at the ranch. At the time she’d been a pale stranger in need of recuperation from a plane crash she’d barely survived—one in which everyone else on board had been killed, including her father and her fiance. Now, the limp that once disabled her had all but disappeared. And she’d become a Parker-in every way that counted.
Harriet must have been thinking along the same lines, because she said quietly, “It’s pretty amaZing
when you think about it, isn*t it? Shannon coming here, she and Rafe falling in loe, having kids. Terrible as it was, if it hadn’t been for that plane crash, none of this would have happened. She’d probably have married that other man, Rafe would’ve had to keep putting u with Mae shoving women his way, and you and I would have been short a good friend. “
Jodie turned to look at Harriet. In her mind Harriet’s influence at the ranch had been pretty special, too. die’d been ten when Harriet and LeRoy married, from that point on her new cousin had always been there for her—across the courtyard, ready to help out in tough situations or willing merely to listen.
Harriet, sensing her scrutiny, turned wide-spaced gray eyes on Jodie. “What is it?” she asked, lou
“Are you counting my silver hairs? If you find more than six, let me know and I’ll dye those suckers again so fast… You’re not the only one who can play with hair color, you know.”
Shannon rejoined them. “Hopefully that’s taken care of it.” She gave the children one last glance, before turning curious blue eyes on Jodie and Harriet. “What are you two talking about?”
“Hair dye!” Harriet said, “What do you think? How would I look as a platinum blond? I could buy one those skintight dresses, then walk around like my knees are glued together.” She struck a Marilyn Monroe pose, which went amazingly well with her lush figure, i before bursting into giggles.
“LeRoy would have a heart attack,” Shannon teased.
“Not to mention Aunt Mae.” Jodie grinned.
“Which brings us back to what Shannon and I want to know,” Harriet said. “How did it go? You don’t look particularly the worse for wear. No singed edges.”
“None that show at any rate,” Shannon agreed.
Jodie smiled wryly. “Well, she wasn’t pleased, but beyond that…”
“Oh, come on,” Harriet said. “There has to be more.”
“She wants me to grow up.”
The stark statement, tinged with hurt, caused a silence, then Shannon asked, “Isn’t that what you’ve already done?”
“It seems I haven’t done it well enough. Not in her view.”
“She’s proud of you, Jodie,” Harriet said quickly. “Proud that you graduated with honors from the university, proud that you”
“She threw Rio in my face again,” Jodie interrupted tightly.
The other two women shared a glance. “But Rio was such a long time ago,” Shannon said.
“That’s what I told her.”
“So what does she want you to do?” Harriet demanded.
“Basically?” Jodie said. “The opposite of what I’ve been doing up till now. No more running away from..” things. “
Shannon shook her head. “Wouldn’t you think that at her age she’d let up a bit?”
Harriet grumbled, “She probably only sees it as having less time to get what she wants.”
“She truly does care about you, Jodie,” Shannon
assured her. “She cares about all of us, but you most of all. It makes a difference that she practically raised you. Maybe that’s why she exPeCts so much.”
A brightly colored ball bounced by, followed immediately by the puppy and three laughing children.
“We were just on our way to Harriet’s house for lunch,” Shannon said. “Would you like to come along?”
“The more the merrier!” Harriet said.
$odie smiled her regrets. “1‘4o, I’m going to lie down for a while. My body still thinks it’s somewhere else. And I sure don’t want to be guilty of falling asleep during dinner tonight. Aunt Mae would never forgive me.”
“She’d probably make you start taking afternoon naps.” Harriet laughed.
After a few minutes spent playing with the puppy and talking to the children, Jodie continued to her father’s house. It, too, was quiet. He must still have been in town on his errand or off somewhere painting.
For most of her life her father had distanced himself from her and from others. As she’d grown older, she’d come to understand that he used this distance as a defense. If he lost himself in his painting, he could get away from everything that bothered him, both in the present and from the past. Over the years his avocation was supposed to be a secret from Mae, but she’d known, as she always did.
Gib was remarkably talented. His scenes of working life on a ranch looked so genuine–-the horses, the cowboys, the cattle–it seemed they might come to life and step off the canvas at any second. In the beginning he’d
shown them to no one, not even her. Then, slowly, over the past few years, as he’d gained a little confidence, he’d begun to work out in the open in his spare time.