The Ranch She Left Behind (30 page)

She knew Rowena and Bree were waiting for her to start explaining, but she didn’t feel like it. Most people who wanted to kiss a guy could just do it. For her, however…

It seemed as if every time she and Max decided to lock lips somebody took out an ad in the paper to announce it.

Okay, maybe not every time. Last night, at least, was still private. She wanted so badly to keep it that way. She didn’t want to listen while her sisters performed a conversational autopsy on the event. Especially now that it looked fairly certain that last night was all she’d ever have, she wanted desperately to protect it. If she had to talk about Max right now, she might break down and cry. She had lost him, and that hurt enough.

She had to pick her next moves very carefully, if she didn’t want to undo all the progress she’d made in the past few months. She thought maybe she’d just go straight for the white-water rafting. It frightened her, but think what a victory it would be.

It might restore her faith in herself. She needed that more than she needed anything else on earth.

Except Max.

“Okay, so…” Bree, who sat on one of the Adirondack rockers, lost the silence contest. “Who should we be worried about here, Pea? Just Ellen? Or Ellen
and
you?”

“Just Ellen,” Penny said, determined to sound calm. It shocked her to realize that, even now, her inner child was tempted by the thought of these loyal shoulders to cry on. “I’m fine.”

“What Bree means, I think,” Ro put in, “is that—”

“I know what she means.” Penny slowed the swing. She felt herself growing angry, though she knew it was only a shield to put over the sadness that made her feel so vulnerable and lost.

“Bree means she wants to know whether Max Thorpe has broken my heart. You
both
want to know whether you should call Dallas to arrest him, or ask Gray to take him out to the woodshed for a whipping.”

She shook her head, knowing she sounded harsher than she should. But better harsh and independent than adorable…and helpless.

“Or maybe you just want to do an internet search on his romantic history, to see how many girls he’s loved and left. Find out whether he’s good enough to allow near your baby sister.”

Bree and Ro exchanged a glance.

“Well, the answer is no.” Penny put both her feet on the porch, and sat up as straight as she could. “Instead, you should take off your mother-hen glasses and see what’s going on under your noses. I’ve grown up, ladies. I’m not your baby sister anymore.”

Bree looked sad. “I know,” she said. “
We
know. It’s just that we love you, and we don’t want anyone to—”

“If you love me,” Penny broke in, “then trust me to make my own decisions. If I make colossal mistakes, trust me to handle the consequences. But Max is not a colossal mistake, so relax. I’m fine.” She swallowed hard, wishing she were out on the white water right this very minute. Anything was preferable to this.

“I’m fine.”

Rowena looked suddenly as if she might cry, and that made Penny feel as if the tears she’d been holding back might break free, too. And of course, if both of them were crying, nothing on earth could stop Bree from joining in.

Oh, no, no, no… Impossible.
They had guests coming and going all over the ranch, for heaven’s sake. What great fodder for the scandalous Wright family legends, if guests reported seeing all three Wright sisters sobbing on the back porch.

“Ro, don’t.” Penny gave her eyes the lecture of her life. No burning, no blurring,
no tears!
“What on earth is wrong? What have I said to make you cry?”

Rowena came over and sat beside her on the old swing, which creaked and bounced slightly. Her green eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s probably just the hormones. They say the first three months…”

She grabbed Penny’s hands. “But… Oh, Sweet pea. It’s also that I know that sound. God help me, I know that sound
so
well.”

Penny frowned. “What sound?”

“The sound of a proud woman covering up a broken heart.” Still hanging on to Penny, she turned plaintively to Bree.

“Damn it, Bree,” she said. “Penny’s fallen in love with the man.”

* * *

W
HEN
P
ENNY
GOT
home that night, Max’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. But she could see lights on in his side of the duplex, and the bulky frame of Mrs. Biggars moving around behind the shades.

So probably Ellen was there.

She climbed the steps to the Thorpe side and rapped softly on the front door

Mrs. Biggars answered quickly. The older woman and Penny had become friendly over the past couple of weeks, bonding over their shared interest in gardening and their mutual affection for Ellen.

“She says she doesn’t want to see you.” Mrs. Biggars was a no-nonsense kind of lady. She obviously knew what had happened this afternoon. “But I told her that’s rude, so come on in. She’s in her bedroom.”

Penny hesitated. “Maybe, if she’s really not in the mood to talk—” She held out the framed picture she’d brought with her. “Maybe you could just give her this for me.”

Mrs. Biggars took the picture and turned it over. It was one of Ellen’s photographs from the wedding, in which she’d beautifully caught the moonlight on the creek, and the strings of colored lights on the flower garlands, and the silhouettes of people dancing. It was probably about 75 percent beginner’s luck, but it was perfectly composed and oozing with emotion.

“Did you take this?” Mrs. Biggars looked impressed.

“No. This is Ellen’s shot. I had it framed.”

Mrs. Biggars’ eyes widened. “In that case you definitely should come on in.”

“Thanks.” Penny smiled as she entered the house. “If it’s okay, I’ll go give it to her myself.”

Ellen’s room was brightly lit, the bed made with a softly colorful spread, duster and pillow shams that all looked as if they might have been patterned after Monet’s
Water Lilies.
She had a chair, a television, a desk and a bookcase full of books.

She sat on the chair, over by the side of her bed, her back to the corner, where she could see the entire room. It was the power position, the way a queen on a throne will survey the great hall, her back shielded so that no one could sneak up on her.

But Ellen didn’t look powerful. Her hair was limp and lifeless, as if she’d forgotten to brush it. Her mouth, one of her beauties, was turned down in a frown that seemed to have become permanent. Even her eyes, which looked so much like her father’s, were sunken and dull.

She was not ready to make peace and be friends. Shoulders tight, drawn up practically to her ears. Hands white-knuckled in her lap. Legs as stiff as nutcrackers.

“I told Mrs. B I didn’t want to see anybody.”

“I know.” Penny didn’t sit, because that would have implied too much familiarity, but she did cross the threshold. “I’m sorry about that, because I know it’s annoying to have your wishes ignored. But I wanted to give you this picture, and I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I upset you today.”

Ellen raised her chin. “You didn’t upset me. My dad did.”

Penny shrugged. “Maybe. But it seemed as if I had upset you, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“No. You didn’t think I could see. You thought you could just sneak around with my dad, and I would never know.”

In some gallows-humor sort of way, Penny felt like smiling. It wasn’t altogether untrue.

“I think your dad and I were both worried about upsetting you. I guess he knows you pretty well. He obviously was afraid you’d react…well, exactly the way you did react.”

“Because he knows it’s true. He didn’t love my mom.” Her chin quivered. “And he doesn’t love me.”

“That’s not true.”

Penny stated it flatly, knowing her certainty would probably anger Ellen. But it had to be said—and by someone on the outside. Max could tell her he loved her till he’d used up all the air in the universe, and she would assume he was only trying to restore his reputation.

“I don’t know what was going on between your mother and your father,” she said. “I wasn’t there, and I never met your mom. But I do know how your dad feels about you. He loves you.”

Ellen stared, stony-eyed. “How do you know?”

“If I’m going to tell you that, I’m going to need to sit down. It’s a long story.” She touched the tip of the wooden desk chair. “May I?”

The girl frowned. Then she shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Penny placed the photograph, faceup, on the bedspread, and then sat. “Did anyone ever tell you any gossip about my father?”

Ellen flushed. “It’s not gossip. It’s just the truth. Alec told me, because it was Rowena’s father, too.”

Well, not exactly, but close enough for this story. If Ellen hadn’t heard any of this story, Penny wasn’t going to be the first to share it. But if she already had heard, then probably the best thing Penny could do was clear up ghoulish fiction from fact.

“Okay. What did Alec tell you?”

“Just that your dad…he had a brain tumor or something, and it made him crazy. He ended up…like…sort of…pushing your mom down the stairs. And she died.”

“Yes. All of that is true.” Penny marveled that Alec hadn’t felt the need to embellish. He was ordinarily a big fan of the theatrical.

“The point is, I know what it’s like to have a bad father. A really bad father.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s scary. You never know what kind of mood he’ll be in, or what will make him furious. You’re afraid to mention anything you need, or want, or anything that’s wrong, because it might be the trigger that sets him off. He might be in a good mood sometime, and he’ll bring you a ridiculously expensive stereo, or a pet canary. But then, the next day, he’ll be in a bad mood, and he’ll smash it against the wall.”

Ellen’s eyes grew round. “The stereo? Or the canary?”

Penny looked straight at her. “Both of them.”

“Oh.”

“And there are little things, too. He won’t sign your permission slips for school, because he doesn’t like your teacher. He’ll keep you from doing your homework, because he wants to go somewhere, and he wants to take you. There isn’t always enough food in the house, or anyone willing to cook it, even if there is. Sometimes no grown-up comes home all night, and you have to try to sleep when you’re scared of every sound you hear.”

She left a little silence, for the implications of all that to sink in. Then she stood.

“So anyhow, I’m just saying you might want to think again when you start to say your father doesn’t love you. Ask yourself if he’s ever screamed at you, or broken your things, or let you go hungry, or left you alone all night.”

Ellen’s shoulders had begun to slump.

“I know it’s easy to take the little things for granted, or to be angry because you wanted life to be different. But that’s not fair, and it’s not kind. And you know what? The bottom line is, I don’t think you really want to hurt your father this way. I think you’re a better person than that.”

For just a millisecond, she thought Ellen might relent. The girl blinked, as if tears threatened at the back of her eyes.

But then she heard the front door open. And she realized Max was home.

Ellen’s eyes hardened. They blazed with unshed tears and inexpressible anger.

“I guess that’s what you were waiting for, huh? Well, he’s here. So you can stop pretending to care what I think and go see my dad. It’s not like I didn’t know that was all you wanted anyhow.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S
OMEHOW,
M
AX
AND
Olivia had managed to get Acton Adams, golfer extraordinaire, to approve one plan long enough to push through permitting and run the red tape marathon. Finally, ground-breaking day for Silverdell Hills Golf Club and Resort had arrived.

It arrived on the same day Ellen started school, for which Max was now very grateful. After the weekend he’d had with Ellen, and the emotional observance of the anniversary yesterday, he wasn’t in the mood to bring his angry daughter to an event with this much news coverage.

The Hills was big enough to make a splash in a spot as small as Silverdell. Most of the big businesses had sent representatives here today. Even Bell River. Gray Harper came over and shook Max’s hand.

“The resort is going to be fantastic,” he said pleasantly. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Max had been particularly uncertain about whether Bell River would be receptive to the arrival of another tourist resort. They might easily have seen The Hills as competition. Instead, they seemed to have taken the “high tide floats all boats” approach.

“Yeah, I’m hoping golfers with too much money and time on their hands will fall in love with the idea of raising horses.” Gray smiled. “Or at least riding them.”

“I think you can count on it.”

Gray hadn’t mentioned the dustup at the stables this past Saturday. One of the qualities he liked best about the Bell River clan was that they weren’t gossips by nature. Far from it. Maybe they’d just been the subject of rumor and innuendo too long to have an appetite for it, or maybe they simply preferred weightier topics.

Her preference for real conversation was one of the things he valued most about Penny. With Penny, he never felt the need to tune out. In fact, he barely wanted to blink, for fear one of their limited number of seconds together would get away from him.

“Well, you’ve got a public waiting, so I’ll let you get on with it.” Gray deftly found another acquaintance to talk to, freeing Max to deal with Fanny Bronson, who was making a beeline for him.

“It’s all so exciting,” Fanny said, beaming. “I’m already scouring my distributers, to see what new titles I should stock. Do golfers read anything other than books about Tiger Woods, do you think?”

Max saw the twinkle in her eye, and knew she was joking.

“Better not let Acton Adams hear you say that,” he cautioned, glancing toward the spraying fountain, the one completed selling point, where The Big Deal was signing autographs and posing for pictures. From a distance, in the sparkling sunlight, he looked twenty years younger than he was, and every bit as arrogant.