The Cowboy's Return Page 12

  “Your mama is one of a kind.” Benita winked. “Is everyone hungry? Enchiladas are in the oven. Beans and rice are on the stove and there’s a salad in the refrigerator. I made rice pudding for dessert.”

  “Oh, boy. Benita makes the best enchiladas and rice pudding.” Jilly jumped up. “I’ll help put it on the table.”

  For the next thirty minutes, there was no arguing, just quiet family conversation. But Jilly did most of the talking. For the first time, Camila acknowledged how much her daughter talked. She didn’t get that from her or Patrick. They’d both been quiet, shy teenagers. She must get it from Benita. That was not a comforting thought.

  “Benita, there’s a lot left over. Can I fix a plate for Miss Unie?” Jilly asked.

  “Jilly, are you still worrying about that old can lady?”

  “Yes. She’s alone and doesn’t have a lot. Sometimes I think she eats cat food because that’s all she buys besides bread and milk.”

  “Okay.” Benita touched Jilly’s cheek. “Anything to please my granddaughter.”

  Benita and Camila did the dishes in silence while Jilly looked for a movie on TV. Afterward, Camila and Benita sat at the kitchen table.

  “Why did you come home?” Camila had to ask. It wasn’t for Jilly’s birthday, though, she knew Benita loved Jilly.

  “To lick my wounds—as usual,” Benita replied.

  “So the marriage didn’t work out?”

  “No. I filed for divorce and came home. And I can see you’re excited to see me.”

  Benita pushed every emotional button in her, but she didn’t react. “I hope you plan to stay for a while, and please try to get along with Millie.”

  Benita lifted an eyebrow. “Like you do? Suppressing every emotion you have?”

  Another button pushed. She wanted to scream, but she suppressed the feeling, just like her mother knew she would.

  “Yes, Benita, that comes from being raised the way I was—never being secure about anything.”

  “It always comes back to me—the awful mother.”

  “It comes back to the truth.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Oh, chick.” Benita got up and hugged her. “Something about being here brings out the worst in me.”

  “Jilly and I have to go. She has school tomorrow.” Camila stood. “Do you know when you’re leaving?”

  “No, but I’ll let you know before I do.”

  “I’d appreciate that—for Jilly’s sake.”

  “Yes, for Jilly’s sake,” Benita murmured, following her into the living room.

  They said their goodbyes and left. Camila drove to Unie’s and Jilly took the food inside. Camila had lit the heater earlier so she didn’t get out. Unie didn’t like a lot of people in her house. Soon Jilly was back.

  “Miss Unie wouldn’t open the door and I had to scream real loud that it was me before she let me in. She said she thought it was Bert after her cans.”

  “It doesn’t seem like Unie’s doing too well.”

  “Can’t we do something, Mama?”

  “It’s hard since she doesn’t have any relatives. I guess we’ll have to start checking on her more.”

  “Okay.” Jilly nodded. “She said Bert took away her cart.”

  “Yes. I carried her cans home today.”

  “We have to find her another.”

  “I plan to do that tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Jilly said. “If anyone can do it, Mama, you can.”

  “Ah, such faith.”

  “Mama’s the greatest.” Jilly raised her arms in a victory sign.

  At that moment, Camila said a silent prayer that nothing or no one ever ruined her relationship with Jilly. She could survive a lot of things, but not that.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  TRIPP WALKED into the kitchen. Morris was at the table polishing silver that had been neglected too long.

  “Morris, have you talked to Nurse Tisdale?”

  Morris looked around. “Is she here?”

  “No, she’s not here.” He was trying very hard not to get annoyed. “I meant, have you talked to her about Mom’s eyes?”

  “Yep. Several times.”

  “And?”

  “Your dad now, he’s stubborn, but your mom takes it to a higher level. She’s like an old coon dog that’s been hunting all night and hasn’t treed one coon, and when he finally gets wind of one he just lays down too tired to make the effort and—”

  “Dammit, Morris, I don’t understand what the hell you’re talking about. Why hasn’t Mom had cataract surgery?”

  “Like I told you, the effort is too much for her.”

  “My mom is not a coon dog and we’re talking about her sight.”

  “Well then, you ask her yourself because I never could get anywhere with her. Stubborn as a coon dog.”

  Tripp sighed and went to find his parents. They were in the living room doing their usual thing. Leona was listening to a book on tape and Grif was watching sports.

  When Grif saw Tripp, he immediately clicked off the TV. “Did you see Earl in town?”

  “No.” He’d looked for Earl and had gone into the bank to thank Mrs. Boggs. She’d said that Earl was on the ranch and wouldn’t be bothering the Danielses again. He’d thanked her and left, knowing the situation was over.

  “Good. Maybe we’ve seen the last of him and his boys.” Grif strained to see behind Tripp. “Did you bring Jilly?”

  “No, Dad, but I did talk to Camila.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she wouldn’t stop Jilly from coming, but she has school and after school activities.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means Jilly can come when she has time.”

  “We get to see her every now and then, is that it?”

  “We can be patient,” Leona said.

  “No we can’t,” Grif snapped. “She’s Patrick’s daughter and I want her here.”

  “I do, too,” Leona replied. “But we can’t deny her for twelve years and then expect her to be an overnight granddaughter. We have to be patient.”

  “Fiddle-faddle.”

  Tripp sat by his mother. “Wouldn’t you love to see that granddaughter, Mom?”

  Leona held a hand to her chest. “Oh, my, yes.”

  “Then why haven’t you had the cataract surgery?”

  “She’s scared, that’s why,” Grif told him.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of and I’ll be with you.”

  Fear and the stubbornness Morris had mentioned tightened his mother’s jaw. But Tripp had a secret weapon. Jilly.

  “Jilly has dark hair and beautiful dark eyes and they flash with a soft light when she talks. At times she has this expression—it’s hard to explain—kind of like Patrick when he was at his computer. He was at peace with the world. Jilly has that same look—she’s at peace with her world.”

  Leona hiccuped a sob.

  “I’ll make an appointment in the morning, Mom. What do you say?”

  Her hands trembled. “Are you taking me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be with you through the whole thing.”

  She hiccuped again. “I’m scared to death, but I want to see Patrick’s daughter.”

  “Good, then I’ll make the arrangements.”

  Tripp helped his parents to bed, feeling good about this victory. His mother was going to see again. How could she not want to do this? Depression. She’d given up. But now Jilly was bringing new life to Lady Luck—just like he knew she would.

  He fell across the bed, wishing he and Camila had been able to finish their conversation.

  Maybe soon.

  Chapter Ten

  “It’s cool Benita’s home, don’t you think, Mama?” Jilly leaned against the headboard in a big T-shirt and pink flannel pajama bottoms, cuddling Button.

  “Benita and I have a different relationship than you.” Camila answered truthfully, like she always
tried to do.

  “But you love her.”

  Did she? At ten, when Benita had left, she’d hated her for not fighting to take Camila. She’d wanted to be with her mother. After that, their relationship had been strained and they’d never talked about that time. Maybe now that they were older they should.

  She glanced at Jilly’s expectant face. “Yes. I love her, but sometimes she makes me very angry.”

  “Do I make you angry?”

  “No.” Camila brushed Jilly’s hair back. “You never make me angry.”

  Jilly fidgeted in the bed. “When you found out you were pregnant and my daddy was dead, were you angry you were going to have a baby?”

  Her heart took a nosedive and it was a moment before she could answer. How could she tell her daughter about that awful time, the insecurities, the heartache and the pain? Camila kissed Jilly’s cheek, still wanting to be truthful. “I can honestly say I was never angry at you, just overwhelmed with grief and worry. I didn’t know how I was going to raise you, care for you.”

  “But you did good. You’re the best mama in Bramble.”

  “That’s because I have this wonderful daughter who’s an absolute joy.”

  Jilly giggled and slid beneath the covers. “I love you, Mama.”

  Camila straightened the blanket. Hearing those words made everything she went through worthwhile. Jilly made everything worthwhile.

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  She fiddled with the blanket knowing she had to tell Jilly about her talk with Tripp.

  “I spoke with Tripp today.”

  Jilly’s eyes sparkled. “You did? Is he okay?”

  “Yes, and the Danielses would like to see you again.”

  “Really?” Her eyes grew brighter. “I can go tomorrow.”

  “You have basketball practice and you promised to help Mrs. Haskell.”

  “Oh.” Jilly pleated the sheet. “Then I’ll go on Friday. I’ll leave right after school and take Button. Is that okay, Mama?”

  Button, hearing her name, poked her head from beneath the covers and barked. Jilly gathered her close and Camila patted Button’s head.

  “Yes. That’s okay, but I’ll drive you. I don’t like you going that far on your bicycle.”

  “Okay, Mama. Good night.” Jilly gave her a quick kiss.

  “Good night, baby.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  SO MANY THINGS were crowding in on Camila. Most of all, she had this fear she was going to lose Jilly to the Danielses. That was irrational, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness, of letting her child grow and make her own decisions. And it was very obvious Jilly wanted to be a part of her father’s family.

  Where does that leave me?

  Alone—with a capital A.

  She should go to bed, but she was restless and knew she wouldn’t sleep. Maybe she’d go to bed in Jilly’s room and just hold her. No, that wasn’t the answer either.

  A tap at the back door sounded and she jumped.

  Who could that be at this late hour? She went to the door and pulled the curtain back. Tripp stood there.

  Her heart jerked in her chest. What was he doing here? She wouldn’t open the door and maybe he’d go away. But the lights were on; he knew she was still up. She was caught. She opened the door.

  “I know it’s late,” Tripp said, “but I saw your light on and I thought we could finish our talk.”

  She stepped aside, giving in to the inevitable. “Yes, it is late.”

  He removed his hat and suddenly the room was too small. She wanted to push him out the door and not have this conversation, not have anything to do with Tripp Daniels. But that was childish. She had to talk to him—no matter how painful it was.

  “Is Jilly asleep?” he asked.

  She tightened the belt of her terry cloth robe, feeling self-conscious. “Yes. Have a seat.”

  He sat at her kitchen table, placing his hat in front of himself. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but I was passing by and—” He stopped. “That’s a lie. I couldn’t sleep so I came to see you—to see if you’d talked to Jilly.”

  “Yes,” she replied, touched by his honesty. “She’ll come on Friday afternoon.” Camila was aware she must look a sight with her hair hanging down her back and her face scrubbed clean—not to mention the ratty bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll bring her because I don’t like her going that far on her bike, but I won’t stay.”

  “You’re welcome to.”

  “No, thanks. I won’t be going back to Lady Luck.” She sat across from him, knowing she had to get this over with. “You wanted to talk about Patrick.”

  “Yes.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “What do you want to know?”

  “That night of Patrick’s graduation party—was Patrick taking drugs?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking that?”

  He took a moment. “You see, I blame myself for Patrick’s death and my parents blamed me, too. That’s why I’ve been gone so long. Dad said I wasn’t his son anymore and told me to never come back.”

  Camila was shocked. She’d never dreamed he’d gone through anything like that. She’d just assumed he was over-wrought with grief and couldn’t come home.

  “Why would your dad say that?”

  “Because that night there was a lot of drinking and bragging going on and a lot of tiny white packets floating around. I saw Wallis handing something to Patrick. Later when Patrick and you started acting out of character, I figured all the kids were doing drugs. That made me angry and I tackled Patrick about it, but he said for me to mind my own business. What happened at that party, Camila? Were all of you doing drugs?”

  She swallowed the constriction in her throat.

  Seeing her difficulty, he added, “That night I saw you coming out of Patrick’s room. You looked bad so I went in to talk to Patrick. I asked him about the drugs again and he became belligerent. I’d never seen him like that before. I told him to sleep it off. The next morning, I told my parents what I suspected and that Patrick needed help. They became angrier than Patrick, saying Patrick was a good boy and wouldn’t do anything like that. Later Patrick came out to the barn angry that I had interfered and he took off in the new Corvette. That’s the last time I saw him.” He took a breath. “You’re the only one who knows the truth. Was Patrick doing drugs?”

  She licked dry lips. “Patrick didn’t do drugs. He hadn’t ever before.” She saw his shattered expression and quickly added, “But there were drugs there that night so you had reason to be concerned.”

  “I see.”

  She looked past his shoulder to the blue frilly curtains she’d made. They were light, airy and fun—things she needed in her life. Back then it had been so different, so… Her defense mechanism kicked in and she suppressed her emotions just like Benita said she did. But then something unfurled in her. She couldn’t suppress her emotions forever. She needed to let go, to share—with Tripp.

  The pain tightly woven around her heart began to unravel. Tripp had a need for answers. She could give him those and in return find some for herself. But could she do it?

  She took a long breath. “In school, I was very shy and didn’t make friends easily.” She spoke slowly and hesitantly, forcing the words out. “Someone told me I was standoffish and I suppose that’s true. My mother had cut this path of disgrace before me and I had a hard time living it down. Looking back, I can see if I had just made an effort, things would have been different. I just assumed people didn’t want to be friends with me. Patrick made the effort to get to know me and we became friends all through school. He was good in math and science and I was good in English. We helped each other.”

  She kept her eyes on the curtains. “In high school our relationship changed. Patrick wanted to hold my hand and he’d kiss my cheek unexpectedly. I was too young and naïve to recognize the signs. Patrick was in love with me.”

&
nbsp; “He’d been crazy about you forever,” Tripp said.

  Camila looked down at her hands and studied her white knuckles. “But I didn’t feel that way about him. He was my friend—my very good friend.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Yes, but he said it didn’t matter. We could still be friends.”

  “That’s why you came to the party?”

  “I didn’t get an invitation, but Patrick insisted. That year he started tutoring some of the football players so they could pass. He changed then, wanting to be a part of the in crowd—the football jocks. He invited them all to the party, Vance, Wallis, and several others. They knew, as Patrick put it, that he was mooning over me. Wallis told him he could give him something to make him a he-man, take-charge-of-your-woman type man. Patrick took the drug and slipped something into my drink. I didn’t know this until Patrick told me later.”

  Tripp felt anger mounting inside him. He’d wanted answers to alleviate his pain and now he’d opened Pandora’s box and he couldn’t close it. He had to hear the rest and he didn’t know if he had enough strength to face what he was beginning to feel in his gut.

  “Patrick became very affectionate and I just wanted him to stop touching me, but I couldn’t get the words out. Then I was so dizzy and you were holding me and I… Patrick was angry with you for dancing with me. I tried to tell him we weren’t dancing, but my mind was fuzzy and I…and I…”

  “What happened next?” he prompted, now knowing Camila hadn’t been coming on to him. She’d just been drugged and probably had been looking for an understanding person.

  “I don’t remember much, but Patrick took me to his room. He kept saying he loved me and we were going to get married. I just wanted to lie down. I was having a hard time standing up and then…”

  Her words trailed away into a vast vacuum of speculation and dread. He got up to ease the suspicion in him, but there was only one way to do that—to say the words out loud. He didn’t know if he could do that, though. Looking at her pale face, the words slipped out of their own volition.

  “Did he force you to have sex?”

  She shook her head. “Patrick would never do that.”

  “Did you want to have sex with him?”