скачать книгу бесплатно
She knew the second he recognized her. His steel-gray eyes grew cold as ice and he clenched his jaw.
“Hey, Tabitha.” His voice was curt. Harsh.
The anger in his expression hurt her more than she thought it could.
“Hey, Morgan.” She didn’t add “good to see you” because it wasn’t that good to see him.
“You almost hit my son.”
He ground out the words, his voice gruff. Well, nothing like getting directly to the point, which shouldn’t surprise her. She knew seeing him again wouldn’t be a happy reunion of old high school friends.
The last time she’d talked to him was on the phone when she told him she was breaking up with him. He’d asked for a reason. All she would tell him was that she was over him, even as her heart and soul cried out a protest at the lies she spun.
Sure, their relationship had been a high school romance, but their feelings for each other had been deep and strong enough that they’d made plans for their wedding.
But on that horrible day she had to push all that aside. Had to prove to him that she wasn’t the girl for him and that she had changed her mind about the two of them.
He tried reasoning with her but she wouldn’t budge. And she couldn’t tell him why. It was for his sake, she had told herself. She was doing it for him.
Then packed up and left town.
They hadn’t spoken to or seen each other since.
Tabitha’s phone rang again. She pulled it out and hit Decline. She’d have to call Leanne once she got to town to find out what her sister needed so badly.
“Were you talking on your phone while you were driving?” His words held the sting of accusation.
Tabitha shook her head. Mistake. Her cheek throbbed and she lifted her hand to touch it. It felt warm. It was probably already changing color.
“No.” She left it at that. She’d learned too many times in her life that the more she talked, the more trouble she got into.
Case in point: Morgan’s mother, who had been her high school teacher and who thought Tabitha was an unsuitable match for her vet-school-headed son. Who had warned lowly Tabitha Rennie, high school dropout, away from Morgan Walsh. He was too good for her, Mrs. Walsh had told her, and Tabitha knew it was true.
Tabitha held Morgan’s gaze, then shifted her scrutiny to his son, who watched her with interest.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked Nathan.
He nodded, staring at her as if trying to figure out who she was.
“Good. And your dog is okay?”
Nathan nodded.
“Also good. Glad we don’t have to bring you to the hospital or the dog to the vet. Though your dad is a vet, so maybe he could fix it himself. I usually work at the vet clinic, but not today.” She caught herself, blaming her chatter on nerves. She was tempted to ask Morgan why he hadn’t started work today, like she had been told, but figured that was none of her business.
So she gave the boy a semblance of a smile, then took a step back.
“Do you need a hand getting your truck out?” he asked.
Frankly, given his attitude toward her, she was surprised he offered. But country manners always took precedence over personal feelings when you lived in the ranching country of Southern Alberta. Houses were far apart and people depended on each other for help.
“No. I should be okay,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
She got into her truck and waited until Morgan and his son walked away from the road, but they didn’t go directly into the house. Instead Morgan stayed by the driveway, watching.
Please, Lord, let me get out of here in one go.
Then she twisted the key in the ignition.
Her truck wasn’t its usual temperamental self and the engine turned over only twice before it caught.
She prayed the whole time she had her foot on the gas, her back tires spinning, tossing mud onto the road and spitting it out beside her. Her pride was on the line and she could use a win.
Finally, her tires caught the gravel, spun again, and then with a lurch she was out. She slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a halt.
Thanks for that, Lord, she prayed, feeling foolish that she wasted the Lord’s time with such trivial things.
But it was important to her to not look bad in front of Morgan. A man who once held her heart. A man she had been forced to toss aside.
She put the truck into first gear and drove past Morgan and his son at a sedate speed.
Both of them were still watching her. One with interest, the other with a frown.
Life had just become much more complicated, Tabitha thought as she stepped on the gas and shifted into second. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job at the café.
Again.
* * *
So, that was over and done with.
Morgan watched as Tabitha’s truck drove down the road, a plume of dust roiling in its wake. Since he decided to come back to Cedar Ridge, he knew meeting Tabitha was inevitable. When Dr. Waters told him that Tabitha worked as a vet assistant in the clinic some mornings, he had almost not taken the job.
It was only when he heard she was planning on selling her place and moving eventually that he agreed. He would only have to put up with her for a short while.
“Why were you so mad at that lady?” Nathan asked, watching Tabitha leave as well.
“I wasn’t mad,” he said, his voice quiet, controlled as he fought down a beat of disgust at his reaction to Tabitha. Since she broke up with him all those years ago, leaving him with an engagement ring and a broken heart, he had moved on. He’d got married to Gillian. Got a degree and a son, whom his wife had kept away from him.
Three weeks ago he buried his wife and got custody of his estranged son.
A lot of changes in his life that had taken up a lot of emotions.
Yet all it took was one glimpse into those aquamarine eyes, one flip of Tabitha’s copper-colored hair, one crooked smile from those soft lips for the old flame to reignite.
He had to keep his guard up if they would be working together at the clinic.
“I was scared for you,” he said to Nathan, giving him a lopsided smile. “You shouldn’t go running out into the road like that.”
“I thought Brandy would get run over.” Nathan glanced around, looking for the dog that had disappeared again. “Where did she go?”
As if on cue the dog reappeared, bounding over to Nathan, jumping around him, tongue out, tail wagging with glee.
Nathan tried to pet her but the golden retriever wouldn’t stand still. His grandmother had given Brandy to Nathan as a puppy but the dog had never been properly disciplined.
Which had made the long drive here from Arizona, where Nathan’s grandmother lived, even more tedious.
“That lady sure was pretty,” Nathan said in a matter-of-fact voice as he picked up a stick for Brandy to fetch.
“Yeah. She was.” That much he could admit.
He had a ton of things to do and to occupy his mind. Getting his son settled in and dealing with the new complication his mother-in-law had thrown at him this morning.
Gillian’s mother, Donna, couldn’t keep Gillian’s other horse, the one she was training when she died, at her place. Could Morgan please help her out?
He would have preferred that Donna simply sell the horse, but when she asked to talk to Nathan, she’d told him about his mother’s horse. And suddenly Nathan insisted that Stormy come to live with them at the ranch.
Now he had to find a way to make that happen.
“So should we start unpacking the boxes we put in your room?” he asked.
Nathan tossed the stick and Brandy took off after it. “I guess so,” he said, his voice holding little enthusiasm.
“We can finish decorating your room if you want,” Morgan said with a hopeful tone. “Hang up some pictures.”
This got him a lackadaisical nod as Nathan watched Brandy return.
“Drop it, Brandy,” Nathan commanded, but the dog wouldn’t relinquish the stick.
“I think we should tie Brandy up again while we unpack,” he suggested as he caught the dog by the collar. The dog immediately sat down.
“She doesn’t like being tied up,” Nathan protested. In fact, he had untied her a few moments ago, which was the cause of Brandy’s sudden flight across the road.
“Probably not, but until she gets used to this place, it might be a good idea. You don’t want her to get run over.” Brandy tugged at Morgan’s restraint, but he was used to handling uncooperative dogs and kept a steady pressure on the collar. “Sit,” he said, and once again, she did as she was told.
“Can I untie her when I’m done?”
“If you make sure you stay in the yard with her.”
Nathan stared at the dog and heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “My mom never made me tie her up.”
This didn’t surprise Morgan. Gillian had always prided herself on being free-spirited.
Which was probably why she never told Morgan that Nathan was his son until the boy was two years old.
“I know, but we live on a road and we don’t want anything to happen to her.” Morgan kept his tone even as he told Brandy to heel and led her back to the rope attached to the veranda and tied her up.
Nathan didn’t reply but followed Morgan into the house. He trudged up the stairs behind him, his footfalls heavy. Morgan knew he shouldn’t expect more enthusiasm from the boy over the situation. Thanks to Gillian, the kid barely knew him.
Morgan and Gillian had met during his first year of vet school. She was in town to compete in a rodeo. They fell hard for each other, got married quickly, and then, after a year, she left him, claiming that she didn’t want to be tied down.
Gillian moved back to her mother’s place in Idaho and returned to the life she’d lived when she and Morgan had met. Driving around the country, pulling her horse trailer behind her, entering any rodeo she could.
Two years after she left Morgan, he found out, via her mother, that he and Gillian had a son. A five-year-long battle for visitation rights followed soon after.
For some reason, Gillian kept Nathan away from him with her constant movement, chasing her dream of being a champion barrel racer. Gillian’s mother had no explanation either since she had become as estranged from her daughter and grandson as he was.
Then, this spring, as Gillian was competing in a rodeo up in Grande Prairie, her horse’s feet went out from under him around the second barrel. Gillian fell beneath him and, in a freak accident, was crushed and in a coma. Gillian’s mother, Donna, had flown in from Idaho to be at her daughter’s bedside and was with her when she died hours later. Donna had also arrived with Nathan.
Thus it was at the hospital, at his wife’s bedside, for the first time in the seven years Nathan had been alive, Morgan finally met his son.
They were complete strangers to each other. It was a horrible time. Nathan was withdrawn and grieving and clung to his grandmother, the only other person he was familiar with.
While Morgan was tempted to leave Nathan with Donna, he also knew the sooner he could take care of his son, the sooner they would bond.
And he also knew he needed to come back to a place where he had family and community.
Cedar Ridge.
So he contacted Dr. Waters, the local vet, about a job and managed to snag a commitment. He was supposed to start today but he’d asked if he could begin tomorrow instead.
He and Nathan had moved back to Cedar Ridge only yesterday and were barely unpacked. He wanted to spend one more day with Nathan before he went to school. Though it would be a scant three weeks before school was out, Morgan wanted to get Nathan used to the kids he would be attending school with. That way September wouldn’t be as much of a shock.
Thankfully Morgan’s father lived in Cedar Ridge and was willing to let Nathan come to his place after school. Cord and Ella, his brother and his fiancée, had also offered assistance as needed.
It was a patchwork support system but it would do for now.
He hoped by the time summer vacation began that he would have found a nanny or someone to help out.
“So, it’s a good thing that Uncle Cord and Auntie Ella came to help us get the house organized yesterday,” Morgan said to Nathan with forced joviality. “I’m sure you’ll get to be good friends with your cousins Paul and Suzy.”
“I never met them before.” Nathan’s tone indicated that he didn’t care if he ever met them again. He flopped on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the conversation was now over.
“But you’ll get to know them better,” Morgan replied, struggling once again with a sense of sorrow. Ever since he met Nathan, the boy had been prickly and angry and rejected every advance Morgan made.
He knew Nathan was grieving and confused and upset, and that it would take time. Morgan tried hard to understand but each rebuff was like a blow.
“When do I get to see Gramma again?” Nathan asked.
“In a couple of weeks.” Donna had asked if Morgan would be willing to drive down to Idaho for her fiftieth birthday and he had agreed. The counselor he talked to had underlined the importance of maintaining contact with the one constant in Nathan’s life. “But for now, let’s see about making this room cozier.” Morgan pulled out his jackknife to cut the tape on one of the few boxes of personal items Nathan had.
Nathan charged to life and yanked the box away from Morgan. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he cried.
“I was trying to help,” Morgan said.
“Don’t need your help.” Nathan pushed the box under his bed, grabbed the other two larger ones and pulled them closer.
Morgan was too taken aback at the fury in his son’s voice to reprimand him.
