Good Together (25 page)

“Don’t you look pretty, Savannah.”

The little girl didn’t acknowledge the compliment. She glanced from Portia to Wren. “Are you really twins? Why aren’t you wearing the same clothes?”

Wren choked out a laugh. “We aren’t that kind of twins. We like being different.”

Savannah took a moment to process that. “Okay. Did you see our tree? Sage and I did it. She’s going to be my new, second mommy. I get to have two because my first mom doesn’t like to stay in the same town very long. She thinks it’s boring, but I like it.”

“Nice tree,” Wren said, fingering one of the many miniature cowboy boots that had been hung from the branches, along with little horses, cowboy hats, and other western-themed ornaments.

“It’s really funky,” Portia agreed. “And I’m glad you like living in Marietta. It’s a nice town.”

“I go to school now.” Savannah took each of their hands, started leading them to the kitchen. “I have to go every day, unless I’m sick. Did you have to do that when you were little?”

“Sure we did.” Portia smiled over the little girl’s head at her sister, who seemed equally amused and charmed. No wonder people liked having kids so much. They sure were cute. And this little Savannah was something else.

At the dinner table Portia sat next to her mother, carefully out of her Aunt Dani’s eyesight. They’d had a “chat” on the taxi ride to the airport.

“You’ve missed a lot of classes since Thanksgiving. And been late handing in assignments. I know you have a lot going on at home, so I’m not going to say anything to your mother. But you should talk to her over Christmas, Portia. Okay?”

The speech sounded like it had been rehearsed. But the concern in her aunt’s eyes had looked genuine.

Portia had nodded, of course.

“Good. We won’t discuss this again. I want you to enjoy your break, Portia. Maybe when it’s over, you’ll be able to focus better on your studies.”

Did her aunt really believe that all it would take to make life normal again was a couple of weeks on grandfather’s ranch—with a few days thrown in to visit her dad in Billings?
Not likely.

At least finals were over, that was one relief. If she managed to pass, the credit would belong to her cowboy friend. His study notes had been amazing. But though he’d shared them with her, he hadn’t ever lingered at her desk or shown any interest in talking.

One day when she’d been paying attention in class, she’d heard a professor call him Austin, so at least she knew one of his names. She had no idea if it was his first or his last though.

“A toast,” Callan called out from the head of the table. Grandpa sat on the other end, looking cross as usual. When she was younger, he’d frightened her. Her dad used to tease them when they were on the road to Marietta. “Now, don’t be afraid of your grandfather this time, girls. He looks scary, but as far as we know, he still hasn’t killed anyone. Well, not recently, anyway.”

“Wes!” Her mom would make a show of being shocked.

But it was pretty obvious she was struggling not to smile.

Sometimes Portia wondered if her grandfather
had
killed someone. He sure looked like the sort of guy who could do it. His eyes were so cold, when he focused on her—which wasn’t very often, thank God—she would actually shiver.

“To having the family together at Christmas,” Callan continued, and everyone raised their glasses—some containing wine, most others sparkling apple juice.

As she sipped the refreshing fruit drink, Portia couldn’t help wishing for something stronger. Something to help her relax and soften this feeling of impending disaster. It was nice to be at the Circle C—but she couldn’t help worrying about the upcoming visit with her dad. They were meeting at a hotel in Billings on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth and staying with him there for two nights.

Would he be different?

Would his new girlfriend be there?

Portia’s stomach twisted every time she thought about it.

* * *

B
y the day after Christmas Portia was so nervous she could hardly eat. The holiday had passed in a blur. Opening stockings—normally her favorite moment—hadn’t been the same without her dad. He’d always put at least one totally goofy thing in their stockings. And then he’d make them Eggs Benedict for breakfast. It was the one meal her dad was really good at cooking that didn’t involve the barbecue.

The egg and ham casserole her Aunt Callan served just didn’t compare.

Later, Portia hardly tasted the turkey dinner, either. When they were all in the kitchen cleaning up at the end of the day, she couldn’t focus on anything that was said. Normally she loved being around her Mom when she was with her sisters. The way they chattered, it was like her Mom turned into someone much younger and more interesting.

But tonight, all she wanted was to go to bed. Not that she expected to sleep. She just needed some time to process what was going on with her family.

Shortly after they turned in, though, her Mom came into the room she was sharing with Wren. All three of them squished together on one of the twin beds. “I know this Christmas has been difficult. So much has changed. I promise it will get easier. Over time.”

Her mother looked so sad as she said this, that Portia knew the answer, even as she asked, “Is there any chance you and Daddy will get back together?”

“Your dad is with someone else. The horses have been sold. Pretty soon the ranch will be, too. So no, I don’t think things will change. This is our new reality.”

“But—once the ranch is sold, where will you live? What will you do?” Wren asked.

Their mother’s bottom lip quivered. “I-I’m not sure. Callan’s invited me to move back here, and Sage offered me a spare room at her place, too. I could even take over the lease, once she moves in with Dawson and Savannah after their wedding this fall. But—I have to say, I’m not excited about moving back to Marietta. It was my home for eighteen years. It doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

“No,” Portia whispered. She couldn’t picture her mom living anywhere but in their house. The house she and Wren had grown up in.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Wren put her arm around their mother’s shoulders. “You’ll figure something out. It’s going to be okay.”

Portia wished she could have had the strength to say those things. More importantly, to believe them.

* * *

T
he next morning, as they piled into the SUV to make the drive to Billings, Portia felt as if her world would never be whole again. She let Wren have the front passenger seat, knowing she would make better company for Mom as she drove them to the city, to the Country Inn where they were to meet Dad.

“You sure you’re okay in the back?” Wren asked. She was used to having to negotiate for the opportunity to ride shotgun.

“Yeah. I’m going to sleep.” She’d taken a pillow and the comforter from her bed with her. Both had quilted coverings that had been stitched by her grandmother. Portia liked the feel of the flannel backings. She pressed the fabric to her check and closed her eyes, but she was only pretending to sleep.

Instead she prayed for a flat tire. A road closure. An unexpected storm.

Something that would have her mom turning back to the relative safety of the Circle C.

Much as she’d missed her dad the past few months, Portia wasn’t ready to see him again.

She was afraid he’d be different.

And he was.

She knew it the moment he stepped out of his truck. The twinkle in his eyes was missing. Instead of coming toward her and Wren, still in their mother’s SUV in the parking lot of the Country Inn where they’d been waiting for twenty minutes, he walked around to the passenger side of the cab and opened the door for a pretty brunette with a small, soft mouth and a tiny dot of a nose.

“Bye Mom. I love you.” Wren was the first to get out of the SUV.

Though the window Portia watched as her sister gave their Dad a hug, then shook hands with the woman.

“It’s okay, honey. He’s still your father.”

Portia leaned forward, kissed her mother’s cheek. Her mom touched her head softly, then nodded. “Go.”

And then Portia was outside, with the cool air snaking inside her open jacket and blowing her hair across her face. It only took three steps for her father to reach her. He pulled her in for a deep hug and she was amazed that he smelled the same, like coffee, Head and Shoulders shampoo... and his own dad smell. His hug was as strong as ever and his voice rumbled in her ear.

“Portia. It’s good to see you, honey.”

* * *

D
riving away, leaving her daughters with their father, was the hardest thing Mattie had ever done. She managed to wave and smile before turning out of the parking lot. She made it a full block before the tears made it difficult to see. Pulling into the nearest parking space—which happened to be at a fast food outlet—she finally let it all go, sobbing like a baby for almost a full minute.

“Enough.” She couldn’t keep doing this. Hadn’t she shed enough tears over this man?

With a tissue, she mopped up her tears, then joined the drive-through lineup. She felt eviscerated without her daughters and their absence mocked the roominess of the SUV. At the window it took three attempts before her voice finally cooperated enough to order a medium-sized coffee with cream.

Fifteen minutes later, Billings was in her rear-view mirror. She longed to pull over again, this time to text her daughters.

How needy was that? No. She had to let them be. They already had too little time with their father.

Still, she fought the urge to reach for her phone. Maybe she could call Nat. It would be wonderful to hear his voice. To know that she still had a friend in this world who wasn’t one of her sisters.

She resisted that urge, as well. Whatever their relationship was—and it wasn’t simply neighbors, or friends, she was sure of that—she didn’t want Nat to become an emotional crutch. He’d already been there for her during some of her darkest hours. Which she appreciated. But she didn’t want to continue being that woman around him.

By the time she’d returned to the Circle C, dinner was ready to be served. Hawksley had left, making his annual pilgrimage to visit his cousin Arron and family in St. Paul’s. He and Arron—a second cousin, actually, as Mattie recalled—had spent summers together on the ranch when they were boys, and their bond remained strong throughout the years. Mattie remembered her mother suggesting that the entire family go with him to St. Paul’s one year. Or that Hawksley invite his cousin and his wife, Renee, and son, Court, out to the ranch for a visit.

“No,” was all Hawksley had said.

And the solitary visits had continued.

In the bathroom, Mattie washed her face and then reapplied her eye makeup. She found her sisters in the kitchen, waiting for her.

“Let’s fill our plates and eat by the fire in the family room,” Sage suggested.

“Where are Dawson and Savannah?”

“They stayed home today. Savannah wanted to play with her new toys and Dawson—well, he loves you all, but he has to start a new shift tomorrow and felt he could use a day to just veg.”

“We love him, too,” Callan said. “But it is kind of fun to just be the four of us. Doesn’t happen often.”

That was true. And Mattie felt she ought to be happy at this chance to spend the evening with her sisters. But as she helped herself to a serving of turkey casserole and green salad, she felt little appetite. Crawling into bed and crying was all that really appealed.

“I bet it was tough,” Sage said. “Dropping the girls off with Wes?”

Mattie nodded, watching as Sage poured white wine into three glasses.

“Want some?” Sage asked.

Mattie was tempted to make another exception tonight and say yes. Remembering what had happened the last time, though, she resisted. “Water’s good for me.”

“I admire your willpower,” Dani grabbed one of the goblets, as well as her plate, and headed to the family room. The warmth of the fire drew Mattie to the hearth, where she settled on one of the plush pillows that were kept on the stone ledge. She couldn’t help wondering what the twins were doing now. Having dinner in some restaurant with their dad and Suzanne? What did the girls think of Suzanne? She was younger, more fashionable than Mattie. Would those things impress them?

“Pay attention, Mattie.” Callan kicked her leg, and Mattie noticed she was wearing the red, wool socks with jingle bells at the ankle that Mattie had put in her Christmas stocking. “Sage is trying to tell us something important.”

“Actually, Mattie already knows. I told her this fall when I went to visit.”

“That was right after Wes moved out,” Dani calculated.

Sage nodded. She was looking at Mattie now, clearly intending to tell the other two about Mom’s affair with Bill Sheenan. Mattie sighed. She supposed it was only fair that they all know.

“Don’t judge Mom too harshly,” she said.

“Why would we do that?” Callan sounded exasperated. “Tell us, Sage. What is this big secret of yours?”

Sage used pretty much the exact words she’d used when she’d told Mattie about walking in on Mom and Bill Sheenan. It didn’t sound any prettier the second time around.

“Eeew—oral sex?” Callan wrinkled her nose. “How gross.”

“I was pretty shocked,” Sage agreed.

“And you were only what—twelve at the time?” Dani seemed determined to put everything they talked about tonight into chronological order. “That must have been traumatic for you.”

Sage nodded.

Mattie wondered if Dani was remembering what a chatty, happy child Sage had been when she was younger. And how abruptly she’d turned quiet and secretive. At the time Mattie had blamed adolescence. But now she knew that this event, even more than surging hormones, had created the change in their little sister.

“Why did you keep it to yourself?” Dani wanted to know. “It would have been much healthier for you, psychologically, if you’d talked about what you’d seen.”

“With who?”

“Well... Mom?”

Sage shook her head. “I was so afraid Mom was going to leave us and go to live with the Sheenans.”

Bill Sheenan had been a widower of ten years by then, so it had certainly been a possible outcome.