Slow Hand (5 page)

Chapter 5

“How far is it to Sheridan?” she asked.

“About twenty miles. Are you sure you're ready for this?”

“Ready? What do you mean?”

“Have you ever
seen
a dead body before?”

She licked her lips. “I've been to a few funerals.”

“This isn't the same. It's not like a viewing in a casket. He hasn't been embalmed and the body will be in a refrigerated holding area. It's not going to be a pretty sight. Although there should be minimal decomposition, you need to prepare yourself.”

She swallowed hard but it did nothing to alleviate the sudden dryness in her throat.

He turned toward her, placing his large warm hand on her knee. “I just want to be sure you understand that. Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I need to do this.”

“All right then.” He released his hand from her leg with a nod and then started the engine.

They drove to Sheridan in silence. Wade threw her occasional assessing glances, but seemed to understand she needed the quiet to compose herself. When they arrived, she hopped out of the truck before he could even open his door.

“Don't you want me to go with you?” he asked.

His offer took her aback more than she wanted to admit, but she had to do this alone. She was strong enough to handle it. “No, I don't think so,” she said. “You didn't even know him, after all.”

The smile left his eyes. “I'm not offering for
him
, Nicole. I'm offering for
you
.”

Nikki didn't know how to respond to that. She could deal with the flirty cowboy, but this sudden protective turn threw her for a real loop. “Why?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “Just seems like the right thing to me.”

Oh, that was all. She deflated. He was just being the gentleman his Southern-bred mama raised him to be. “That's kind of you, but I'm really OK. I shouldn't be long.”

* * *

The moment Nikki entered the morgue, she realized she wasn't ready at all. Although Wade had tried to warn her, nothing could have prepared her for the reality. It was so cold her teeth chattered, and the sickly sweet smell of decay drifted faintly through the air. Her head reeled and her stomach churned, as nausea and lightheadedness dueled for supremacy. She wasn't sure if she wanted to faint or puke, but when the attendant opened the drawer to reveal the body, she forgot everything else.

Time suspended as she gazed upon a grim, blue-tinged replica of the father she once knew. His hair had thinned and receded and his body was at least thirty pounds heavier than she remembered. Her gaze focused on his face, wrinkled around his eyes and more deeply grooved around his mouth. Set in harsh lines, it was nothing like the smiling face she recalled in her memories. Desperate to replace this ghoulish version with the father she remembered, Nikki closed her eyes and dug into the deep recesses of her mind.

Although the memories had grown a bit hazy over twenty some years, she recalled his warm hazel eyes beneath the battered straw Stetson, the faded jeans, and the pointy-toed boots that he always wore…and his big, slightly gap-toothed smile. All of these things she associated with the happiest years of her childhood—before the bad times got worse. Before the divorce. Before he disappeared from her life for good.

Even in those early days when it was just the three of them, life was an emotional roller coaster. She remembered weeks at a time with him gone. Her mother's tantrums and fits of depression. The good times when he'd come home sober, tossing Nikki into the air and calling her Sweet Pea. And the frequent bad times he came home staggering and reeking of booze.

Arguments always followed. Accusations and curses were screamed back and forth. Four-letter words that Nikki was too young to comprehend tainted the air. More often than not, there'd be shattered glass or holes punched in the walls. Nikki would huddle out of sight and pretend to be invisible while the storms raged. Once or twice she'd even seen the flashing blue lights of a police car, but the aftermath was always the same. Noises of another sort altogether—from behind a locked bedroom door.

Her existence virtually forgotten, Nikki would retreat to her own room. The routine was pretty much the same until the night she woke up to a trailer filled with smoke—the night they'd lost everything.

Only now could she even begin to understand the true fire-and-gasoline dynamic of having an alcoholic father and a histrionic mother. It was a destructive relationship in every way.

But there were a few good memories—like her sixth birthday when he'd surprised her with a trip to Cleveland, Georgia, to buy her a Cabbage Patch doll. She'd wanted one for Christmas. All of her friends had them, but the stores couldn't keep them on the shelves. Knowing her disappointment, Daddy had taken her to Babyland General. She'd seen Mother Cabbage beneath the Magic Crystal Tree and watched the birth of the cabbage babies. She even got to pick the one she wanted. After signing the oath of adoption for Zora Mae, she took her doll home. It was one of her fondest childhood memories, and she still had the ugly damned doll.

Nikki opened her eyes and reached out her hand, forcing herself to touch him, but recoiled at the contact with flesh that was as hard and cold as stone. Her throat grew thick, her vision blurred, and her chest ached with raw regret. He was gone, and only this frigid, hollow shell remained.

She fingered the tattered letter in her pocket—his last words to her, which she'd nearly memorized. It was written in a shaky, near-illegible scrawl and filled with excuses, apologies, and pleas for forgiveness. Words penned following five years of sobriety. They both opened and salved the old wounds.

“I'm sorry, Daddy, so very sorry. I never gave you a chance to make things right when you tried.”

She wasn't sure how long she stood there. It could have been a minute or an hour, or anything in between. When she thought she'd lose it altogether, when she longed for a strong shoulder to lean on, Wade was suddenly there beside her.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss.”

His deep voice and solid presence offered comfort that she was almost desperate to claim, yet she held back. “What loss?” She almost choked on the lie. “I hardly even knew him.”

His big warm arm came around her. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” she sniffed. She never talked about her screwed-up family. “You don't want to hear about my childhood any more than I want to talk about it.”

“Sometimes it helps just to get it out, Nikki. When did your parents split?” he gently prompted.

“Before I started first grade. When I was a kid I didn't understand why Daddy packed up and moved out. When I asked my mom, she just said he was a drunk and a cheater, and that he never loved us, which was why he was never around.”

“She said
that
?”

“Yup. 'Course, I didn't understand what it all meant. I was only seven, but the truth is that his work took him away for weeks at a time—and
she
was the cheater.”

“Did he know that?”

“Yeah, after a while. It's why he finally walked out. My mom was already pregnant before the divorce, which meant she'd been stepping out on Daddy for quite some time. I was too young to put it all together at the time, but I did later when I discovered Shelby's birth certificate.”

“Shelby?”

“My sister. Well, half sister. Her father was my
first
stepfather.”

He looked surprised. “
First?
How many did you have?”

“Three. They were all pretty much the same—drinkers and freeloaders—just different names and faces. It was the type my mom was attracted to. She was a real magnet for losers.”

“Shit, that musta really sucked growing up like that.”

“Yeah. It did. I left as soon as I was old enough. Packed up the day after my seventeenth birthday and moved in with MeeMaw and PawPaw.”

He smirked. “
MeeMaw
and
PawPaw?
”

She frowned back at him. “My grandparents.”

“The ones with the chicken farm?”

“Yes. They're the only reason I didn't self-destruct. Some of my best memories are from those couple of years at the little farmhouse. I might have stayed on indefinitely if not for PawPaw's heart attack. He never recovered and MeeMaw had to sell the farm to pay for his medical bills and nursing care.

“She had a stroke shortly after that. They died within months of one another.” She rubbed her eyes and sniffled. Her throat felt terribly raw.

Wade's arm tightened around her. “That happens a lot when couples have been together a very long time like that.”

“I miss them, Wade. They were good people and did what little they could to be a stable influence. After they passed, I was pretty much on my own. I went a little wild for a time… I made a lot of stupid mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes,” he said with a sympathetic look. “The trick is to learn something from 'em.”

She sighed. “Well, that's just rubbing salt in the wound, 'cause I keep making the same ones over and over.” She refused to acknowledge that the big warm cowboy beside her might be another one ready to happen. “So you see? I still don't even understand why I came here. He didn't even raise me. I hardly saw or spoke to the man for over twenty years.”

“It still hurts though, doesn't it?”

“Yes,” she confessed. She'd tried to deny the welling of emotion, but he must have seen it in her face. “I keep thinking it shouldn't, but it still does. Am I irrational? Have you ever experienced that?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Yes. I know how it feels to lose someone when there were important things that shoulda been said.”

“I feel so lost, like a whole hunk of my life wasn't really what I thought it was. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“How did you deal with it?” she asked.

“Not very well, I'm afraid.” His expression went grim, color flushed his high cheekbones. But he didn't elaborate. “Are you ready to leave now? Not that I'm trying to rush you or anything.”

“You're not rushing me, and yes, I'm ready.”

“Then, c'mon. Let's get you outta here.”

With a steadying arm about her waist, he guided her out of the morgue. Once outside, Nikki dragged in a great cleansing lungful of fresh air. And then another in an effort to purge the scent of death. Nikki wasn't even aware of the tears streaming down her face until he brushed a thumb over her cheek.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yes. No. I don't know. I thought seeing him would give me closure, but it hasn't. I only feel worse.” She couldn't keep the quaver from her voice. “You were right, Wade. I wasn't prepared.”

“No one is.” He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“I didn't know anyone still carried handkerchiefs.” She accepted it and blew her nose.

“They come in useful at times. Most of the ranch hands carry them. It's not uncommon to need a makeshift bandage when mending barbed-wire fences.”

“Do you really do that?” she asked. “Mend fences?”

“Yeah. I still do my share of ranch work,” he said.

“On top of lawyering?”

“There's many folks in these parts who wear two hats. Partly because it's so hard to make a living ranching full time.”

“So why don't they do something else?” she asked.

“Because this is Montana and people here are proud of their heritage—often to the point of stupidity.”

“Your brother?” she suggested.

“Yeah. My brother. It's what I have to talk to him about and it's not gonna be pretty.”

“I shouldn't be there then. It'll be awkward.”

“It'll be fine. If it gets too nasty, we'll take it outside.”

“Surely, you don't mean that
literally
.”

“Won't be the first time my brother and I settled a matter with our fists.” He shrugged. “I figure it won't be the last.”

“But that's ridiculous! You can't resolve issues like that with violence!”

“Sure we can.” He laughed. “Men aren't like women, Nikki. We don't think and feel the same way you do. Sometimes things between us are
best
settled by forceful means. It's ugly as hell, but when it's over, it's over.”

“So what happens now?” she asked. “About my father I mean.”

“You can't do anything until you have a certified death certificate.”

“Which I can't get until I have my license.”

“Exactly. Once that happens you can dispose of the remains and then start settling the estate.”

“
Dispose
of
the
remains?
” she repeated with a frown. “That's my father.”

Wade flushed. “I'm sorry. That was mighty insensitive of me. I guess I'm just a bit hardened to this process after so long. It's a hazard of the job when you handle probate.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied.

He steered her toward the parked truck.

“How does probate work?” she asked. “I don't know anything about it.”

“It's mostly a bunch of paperwork,” he replied. “Your first priority will be to post notices of death in all the area papers. Then outstanding debts and taxes need to be paid. You especially don't want the IRS knocking on your door.”

“Taxes? Debts?” A huge knot formed in her stomach. “I hope to God he didn't leave any behind. I don't think I could deal with that on top of everything else.”

She hoped he'd left sufficient funds at least to cover the burial and prayed she wouldn't be saddled with any of his outstanding debts. She had more than enough of her own, barely keeping her head above water with a dead-end job she despised.