At Blue Cross Ranch, Aaron Lear heard the motor home the minute it turned into the gate almost a mile away. From the sound of it, he figured that Elmer was running in too low a gear, which didn’t surprise him in the least. He wasn’t too keen on having the Stantons for the weekend, but as Bonnie’s very own daughters weren’t helping him reconcile with their mother, it seemed prudent to stay on the good side of her folks, as much as that pained him—Elmer drove him nuts.
On the porch, Aaron groaned aloud at the sight of the RV doing a smooth five miles per hour as it wended its way down the caliche road lined with live oak and pecan trees until it lumbered up into the circular drive. The man could be the poster child of the impractical, for who else but Elmer Stanton would drive a huge RV to a ranch house with more bedrooms than the White House? But Aaron plastered a smile on his face nonetheless, walked down the limestone steps and onto the flagstones to greet them. His grandson was the first out of the thing, flying forward with shouts of Grandpa! that warmed Aaron all the way down to his toes. He bent down, let the boy run into his arms, grimacing with the pain of it, but lifted him up all the same, holding him tight, clinging to him “Hey, Ranger,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
But the pain was quickly unbearable, and he put the boy down, just as Rebecca elegantly disembarked from the RV, an honor guard of three dogs on her heels. Two of them raced immediately into the front lawn, sniffing trees and bushes. Behind them, a big ugly yellow one wandered out and walked right into a tree in his quest to find the perfect spot to relieve himself.
Rebecca seemed to think nothing of it, just kept walking toward Aaron, smiling that deep smile of hers that reminded him so much of Bonnie. “Hey, baby,” he said, reaching for her.
“Hi, Dad.” She hugged him, then held him at arm’s length. “You look good!”
He didn’t look good and he felt like shit. “Thanks. So do you. Except you’re too skinny—”
“Dad.” She released him with a sigh that sounded just like Bonnie did when she was irritated with him. Aaron ignored it, turned toward Lil.
She threw her arms around him in a painful bear hug. “Oh, Aaron, it does my heart good to see you looking well,” she said, grasping his shoulders and squeezing tightly.
“Thanks, Lil,” he said, dragging his hand across the sheen of perspiration on his brow.
“Well, he sure don’t look any worse for the wear,” Elmer said behind Lil, squinting up at Aaron. “I always knew you’d beat it,” he said with a broad grin as he extended his hand in greeting. “You’re too damn mean to die.”
Aaron could only smile—he hadn’t found the guts to tell his family that it was back, had crept into him when he wasn’t looking and sunk its tentacles to root in him again. “I had Lucha make some iced tea,” he said, and gestured toward the big porch where several groupings of furniture were placed beneath ceiling fans turning at a lazy spring pace. Aaron followed the others, biting down so no one would see how it pained him.
They sat awhile, Elmer and Lil boring him to tears with the intimate details of the bingo something-or-other Rebecca had thrown the night before. He wanted desperately to ask about Bonnie, wanted to know what she was doing, if she was happy, if there was anything he could do or say to make her listen to him one last time. But he couldn’t find his opening in Lil’s endless chatter, and idly watched Grayson on the lawn, playing with the dogs. The boy looked so much like him (he’d always thought that—Bonnie said he looked like Bud, but the kid looked like his grandpa), and now Aaron wondered if Grayson would remember him at all. Would any of them really remember him? Or would their memories of him fade away over time, like the wallpaper in his mother’s kitchen, fade so badly that no one would remember his original color?
After a dinner of prime rib—Dad always insisted on the best—they all went their separate ways while waiting for Robin and Jake to arrive from Houston. Grayson was upstairs with Grandpa, hunkered down over a video game. Grandma had gone in to take a “soaking” bath, and Dad had disappeared into his office with the excuse that he needed to make a few calls.
Finally free of what was feeling a little like an ever-present family, Rebecca escaped outside, to the east side of the huge, six-thousand-square-foot ranch house, sat on a porch swing with Frank, Bean, and Tater forming a living, but exhausted, dog shield around her feet.
It was the first clear moment she’d had all day to think, and to try to make sense of all the thoughts about Matt that were jumbling around and crowding her mind. Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far—she heard the screen door open behind her and glanced over her shoulder; it was Dad walking slowly toward her, a newspaper beneath his arm. He motioned for her to scoot over, then stepped over the dogs to sit next to her. Bean instantly adjusted so that he could prop his head against Dad’s leg.
“What the hell is wrong with that dog?” Dad asked, pushing him off his leg. Unfazed, Bean patiently resumed his position.