Chapter Twenty
“Dandy?” Tate arched an eyebrow at her.
“Yes.” Abby was still watching the colt as he danced around Sugar Baby, playing peek-a-boo with her and Tate, his curiosity at war with his shyness. The mare continued to graze but kept a watchful eye on her offspring. “The first time Joe saw him he said, ‘now that one is going to be a real dandy.’” She smiled. “I think it’s a perfect name for him.”
He was studying the colt again. “It does seem to suit him. Okay, Dandy it is. First one born, last one named.”
The pasture was full of mares with their new colts and Abby had been given the honor of naming them all. She’d taken the job seriously, taking days to choose just the right name for each foal.
Dog raced ahead of them as they turned toward the creek. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your fishing gear?” Abby glanced at Tate. He had one hand at her waist in a protective gesture as they walked. After their fight last night, if it could even be called a fight, she didn’t want to compound the problem by keeping him from his usual Sunday activity.
Once again it occurred to her that she’d never seen Tate mad. He never raised his voice, even when he was arguing with Buddy over homework. The closest he’d come in her presence was the day he hit Joe. He must have been mad that day, but his voice had never wavered from its normal volume. If anything, it had gotten lower.
“I’m sure.” He pointed a little to the left of the usual path. “Let’s go this way. There’s a spot I want to show you.”
“Your fishing spot?”
“No. I don’t come here much anymore. Not to this particular place.”
His voice was pensive, almost sad. But then, they’d both been in a strange mood since last night. Tate was quieter than normal and there was no teasing, no laughter. Every time he came close to her, he touched her, couldn’t seem to stop. Nothing major, just the brush of his fingers on her arm or his hand running over her hair. If she weren’t so hypersensitive to his attitude, she might not have noticed it.
“This is it.” He pushed through the trees, holding the branches out of the way for her.
Abby stopped and gazed around her in awe. To their right, the fast moving creek narrowed into a series of small waterfalls that spilled into a wide, deep pool. Past the point where the falls emptied, the water was still, its surface unruffled, and so clear the rays of sunlight reached all the way to the bottom.
The banks were grassy with large boulders scattered here and there like granite seats offered up for an unknown audience. The branches of ancient willow trees skimmed the water, creating a shelter from the hot sun beneath their leafy cover. At the edge of what must have been the deepest part of the pool were the rotting remains of a small dock, its boards half torn away.
“Tate, it’s beautiful.”
He nodded. “I learned how to swim here before I was five. My great-grandfather planted those willows.” Shunning the boulders, he lowered himself to the grass then tugged her hand until she was sitting with him. He put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head.
“My grandfather used to bring me here. At the time, I thought there couldn’t be a more wonderful place anywhere than this one. Or a man any more wonderful than my grandfather. He’s the one who taught me to swim and he built that dock just for me, so I could jump off of it, into the water.”
He was silent for so long that Abby thought he wasn’t going to continue. When he did, his voice had softened and she had the impression he had forgotten she was there.
“He loved to fish. Almost as much as he loved me. He’d bring me with him and let me swim and play in the pool while he fished. He never caught anything those times but it didn’t matter to him. Grandpa was the type of person who loved to laugh. Life was just one big box of candy to him, one he dove into it with both hands. Nothing was serious enough to make him worry.”
“He sounds like the perfect grandfather. You must have loved him a lot.”
“I did. My father used to tell me I was just like him.”
“Are you?” A stray breeze off the water ruffled her hair and she pushed it back away from her face.
“No.” His tone was clipped and she felt the sudden tightening of his muscles. “I’m not like him. I’m nothing like him.”
She tilted her head up to better see his face. His crystal eyes had gone hard and cold, focused on something only he could see. His jaw clenched and released erratically.
“Tate?” She ran her hand down his arm in a soothing motion. “What happened?”
He took a deep shaky breath. “One day I was out in the barn, hiding in the hayloft so Mom wouldn’t make me go visiting with her. Grandpa and my dad came in and they were fighting. They didn’t know I was there. My father blamed my grandfather for not having enough backbone to take care of his family. He said that because of my grandfather, they’d almost lost the ranch. He even blamed him because my grandmother died so young. Dad said the work and worry killed her. It was a bitter argument and, to this day, I remember every word.”
“You shouldn’t have had to hear that, Tate.” She kept her tone quiet. “What did your grandfather do?”
“Nothing. He stood there and listened, then he got his fishing gear and left. It was the last time I saw him. That night he had a stroke. He died two days later in the hospital.”
Tate looked down at her, his gaze softening. “I’ve never told anyone about that before. Not even Buddy. I haven’t even thought about it in years. I don’t know why I did now.”
“I’m glad you told me.” It explained so much, about Tate and his father both. Why his father was obsessed with responsibility and why Tate was determined to live up to his father’s ideals. “But maybe there were circumstances you didn’t know about. There are two sides to every story, Tate. You never got a chance to hear your grandfather’s.”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Abby. Everyone has choices. Sometimes we may not like them, but we still have them. My grandfather chose to ignore his responsibilities and have fun. He didn’t care what it did to his family. I’m not like him. I couldn’t be like him.” His voice was fierce, determined.
“No, you couldn’t.” She smiled at him and put her hand on the back of his head, her fingers sliding into his hair as she held his gaze. “You take care of this ranch and Buddy and both of them are thriving. And now you’re taking care of me and the baby. You do everything you’re supposed to do, Tate.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “It scares me sometimes, Abby. I’m afraid my father was right, that I am like my grandfather. Sometimes I want to forget about all the responsibility and do things just for me. Do it because I want it, not because it’s what I need to do.”
Sadness washed over her, along with a feeling of resignation. He was thinking about Diane, of course. If he hadn’t felt like he had a responsibility to her and the baby, he could have been with the woman he really wanted right now.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she murmured. “It’s a normal human reaction.” She paused thoughtfully. “Like you said, we all have choices. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do because it’s the right choice. But occasionally we have to put ourselves first.”
And how long would it be before he did just that? Sooner or later he was going to realize that he couldn’t be happy without Diane. When he did, she had to be ready to face it and get on with her life.
The corners of his lips tilted up slightly. “I don’t think I know how.”
“Sure you do.” She forced a smile and repeated the words he’d once said to her. “For instance, if you could do anything you wanted to right now, what would it be? Other than clean the bathroom, of course.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound startling several birds into the air. By the time he looked back down, his expression had lightened. “If I could do anything I wanted to, I’d strip you very slowly, one piece of clothing at a time. Then I’d carry you into the water and we’d swim and make love all day long.”
Abby held out her arms. “What are you waiting for?”
* * * * *
The whine came from the back door again and Abby smiled. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.” She pushed the screen open and Dog slipped inside, his tail fanning her legs. She’d been letting him in for longer periods of time since the day she’d given him a bath. Neither Tate nor Buddy appeared to mind and the animal kept her company during the day when the two were out working.
“Who are you talking to?”
She glanced around as Tate walked into the kitchen. His mood had improved a hundred percent since last Sunday. Hers was still pretty much up in the air. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said about choices, how there always was one, even if you didn’t like the options.
“Dog. He wanted in.”
“He wanted in because he knows you’re cleaning up the supper dishes. He thinks he’s going to get a handout.” He smiled at her. “I suspect he’s right.”
Abby paused in the act of reaching for the leftovers. “You caught me. I admit it. I’ve been feeding him. But he just looks so hungry all the time.”
“I’ve never seen a dog that didn’t. I bet he’s gained ten pounds since you’ve been here.”
She shrugged and dumped the food into Dog’s bowl. “He was too skinny anyway.”
“Only because he ran it all off chasing rabbits and armadillos.” He opened the fridge and took out a can of soda.
“What were you doing upstairs a few minutes ago? It sounded like you were moving furniture.”
Popping the top on the can, he delayed answering long enough to take a drink, then nodded. “You could say that. When Buddy outgrew the baby bed, Dad stuck it up in the attic. I brought it back down to see what kind of shape it was in.”
“And?” She dried the last dish and put it in the cabinet.
“I haven’t got it completely put together yet, but it looks pretty good. May need a new mattress. You can see what you think.”
“Think about what?” Buddy let the back door slam behind him.
“Your baby bed.” Abby smiled at him. “Tate got it down from the attic.”
“Yeah? I didn’t even know we still had it.”
“Complete with your teeth prints on one side,” Tate commented. He grinned at Abby. “Even back then he tried to eat everything in sight.”
Buddy rolled his eyes. “Man, make one mistake around here and they never let you forget it. To hear him talk, I’m the only one who ever did anything stupid. Did he tell you about the scar on his butt?”
Abby’s glance met Tate’s and they both smiled. She had become well acquainted with that scar, could probably even draw it to scale. “Joe told me about it.”
“Dang. How about the time—”
“How’s Domino?” Tate intervened hurriedly.
Of all the foals born on the ranch this spring, Domino, a tiny appaloosa filly, was Abby’s favorite. But the feisty little horse had a deep fascination for the barbed wired fence. Twice now they’d had to treat cuts received in her explorations.
“She’s fine, but we should probably move her and her mother to one of the board-fenced pastures before she really hurts herself. Anyway, like I was saying,” Buddy continued. “One of Dad’s favorite stories was about the time Tate thought he’d found a new kitten. Lugged it all the way home from the creek. He was starting into the house with it when Mom saw him and screamed. Turned out that black and white kitten was a skunk. When Mom screamed, she scared it. Dad said by the time he got there all three of them were running in different directions.”
“Oh, yeah. Laugh.” Tate glared as Abby convulsed. “Do you have any idea how long it takes for that smell to wear off? Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house for two days and she scrubbed me down in every concoction her and the neighbors had ever heard about. It was a miracle I had any skin left.”
“I bet you never brought any more kittens home.” Abby wiped the laugh tears from her eyes.
The smile he gave her was wry. “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve always had this thing for kittens.” He finished the soda and tossed the empty can in the trash. “Ready to go look at the bed?”
“Sure.”
“Hey,” Buddy halted them. “Fourth of July celebration is next week. We going?”
“We usually do.” Tate looked at her. “It’s up to you. Everyone from around here generally puts their food together and we have one big picnic.”
“It sounds like fun. Before, I always just watched the fireworks from my porch.”
He gave her a quick kiss. “This time, we can watch them together.”
“Yep, you and about two thousand other people. Should be nice and cozy.”
Tate glanced at his brother. “Can I assume you and Amy Fletcher are going to be cozied up on your own blanket about that time?”
“Yeah.” Buddy’s tone was disgusted. “Me, her and her parents. Real romantic. If I even try to hold her hand, Mr. Fletcher glares at me for an hour.”
“Probably with good reason.” Tate grinned at him, then steered Abby through the door. “Remember, he was sixteen once upon a time, too. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.”
Abby laughed as Buddy’s low-voiced “damn” followed them. “That was mean. Now he’s going to be a nervous wreck every time he’s around the man.”
“Good. He deserves it for telling that skunk story.” He pushed the nursery door open and stood back to let her go in first.
Tate had been right. The room was turning into a wonderful nursery. The large windows let in lots of light and the new paint glowed with the colors of the sunset. The border he’d put around the top of the walls depicted the alphabet, each letter a different pastel shade. Among the letters, tiny animals played with blocks, balls and other toys.
An old wooden rocking chair already sat in one corner. Tate had painted it the same shade as the walls and Abby had made tie-on cushions for it that matched the border. The only other item of furniture in the room was the crib Tate had just brought down. The headboard and footboard were both solid wood, the top of each making a gentle curve. Only the sides were railed.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect.” Abby ran a hand over the wood. “And dusty.”
“Well, it’s going to need a couple coats of paint anyway. And maybe we could stencil some kind of design on the headboard.”
“That’s a good idea.” She smiled in spite of the wave of sadness that rolled her. “This is going to be the most beautiful room a baby could ever have.”
He was studying her intently. “Abby, is something wrong?”
“Of course not. What could be wrong?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s just that for the last few days you seem to be drifting off a lot, like you’re thinking about something real hard. You know, if there’s a problem you can talk about it with me?”
“I know.” She crossed to him and put her arms around his waist. “I guess I’ve been thinking about the baby. Sometimes I can almost see it, Tate. A little boy with black hair and blue eyes who looks just like you.” But even in her daydreams, she never saw the baby in this nursery. Even as her waistline expanded, the image of the three of them together as a family was fading. Abby fought desperately to keep the tears from her eyes as his hand spread over her stomach.
“You know what I see? A tiny little girl with huge brown eyes and dimples that can light up the world.”
But what did his vision of the future include? Was it the three of them or did a fourth presence stand between them? One that never quite went away.
When Tate had brought her here and married her, he’d implied they had no choice, but he was wrong. There had been a choice. By taking the course of action they had, that choice had only been delayed. And sooner or later he was going to be forced to make it. Her or Diane. His responsibility or what he really wanted.
And he wasn’t the only one who had a choice to make. She did too. When the time came, would she make him live up to his responsibility? She knew she could do it. She could stay here with him and the baby forever. Loving him, knowing he didn’t love her. Or she could let him go.
There was a sudden flutter where his hand rested on her stomach, then a more pronounced surge of movement. Abby lifted her startled gaze to Tate’s.
Awe shone from his eyes. “I felt it,” he whispered. “The baby moved.”
This time the tears spilled from her eyes and she didn’t even try to slow them. No matter what happened, she had his child. And she had this moment in time to savor forever.
His arms folded around her and he buried his face in her hair. “Our baby. A real live little person. And we made it together.” He lifted her chin and kissed the tears from her cheeks. His eyes were misted over. “Thank you, Abby. No one has ever given me a gift as great as this one before.”
A new spate of tears fell from her eyes at his words. Dear God, how would she ever find the strength to let him go when she loved him so much?