"It doesn't matter." She was right. Not that he said that. He stayed silent.
She sniffled. "I should have told you. I should have called. Dad talked me into being quiet while he stole my life. You know as well as I do that my father could pay anyone to get them to say what he wanted."
A memory flashed in his mind of her father. He had snidely told Vicki, "The Collins are too boring for the likes of you. Daughters end up married to men like their dad, and your crush on middle-class values will end." His nostrils flared again.
"And you would do anything to please that man who stole more money than most countries' entire GDP," he said.
"I should have trusted you, not him." Her pleading voice hit more buttons in him, and he defused. "What daughter doesn't want her father's love? I didn't know he'd go this far. He ruined my life."
Not one word came out of his mouth. He couldn't close his jaw, but then he gazed down the hall toward his daughter's bedroom. "It's not about you. It's about Clara."
He hadn't known what else to say. He went to the fridge and found the bottle opener for a second beer. The day his mother handed him his daughter changed him. One day after he came out of boot camp, he was a full-time father. Colt had still hoped against reason that Vicki would come back soon. He had wanted an explanation, but the years had been silent.
In sobs, she begged him, "Colt, are you still on the phone?"
"Yeah." He sipped his second beer. He shouldn't believe her. He glanced at the wall to his engagement picture. Belle wasn't weak, and didn't need him. Belle's blue eyes could turn a man cold, and she'd never cry, not like Vicki. Vicki's baby-blue eyes and blonde hair still had left the impression of soft and innocent. He let out an audible sigh. "Look. Let's meet tomorrow. I'll get a sitter. Meet you for coffee at that shop we all went to after high school."
"Thank you. See you at eight a.m. I'll bring proof he lied."
"Give me time to get the babysitter. Eleven is better." Excitement wasn't what he wanted from her. But if he believed her, then he'd be a jerk to stand in the way.
"Okay. Colt, I'm sure you are a great dad."
Tonight he slept on it. "I don't want to get your hopes up, Vicki, but this conversation shouldn't be over the phone."
Her pitch grew higher, and so did his heart when she answered, "I can't wait for tomorrow. Colt. Thank you."
He pictured her jumping up and down on the other end. The image of her bright smile of pearly white teeth caused a small smile on his face. Clara had the same innocence as her mother. He sipped his bottle and told her, "Stop. Good night."
"Night."
He clicked end on his phone, but he couldn't hold still either. Victoria had haunted his dreams for years, and he had always wondered what happened. Belle's picture grabbed his attention. He shouldn't respond to his curiosity about Vicki anymore. She was his past, and he was engaged. Even if he believed her, nothing changed in his life.
Belle. His fiancée should matter. They were getting married in a few weeks, at her insistence. With Vicki, he'd work out time for her to be with their daughter, if she agreed to share. He'd not let anyone hurt Clara.
What would Belle say about Vicki? Her voice raced through his head as she answered, "Don't believe liars, Colt." He swallowed and then scrolled through his phone. For a second he stared at her picture again. He knew what she'd say, and he'd hang up more confused. His heart fluttered as he remembered Vicki's wide eyes at his sister's house today. His cheeks grew warmer and he told himself marriage required trust. He swallowed, and then dialed.
In less than a ring, Belle answered, "Colt, honey, I'm so glad you called. I need you here in DC."
He closed his eyes and inhaled. "I told you I'm staying in Florida to raise my daughter. I'm not a lobbyist."
"You're too important to go home and disappear, Colt. We need you here. We have important work..."
He could imagine how she sipped her latte with extra foam as she prepared for another debate on gun control. The never-ending debate wasn't what he wanted to spend days on. "This is my home."
"You are more than a boring farm."
It sounded like she was clomping somewhere in heels. "It's near Miami. Life is never boring here."
She sighed. "Honey, I need you. Senator Thrax won't talk to a woman."
Politics could wait. He shook his head. "I need to talk to you about Clara."
"Is your daughter okay?" At least she stopped her clip-clopping on the other end.
He huffed out, "She's fine."
The ching of a register rang through the phone. A moment later, she sipped what was probably her sixth latte of the day. He took another sip of his beer and waited. Finally, she told him, "Good. There are some great private schools here."
He crossed his arms. "Stop. It's not going to happen. I have to tell you something."
"What? Colt, don't leave me in suspense. Just spit it out."
Belle was silent, and he closed his eyes. "I saw her mother today."
No background noise greeted his ear. He placed his beer on the table and opened his eyes. Slowly, she answered him. "Clara has a mother? I thought she was a motherless child."
He picked his beer back up and sipped. "She has her grandma in that role. You know that."
A sound of a car door slammed behind her. "Oh, so you spent the day with your mother. I must have misheard."
Belle must be busy. She'd taken the high-paying job to lobby for the gun manufacturers for military weapons, despite his intention to retire back to his ranch and never fight in another war. He'd told her his plans. She'd proposed to him, and somehow he had accepted. Now he had made a promise to her, and hadn't changed his mind on the ranch. He sipped his beer again, then told her, "No. You didn't misunderstand me. Clara's birth mother walked into my sister's place unannounced."
"What? Colt, are you saying this to get me to fly down to Nowheresville faster?"
"No." He clutched his phone. "Homestead is my home, and soon to be yours too. In war, I went to bed every night and dreamed about this place."
"Colt, we're not children. Washington."
He almost finished his beer now. This conversation wasn't what he needed. "Stop. It's not good for Clara."
"Having a daughter didn't stop you from service. You trusted your parents."
"They aren't here now."
"You're making this difficult, honey."
Belle made time for senators, guns, and war. Clara deserved sweetness. "You'll see the place next week, as we planned. I should go."
"I'm not happy," she said. "You should be here."
He closed his eyes and pictured the wide openness of the range. He'd be on his horse and everything else would right itself. He'd lost his fighting edge long ago. "Good night, Belle. I'll see you next week."