The Trouble With Cowboys (24 page)
Saints? Amy wouldn’t go that far, but Mr. Dixon had a point. “I know they loved us the best they could.”
“They did. I’m glad you can see that.”
“What are you getting at, Mr. Dixon?”
He sighed. “One thing I will say about your folks is that they didn’t care about keeping this farm up. Farming wasn’t in their blood. Back in the day, Dixon Farm and Sorentino Farm were competitors in the alfalfa industry. I’m sure you knew that. My brother and your grandfather were rivals, through and through. Our families played fair, but we played to win.”
“But when my dad took over . . .” Amy prompted, when he paused.
“When your daddy took over, everything changed. Good for Dixon Farm, bad for the legacy he left you girls. But neither of your folks cared enough to change their ways. Rachel’s done the best she could with the place, bless her heart, but it’s not enough to erase the damage done by years of mismanagement and neglect, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe not, but we’ve got to try.”
“I know you’ve got it in your head to, and I’ll support you best I can, but I want to make sure you’re fighting for the right reasons. Don’t do it because you think your parents would’ve wanted it that way. Do it for yourselves and yourselves only. You don’t have nothing to prove to anyone. You do what your heart tells you to and not a thing else.”
“This is what we want. For Tommy. For Rachel. She’d be miserable without the farm.”
“Seems she’s miserable now, with it.”
“I know, but we’ll see what we can do to change that for her. Get her some help. If we can beat Amarex—”
“Which brings me to the other issue I wanted to discuss.”
“Okay . . .”
“This old man doesn’t know the first thing about matchmaking or whatnot, but I have some advice for you about Kellan Reed.”
Oh, heck no. She was not going to discuss her love life with Mr. Dixon. She backed up, waving the bowl. “We don’t have to talk about this. Please . . .”
“Now, now, hear me out.”
She blew an errant hair away from her eye and tried not to cringe outwardly. “Okay.”
“All these things you kids think are important, they don’t actually matter in the long run. I know because I was the same way. Took me retiring and my wife of thirty-two years dying to figure that out. Who cares who his family is and your family is? This isn’t
Romeo and Juliet
. If you want to be with him, be with him. Have fun while you’re young.”
Romeo and Juliet
. If you want to be with him, be with him. Have fun while you’re young.”
Amy blinked at him. “That’s really bad advice.”
“Why? What’s he going to do, break your heart?”
“Well, yes.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, so what? So I don’t like having my heart broken. It feels terrible and reminds me that I’m a total loser in the love department.”
“Mark my words, honey. There will come a time when you look back on your life and miss the heartbreak.”
She almost bought into his crazy advice, he spoke with such conviction. He and Lisa Binderman should get together and form a company. Sales sharks like those two could make a fortune selling sand in the desert. “I don’t think so.”
He straightened indignantly. “You didn’t let me finish. You’ll miss the heartbreak because it meant you’d fallen in love. And there’s no other feeling in all the world that compares. I haven’t fallen in love in forty years. Before my wife, I’d fallen in love and gotten my heart crushed three times by three wonderful women. I wouldn’t trade those feelings for anything—not the joy of being in love or the heartbreak of losing it. That’s the stuff life’s made of.”
She adjusted a flower on Tulip’s neck. “I’m all for the falling in love part. It’s the feeling like an idiot afterward that’s so hard to bear.”
“No one can make you feel foolish unless you let them.”
Maybe that was her problem. Not a weakness for cowboys, but the way her behavior made her doubt her sensibility. Seems she spent half her adult life acting impulsively and the other half feeling like a fool because of it. She couldn’t help but wonder how her life would change if she didn’t allow her slipups to weigh her down. What if happiness was actually a product of attitude, not how stridently she adhered to her rules or hid in the kitchen?
Mr. Dixon patted her shoulder. “You’re not your mom, Amy. You look like her, you laugh like her, but you’re not her.”
Turning to the pigsty, she squeezed her eyes closed, emotion welling within her. How was it that a retired Navy cook could manage to cut to the heart of her issues when she barely understood them? Her fear of turning into her mother had crippled her since she was old enough to recognize their physical similarities.
“My whole life, people have told me how much like my mom I am.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I hated the idea, but it stuck with me. Every morning, I wake up wondering when I’ll snap for good like she did. It happened to her in her twenties. And I’m twenty-eight already, so I can’t help but wonder if it’s coming.” She’d never voiced her deepest fear aloud before, and it made her insides ache. Tears fell over her cheek and pooled in the corner of her lips. She licked at them.
“Your mom’s depression is a disease, one you don’t have.”
She scoffed. “Are you sure? Because I’m not. I had a screaming, crying meltdown on national television that ground my career to a halt, and I make terrible choices with men. Sounds like my mom in a nutshell. Maybe someday I’ll be so depressed that I’ll want to kill myself too.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that, and neither can I. Who’s to say it’s not genetic?” She swallowed and lowered her voice, fighting to remain calm. “I work so hard to keep my emotions level, but it’s a constant battle. Sometimes I think if it weren’t for all the rules I hold myself to, I’d be out of control in a bad way. Like one tip of the scale too many and I’d fall into her same craziness.”
She turned from him so he wouldn’t see her crying, but he walked around to face her and set his hands firmly on her shoulders. “None of that is true. At all. Want to know how I’m so sure?”
“How?” she ground out.
“Because suicide is selfish. It’s selfish and irresponsible and cowardly. And you, my dear, are none of those things.”
Amy wrinkled her nose and smushed her lips together. She refused to openly sob.
He took her hand. “Time to let go of your fear. You don’t need a list of rules to keep yourself in check. What a horrible drain on your energy that must be.” He was right; it was draining and rather pointless, since she constantly broke them. “Repeat after me: no more rules.”
“No more rules,” she whispered.
“I am not my parents.”
“I am not my parents,” she echoed.
He grinned and pulled her into a hug. “Thank goodness, because I’d be out of a job and back to eating Jillian’s so-called food.”
Amy drew in a tremulous, but fortifying, breath. She wiped her runny nose and shook her head. “I’ll never look at spaghetti the same again. I can’t stop picturing bleeding monkey brains.”
He nodded gravely. “You don’t know the half of it. She sent a chicken casserole over here with me after she heard about your mom’s stroke. I walked it straight out here to the pigs.”
The absurdity brought a laugh up from her throat. “That was sweet of her.”
Mr. Dixon rubbed her shoulder. “She’s got a good heart, even if she doesn’t have the cooking skills to match. I’ve put on five pounds since I started working at your house. My pants are fitting better already.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He took her bowl and nested it with his. “I’ll take care of the dishes and clean up. You should talk to Kellan, clear things up with him.”
“Okay, I will soon.”
With a smile of gratification, he wrapped an arm around her back and guided her toward the house. With every step she felt stronger, healed.
He opened the door. “You need to stop holding yourself back and start discovering the real Amy Sorentino.”
Amy cocked her head at him, contemplating his nugget of wisdom. “What does that mean, really?”
An impish grin lit his face. “I have no idea, but I hear it all the time on those daytime talk shows Jillian watches. Seems to be the advice women give each other when they’re sharing their feelings.”
Amy chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Dixon. You had me thinking you were some closet self-help guru for a minute.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I could be. You might never know.” When she chuckled again, he gave her shoulders an affectionate shake. “Don’t count Kellan out yet. Things might turn out fine. Miracles do happen, you know.”
She nodded and looked over her shoulder, drinking in the sights around her, the back porch of the white and gray house she grew up in, the rolling hills and deep valleys that had sustained her family for generations. She smelled the fragrance of dried winter grasses wafting through the breeze and the pungent scent of snow melting into the dirt. Boy, she hoped Mr. Dixon was right. They could all use a miracle right about now.
A miracle was not what the following morning brought, however. The phone rang while Amy was pouring her second cup of coffee at six-fifteen. It was Mom’s doctor, who opened the conversation by explaining that she usually didn’t discuss this sort of thing over the phone, but she knew how far away Amy and her sisters lived so she decided to make an exception.
Taking a hint from the doctor’s sad tone, Amy had a feeling she knew what
this sort of thing
was. She dropped into the nearest seat, and covered her mouth with her hand, too numb to cry.
this sort of thing
was. She dropped into the nearest seat, and covered her mouth with her hand, too numb to cry.
Mom’s vitals were weakening rapidly and her latest MRI came back with bad news. Six days after the stroke, her brain showed no significant activity. It was time for Amy and her sisters to make some hard decisions about continuing life support, the doctor gently prompted. Amy managed a thank you, but couldn’t think of anything else to say except, “We’ll talk over the options and be there as soon as we can.”
After the call, she gathered Rachel and Jenna in the kitchen. They huddled over untouched cups of coffee, already knowing what needed to be done.
Not that knowing made it hurt any less.
Jenna arranged for Sloane to take Tommy to her grandma’s house to spend the night. Mr. Dixon usually didn’t arrive until ten-ish, so Amy called him at eight to ask if he’d drive them to Albuquerque. She debated calling Kellan instead, longing to lean on his strength. But with so much unresolved between them, she didn’t want to make a mistake by complicating their relationship even further.
Jenna put Tommy in Sloane’s car along with his overnight bag. Amy and Rachel waited their turn to kiss him good-bye while Mr. Dixon pulled his car around to pick them up. The drive passed in a blur. Amy’s only vivid thought came as she crossed the threshold of the main entrance, when she realized she was walking into the lobby for the last time. She took her sisters’ hands, gritted her teeth, and braced herself to face the most difficult, painful thing she’d ever have to do.
Kellan stepped out from his walk-in freezer with a box of beef to send Jake. His two office employees were busy at desks, monitoring holiday online and phone orders.
It had been a great month, businesswise. The last orders of roasts and prime ribs for Christmas dinner were shipping that Friday. Once that was accomplished, he’d shut the business down until after the holidays, as he always did, to give his employees a week paid vacation. Out of necessity, a few ranch hands stayed on, but he paid them double to make it worth their time.
When the office phone rang, his heart rate sped up. Could be his mother. She always called the office number because it was published on the Slipping Rock Ranch Web site. Since Morton dropped the bomb that she’d been sniffing around, every ring of the phone had him jumping out of his skin. He’d begun to consider that it might be healthier to answer the call and get the confrontation over with.
His employees were tied up with other calls, so Kellan peeked at the caller ID and answered the phone with a sigh of relief.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Kellan, did Amy call you today?”
“No, why?”
“My mom heard from Charlene Delgado that Bethany’s at her end. Amy and her sisters left for the hospital to say good-bye. They’re taking her off life support.”
Kellan’s heart sank. “Did they drive themselves?”
“Not sure, man. But I thought you should know.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
He tried Amy’s cell phone but she didn’t answer. He called her house, but the answering machine picked up. He had to do something. He couldn’t continue on with his workday knowing what Amy was going through.
The hospital phone number was easy to find online. The front desk receptionist who answered knew Amy and her sisters by name and confirmed that they hadn’t arrived yet. He thanked her and stood holding the phone, considering his next move.
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