A Certain Hope
But then he’d laughed and told her to get going. “There’s a big ol’world out there and I reckon you need to see it. But just remember where home is.”
So she’d gone on to New York, too eager to start her new career and be with her cousins to see that her father was lonely. Too caught up in her own dreams to see that Reed and her daddy both wanted her to stay.
I lost them both, she thought now. I lost them both. And now, I’ll be the one left all alone.
As dusk turned into night, April sat and cried for all that she had given up, her prayers seeming hollow and unheeded as she listened to her father’s shallow breathing and confused whispers.
Reed found her there by the bed at around midnight. Horaz had called him, concerned for April’s well-being.
“Mr. Reed, I’m sorry to wake you so late, but you need to come to the hacienda right away. Miss April, she won’t come out of his room. She is very tired, but she stays. I tell her a nurse is here to sit, but she refuses to leave the room.”
She’s still stubborn, Reed thought as he walked into the dark room, his eyes adjusting to the dim glow from a night-light in the bathroom. Still stubborn, still proud, and hurting right now, he reminded himself. He’d have to use some gentle persuasion.
“April,” he said, his voice a low whisper.
At first he thought she might be asleep, the way she was sitting with her head back against the blue-and-gold-patterned brocade wing chair. But at the sound of his voice, she raised her head, her eyes widening at the sight of him standing there over her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, confusion warring with daring in her eyes.
“Horaz called me. He’s worried about you. He said you didn’t eat supper.”
“I’m not hungry,” she responded, her eyes going to her sleeping father.
“Okay.” He stood silent for a few minutes, then said, “The nurse is waiting. She has to check his pulse and administer his medication.”
“She can do that around me.”
“Yes, she can, but she also sits with him through the night. That’s her job. And she’s ready to relieve you.”
April whirled then, her eyes flaring hot and dark in the muted light from the other room. “No, that’s my job. That should have been my job all along, but I didn’t take it on, did I? I…I stayed away, when I should have been here—”
“That’s it,” Reed said, hauling her to her feet with two gentle hands on her arms. “You need a break.”
“No,” she replied, pulling away. “I’m fine.”
“You need something to eat and a good night’s sleep,” he said, his tone soft but firm.
“You don’t have the right to tell me what I need,” she reminded him, her words clipped and breathless.
“No, I don’t. But we’ve got enough on our hands around here without you falling sick on us, too,” he reminded her. “Did you come home to help or to wallow in self-pity?”
She tried to slap him, but Reed could see she was so exhausted that it had mostly been for show. Without a word, he lifted her up into his arms and stomped out of the room, motioning with his head for the hovering nurse to go in and do her duty.
“Put me down,” April said, the words echoing out over the still, dark house as she struggled against Reed’s grip.
“I will, in the kitchen, where Flora left you some soup and bread. And you will eat it.”
“Still bossing me around,” she retorted, her eyes flashing. But as he moved through the big house with her, she stopped struggling. Her head fell against the cotton of his T-shirt, causing Reed to pull in a sharp breath. She felt so warm, so soft, so vulnerable there against him, that he wanted to sit down and hold her tight forever.
Instead, he dropped her in a comfortable, puffy-cushioned chair in the breakfast room, then told her, “Stay.”
She did, dropping her head on the glass-topped table, her hands in her hair.
“I’m going to heat your soup.”
“I can’t eat.”
“You need to try.”
She didn’t argue with that, thankfully.
Soon he had a nice bowl of tortilla soup in front of her, along with a tall glass of Flora’s famous spiced tea and some corn bread.
Reed sat down at the table, his own tea full of ice and lemon. “Eat.”
She glared over at him, but picked up the spoon and took a few sips of soup. Reed broke off some of the tender corn bread and handed it to her. “Chew this.”
April took the crusty bread and nibbled at it, then dropped it on her plate. “I’m done.”
“You eat like a bird.”
“I can’t eat,” she said, the words dropping between them. “I can’t—”
“You can’t bear to see him like that? Well, welcome to the club. I’ve watched him wasting away for the last year now. And I feel just as helpless as you do.”
She didn’t answer, but he saw the glistening of tears trailing down her face.
Letting out a breath of regret, Reed went on one knee beside her chair, his hand reaching up to her face to wipe at tears. “I’m sorry, April. Sorry you have to see him like this. But…he wants to die at home. And he wanted you to be here.”
She bobbed her head, leaning against his hand until Reed gave in and pulled her into his arms. Falling on both knees, he held her as she cried there at the table.
Held her, and condemned himself for doing so.
Because he’d missed holding her. Missed her so much.
And because he knew this was a mistake.
But right now, he also knew they both needed someone to hold.
“It’s hard to believe my mother’s been dead twelve years,” April said later. After she’d cried and cried, Reed had tried to lighten things by telling her he was getting a crick in his neck, holding her in such an awkward position, him on his knees with her leaning down from her chair.
They had moved to the den and were now sitting on the buttery-soft leather couch, staring into the light of a single candle burning in a huge crystal hurricane lamp on the coffee table.
Reed nodded. “It’s also hard to believe that each of those years brought your father down a little bit more. It was like watching granite start to break and fall away.”
“Granite isn’t supposed to break,” she said as she leaned her head back against the cushiony couch, her voice sounding raw and husky from crying.
“Exactly.” Reed propped his booted foot on the hammered metal of the massive table. “But he did break. He just never got over losing her.”
“And then I left him, too.”
As much as he wanted to condemn her for that, Reed didn’t think it would be kind or wise to knock her when she was already so down on herself. “Don’t go blaming yourself,” he said. “You did what you’d always dreamed of doing. Stuart was—is—so proud of you. You should be proud of your success.”
“I am proud,” she said, her laughter brittle. “So very proud. I knew he was lonely when I left, Reed. But I was too selfish to admit that.”
“He never expected you to sacrifice your life for his, April. Not the way I expected things from you.”
“But he needed me here. Even though she’d been dead for years, he was still grieving for my mother. He never stopped grieving. And now…it’s too late for me to help him.”
“You’re here now,” Reed said, his own bitterness causing the statement to sound harsh in the silent house.
April turned to stare over at him. “How do you feel about my being back?”
Her directness caught him off guard. Reed could be direct himself when things warranted the truth. But he wasn’t ready to tell her exactly how being with her made him feel. He wasn’t so sure about that himself.
“It’s good to have you here?” he said in the form of a question, a twisted smile making it sound lightweight.
“Don’t sound so convincing,” she said, grimacing. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else tonight than sitting here with me.”
“You’re wrong on that account,” he told her, being honest about that, at least. “You need someone here. This is going to be tough and I…I promised your daddy I’d see you through it.”
That brought her up off the couch. “So you’re only here as a favor to my father? Out of some sense of duty and sympathy?”
“Aren’t those good reasons—to be helping out a friend?”
“Friend?” She paced toward the empty fireplace, then stood staring out into the starlit night. “Am I still your friend, Reed?”
He got up to come and stand beside her. “Honestly, I don’t know what you are to me—I mean, we haven’t communicated in a very long time, on any level. I just know that Stuart Maxwell is like a second father to me and because of that, I will be here to help in whatever way I can. And yes, I’d like to think that we can at least be friends again.”
“But you’re only my friend because you promised my father?”
“Since when did this go from the real issue—a man dying—to being all about you and your feelings?”
“I know what the real issue is,” she said, her words stony and raw with emotion. “But since you practically admitted you’re doing this only out of the goodness of your heart,” she countered, turning to stalk toward the hallway, “I just want you to know I don’t expect anything from you. So don’t do me any favors, okay? You’re usually away when I come home. You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll get through this somehow.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said, hurt down to his boots by her harsh words and completely unreasonable stance. But then he reminded himself she was going through a lot of guilt and stress right now. It figured she’d lash out at the first person to try to help her, especially if that person was an old flame. “Guess it’s time for me to get on home.”
“Yes, it’s late. I’m going to check on Daddy, then I’m going to bed.” She started for the stairs, but turned at the first step, her dark head down. “Reed?”
He had a hand on the ornate doorknob. “What?”
“I do appreciate your coming by. I feel better now, having eaten a bit.” She let out a sigh that sounded very close to a sob. “And…thanks for the shoulder. It’s been a long time since I’ve cried like that.”
He didn’t dare look at her. “I’m glad then that I came. Call if you need anything else.”
“I will, thanks.” Then she looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about what I said. About you not doing me any favors. It was mean, considering you came here in the middle of the night just to help out. That was exactly what I needed tonight.”
Reed felt his heart tug toward her again, as if it might burst out of his chest with longing and joy. He wanted to tell her that he needed her, too, not just as friend, but as a man who’d never stopped loving her.
Instead, he tipped his head and gave her a long look.
“I’ll be here, April. I’ll always be right here. Just remember that.”
Chapter Three
April pressed the send button on the computer in her father’s study, glad that she had someone to talk to about her worries and frustrations. Then she reread the message she’d just sent.
Hi, girls. Well, my first night home was a bad one. Daddy is very sick. I don’t think he will last much longer. I sat with him for a long time—well into the night. Then Reed came in and made me eat something. Okay, he actually carried me, caveman-style, into the kitchen. Still Mr. Know-It-All-Tough-Guy. Still good-looking. And still single, from everything I can tell, in spite of all those rumors we’ve heard about his social life. He was very kind to me. He held me while I cried. And I cried like a baby. It felt good to be in his arms again. But I have to put all that aside. I have to help Daddy, something I should have been doing all along. Today, Reed and I are taking a ride out over the ranch, to see what needs to be done. I hope I can remember how to sit a horse. Love y’all. Keep the prayers coming. April.
That didn’t sound too bad, she thought as she took another sip of the rich coffee Flora had brought to her earlier. She’d told Summer and Autumn the truth, without going into the details.
Oh, but such details.
After the devastation of seeing her father so sick, April hadn’t wanted to go on herself. But Reed had made her feel so safe, so comforted last night. That wasn’t good. She was very weak right now, both in body and spirit. Too weak to resist his beautiful smile and warm golden eyes. Too weak to keep her hands out of that thick golden-brown too-long hair. Too weak to resist her favorite cowboy. The only cowboy she’d ever loved.
You’re just too emotional right now, she reminded herself. You can’t mistake kindness and sympathy for something else—something that can never be.
Yet, she longed for that something else. It had hit her as hard as seeing her father again, this feeling of emptiness and need, this sense of not being complete.
Thinking back on all the men she’d met and dated in New York, April groaned. Her last relationship had been a disaster. All this time, she’d thought she just hadn’t found the right one. But now she could see she was always comparing them to Reed.
That had to stop. But how could she turn off these emotions when she’d probably see him every day? Did she even want to deny it—this feeling of being safe again, this feeling of being back home in his arms?
No, she wouldn’t deny her feelings for Reed, but right now, she couldn’t give in to them, either. They had parted all those years ago with a bitter edge between them. And he’d told her he wouldn’t wait for her.
But he was still here.
He’s not here because of you, she reminded herself. He’s here because he loves your daddy as much as you do.
She couldn’t depend on Reed too much. She had to get through this one day at a time, as her mother used to tell her whenever April was facing some sort of challenge.
“One day at a time,” April said aloud as she closed down the computer. But how many days would she have to watch her father suffering like this?
“Give me strength, Lord,” she said aloud, her eyes closed to the pain and the fear. “Give me strength to accept that with life comes death. Show me how to cope, show me how to carry on. Please, Lord, show me that certain hope my mother used to talk about. That hope for eternal life.”
Turning her thoughts to her father, April got up to take her empty coffee mug into the kitchen. She wanted to watch to see how the nurse fed him, so she could help. She wanted to spend the morning with him before she went for that ride with Reed. Actually, she didn’t want to leave her father’s side. Maybe she could stall Reed.
He’d called about an hour ago, asking if she wanted to check out the property. Caught off guard, and longing for a good long ride, April had said yes. Then she’d immediately gone to check on her father, only to find the nurse bathing him. April had offered to help, but the other woman had shooed her out of the room. At the time, a good long ride had sounded better than having to see her father suffer such indignities. But now she was having second thoughts.
“Finished?” Flora asked, her smile as bright as her vivid green eyes. Flora wore her dark red hair in a chignon caught up with an elaborate silver filigree clip.
April put her mug in the sink, then turned. “Yes, and thanks for the Danish and coffee. You still make the best breads and dainties in the world, Flora.”
“Gracias,” Flora said, wiping her slender hands on a sunflower-etched dish towel.
“And how you manage to stay so slim is beyond me,” April continued as she headed toward the archway leading back to the central hall.
“Me, I walk it all off, but you? You need to eat more pastry,” Flora said, a hint of impishness in her words.
April turned to grin at her, her eyes taking in the way the morning sunlight fell across the red-tiled counters and high archways of the huge kitchen. Even later in the year, in the heat of summer, this kitchen would always be cool and tranquil. She’d spent many hours here with her mother and Flora, baking cookies and making bread.
“I guess I walk mine off, too.” April shrugged, thinking how different life on the ranch was from the fast pace of New York. Here, she could walk for miles and miles and never see another living soul, whereas New York was always full of people in a hurry to get somewhere. Wanting to bring back some of the good memories she had of growing up here, she said, “Maybe I’ll make some of that jalapeño bread. Remember how Daddy used to love it?”
“Sí,” Flora said, nodding. “He can’t eat it now, though, querida.”
“Of course not,” April said, her mood shifting as reality hit her with the same force as the sunbeam streaming through the arched windows. “I’m going to talk to the nurse to see what he can eat.”
Flora nodded, her brown eyes turning misty with worry. “He is a very sick man. I keep him in my prayers.”
“I appreciate that,” April said. “I guess our only prayer now is that God brings him some sort of peace, even if that means we have to let him go.”
“You are a very wise young woman.”
“Mother taught me to trust in God in all things. I’m trying to remember that now more than ever.”
“Your madre, she loved the Lord.”
“Yes, she did,” April said. Then she turned back to the hallway, wishing that she had the same strong faith her mother had possessed. And wishing her father hadn’t ruined his health by drinking and smoking.
As she entered his room, she heard him fussing with the nurse. “I don’t…need that. What I need…is a drink.” Stuart’s eyes closed as he fell back down on the pillow and seemed to go to sleep again.
The nurse, a sturdy woman with clipped gray hair named Lynette Proctor, clicked her tongue and turned to stare at April. “Man can barely speak, and he still wants a drink.” She gave April a sympathetic look. “His liver is shot, honey. Whatever you do, don’t give him any alcohol.”
“I don’t plan on it,” April retorted, the woman’s blunt words causing a burning anger to move through April’s system. “And I’d like to remind you that this man is my father. You will show him respect, no matter how much you agree or disagree with his drinking problem.”
Lynette finished administering Stuart’s medication, checked his IV, then turned with her hands on her hips to face April. “I apologize, sugar. My husband was an alcoholic, too, so I’ve seen the worst of this disease. That’s one reason I became a nurse and a sitter. I feel for your daddy there, but I just wish…well, I wish there was something to be done, is all.”
“We can agree on that,” April said, her defensive stance softening. Then she came to stand over the bed. In the light of day, her father looked even more pale and sickly. “This isn’t the man I remember. My daddy was so big and strong. I thought he could protect me from anything.”
“Now it’s your turn to protect him, I reckon,” Lynette said. “Do you still want to go over his schedule?”
“Yes,” April said. “Show me everything. I’m going to be here for the duration.” She stopped, willing herself to keep it together. “However long that might be.”
Lynette touched a hand to her arm. “Not as long as you might think, honey. This man ain’t got much more time on this earth. And I’m sorry for your pain.”
“Thank you,” April said, wondering how many times she’d have to hear that from well-meaning people over the course of the next weeks. How much can I bear, Lord?
Then she remembered her mother’s words to her long ago. The Lord never gives us more than we can bear, April. Trust in Him and you will get through any situation, no matter the outcome.
No matter the outcome. The outcome here wasn’t going to be happy or pretty. Her father was dying. How could she bear to go through that kind of pain yet again?
She turned as footsteps echoed down the hallway, and saw the silhouette of a tall man coming toward her.
Reed.
He’d said he’d be around for the duration, too.
April let out a breath of relief, glad that he was here. She needed him. Her father needed him. Maybe Reed’s quiet, determined strength would help her to stay strong.
No matter the outcome.
Reed listened as the very capable Lynette told them both what to expect over the next few weeks. It would get worse, she assured them. He might go quietly in his sleep, or he might suffer a heart attack or stroke. All they could do was keep him comfortable and out of pain.
With each word, told in such clinical detail, Reed could see April’s face growing paler and more distressed. He had to get her away from this sickroom for a while, because he knew there could be many more days such as this, where she could only sit and watch her father slipping away.
When Lynette was finished, Reed motioned to April. “He’s resting now. Good time to take that ride.”
At the concern in her dark eyes, he whispered, “I won’t keep you out long. And Lynette can radio us—I have a set of walkie-talkies I bought for that very reason.”
“I’ll take my cell phone,” April replied, watching her father closely. Then she turned to Lynette and gave her the number. “Call me if there is any change, good or bad.”
“Okay,” Lynette said. “He’ll sleep most of the afternoon. He usually gets restless around sundown.”
“We’ll be back long before then,” Reed said, more to reassure April then to report to the nurse.
Seeming satisfied, April kissed her father on the forehead and turned to leave the room. Once they were outside in the hallway, she looked over at Reed. “I don’t think I should leave him.”
He understood her fears, but he also understood she needed some fresh air. “A short ride will do you good. It’ll settle your nerves.”
“Just along the river, then.”
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
April shot him a harsh look. “Don’t say that. I’m not ready to be the boss.”
“Well, that’s something we need to discuss,” Reed replied. “A lot of people depend on this land for their livelihoods.” He hesitated, looking down at the floor. “And…well, Stu let some things slip.”
“What do you mean, let some things slip?”
“Fences need mending. We’re got calves to work and brand. Half our hands have left because Stu would forget to pay ’em. Either that, or he’d lose his temper and fire ’em on the spot.”
April closed her eyes, as if she was trying to imagine her father roaring at the help. Stuart had a temper, but he’d always handled his employees with respect and decency. When he was sober, at least.
“You keep saying ‘our’as if you still work here.”
Reed placed his hands on his hips, then raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’ve been helping out some in my spare time.”
Groaning, she ran a hand through her bangs. “Reed, you have almost as much land now as we do. Are you telling me you’ve been working your ranch and this one, too? That’s close to fifteen hundred acres.”
“Yeah, pretty much. But hey, I don’t really have anything better to do. Daddy helps, too. And you know Stu’s got friends all over East Texas. Your uncles come around as often as they can, to check on things and help out. Well, Richard does—not so much James. But they have their own obligations. We’ve all tried to hold things together for him, April.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I’m just not ready for all of this.”
“All the more reason to take things one day at a time and get yourself readjusted.”
“There’s no way to adjust to losing both your parents,” she said. Then she hurried up the hallway ahead of him, the scent of her floral perfume lingering to remind him that she was back home, good or bad.
Reed watched as April handled the gentle roan mare with an expert hand. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
April gave him a tight smile. “Well, since you told Tomás to bring me the most gentle horse in the stable, I’d say I’m doing okay.”
“Daisy needed to stretch her legs,” he replied.
“I still go horseback riding now and then.”
“In New York City?”
She laughed at his exaggerated way of saying that. “Yes, in New York City. You can take the girl out of the country—”
“But you can’t take the country out of the girl?”