Cowgirl Fallin' for the Single Dad, page 5
Charity rolled her eyes. She was familiar with the people who resented her and her family. She was aware that, out of sheer luck, she had a lot of advantages other people didn’t, and her life would have been a lot more stressful if her ancestors hadn’t made it so nice and cushy for her. She was aware she’d never have to worry about bills, or being broke, and that was the daily reality for others.
But Papa had always insisted on all of them developing skills so that they could provide for themselves if suddenly the money mystically dried up. Charity knew how to be a lead ranch hand, she was borderline a heavy equipment mechanic, able to do basic repairs and maintenance. She knew how to cook, how to hunt, and how to grow food. Yes, she would always agree that she was lucky, blessed even, but she would never, ever be just a rich girl.
“Does that excuse make you feel better about the utter sad sack you’ve ended up?”
The bartender handed her a cup of quarters, his eyes flicking between her and Butch.
“What did you say?”
Charity fixed him with her sweetest smile. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know what I mean. You undercut the accomplishments and actions of everyone around you. Because if you admitted that all those people are going places, you’d have to realize that you’re going nowhere but this stool in this bar, and it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”
He laughed, bitter and cloying, and suddenly Charity wasn’t interested in the pinball machine anymore. Not with him staring daggers at her back the whole time.
“You really got me figured out, don’t you? Easy to do from that high hill you’re on, huh?”
“Only because you make yourself such an easy target.” Setting the cup of quarters down, she shoved it back towards the bartender. “You know what, I changed my mind. Think I need some better company.”
She realized it was a bad decision to come to the bar, pinball machine or not, and headed out. But she wasn’t far enough before she heard Butch mutter under his breath.
“Piece of work, huh? No wonder her ex left.”
The words bit into her soul, their teeth sinking into the softest parts of her, the parts that she liked to deny existed at all. She whirled on her heel, temper flaring, and it would have been so easy to stride forward and start the fight that was sparking along her fingertips and curling her fists.
…but no.
She didn’t.
She promised Papa that she wouldn’t fight anymore since the big scuffle she’d gotten in five years earlier that had ended up with her breaking her nose and her opponents battered enough to try to squeeze money from the family.
A promise was a promise, no matter how much time passed, so she whirled right back around and left the way she came.
Her heart was still thundering as she got into her truck, her fists wanting to bang against the dashboard in a fit. She had been so sure she was over her ex-husband and everything that had happened between them, but all it had taken was a single comment from a town drunk to make her feel so small and worthless again.
When would she ever be over it? When would she be able to think about what happened and not feel the horrendous squeeze of it? It was like he had planted himself in her soul, her first love, her first everything; he’d been the love of her life, but she hadn’t been enough, and he’d run off to…
Her phone rang and she was tempted to throw it out the window. But the only people who called her was her family and lawyers, so she pulled it from her pocket to look at the screen.
Sure enough, it was Cass.
“Hey, I thought you said it was an extended appointment,” she said as she hit the accept button, trying to sound calm and nonchalant.
“Huh? Oh. We’re still going. I was actually calling for something else.”
Something else? “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Whoa, calm down there, sis. I promise it’s not a car accident every time; nothing super bad is going on. I was just calling to ask you a favor.”
“…uh-huh?”
“Yah, remember that kid you drove here? The doctor’s daughter, Savannah? Well apparently she missed her bus home and so Dr. Lumis is worried about her walking home alone. He’s out on the phone with her now and I think they’re arguing about her walking by herself, so before I volunteer you, I wanted to ask your permission.”
It hadn’t been what she was planning, but picking up the precocious preteen would definitely be a good distraction from the sinking feeling in her gut.
“Sure, yeah. I can do it, no problem.”
“Awesome! I’ll go tell him now.”
There was silence, then muffled voices going back and forth for a couple minutes, then suddenly the doctor was on the phone. Charity found herself flushing for a moment at the deep rumble of his voice, accent thicker than it had been in person. Was it because he was stressed? Worried? Or was it just something about the phone speaker’s inability to catch the baritone of his voice?
“Hello, Miss Miller?”
“You can call me Charity. It’d be weird to call my sister and me the same thing.”
“Right. Uh, Miss Charity. Your sister tells me that you wouldn’t mind picking Savannah up and bringing her here? I would normally never ask, but she’s been talking nonstop about the cool, cardplaying cowgirl she met, so I figured telling her that you were the one coming to pick her up would be plenty convincing to make her sit still.”
“She the independent type?” Charity asked with a chuckle, her pride bubbling up at the thought that she was “a cool, cardplaying cowgirl.”
“She has difficulty staying still. It’s something we’re working on.”
Charity understood that. Back when she was younger, sometimes it felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin if she was forced to be still and quiet and not do something. She had an intense drive to be productive. To learn, to do, to make, to fix, to create. Some people just didn’t get it. “I don’t mind at all. I can be there in ten minutes.”
“I can pay you, of course, for your time. I hope I’m not crossing a boundary here, or that you feel like a ride share service—”
It was kind of cute how he was scrambling, so caught up between his need to be polite and his urge to take care of his daughter.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. She’s a good kid. Dangerously smart, but a good kid.”
The relieved breath he let out had such a story behind it. “Thank you. I’ll have your sister text you my number, and I’ll call Savannah and let her know you’re on your way. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
“Sounds good. See you in about twenty, twenty-five.”
“Thank you, again. I owe you.”
“Nah. Like I told you, in this small town we look after each other.”
Charity hung up with a grin, surprised at the sudden change in her mood, but she wasn’t about to question it. Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she headed towards the school she hadn’t been to in years.
She pulled up to the familiar pick-up area and sure enough, Savannah was there, bouncing from foot to foot. Her face practically lit up when she clearly spotted Charity’s truck, and the girl vaulted in as soon as the door was open.
“Hi! Thanks for the ride.”
“Whoa there, someone’s full of excitement. Did you have a good day at school?”
“Uncertain. A lot of times things seem good at first, but then they’re bad. But I’m… cautiously optimistic, I think the term is?”
“Hah, spoken like a true old soul. What’s it like being a senior citizen so young?”
Savannah just grinned at her, buckling up. “I was born eighty years old and I’ve been aging ever since. It’s a hard life, but someone’s gotta do it.”
“You truly are a modern of our times.”
“It’s my cross to bear.”
They shared a laugh and Charity once again marveled at the strange young woman in her truck as she drove away.
“So what’s it like on the ranch?” Savannah asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I was born in San Diego. I want to know what it’s like.”
It was a fair question; Charity just wasn’t used to teenagers caring about homestead life. “Well, we tend to work on an earlier clock, although we’ve kinda shifted it around in my family so everyone rises at their natural times.”
“I… what?”
Yeah, that probably needed a better explanation. “We all used to wake up at four or five a.m. and get to working. But that was back when we had school and extracurriculars and still wanted to keep up on chores. Now, without school, it’s more spread out.
“Clara is the earliest riser of all of us. She’s never really been a good sleeper, so she gets up between four and six a.m. to tend to the chickens. We have an automatic door on their coop so they can peck around their yard for themselves, but she’ll refill their feed if they need it and check their nests for eggs. She also turns on the drip irrigation for our raised garden, harvests things that do better being picked when it’s still cool, then takes care of our goats.” Charity glanced at Savannah as she pulled out of the school loop, sure that the young girl would be bored by hearing about something as banal as the Miller family schedule, but she seemed utterly enraptured by the information, staring with the intensity she’d had during Speed.
“Usually, by then, Charlie is up. He’ll milk our four cows, put out food for the barn cats, then mostly yard work. His job is the most varied, between mowing, trimming back bushes and making sure that nettles don’t grow in places they can hurt our animals. Then he’ll work out or something, and usually goes horseback riding for a couple hours.
“Cass and I always used to get up at the same time and do a walkabout to help with any of the other chores our siblings didn’t get to. Then usually it’s running one of our machines, or doing maintenance, maybe even repairs on the house or barn. There’s always something that needs fixing or shoring up. Or to be built. Those are my favorites. Especially since Papa’s always expanding and improving his garden.”
“He has a big one?”
Charity nodded. “We grow some crops for feed and for a contract with the two restaurants we have in this town, but his garden is all for us to eat from or share. Oh, and for our booth at the local corn festival every fall. He likes to grow a bunch of unique varieties that most people don’t even know about.”
“Isn’t gardening a woman thing? That’s what I always heard.”
“Growing food isn’t a gendered thing really. Everyone’s gotta eat, right?”
Savannah nodded. “That makes sense. Just like my dad tells me I can be a doctor if I want, even though almost every doctor I know is a man.”
“Oh yeah, there are plenty of women doctors.”
“Yeah, just like there are tons of cowgirls too.”
Ah, to have the conviction of a teenager. Charity remembered when she knew everything about the world and then some. She chuckled lightly, remembering when the world was black and white.
“Why are you laughing?” Savannah asked, and Charity could see in her peripheral vision that the doctor’s daughter was squinting at her, tone reproachful.
“I’m not chuckling at you. I was just thinking of how when I was in high school and so certain of everything you could imagine. Sometimes I miss that girl.”
Savannah nodded. “I’ve heard about that. I hope I’m not like that when I’m in high school, but everyone always says I’m already too smart for my own good.”
Wait, something about that sentence didn’t make sense. “What do you mean, when you’re in high school? It’s the new year, aren’t you a freshman now?”
The girl blinked at her. “…I’m ten. I’m going to be eleven soon, though.”
It took a remarkable amount of control to not slam her brakes. “You’re what?”
Savannah tilted her head, as if she couldn’t fathom Charity’s shock. “I’m ten. Why does everyone act like that’s so strange?”
Charity swallowed, trying to right that fact in her head. Savannah was ten? That seemed impossible.
“Is this why everyone thinks that I’ve failed a grade or two until I start talking to them? I don’t understand it.”
There was a layer of insecurity there, layered under her inquisitiveness. Charity picked it up right away and forced herself to get over her shock. “You’re very tall for your age, Savannah. Add that to how you talk, it makes it seem like you’re at least thirteen.”
“…Oh, is that all it is?” she sounded relieved. “I thought it was another one of those things.”
“Those things?”
Savannah nodded as if it was obvious. “Yeah, a thing. Like when people are making fun of me but they’re smiling and being nice about it, so I can’t figure out what they actually mean. They say it’s sarcasm, but it’s not. I like sarcasm. I think I might be good at it. But I can’t tell what they’re doing.”
Charity knew exactly what she meant, and her heart ached. “No, it’s nothing like that. You’re just very tall and very smart. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah. I’ll probably end up taller than you. Maybe as tall as my dad. Apparently, my mom was his height and all of her brothers were waaay taller.”
Was.
Was.
Charity was so familiar with that language that she didn’t even have to ask. There was a certain lexicon that kids who lost a parent had to adapt, and it shined like a beacon to anyone who recognized it.
That explained why the doctor was so concerned about his daughter. If there was anything that could make fear bloom in someone’s chest, it was losing a family member.
“That’s awesome. All of my cousins are pretty tall too. My sisters and I are the only ones who are six feet and under.”
“You’re six feet?”
“No, but almost. Five-eleven. My middle sister, Clara, is six foot actually. I’ll have to introduce you two sometime.”
The girl perked up, all that melancholy from before falling away like only a kid could do.
Wow, a kid. Not a teenager. The revelation still kicked around the back of Charity’s head.
“Really? Would you?”
“Of course. I don’t see why not.”
“And she’s a cowgirl like you?”
“I… suppose. But she’s always been more of a farmgirl, I think.”
“What’s the difference?”
“She’d have to tell you herself. She’s always the one who makes the distinction.”
“Okay. I’ll put together a list of questions to ask her, so I don’t forget anything.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d absolutely love that.”
Savannah carried on, all whipped up in her excitement again, and it was utterly adorable. They were almost to the doctor’s office, and Charity couldn’t help but wonder if this was just what it was like to have a kid or if Savannah was an exception.
She hadn’t figured out by the time they arrived, but as Savannah bounced out of her truck and skipped up to the porch without missing a breath, Charity was whisked away into a vision of what her family might have been if she’d had a kid. If Savannah was her ten-year-old, and not the child of the new town doctor.
Would she still be with her ex? Would he ever have strayed? Would he be waiting back at home to kiss her lips, spin her around, then pick up their child and ask them about their day? In a rush of colors, she saw birthdays that never existed. Holidays celebrated hand in hand. She saw their dream home being built together on the opposite end of Papa’s land.
It was so sweet, layered in wonderful dreams that had occupied her mind ever since she was fifteen, and it hurt her more than a dagger into her heart.
Those teeth returned, vicious and ravenous, eager to rip her apart all the more.
Upset rose quickly and her eyes began to sting in that telltale way. She said some sort of excuse and hurried past Savannah, heading straight for the bathroom before any tears could fall. She needed to get herself together.
It’d been five years since everything was finalized. Why couldn’t the pain just stop? It wasn’t like she had an empty life. She purposefully engineered her days to be as busy as possible so she would never have too much time to stop and linger with her thoughts. With the black misery that loved to stalk her in the back of her mind.
Besides, she had her siblings and her Papa to worry about, and that should have been enough.
…but why did it feel like it wasn’t?
7
Alejandro
Alejandro heard Charity and Savannah before he saw them, pushing the exhausted Cass Miller out into the lobby. She’d done an amazing job in her session, but he’d had to stop her several times to tell her not to push herself too hard. She was a type A patient through and through, pushing herself harder than she should have.
Lots of people thought that being motivated was the tops. But there was a limit to it. Too many reps, pushing too hard, could increase injuries, delay healing, and make things so much worse. Type A patients had a hard time listening to their body and accepting that they had limits. He was going to have to keep a close eye on her.
“And these goats don’t faint?”
Charity laughed and wow, was that a sound. Slightly husky, but open, full of brightness that he didn’t quite expect from her. Not that the woman looked or acted like she was doomy or gloomy, but there was a certain seriousness to her. Maybe it was her catlike eyes, maybe it was her toned muscles on her broad frame, hips as wide as her easy smile.
“No, most goats don’t faint, actually, that’s just a very particular breed.” He realized that the woman was showing his daughter videos on her phone, Savannah seemingly utterly enraptured.
“Why don’t they have ears?”
“It’s the breed they are, Lamanchas. They have ears, they’re just tiny.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
He cleared his throat and Savannah looked up; her face bright like it was whenever she found something new that excited that wonderful mind of hers.
“Dad!” she hollered, running to him and jumping into his arms. It’d been a while since she’d done that, but he still caught her and lifted her up. Too soon he wouldn’t be able to. How was it his little girl always managed to grow so fast? Just yesterday she had been a toddler who cried and cried because her mommy didn’t come home. “Can we go to the Miller Ranch? It’s sooooo cool!”
