The Cowboy's Return. Linda Warren
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he’s nice.”
Nice and dangerous.
Camila took a hard breath. “Okay.”
Jilly gave her a kiss. “Thank you, Mama.”
She pushed Jilly’s hair back. “Do you want me to take you?”
“No. I can ride my bike.”
“I don’t like you riding alone.”
“Mama.” Jilly sighed in an aggravated way. “This is Bramble and everyone knows me. I’m not a baby.”
“Still, take my cell phone so I can come and get you if anything happens.” She had to have a way to stay in touch, with her daughter.
“Okay.”
“When do you want to do this?” Please, Jilly. Change your mind.
“Tomorrow after I get through helping you in the store.”
It was obvious Jilly had this all planned—probably for a long time. Now Camila had to let it happen. How did she do that? How did she make this easy for both of them? Camila soon realized there wasn’t a set way, but she’d handle it as best as she could.
“I’d rather you went right after lunch. I don’t want you on the road after dark and it gets dark early.”
“Okay.” Jilly hugged her. “I’ll be fine.”
Camila ran her finger down Jilly’s nose. “You’re growing up too fast.”
Jilly smiled her beautiful smile and Camila wished she could freeze this moment in time—keep Jilly innocent and safe. Keep Jilly with her. But that was unrealistic.
“Oh. I almost forgot,” Jilly said. “Mrs. Shynosky’s daughter sent her some banana-nut bread and she gave me some. She said she couldn’t eat the whole thing and she’d rather have the pie that I’d brought her. So I took it to Miss Unie.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“But I think she gave it to Lu Lu. Miss Unie doesn’t eat much.”
“I took her a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread earlier so she has some food.”
“Why is she so stubborn about accepting things?”
Camila rubbed Jilly’s arm. “Unie wants to be independent and she doesn’t like charity.”
“So you told her they were throwing the milk and bread out at the grocery store and she took it.”
“Yes.” Her daughter knew her well. Camila had pulled that trick on Unie before just to make sure she had something to eat.
“You’re smart, Mama.”
“Thank you.”
Jilly settled comfortably in her arms. “Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m worried about Benita.”
Camila tensed.
“She hasn’t called in a long time.”
“Benita lives her own life, but she did call the other day. I was out, though. She’ll come home when she’s ready.”
“Well, the next time I see Benita, I’m gonna tell her that’s mean.”
Camila wrapped her arms around her daughter, wanting to protect and shield her, but Jilly was fiercely independent. She’d always been that way.
Later, Camila curled up in bed dreading tomorrow. Dreading letting go of Jilly. Dreading the thought of anyone hurting her.
Before sleep claimed her, she drifted back through the years. She was seventeen and Tripp was holding her. She was floating on a cloud with her body pressed against the hardened muscles of his. Excitement mounted inside her, excitement like she’d never felt before. And she hated herself for that reaction. Never again would she degrade herself like that.
Never.
TRIPP LEFT MORRIS to finish cleaning the kitchen and followed his parents into the den. He turned off the TV.
“What’d you do that for?” Griffin frowned at him.
“Because it doesn’t need to be on twenty-four hours a day,” Leona snapped.
“I can watch sports if I want to.” Griffin reached for the control.
“Dad, have a seat,” Tripp said, holding the remote out of his reach. “I need to talk to both of you.”
“What?” Grif eased into his chair. “You’re going to leave so go ahead and tell us and get it over with.”
“Oh, no.” His mother began to cry.
“Wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere just yet.” He handed Leona some tissues and guided her to a chair. He then sat facing them. “We need to talk about Patrick.”
“No, no, no,” Leona cried into the tissue.
“Son, why do you want to do this? Can’t you see how much it hurts your mother?”
“Yes, and it hurts me, too. But I’ve met someone I think you need to meet.”
“A woman?” Grif lifted an eyebrow.
Leona wiped her eyes and stared at him. “Who?”
“A young girl.” He paused “Jilly Walker.”
His father looked puzzled. “Who’s that?”
“Camila Walker’s daughter. Patrick’s friend from high school.”
Leona shook her head. “Oh, no, no.”
“Yes, Mom. I feel Jilly is Patrick’s daughter.”
“Like hell,” Grif scoffed. “Camila slept around—everyone knows that. How can you say such a thing?”
“Because I’ve met the girl. She has a lot of Patrick’s characteristics.”
Grif pushed to his feet. “Do not bring that girl into this house, Tripp. I forbid it.” He picked up his cane and shuffled to his room. Leona got up and followed him.
Tripp buried his face in his hands. His parents were never going to accept Jilly.
That bothered him more than he ever thought possible.
THE NEXT DAY Jilly went back and forth from the gift shop to the coffee shop—not able to sit still or concentrate on anything. It was obvious Jilly was nervous. Camila was, too, but she hid it better than her daughter.
Camila folded a baby quilt and put it in a box for a lady. She rang it up and told Amber, one of her helpers, that she’d be back in a minute. In the coffee shop, she caught Jilly by the arm and pulled her to a table.
“You don’t have to do this today. You can think about it for a while.”
Jilly wagged her head. “No, Mama. I want to do it.”
Camila wished she knew what to do, wished she could stop Jilly’s thoughts about Patrick, wished she could’ve stopped Tripp from returning to Bramble. But she couldn’t. Just like she had no control over the past. She chewed on the inside of her lip.
Just tell her you’ve changed your mind and she can’t go. Just say no.
She couldn’t do that, either.
“Well, go now.”
Jilly perked up. “Okay.” She launched to her feet.
Camila hugged her. “If they say anything mean to you, come home immediately.”
“I will, Mama, and don’t worry. I’ll take Button with me.”
“Get my phone out of my purse. I want to be able to call you.”