Man From Montana. Brenda Mott
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stood. “I’d better get back to my flower bed.”
“Then you’ll still come?”
She nodded. “Connor, it was real nice meeting you. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Derrick watched her walk away, still feeling awful.
“Way to go, Dad.”
“Hey, how did I know?”
Connor merely shrugged.
Derrick strummed his guitar, playing but not singing. The image of Kara’s sad expression kept running through his mind. He’d be sure to do his best to make her smile tonight. Music was the best way he knew to ease sorrow.
“Connor, are you sure you don’t have any friends you want to invite to the Spur tonight?” It worried him that his son was a loner, the majority of his friends e-pals.
“I’m sure.”
“What about Kevin?” Connor’s classmate was the only kid he ever hung out with. Most of the others couldn’t see past Connor’s wheelchair.
“He’s got soccer practice today. His mom takes the team out for pizza afterward, and then he’ll probably spend the night at John Brody’s house.”
“Oh.” It hurt Derrick more than words could say that his son wasn’t able to take part in sports. It was yet another thing he’d taken from the boy.
“I’m gonna go check my e-mail,” Connor said.
“All right.” Derrick watched him wheel away, wishing there was something he could do for him. He’d give anything if Connor could join his school-mates on the soccer team, or the rodeo team next year, or whatever else he cared to do.
He just wanted his son to be happy.
The phone rang, and Derrick grabbed it off the hook. “Hello?”
There was no answer, and he nearly hung up, thinking it was a computerized telemarketer.
“Hello, son. How are you?”
“Mom?” His heart raced. His mother never called, even waited to talk to Connor when he was at Shelly’s. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I—” Her voice cracked and she began to cry.
“What is it? Did something happen to Dad?” He hadn’t spoken two words to his father since the accident, and not much more than that to his mom. Connor spent time with them, but Derrick had lost contact after they’d moved to Miles City—more than two hundred miles away.
“Mom?”
“No, it’s not your father. I, uh, just got out of the hospital a few days ago. I had to have some surgery.”
Fear gripped him. “For what?”
“The doctor found tumors on my ovaries. And boy, did that scare the hell out of me.” She sniffed. “You don’t know how many times I’ve started to pick up the phone to call you.”
“Why didn’t you?” But he knew why.
“Well, you know how your father is.”
“So, why are you calling now? You’re all right, aren’t you?”
“I’m fine. I had to have a hysterectomy, but there’s no sign of cancer, thank God.”
Derrick let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Anyway, all this got me thinking about how life really is too short. Son, I want to make things right between us. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you. I—”
“Carolyn!” In the background, Derrick heard his father’s booming voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her reply was muffled.
“She’s hanging up now, Derrick—” Vernon spoke into the phone, his voice as cold as steel “—and don’t try calling her back. She’s out of her mind on painkillers. That’s all.”
The line went dead. Derrick stared at the phone for a long moment before hanging it up.
He’d nearly killed their only grandchild.
His dad would never forgive him.
THE SILVER SPUR looked more like a barn than a bar, painted a faded gray-brown to give it a weathered appearance. Three miles outside of town, the honky-tonk stood in the middle of a field near the intersection of two dirt roads.
Kara had decided to drive to the Spur early, to avoid arriving in the midst of a huge crowd. She needed to ease her way into this evening. She’d nurse a beer while she waited for Connor and Derrick, and hopefully get a grip on her nerves. The only reason she’d accepted Derrick’s invitation was because she’d decided Hannah was right. She needed to get out and do something for herself, before her grief drowned her.
And she planned to make it clear to Derrick that she hadn’t come here tonight for him. But when Kara pulled into the parking lot, Derrick’s truck was already there. Parked beside a van and another pickup, Derrick was busy unloading band equipment along with three other guys. Connor hovered nearby, watching. He raised his hand in greeting, and Kara took a step backward. Of course Wild Country would arrive early to set up before the crowd.
Derrick spotted her, too, and she let out a groan. He probably thought she’d arrived early because she couldn’t wait. This, on top of the lemonade fiasco, was too much.
Not knowing what else to do, Kara got out of the Ford and walked over to say hi.
“You’re here early,” Derrick said. He looked way too fine in his black cowboy hat, teal-blue western shirt and tight jeans.
“Yep. I plan to get a good table.”
“Smart. Just let me haul some of this stuff in and I’ll be right with you.”
“No worries. Connor can walk me in.” She turned and smiled at the boy, who was dressed in boots, faded jeans and a T-shirt with the picture of country singer Gretchen Wilson. “Is that all right with you, Connor?”
He shrugged. “Sure.” Deftly, he maneuvered his wheelchair across the dirt-and-gravel parking lot.
Kara walked beside him, wondering not for the first time what had caused the boy to be confined to the chair. Kara couldn’t imagine being in his situation.
“So, would you like to sit with me?” she asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and I hate sitting alone.”
“Sure.”
Drawing conversation out of the kid was like trying to coax a mule along with a piece of twine.
Farther on, the parking lot’s hard-packed surface became rutted, making the going somewhat difficult for Connor. He seemed to have a fair amount of upper body strength, his arms thin yet wiry. But it couldn’t be easy to wheel across this. Should she offer to help? Kara fought the urge to take hold of the wheelchair’s handles, sensing her gesture would not be welcomed.
At that moment, she heard the sound of teenaged laughter. She looked up to see a group of three boys and two girls, somewhere close to Connor’s age, walking through the nearby field. They stared at Connor as they passed. One of the boys said something, and the others laughed.
Connor shot the boy a look that would’ve stripped varnish off furniture. Kara’s heart ached for him. She remembered adolescence all too well, getting teased for being too skinny and wearing braces.
Only Evan had seen her in a different light.
Lost in thought, Kara barely noticed the huge pothole, stepping around it at the last minute. And Connor, wheeling the chair too hard in his anger, wasn’t really watching where he was going. Kara gasped as the wheel on one side