The Rancher Next Door. Betsy Amant St.
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not breathing regularly until her feet were on solid ground—and all too aware that the dog was less afraid of heights than he.
“Does she usually wake up in the middle of the night?” Caley tucked her hair behind her ears, eyes full of compassion.
He centered himself back on earth before he answered. “Not usually, but in the last few years since her mom’s death, she gets the occasional nightmare.” More like night terror, the way Ava woke up, crying and pounding on his bedroom door. She hadn’t had one in months.
“Has she seen a counselor about it?” Caley turned, the moonshine turning her hair nearly white.
“She saw one in the year after, and the counselor assured me her grief was typical and would go through stages.” Brady ran his hand over his own hair, really wishing for his hat now. Anything to try to guard himself from Caley’s inquisitive stare. Her eyes darted between his, and he could almost see the wheels turning. “She’s fine, I promise. She’s come a long way. Sometimes you just can’t control where your brain takes your dreams.” He knew that firsthand. He’d relived his childhood trauma of being locked in that fiery basement way too many times to count. And no matter how many times he revisited that terrible night, he always felt as if he was forgetting something. That unrecalled memory bothered him more than it should, and he had no idea why. Whatever it was must be worth blocking out. Too bad he couldn’t forget the entire ordeal.
All the more reason to keep a close watch on Ava—if he hadn’t made friends with those troublemakers at school, he’d never have gotten in that position in the first place.
“No, you definitely can’t control everything.” Caley looked away then, the wind ruffling her loose hair, and he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops so he wouldn’t tuck the golden strands behind her ear. “I’ll do whatever I can for her. My mom left when I was little, and I don’t really remember her. But I still can hopefully relate to Ava.”
The sad truth was, she probably would.
And he couldn’t.
The night pressed around him then, suffocating, making it hard to breathe. Their casual rooftop conversation had gotten way too heavy, brought back too many memories best left buried. He’d hired Caley to be a babysitter and a part-time cook and housekeeper—not psychologist for him or his daughter. He knew her intentions were good, but probing into their hearts and pasts would only stir up more pain.
He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“Ava is fine. We both are.” Saying it multiple times didn’t make it true, but in the sense that Caley was worried, they were doing okay. Neither of them grieved daily anymore. They’d gone on with their lives, as they must.
Their father-daughter relationship, however, was a different story. But Caley couldn’t fix that any more than she could rewrite the past.
Or the future.
Brady gestured over his shoulder in the general direction of the ranch house. “I better get back. Have a good night.”
“You, too. See you tomorrow.” Caley smiled her goodbye but didn’t make a move to go inside. She remained standing, staring at the stars.
Leaving Brady to wish, as he ambled away, that he could see what she did.
Chapter Five
She’d run into blazing buildings when others had run out. She’d skydived, steer wrestled and babysat for the world’s most mischievous and troublemaking twin boys. She’d bungee jumped, rock climbed, white-water rafted and even won a jalapeño-eating contest in west Texas.
Walking inside a room at the local nursing home shouldn’t be that difficult.
Caley stood just outside the doorway, breathing in the unmistakable smell of antiseptic mixed with a liberal spray of floral air freshener. She fought the urge to gag, to turn and run and pretend this wasn’t happening. Nonie—her Nonie, trapped in a cream-colored prison. It wasn’t fair.
But neither were a lot of things, including the way Caley had practically run away from home. And the way her dad and Nonie never seemed to care if she ever returned.
Hadn’t anyone in her life ever truly wanted her? Her mom left them when Caley was young, choosing an older, wealthier man over her high-school-sweetheart husband, and never looked back.
Was Caley that forgettable?
“Is this the right room?” Ava tugged at Caley’s shirtsleeve.
Caley startled, having nearly forgotten the girl was there. Not a great mark for her babysitting résumé. She shook her head to clear it and smiled down at her charge, hoping the younger girl didn’t see how her lips shook of their own choosing. “Sorry. I zoned out there. This is right.” But so, so wrong. She took a deep breath and urged her feet to move, but the brown cowboy boots refused to budge. “After you.”
Ava furrowed her brow in confusion, but stepped around the door frame and into the room, leaving Caley no choice now but to follow.
The dim room, lit by the glare of a television playing an old game-show rerun, seemed depressing and suffocating. Nonie lay propped in bed, a half-empty glass of water next to her at the rolling bedside table, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open as she napped. The room had no pictures or flowers like some they’d passed in the hallway on their way here. No signs of life or love or cherished memories.
A knot formed in Caley’s throat and threatened to choke her completely. She coughed in an attempt to clear it, then covered her mouth with her hand, hoping she hadn’t woken her grandmother. She couldn’t do this right now. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe the next day.
Memories blinded her, rushing at her in a wave of nostalgia thick enough to bottle. Nonie, surrounded by fabric squares as she pieced together a quilt. Nonie, handing Caley a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and winking as she pressed a second one into her other hand. Nonie, rubbing her back when she was tired and holding her hair when she was sick.
Now Nonie was sick, and Caley couldn’t do a thing about it.
She turned to escape, but her boot squeaked on the linoleum floor. Nonie’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at Caley as if she’d imagined her presence. Had she? Had she lain in this bed, feeble and frail and alone, imagining Caley there?
“Caley? Is that you?” The words bled from Nonie’s throat, croaky and aged in a voice that wasn’t her own.
Then she coughed, and her vibrancy returned as the frog vanished. “Girl, get over here. What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to show up.”
Ava stared at Nonie and then at Caley, apparently searching for answers. Caley opened her mouth, then shut it and shrugged as she made her way to Nonie’s bedside. “It’s me.”
Her grandmother’s bony fingers cupped her shoulders in a hug, the pressure strong and tight like she’d always remembered. Caley pulled back, but Nonie held her close in a grip a pro wrestler would have admired. “You look good, kiddo.”
“So do you.” The words slipped out automatically before Caley could realize their lack of truth, but Nonie just laughed hard enough to bring on a coughing spell.
“Still full of jokes. Glad life hasn’t beaten you down, my girl.” Nonie clutched Caley’s hand in her own veined, papery-thin one, and smiled, revealing perfect dentures. Then she leaned in closer, her wise blue gaze staring with the force of a laser. “Or has it?”
Caley tugged free, unable or maybe unwilling to answer. She wrapped one arm around Ava, who had dropped back, and propelled her forward. “Nonie, this is Ava. I’m her nanny for a few weeks. She and her dad live next door to the house I’m renting.”
“I know this young’in from the church.” Nonie latched on to Ava, who didn’t seem to mind in the least. “McCollough, right?”
Ava