Home To Texas. Bethany Campbell
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had made it clear she wanted him to stay out of her way, and he did, almost supernaturally well. At noon, when she fixed Del lunch, Grady went out on the makeshift back porch and ate out of a paper bag, alone.
When he came in, he asked her if he could give the cookie in his lunch to Del.
Del looked at Tara, then Grady, then the cookie. Tara doubted he would take it; strangers made him bashful. But the cookie was beautiful, large and chocolate, with darker chocolate frosting, and Grady offered it with such simple generosity, that Tara found herself urging, “Go ahead, sweetie,” and Del accepted.
He bit into it, and his eyes widened. “This is good,” he said. After he finished it, he slipped off to follow Grady. This amazed Tara. She moved softly to the bedroom door and peeked inside.
Del, chocolate crumbs on his chin, was looking up at Grady with scheming interest. “Can you bring me more cookies like that?”
Grady was starting to paint the last wall. “I can try. A lady gave it to me. I’ll ask her if she’s got more. I can’t promise, though.”
“What lady?” prodded Del.
“The lady who works at my father’s house.” Grady smoothly rolled on the sky-blue color. “Her name’s Millie.”
Del frowned and pondered this. “She works for your dad—like you work for my mom?”
“That’s right, champ.”
“Do you live with your dad?” Del asked.
Tara saw Grady’s brows knit, as if he was choosing his answer carefully. “No. I don’t live with him. I’m just visiting.”
“We don’t live with my dad,” Del volunteered. “He left us for another lady. She can’t make cookies, though—”
Good grief, Tara thought in humiliation, and sprang into the room to stop any further revelations. She seized her son’s sticky hand. “Del, don’t bother Mr. McKinney. Come with me.”
But Del was a child with great powers of concentration. He wasn’t about to have his line of thought derailed. “She can’t do much but lay by the swimming pool in her bik-bik-bik—”
“Bikini?” Grady supplied helpfully.
Tara wished to die, to shrivel up and blow away like the lowliest bug.
“That’s it.” Del sounded relieved. “In her biknini.”
Pretend he didn’t say that, any of it. Squeezing Del’s hand more firmly, she tried to draw him away. “Come and wash up. Then you and I and Lono’ll go for a walk.”
Del tried to tug away. “Me and Mr. McKinley are talking.”
Tara’s grip tightened. “Mr. McKinney and I. I said don’t bother him. He’s trying to work.”
“He’s no bother.” Grady seemed absorbed in his painting. He didn’t say anything else, for which Tara was grateful.
She injected false cheer into her voice. “Come on, Del. Let’s explore. We haven’t really seen much of this place.
“I don’t want to see more of this place,” Del said with a wounded expression. “I don’t like it.”
Grady turned and gave him a mild look over his shoulder. “You don’t? I did when I was a kid. I used to love this place.”
“I want to go back to California.” Del strained harder against Tara’s hold. “Texas is no good for nothing.” His heels were dug into the tarp as firmly as if he had spurs.
Tara gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to yank the boy away as if she were a tyrant. But neither did she want him rebelling against her.
Grady, drat him, came to her rescue. “California’s fine. So’s Texas. Now, why don’t you mind your mother? A walk sounds good. There’s lots of stuff to see around here.”
“Like what?” Del demanded.
“Like you can go to the creek.” Grady had stripped off his chambray work shirt and his muscles rippled under his white T-shirt. “You can see animal tracks. Coyotes. Mountain goats. Wild pigs. I used to find arrowheads in that creek. Once I found a dinosaur tooth there.”
“A dinosaur tooth?” Del’s eyes widened in fascination.
“Only once.” Grady dipped the roller in the paint. His tanned biceps flexed and his chiseled wrist moved expertly. “Still, you never know what you might find around here. Nope, you never know.”
“How big a dinosaur tooth?”
Grady paused and held out his thumb and forefinger three inches apart. “About yay big. Now. Mind your mom. Go see what you can see. Or I don’t ask the cookie lady for any more cookies.”
Del’s decision was quick. “Come on, Mom. Let’s look for dinosaur teeth.” He practically dragged her from the room.
“You probably won’t find one the first time,” Grady called after them genially. “You have to go back and look again and again.”
Tara threw him a parting look, trying to say thanks.
Grady’s dark eyes met hers. He smiled as if to say, happy hunting. I meant it. You never know what you might find around here.
ALL DINOSAUR TEETH STAYED HIDDEN. But Del did find a broken deer antler, a perfect squirrel skull, a wishbone, a small blue feather, an enormous black feather, approximately seventeen pebbles that looked as if they might be diamonds, a dead fish and a live toad.
He wanted to take everything back to show Grady. Tara said he could take all except the fish and the toad. She used the time-honored excuse that if they carried off the toad, it would miss its mother.
Lono, whose greatest passion was rodents, chased a ground squirrel, a rabbit and some sort of bounding rat. He tried to dig up a mole, barked at a garter snake and studiously avoided confronting a lone Canada goose that patrolled a section of the creek, looking possessive and militant.
All in all it was a successful walk, although Tara ended up carrying all the rocks, tied up in the scarf she’d worn. For the last hundred yards she also had to carry Del, who’d worn himself out.
Grady must have seen them from the bedroom window, for he came out to meet her. A chill haunted the air, but he’d put nothing on over the T-shirt. It was flecked with blue paint. “Hi,” was all he said to her, then took Del from her arms. Grateful, her arms aching, she let him.
He turned all his attention to Del. “What’d you find, champ?”
Del was blinking sleepily, but he tried to tell Grady of his treasures. He proudly showed the broken antler.
“Wow,” Grady breathed. “That’s a fine one. You’ll want to save that.”
Del fumbled in the pocket of his denim jacket and produced the skull. “And this. My mom says it’s a squirrel.”
“Then it must be.” Grady nodded with conviction.
“This blue feather—”
“Ah. An indigo bunting.”
“And this e-nor-mous black one—”
“Vulture. Outstanding.”
“No,” Del insisted, fighting a yawn. “It’s a eagle feather.”
“You could be right.” Grady wiped a smudge from the boy’s chin with his thumb. “Could be. Eagle.”
Del lost his fight and yawned. “And all these rocks that might have diamonds in them—”
“I used to bring those home myself. Mighty sparkly.”
“Mom says they’re not diamonds.” Del sighed. “They’re quart crystals.”
“Quartz,”