Deal Me In. Cynthia Thomason
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conceded her analysis with a nod. “He’s a hard man to live with. He never got over your mother running out.”
Molly pushed that bad memory to the back of her mind. Her father wasn’t the only one who’d suffered over her mother’s abandonment. She checked the orders to make sure they were correct. “He’ll just have to get by without me,” she said. “This is an opportunity for us and I’d be stupid to pass it up.”
“What are you going to do about Sam’s school?”
“He’ll only miss tomorrow and Friday. And it’s only second grade. I’ll get him into a class on Monday in the new place.”
He gave her a fatherly look. “You got money enough to move on? I might be able to lend you a few bucks.”
She smiled at him. Cliff really was a kind man, nothing like his brother. While Cliff, with a couple dozen excess pounds, was a soft and comfy-looking man, Luther Whelan was all sharp bones and unforgiving angles. Molly often wished she’d been born to Cliff instead of Luther. Then, as a young girl she would have had a lap to sit on, and maybe her mother would have stuck around. “We’ll be fine,” she said, hating the hint of doubt in her voice. “I’ve got some savings.”
She headed toward the dining area with the plates. “Don’t tell Dad about this before I’ve had a chance,” she called over her shoulder. “I think he should hear it from me first.”
Cliff snickered. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going near your house tonight.” He read the next order on the wheel and got back to work. “One more thing, Molly …”
She turned around. “What?”
“You take care of yourself. Life hasn’t been easy for you the last year or so. If this adventure of yours doesn’t work out the way you planned, you come on home. There will always be a place for you here at the diner.”
“Thanks, Uncle Cliff. That means a lot to me.”
MOLLY STOPPED at a drugstore on her way to pick Sam up at school and bought a map of Texas. Next she stopped at the bank and withdrew her entire savings, two thousand three hundred and twelve dollars. Not a fortune, but enough to get by for a couple of weeks if things didn’t work out at Cross Fox Ranch. And she had her credit card, which, thankfully, now had a low balance. At least she’d accomplished something worthwhile since Kevin had died. Living with her father, she’d managed to pay off some bills she and her husband had accumulated.
By the time she pulled into the driveway at her father’s house, Molly had a plan. When she reached River Bluff, her first stop would be Cross Fox Ranch. She’d told Brady Carrick he’d be responsible for her board, but even if that didn’t work out, she and Sam could stay in a motel while she looked for a part-time job. While Sam was at school, she’d divide her time between job hunting and learning poker.
If she eventually won a big pot in Vegas, then her future would be secure. She’d put that money toward opening a consignment shop for kids’ clothes. She’d got the idea when she was pregnant with Sam and picking up second-hand baby clothes and supplies. Maybe she’d even open up shop in River Bluff if she liked the small town. With her two years of college math, she could run a bookkeeping service on the side.
And if I don’t win at the U.S. Poker Play-offs… Molly unlocked the front door of her father’s house, followed Sam inside and set her purse on the hall table. Well, Uncle Cliff said there was always a place for me at the diner. It’s not like I haven’t gone back before.
She smiled at Sam. “You want some cookies, cowboy?”
He nodded, and went to the sink to wash his hands before sitting at the kitchen table. She set him up with milk and Oreos, sat beside him and ran her fingers through his sandy-brown hair. “Where’s that happy face, Sammy?”
His lips curled up at the edges in an effort to please her, and Molly’s heart ached. Sam didn’t smile nearly enough for a seven-year-old. Maybe all that would change once they got away from this stifling environment.
She glanced at the kitchen clock. Three-thirty. Her father would be home soon. He would meditate for an hour and then expect dinner promptly at six. She could depend on that. Luther Whelan never altered his schedule.
AT SEVEN-THIRTY, after she’d put the last dinner plate in the cupboard, Molly checked to make sure Sam’s door was closed and then went into the living room to face her father. Engrossed in the newspaper, he didn’t acknowledge her when she came in the room. “Dad?”
He looked up. “What is it?”
“I need to talk to you.”
He set his spectacles on the end table. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I just have news.”
He waited.
“I’m leaving Prairie Bend tomorrow. Sam and I are moving.”
He set the newspaper on his lap. “Don’t talk nonsense, Molly Jean.”
“It’s not nonsense.” She used the same lie she’d told Uncle Cliff earlier. “Friends have asked me to come to the San Antonio area. I have a job lined up that will support Sam and me…”
He looked around his neat, uncomplicated living room. “You don’t need to go anywhere. You’ve got everything a woman could want right here. I take care of you better than that husband of yours ever did.”
“I know you provide a home for us, Dad, but it’s not enough. Not for me and not for Sam.”
He glowered at her. “You’re not taking my grandson away,” he stated as if it were an indisputable fact.
“Sam is my son. He’s going where I go.”
“I won’t hear of it. Sam needs a strong hand, which he won’t get under your influence. If that mistake of a marriage didn’t teach you that—”
“A discussion of my marriage and my son is off-limits.” Molly’s stomach churned.
He exhaled deeply. “Have you forgotten that I took you back in after that…that rodeo bum died?”
“No, and I’m grateful, but that’s in the past. You don’t have to bring it up again.”
“Fine. Then let’s talk about how this irrational decision will affect me.” He rolled the newspaper and pointed it at her. “Have you considered how your actions will embarrass me in front of my congregation again? I’ve raised you on my own, Molly. It wasn’t easy after your mother left, but I’ve tried to teach you proper values. And all I’ve received for my effort is disrespect. I won’t let you make a mockery of my position in this community again.”
He wouldn’t even hear her out. He didn’t care about her feelings, her needs, just like he probably never cared about her mother’s. Molly stared at the floor, anywhere but at the fire of self-righteousness in her father’s eyes. For a man who professed to dedicate his life to forgiveness and tolerance, Luther Whelan had a hard time showing either of those to his own daughter.
But then, Molly had known how he would react. She’d made sure Sam was busy with his toys in his room so he wouldn’t have to listen to his grandfather’s harsh words, but it was a small house and she was afraid he was hearing everything. Maybe her father did care about her in his own emotionally bereft way, but the environment he provided was void of real human interaction and she had to get out. She wasn’t about to back down.
The newspaper rattled in his hands and Molly looked up. “I won’t take you back,” he said. “If you go, it’s forever.”
“I don’t want to leave like this, Dad,” she said. “But I’m going. I’m sorry—”
“You’re never sorry,” he snapped. “Those are empty words from a woman who doesn’t think of anyone but herself.” And then he said the words designed to hurt