McKettricks of Texas: Austin. Linda Lael Miller
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Austin was quiet, absorbing that. He’d lowered his head a little, and his eyes didn’t meet Paige’s, not right away, at least. “My brothers,” he said slowly, “ought to stop treating me like I’m Calvin’s age and let me work things out on my own.”
“What things?” Paige ventured. She was on thin emotional ice here, couldn’t have said why she’d voiced such an intimate question in the first place.
He thrust a hand through his hair. For the briefest of moments, she thought he might answer honestly, but in the end, he simply sighed again and shook his head. The effect was so chilly and distant that he might as well have pushed her away physically.
“I don’t want a nurse,” he said after a long time.
Paige didn’t answer.
Austin left her then, heading upstairs, Shep scrambling at his heels.
Paige just sat there, at the long trestle table where several generations of McKettricks had not only taken their meals, but argued and made peace, borne their singular sorrows alone or shared them with each other. She sat there and thought about families—how precious they were, and how complicated, and how damnably inconvenient sometimes.
It was because of her sisters and their McKettrick men that she was in this fix, after all. If Libby hadn’t decided to marry Tate, and Julie Garrett, then she, Paige, would have no earthly reason to pass the time of day with Austin, let alone serve as his glorified babysitter.
Paige stiffened her spine, jutted out her chin.
After the big wedding on New Year’s Eve, she could leave Blue River, start her life over somewhere else. She’d often thought about going back to school, maybe becoming a physician’s assistant or even a doctor. And there were other options, too, like joining one of the international relief organizations, where her skills and experience, instead of just looking good on a résumé and qualifying her for a top-level salary, would make a real difference.
The hardest part of leaving wouldn’t be parting from her sisters, though the three of them had always been close. No, the prospect that closed Paige’s throat and made her sinuses burn was not being able to see her five-year-old nephew as often as they both liked.
Although Calvin’s birth father was back in his life—sort of—Julie was a single mother. Libby and Paige, both devoted aunts, had done a lot of pinch-hitting, right from the beginning. Paige loved her sister’s child as fiercely as if he were her own, and so did Libby.
On top of that, Blue River was and always would be home, at least to Paige. Like her sisters, she’d been born there, in the old brick hospital that had burned down while she was still in elementary school.
Paige stood up, determined not to follow the memory trail, but it was already too late. Even as she gathered her purse and her coat and her car keys, all with no particular destination in mind, the past unfolded in her mind.
She’d grown up in the modest house her parents had bought when they were newlyweds, probably convinced, being young and naive, that they would be together always.
Inwardly, Paige sighed.
She raised the garage door from the control on the wall and climbed into her car.
Her mom and dad had had three babies in three years. Will Remington, a born husband and father and a gifted teacher, had thrived on family life. Marva? Not so much.
Paige started the car engine, backed carefully out onto the concrete that comprised the upper driveway.
Even though years had passed since Marva had found herself a tattooed boyfriend, announced that she “just wasn’t happy” being a wife and mother and hit the road with barely a backward glance, the hurt still surfaced sometimes.
Marva had eventually come back to Blue River, having made up her mind to reconnect with the daughters she’d abandoned as small children, and she’d succeeded, to a certain degree. Still a gypsy at heart, it would seem, dear old Mom had stayed long enough to demolish Libby’s coffee shop by driving through the front wall and present each of her children with a sizable windfall, the proceeds of an old life insurance policy, prudently invested. With a classic my-work-here-is-done flair, Marva had then given up her apartment and returned to her retired-proctologist husband and their home in Costa Rica.
Paige had not been sorry to see her go. Not like the first time, anyhow.
Reaching the main gates, Paige met Tate, driving his flashy pickup truck and pulling a horse trailer behind. Garrett, riding shotgun, smiled and greeted her with a tug at the brim of his hat.
Paige, no longer distracted by thoughts of her mother, waggled her fingers and then backed up, so Tate could make the wide turn onto the ranch road.
The driver’s-side window zipped down, and Tate took off his hat, set it aside. “Did Austin manage to run you off already?” he asked with a worried grin.
Paige laughed, though her face warmed. She refrained from pointing out that she hadn’t formally accepted the job Garrett had offered her earlier. Instead she replied, “I wouldn’t say that. He is in a mood, though.”
“He’s always in a mood,” Tate said wearily, shoving splayed fingers through his dark hair and then replacing his hat.
Paige indicated the trailer with a nod of her head. “New horse?”
Tate nodded, and now there was a grim set to his mouth. “A little mare,” he answered. “She’s half starved—according to Libby’s friend at the animal shelter, Molly’s owners moved away, nobody’s sure exactly when, and left her behind to fend for herself.”
Paige’s heart slipped a notch. Her sister was always finding homes for unwanted pets of all kinds—dogs, cats, horses, birds, even a few snakes over the years. Before she could make a reply, Garrett leaned from the passenger side of the truck to favor her with a grin.
“So,” he said, “are you taking the job or not?”
A smile tugged at Paige’s mouth. “You’re only slightly less impossible than your younger brother, Garrett McKettrick,” she told him. “The truth is, I haven’t decided.”
Tate flashed the grin that had always made Libby’s heart pound. “It’s a pretty tough assignment, riding herd on Austin. Not everybody’s cut out to do it.”
She was about to call her future brother-in-law on his attempt to manipulate her with flattery, but Libby pulled up just then, tooting the horn of a classic red Corvette Paige didn’t recognize.
After parking behind the truck and horse trailer, Libby got out of the sports car and approached, beaming.
“What do you think?” she asked Paige, gesturing toward the shining vehicle.
Paige blinked. “I think it’s really—red,” she answered, and then laughed, not out of amusement, but out of joy. Her big sister was so happy.
Libby, meanwhile, climbed onto the running board of Tate’s truck, and the two of them exchanged a quick kiss through the open window. That done, she turned toward Paige again.
“Were you going somewhere?” she asked.
Paige sighed, shook her head. “Not really,” she answered.
Tate said he and Garrett would be up at the barn, and the two of them drove off.
Libby watched them go, a special light glowing in her eyes, then smiled at Paige and gestured toward the Corvette.
“It won’t do, of course,” Libby said, “but it’s sure fun test-driving the thing.”
“Why won’t it do?” Paige asked, thinking of her sister’s ancient Impala, with its rust marks and temperamental engine.
“There’s no room for the twins,” Libby told her, with a tolerant grin. “Or for babies or for the dogs, or for groceries or feed sacks—”
Paige