A Family In Wyoming. Lynnette Kent

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A Family In Wyoming - Lynnette Kent


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if I wasn’t trussed up in this brace, I’ve never been much good in the kitchen,” he said with a lift of his big hands. “Or the rest of the house, for that matter. This summer, my brothers are going to be tied up with the ranch work I can’t do, plus the kids in the camp. Dylan’s got sculptures to work on, Garrett has his responsibilities at the church, and Ford will be going back to his law office in San Francisco soon. We really need somebody who can take care of this place, maybe put together a meal for me now and then. We would pay you, of course. And you’d be safe here while you got things...straightened out...with your husband.”

      “I—I don’t know what to say.” She could barely breathe, let alone think. “C-can I give you an answer tomorrow?”

      “Sure. Whenever you decide. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” His smothered yawn seemed too convenient to be real. “I believe I’m ready to hit the sack. Just flip the light off when you’re ready.” He stopped at the doorway to the hall but didn’t glance back. “Night, Susannah. Come on, Honey.”

      She started, then realized that was the dog’s name. “Good night.” On impulse, she added, “What time do you eat breakfast?”

      Wyatt pivoted to face her again. He wore a big grin. “I’m sleeping late these days, don’t get up much before six or six thirty.” Touching two fingers to an invisible hat brim, he nodded. “See you in the morning.”

      Standing in the living room, Susannah listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. Wyatt Marshall struck her as a remarkable man. Despite his injury, he seemed to be in control—of himself, of his surroundings, of life in general. And his generosity amazed her. Not only was he holding a summer camp for teenagers on his ranch, but he’d offered a solution to her most pressing problem—she and the children could stay on the ranch while she saved up the money she needed to find a new home and a real job. His kindness might even extend to giving her a reference she could use when she applied. How helpful that would be!

      After turning out the living room lamp, she went back to the lovely guest room, where she saw that Amber still hadn’t stirred. With her shoulders sagging under the weight of fatigue, Susannah folded down the covers on her side of the bed, finally ready to rest. She had just lifted her feet off the floor when her cell phone gave a familiar ring.

      Travis.

      She jumped up and grabbed her purse off the dresser, rummaged for the phone...but then hesitated as it rang again. Should she answer?

      With the third ring, Amber frowned and her eyelashes fluttered. “Mommy?”

      Susannah leaned over to put a palm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.” With her free hand, she pushed the button to talk. “Hello?”

      “Susie? Susie, honey, where are you?” His words were slurred. “I miss you, sweetie. Come home.” He’d moved through the anger phase of being drunk and would now become more and more maudlin. If she were there, she’d put him to bed and he’d sink into unconsciousness.

      “Susie?”

      “I can’t come home.” The words were hard to say. She’d loved him for so long. Just not anymore. “We won’t be back, Travis.”

      “Don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, honey.” He sniffed hard, as if he was crying. “I’ll change. Really, I will. I’ll go to AA. That social worker can help me.”

      Thirteen years of promises were as much as she could take. “No, Travis. Not this time.”

      The rage flared up. “They’re my kids, too. You can’t keep them from me.”

      She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered Nathan, crumpled on the floor where his father had thrown him earlier that night. “I told you that if you hurt them, I would keep them away from you. And you did that tonight.”

      In the long silence that followed, she could hear his fractured breathing, could picture him trying to pull himself together.

      “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “Give me another chance, Susie. We’ll make it work.” When she didn’t answer, he continued to plead. “We were good together, you know? We’ve had lots of fun, even with the kids. I can get it together, find a job. Don’t give up on me, Susie, I swear—”

      Susannah pressed the button to end the call and then turned off the phone altogether. As she curled up on the bed beside Amber, her eyes burned with tears. The despair she’d been fighting for hours threatened to swamp her.

      She’d made such a mess of her life. Her children were suffering because of her foolishness, her bad choices. How could she ever compensate for those mistakes?

      Wyatt’s deep, warm voice came into her head. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight... You’ve got friends you can count on. She recalled the concern in his brown eyes, the encouragement in his smile.

      Friends. She hadn’t had many of those over the years. Travis never liked the women she’d tried to connect with...or else he liked them too well. Susannah hadn’t been blind to those affairs. But for some reason he had always come back to her.

      Now, though, the Marshall brothers had declared themselves her friends. Caroline Donnelly would stand beside her, too. If they were willing to offer so much help, she couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t let her children down. Somehow she would have to dredge up the courage and determination to accept Wyatt’s offer. She would spend the summer working for him, doing whatever she could to make his recovery easier, maybe help with the kids’ camp, as well. Amber and Nathan would have a chance to recover from Travis’s influence and experience a more settled, responsible way of living.

      At the end of the summer, she would find a job, probably in a bigger town like Casper, or Cheyenne or Laramie. As for a divorce...she’d already filed the papers, which had only made the situation worse. Travis had never hurt one of the children until tonight, when he was notified of her petition. Now that he knew, he would put up every roadblock he could think of to keep the kids, including a custody battle, and the court might very well give him visitation, at least. Then he would be part of their lives forever. The prospect drenched her with dread. What would it take for them to be free?

      With her thoughts still in turmoil, Susannah began to wonder if she’d be awake all night long. Sleep finally claimed her but only until the sound of a shower running somewhere in the house roused her at five thirty. Anxious to start her new job—her new life!—responsibly, she groped her way out of bed and into the bathroom, where a cold washcloth on her face and arms dispelled most of the brain fog. She donned a clean shirt and jeans, combed her hair and twisted it into a messy bun. She even managed to put on some lipstick. Just as the shower cut off, she left the guest room and made her way to the kitchen.

      But the coffeepot defeated her. A stainless-steel monster with no obvious controls, it lurked on the counter, daring her to do something stupid and break it. The only coffee she found was a bag of whole beans, beside a grinder as intimidating as the brewer. Susannah hung her head. Not even six o’clock and she’d already failed.

      “Well, good morning!”

      She whirled to find Garrett Marshall standing in the doorway. His wet hair identified him as the one who’d taken the shower. “G-good morning. I was going to make some coffee, but...”

      He sent her a grin nearly as appealing as his older brother’s. “It’s quite a contraption, isn’t it? Dylan decided we should upgrade from the standard plastic-and-glass model.” He joined her at the counter. “I will admit this version makes a great brew. Let me run you through the process.”

      Within minutes, they were sampling the results. Susannah savored the aroma rising from her mug. “I had no idea coffee could taste this rich. I’ll have a pot made at about five thirty tomorrow. And breakfast at six thirty. Will that work for you?”

      Garrett shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I usually make the coffee. As for breakfast—”

      “It’s


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