My True Cowboy. Shelley Galloway
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a little snack.”
As he’d expected, she hopped from her stool and grinned. “I bet Casper wants an apple.”
“I’m sure that horse does. Pick one out and I’ll cut it up, sugar.”
“DO YOU THINK WE’LL EVER get a better TV?” Hank asked as Susan tried once again to get the salt-and-pepper mess off the nineteen-inch screen in their tiny living room.
“I do,” she replied. She was absolutely positive they would get a better television. One day.
Hank narrowed his eyes. “Soon?”
“No.”
Hank sighed. “Jeremy has a television in his room that’s bigger than this. You wouldn’t believe how good it looks.”
“Oh, I would. This TV isn’t too big at all. But we’ve got other things to pay for, Hank. It can’t be helped.”
“Maybe we could do without some things. Then we’d have more money for the good stuff.”
“What are you thinking we could do without?” She, for one, didn’t have a plan. Already her car was limping along and her clothes were mainly purchased from resale shops.
“I don’t know. Broccoli?”
“Broccoli’s not making as much of a dent in our budget as you might think, buddy.”
He slumped. “I guess you’re right.” He looked down at his shoes. “Guess I can’t buy new sneakers, huh?”
Little by little, her heart broke. She hated not being able to get him the things he wanted. “Maybe we can get new shoes after I get paid.”
He flashed a smile. “’Kay.” Walking away, he opened up the fridge. “So, can I have an apple?”
Once upon a time, the answer to that question would have been automatic. But now she hesitated. There were sugar levels and dietary concerns she couldn’t afford to ignore. “What else have you eaten today?”
After he told her, she mentally reviewed the dietary guidelines that the nurses had given her. “I suppose so. But let me know if you start to feel funny.”
Hank rolled his eyes as he bit into an apple, then scooted toward the tiny TV and watched his regular series of shows on the Cartoon Network.
Usually, this would be the time that Susan would lean back and stretch and relax. But all she could do was watch Hank watch TV and worry.
She’d gotten the lab results. They were going to need to up Hank’s insulin dose. And though the nurse probably didn’t mean to sound like it, Susan had the uncomfortable feeling that the nurse thought she wasn’t monitoring his levels closely enough.
After scheduling yet another appointment with the pediatrician, Susan had hung up … and had wondered how in the world she would manage to get off even more time from work. Kay was going to be put out, that was for sure.
And how was she going to be able to start monitoring things better with Hank? When they weren’t going to all these doctor’s appointments, she’d be spending even less time with him, not more.
“I’m going to sit on the patio,” she told Hank, then walked out to her nine-by-nine concrete slab and took a seat.
The moment she closed her eyes, the furnace that was Texas in September engulfed her. On cue, she started to sweat. Any sane person would go on into the air-conditioning. But maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t sane. Not by a long shot.
Why else would she have left Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati, and all her family … for Electra, Texas?
Maybe she should go back to Cincinnati. Living in the city would be difficult and more expensive, but she could probably find a good job. And then Hank would have everything he needed in case something went wrong….
“You in for the night, Susan?” Betsy, her neighbor, peeked out in between the row of holly bushes that separated their patios.
“I am. What about you?”
The closest friend she had in Electra smiled a gap-toothed grin. “Not on your life! It’s only seven o’clock.”
Once upon a time, Susan had thought that way, too. Now, though, seven meant she could finally sit down and relax. “Hey, want to come over for a minute?”
“Of course. Let me get a pair of Buds and I’ll be right there.”
Minutes later, Betsy arrived, her hands full of Bud Lights and a spunky sashay in her walk. “Hot enough for you?” she asked as she flopped down on Susan’s extra lawn chair. As she did so, the hem of her cotton sundress fluttered around her thighs.
“More than enough. I don’t know when I’m ever going to get used to it being ninety in September.”
“Give it a few dozen years. Then it will seem as normal as dust storms in July.”
“In the meantime, I’ll just pray for good air-conditioning.” As they shared a chuckle, Susan sipped her beer, then looked her girlfriend over. Betsy was an office manager for a cellular-phone company and one of five siblings who all lived around the area. She always had something going on, either with work or with her family. “So, how are you? How was your day?”
“Irritating. Too many people were wanting things I can’t give them.” Running a hand through her short, spiky hair, she sighed. “But that’s okay. It’s Labor Day weekend and I’ve managed to get two out of the next three days off. Hey, want to come to a party with me tonight?”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got Hank.”
“We need to find you a sitter, Susan. You can’t spend every Friday night home.”
Until the doctors got Hank’s body under control, Susan didn’t want to risk Hank being in a sitter’s care more than she had to. And right now, he was already going to have to be with a sitter for most of Monday.
And, well, being home on a Friday night wasn’t that much of a tragedy for her. She liked the peace and quiet.
For the most part. “Where’s the party?” she asked, mainly to get Betsy’s focus off her.
“At Buffalo Bob’s. Do you know it?”
“Nope. But it’s got a catchy name.”
“It’s a play on Buffalo Bill, you know,” Betsy said earnestly. “Anyway, Bob’s is a honky-tonk down the way.” Betsy’s eyes lit up as if it was her birthday. “Every Labor Day, they put on a big ol’ party. A real celebration. I’m telling you what, it’s a good time. Susan, there’s even gonna be fireworks!”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It’s a hoot, that’s what it is. Lots of people will be there. You’re missing out.”
“I know.” It did sound fun. She used to look forward to Friday nights like no other. There was something to be said for kicking up her heels and letting off steam, and she’d done her fair share of that.
Well, she had until she’d become a mother. Now, sipping a glass of wine with her feet up and a good book sounded like heaven. With maybe a man rubbing her shoulders, too. Maybe even rubbing other places, too, she mused, her mouth going dry.
Gosh, how long had it been since she’d been on the receiving end of a man’s tender touch?
Still chatting about the bar, Betsy threw back the rest of her beer, then added, “Susan, it’s gonna be such a party. I heard even Cal Riddell might show up.”
Susan almost choked on her beer. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” Betsy set down her Bud. “Wait a minute. You’re acting like you know something I don’t. Do you actually know Cal Riddell?”
“Yes.”