A horse whinnied close by. “Great. I’m glad I wore my jeans. The only trouble is, I don’t have any boots.”
Frankie looked at Helena’s white Keds. Finally she asked, “What size do you wear?”
“Eight and a half.”
“Me too. You can borrow a pair of mine.” Frankie went inside to get the boots.
Helena closed her eyes; heaviness weighed on her heart as she tried to envision Frankie as a little girl. She held back the tears, and her chest tightened, reminded of how much she’d missed, not to mention how lucky Patrick had been to see it all.
She headed down to the barn. She hadn’t ridden in years. The last time was down in Mexico with Patrick; they were on location for a photo shoot. The weather had turned cloudy and muggy. The models complained that the humidity ruined their hair. So Patrick had given the girls the day off. He told Helena to prepare herself for an adventure.
“Where did you learn to ride?” she’d asked Patrick while she patted the sorrel mare he’d picked out for her that day.
“My father owned a cattle ranch.”
“Really? How is it that you’ve gone from cows to models?”
“You could say that I have a little bit of my granddaddy in me. He was responsible for beginning the Kiley fortune. Being an Irishman, he liked whiskey, and knew how to still some good moonshine. He also liked pretty women. So he ran a club with dancers, featuring the best booze around. The cops eventually caught him, but he was smart and had hidden most of his earnings. My father inherited that money after my granddaddy mysteriously died. But Dad was honest. He moved us west, began ranching, and tripled the money he’d inherited.”
Helena had been in awe of him and his family history. He was so charming and handsome. That was the day he’d told Helena how beautiful she was. He’d said it in a way that had made her truly feel it. He’d been her agent at that time and was very successful at it. Their affair ensued shortly after that trip. It was passionate but brief. When Helena became pregnant with Frankie, Leeza insisted Patrick sell the agency and focus on his other business ventures.
A more mature Patrick, with fine lines of crow’s feet around his ice blue eyes, walked out of the barn as she approached it. The combined odors of manure and horse sweat made her wrinkle her nose. “Hey, you’re early!” he called, coming over and greeting her with a hug.
“I still pretend I’m Mario Andretti.” She pulled away from his embrace.
Patrick laughed, “Even in that big wheel you’re tooling around these days?” His eye caught hers.
“Even faster.” She ignored the butterflies dancing in her stomach, feeling like a schoolgirl at her first dance.
“So, have you seen Frankie yet?”
“She sent me down here. How’s she doing, anyway?”
Patrick fiddled with the bridle he was adjusting. “She seems okay. She’s got a strong spirit.” He walked around to the crossties, where a stout gray Quarter horse stood. The mare lowered her head as Patrick unhooked one of the ties, slipping the bit inside her mouth and putting the headstall over her ears. “It’s good that you came up—shows her that you care.”
Helena crossed her arms in front of her, feeling her face grow hot. “Of course I care. I’m her mother.”
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean anything by it, only that it was a good move on your part, especially since you two are starting to bond.”
“Did she tell you that?” Helena watched him gently place the saddle on the horse’s back. He’d always been wonderful with animals.
Patrick tightened the cinch on the saddle, “Good girl.” He patted the mare. “Duchess is a great old gal, she won’t give you any trouble out there.”
The knot in Helena’s stomach tightened. “Did Frankie say she was feeling closer to me?” When Helena began stroking Duchess’s face, she dropped her head so Helena could scratch between her ears.
“Something like that.” Patrick paused and turned to face her. “She loves you, but she doesn’t know how to show it. You have to lead the way. Look, she called you, didn’t she? She didn’t come to me first thing when Leeza called.” He put a hand on Helena’s shoulder. “All I’m saying is that, in your way, let her know that you’re here for her.”
Her way? What did he mean by that? But before she had a chance to ask, Frankie approached them with the cowboy boots in her hand. “I don’t wear these anymore. I usually only ride English now.” She set the boots down, then pulled her long hair back into a ponytail.
“Thanks.” Helena struggled to get the boots on. They were tight, but she wasn’t about to complain. Patrick winked at her, and she smiled back. Oh yeah, he still had that charm and, gray around the sides or not, Helena couldn’t deny he was by far one of the most attractive men out there. However, good looks couldn’t replace years of pain.
A few minutes later, they were ready to go. Patrick yelled after them, “Now don’t be too long, say an hour. I’ve got some steaks to grill.”
“What else is new?” Frankie mumbled.
Helena rode alongside her. She could tell her butt would be sore later on. Her horse wasn’t named Duchess for her soft gaits. “Your dad still cooking only the basics?”
“Every night. He’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“There’s another side to your dad, you know.”
“Like what?” Frankie sounded indignant.
“He loves opera.”
“Oh, I know. He plays that screechy stuff every night.”
“He’s also a big reader, especially the classics.”
“I know that, too. He reads them all the time. Boring.”
Helena wanted to turn this pissing contest around, make Frankie laugh some more. This wasn’t supposed to be about one-upping each other. She wanted to build the trust between them. “Then let me ask you this: did you know that he loves escargot?”
“Snails?”
Helena nodded.
“Ooh,
sick
!”
They both burst out laughing. The tension dissipated as they rode along the green hills that looked as if they’d been painted from a scene out of
The Sound of Music
, set against the small beach community. A cool breeze blew up from the turquoise sea below them, while the late afternoon sun beat warmly on their faces, making them feel sleepy but good. Frankie talked about school and which teachers were weird and obnoxious and which ones were cool and how much she enjoyed her drama class. She told her mom about the friends she’d made, and how excited she was about the foals that were about to be born back at the ranch, and the one that already had arrived. They avoided topics that might cause friction, including Leeza.
Helena shared her plans regarding Shea House and what its purpose would be. “You see, the idea is to help these women get an education and get them out into the workplace so that they can begin to provide for themselves and their children. Like my friend Rachel. She’s working on her G.E.D. right now, and once she’s finished she’d like to go into some type of teaching. Shea House will help her to do that, while providing a home and childcare for her and her baby. Once she’s on her feet in about a year, maybe a little longer, then we’ll help her find housing and really help get her out into the real world.”
“That’s pretty cool. But can I ask you something?” Frankie said.
“Sure.”
“Are you doing all of this because you feel guilty about me?”
Helena pulled up on Duchess’s reins and stopped. Frankie halted her mare, too. Helena looked out at the ocean as if searching for the right answer. Tears formed in her eyes. She brushed them away. “I guess in a way, you could say that I am. Shea House gives me a chance to be around babies and young children. I missed that with you. But it’s deeper than that. These women need my help, and although I wasn’t pregnant with you when I got so bad on the drugs and alcohol, I was grateful there were people willing to help me. If I can make some amends in this life by helping these girls and their children, that’ll be great. But the goal is to try and provide those in need with a second chance. I got one, and I feel fortunate I did. Look at us. You’ve given me one.” Duchess pawed at the ground. “I think she smells the hay back home.”
“I’m glad I gave you one, too,” Frankie replied.
By the time they got back to the ranch, Helena felt good about things. After putting their horses away, she walked up to Frankie and hugged her tight, as she’d wanted to when she’d arrived. Frankie didn’t flinch. “I want you to know that I love you. Because of the past, I’m sure you wonder, but I really do. Always have. I’m going to do my best to make things right between us.”
Frankie had tears in her eyes when she said, “I know, Mom.”
“I’ll be here for you from now on.” Helena hugged Frankie again. They were so much alike, with strong exteriors masking their vulnerabilities.
As they walked to the house hand in hand, Helena vowed to protect this girl—her daughter—knowing she was lucky to get this second chance.
When the girls came into the kitchen, Patrick saw that Helena’s arm was around Frankie. Obviously things were easier between them. Seeing them like that together took the cap off the pressure-cooker of guilt he’d been feeling for so long. It didn’t alleviate all of it, but enough to make him feel pretty damn good.
“This place doesn’t smell like any steakhouse I’ve ever been in,” Helena said, wiping her hands on her dirt-stained jeans.
“Yeah, Dad, what gives? It smells like Pepe’s down the street.”
Patrick held his hands up. “You caught me. Welcome to Pat’s Place, where we make the best pasta in town.”
“Ooh!” Frankie said. “Dad only makes spaghetti on Christmas Eve or for really special people.”
“You know, Helena, she gets that from you.”
“What’s that?”
“The smart-alek attitude.”
Frankie smiled. Patrick couldn’t recall seeing his daughter this happy in a very long time. Having Helena in the house somehow felt right. He watched her as she and Frankie set the table. She was more beautiful than ever. The hard years hadn’t defeated her, but he’d always known she was strong-willed.
When they sat at the table, he stretched out his arms and took Helena’s hands. Her eyes widened.
“Prayer,” Frankie said.
Helena’s hand gripped Patrick’s hand back. He bowed his head as an electric sensation traveled throughout his body. He closed his eyes, wondering if she felt it. “Dear Lord, thank you for this lovely day, this food, and for Helena’s visit. Please bless this dinner and help it to nourish our bodies. Amen.” He lifted up his head. “You start, Lena.” Patrick handed her the bowl of pasta. She didn’t take it right away—she looked at him, her brow furrowed.
“Like
today
, Mom? We’re all hungry.”
Helena took the pasta bowl. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Patrick watched her hands shake as she scooped out the spaghetti. “You okay?”
She nodded, but he could tell she was upset about something. What could it be? She didn’t say much during the dinner, and Patrick racked his brain trying to figure out why she was being so quiet.
“Will you excuse me?” Helena asked. “I need to go to the restroom.”
“Sure,” Patrick said. Once she left, he looked over at Frankie working on a second serving. “Did something happen while you two were setting the table?”
“What? No. Why?” Frankie made a face, her mouth full of spaghetti.
“It looks like your mom’s upset about something. She seemed fine when you came in, but now it’s like, I don’t know. Did I say something out of the ordinary?”
Frankie shrugged. “Really?” She set down her fork and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel really good about things. She’s hip. Her charity thing is way cool, and she’s a killer lady. I never thought that before, but I’m changing my opinion, you know.”
“Well then, I can’t figure it out, everything was going so well.”
“Oh, duh, I might know. It’s a no brainer, Dad.” Frankie smacked her forehead with her palm. “You two want to hook up again. You’re totally into her, that’s obvious, and she’s not sure what to do. I mean, you called her Lena during dinner.”
Frankie rolled her eyes, making him feel dumber than he already did, knowing she could be right. The problem probably had been his calling her Lena—his pet name for her when they’d been lovers. It had slipped out. With her here in his home, the comfort of it all made the name fall off his lips with ease. “You really think that was it?”
“God, Dad. I’m not Dr. Laura, you know, but you caused her to remember the past, and there’s still feelings there. Remember when I found the letter that you wrote to her right after I was born? Asking her to forgive you?”
“Yeah, the one I never sent.”
“In it, you called her Lena, and I asked you about it. Jeez Dad. Why don’t you ask her out?”
“We’re just friends. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Whatever.” Frankie averted her eyes.
Helena walked back into the dining room and sat back down, smiling at them. “I’m sorry. I had something in my eye.”
Frankie started to cough and laugh at the same time. Patrick glared at her.
“You okay?” Helena asked.