“Well, Rose Ann. I haven’t heard from my grandkids lately. How about you?”
“They call home all the time,” Rose lied.
Lily understood exactly why she would do such a thing. If she could keep the remainder of her answers simple, Rose might come out of the discussion with her dignity intact.
“And how are they doing?”
“They’re both fine. Probably they’ll be home for the holidays.” “Second Chance winning lots of races?”
“He sure is.”
Their father sighed. “He’s damned athletic, but a high school diploma isn’t going to make him his million. My offer still stands to pay for his schooling.”
“He finished that one year of community college,” Rose said. “He might decide to go back someday and get his degree. Or maybe he’ll be a mechanic. If it’s got a motor, he can fix it.”
Wrong move. Rose was letting let Pop suck her into an argument she couldn’t possibly win.
Surrender now
, Lily wanted to say.
Wave the white flag or you’ll end up using it for a hankie
.
“It’s been my observation that the longer someone stays away from school the more difficult it is to return.”
In the short silence before Rose answered Lily felt the sting as sharply as she imagined her sister did.
“You never went to college.”
“I inherited my father’s business, which was a going concern.”
Lily thought that comment hit below the belt, considering that all Second Chance had inherited from his father was his watch.
“And Mandy?”
“What
about
Amanda?” “Does she have any plans?”
Lily watched her sister turn her face to the window. It was pitch dark outside. Lily would have told the old busybody to lay off. Rose could not. What bothered Lily more than his incessant poking, however, was hearing the echo of her own questions delivered only a day earlier, when the sisters were riding up into the mountains.
“Listen, Pop. Over the holidays you can talk to Amanda yourself.” “At her age you were married and a mother.”
Rose’s laughter came out soft, but there was a brittle edge to it Lily felt alarmed by even if her father didn’t notice. “Which is a life choice I certainly would not wish on any daughter of mine.”
Apparently Pop had no desire to move the discussion in that dir- ection because he shut up. Too bad, because Lily was dying to hear his views on the subject. Rose’s, too. Maybe tomorrow she would pin her down. She relaxed against the leather seats, wondering if it was Saturday or Sunday. Forgetting the date was how she knew she was truly on vacation. The remainder of the drive home she drifted in and out of sleep. Her father and sister kept their voices low, but dulcet tones didn’t mask the tension.
By the time they arrived at the ranch, it was nearly midnight. Pop insisted they walk over to the barn and check on Winky. Rose held a flashlight while he felt the mare’s legs and looked at her teeth. The neighboring horses began to stir at the change in routine, and pretty soon Shep came out of the bunkhouse in his flannel robe. He stood there looking at the sisters and his old friend and employer without speaking.
“Shepherd,” Chance said. “Anything going on I should know about?”
The old cowboy thought a minute. He scratched his head. “Only that most people are in bed about this time, which is directly where I’m headed.”
Lily laughed. “Get to the point already, you chatterbox.”
Shep returned to the bunkhouse and the sisters watched the light inside his room go out.
“A man of few words, but always the right ones,” Rose said. “Oh, he’s just got a wild hair because I woke him out of his beauty
sleep,” Chance answered. “He’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Rose clicked the flashlight off, and they waited a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The mare stood quietly, nosing her empty feeder. Her large eyes glistened as she regarded these humans, some familiar, others not. Rose reached out a hand and stroked her neck. As if he felt her fingers, too, from a few stalls away Max neighed. The sound of a dozen questioning nickers erupted, and the complex smells of feed, various liniments, saddle leather, and tack oil made the entire scene so intoxicating to Lily she wanted to pitch her tent right there.
“Listen to the horses,” she whispered. “It’s like this perfect small town where everybody knows everybody else. Jeez, what I wouldn’t give to grow a mane and tail and register to vote.”
“I swear, the damnedest things come out of that mouth of yours,” Pop remarked.
Lily kicked at the hard-packed dirt. “Oh, poop. I just say what I feel.”
“Which is why you’re always on the verge of getting into trouble.” “Safe’s boring,” Lily said.
“Rose, did you notice how that sister of yours always has to get in the last word?”
“Of course she did,” Lily snapped.
The three Wilders walked toward the puddle of yellow light illu- minating the porch swing. In Lily’s temporary sleeping berth, Chachi had made his bed in the discarded sleeping bag. The Jack Russell roused enough to wag his tail. A few of the ranch dogs came out of their sleeping places and tagged along for awhile, grumbling at Chachi, then returned to the barn. Buddy was inside the screen door, whimpering and begging for a million neck scratches to make up for how long Lily’d been gone. Lily opened the door, bent down, and fastened the new collar around his neck. “Buddy boy baby,” she said. “Don’t you look handsome?”
“For God’s sake,” her father said. “It’s even uglier on him that it was on you.”
Lily covered Buddy’s ears. “Don’t listen to that cranky old man.” Rose, still on the porch, turned in the direction of her car. “Thanks
for dinner, Pop. I have to be at work in the morning, so I’ll take on now.”
“That’s insane,” Lily said. “It’s too late to go. Catch Monday flu and we’ll go riding again.”
Rose shook her head. “Can’t. If I’m not there, the bills won’t go out.”
“Then sleep here, get up early, and go to work in your jeans. It’s not like you have to impress the CEO.”
“Really,” Rose said, stifling a yawn. “I’m not that tired.”
Lily pulled her inside and aimed her toward the stairs. “You’re not awake enough to drag a horse trailer two inches, let alone fifteen miles. We’ll see you in the morning. Hey, something to look forward to: I’ll let you fold the breakfast napkins.”
Rose glared at her, but she went up to bed.
Downstairs in the Great Room, Pop had set a fresh pot of coffee and two mugs on the pine table. He’d changed into his pajamas and robe. Lily had put on her sleep shirt (a red-and-black flannel of his), and added a pair of his socks, too. “Nice shirt,” he said when she walked into the room.
She modeled for him. “It’s not Ralph Lauren, but it’s comfy.”
Pop closed the screen in front of the stone fireplace, where the logs burned steadily and would continue to do so for a couple of hours. He lit his pipe, and the sweet odor of burning tobacco filled the room. As Lily collapsed on the couch, Buddy jumped up beside her.
“Animals don’t go on the furniture,” Pop said, sitting down beside her.
“They do where I live,” Lily answered. “I should have made you rent a car. I’m whipped.”
Pop leaned forward, took hold of Buddy’s right rear foot, lifted it, and peered underneath. “You dog lose something in a fight?”
“Trust me, his neutering needed to happen.”
He poured himself a mug of coffee, added cream, and leaned back against the cushions. “Talk to me, daughter.”
“Why should I? You’re not very nice to my sister.” “Sometimes Rose needs a little push.”
“Half the time all she really needs is a hug.” “I’m not the hugging type.”
“You used to be.”
“You’re both all grown up. Go find boys to hug you.”
“Rose could be sixty years old, and she’d still be your daughter needing reassurance.”
He fingered the fancy charms on Buddy’s collar. “Philip dying was a shock, but you and I both know that marriage wasn’t the love match of the century. Is it a crime for me to want to see her move on?”
“Of course not. I want that, too. Just don’t be a prick to her, okay?” “I’m not, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Lily sighed. “Yes, you are. I don’t think you realize the state Rose is in. Amanda stealing her grocery money, does anybody even
know
where Second Chance is, I mean, in case of an accident? She prays all the time, lights candles like they’re going to blaze a path that will show her the way out. It’s scary.”
“Amanda stole money?” Her father sipped his coffee and scratched Buddy’s ears while the dog panted happily. “Those two never had to work a lemonade stand or wash cars for pocket money. I bought them horses and motorbikes, even when Rose asked me not to.”
Lily kept quiet, hoping he’d go on, and in a few minutes he did, picking up the conversation as if there had never been a lull.
“You know, Philip and I went more than a few rounds before the accident took his life. I never entirely trusted that man, but Rose Ann loved him, and I wanted her to be happy.”
“I didn’t trust him either. She’s got a mammoth crush on that vet she works for.”
“Saw that one coming a long time back. When it comes to men, Rose picks them the same way your mother did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her father mimed tipping a bottle to his lips.
Lily pulled a throw pillow over her face. Pop’s drinking problems were little more than stories to her. Though he’d been sober since she was nearly ten years old—almost twenty-five years—Lily had pushed the memories of the time he was not from her mind. On Sundays Mami went to mass and Pop to his AA meeting. When her mother drank wine from a long-stemmed goblet at dinner, her father’s glass was filled with water. The way things were delivered enough information for her. She breathed deep into the pillow until the scent of her mother’s hand lotion embedded in the fabric made her pull it away from her face. “The best thing for my sister would be a senseless affair.
It’s like candy for the heart. Short, sweet, and makes you believe in yourself again.”
Pop set his pipe down in a granite ashtray. “When your mother stepped out on me, I like to’ve died from that particular brand of candy.”
Lily set the pillow down. “Oh, Pop. I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Happened a long time ago. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made my peace.”
“Well,” she said and paused. “Since you brought it up, how
did
you forgive Mami? I mean, she didn’t exactly try to hide what she did.”
“Had to. For years I had my arms around a mistress, only mine took the shape of a bottle.”
Lily recalled vague snatches of overheard conversations, her father’s bellowing voice reaching her all the way through her closed bedroom door, under that pillow, too. Her mother’s voice, sometimes tearful, sometimes rising in pitch into Spanish, and the tense family breakfasts that followed. “Just like that? You forgave her?”
“What would you recommend?” he said quietly. “That after twenty-some years of marriage, I was supposed to send packing the only woman on earth who still manages to fascinate me? When a man loves a woman as strong as he is, the balance of power’s always an issue. I sure as hell didn’t want to live out here all alone playing cards with Shep. Besides, I wasn’t always such a Boy Scout myself.” He crossed his legs and his pants leg rode up, revealing the rose tattoo on his ankle. Numerous times when she was a child, Lily had rubbed it with her thumb, as if the faded red and green ink might erase with her efforts. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, beg- ging for the story behind the indelible emblem. Over the years he’d told her various segments, but the intriguing parts had never quite
added up to a satisfying whole.
“I woke up one morning in some old lady’s dirt garden in Mexico,” her father said wearily. “First thing I saw was a shotgun in my face. She had been cultivating what appeared to be a right sturdy crop of carrots up until the time I landed there. Anyway, she dog-cussed me in nasty-enough Spanish that I was motivated to move along. As I was crawling my way down the road toward civilization, my leg began itching, and when I stopped to look it over I noticed this rose on my ankle. In due
time it became clear that I had a good case of the clap on my equip- ment, too. No memory of how I acquired either traveling companion. One stayed with me until I saw a doctor, the other has been with me for life.”
Lily’s found her father’s mysterious past continually amusing. “Wilder legends,” she said. “They’re endlessly versatile. What’s the lesson for me this time?”
“I don’t know. How about, ‘One way or another, whatever you do in the pursuit of love leaves its mark on you’?”
“Ha. You don’t have to tell me that.” Lily wondered where Tres Quintero was at this particularly witchy hour of the night. Blaise, she knew, would be whooping it up in one bar or another. Her reputation was going to suffer if she spent many more nights like this one, deep in conversation with Daddy. “I’ve tried to talk to Rose about Philip, I mean, about what he was really like, but she doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Which is why I’m always nudging her, only you call it being a prick. Get Rose mad about one thing, she generally goes to fixing whatever’s wrong elsewhere. I’m hoping that will hold true where the vet’s concerned.”
“Pop, you don’t understand. Rose still believes in
love
love. Fairy- tale endings, Hollywood movie happiness. Fidelity, romance, crap that can never come true.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “Little Bit, have you listened to a word I’ve said tonight?”
Lily sighed. “Look at me, Pop. I mean take a good long look. I’m not so ugly that I crack mirrors, am I?”
“You’re the spitting image of your mother thirty years ago. Sometimes I see you out of the corner of my eye, and I have to stop and remind myself what year it is.”
“If I’m so damn pretty, why have I been in the dating game twenty years? Why am I still flying solo?”
Pop set his pipe down in a glass ashtray. “You didn’t want to marry that boy you loved in high school. He was your equal. You walked away from him to explore the world.”
“You brought us up believing we could have everything if we wanted it bad enough and worked hard to get it.”