Chapter Ten
The phone rang, and Peyton ignored it as she peered out the curtain for the tenth time. Nothing had changed in the last fifteen seconds. Polly’s voice came over the answering machine full of concern and a half-dozen questions, but Peyton didn’t have time for an update that didn’t exist.
Shelby had promised to bring Melanie to her rather than the ranch, but maybe something happened. Or maybe Shelby was changing the plan or maybe… Stomping her booted heel, she let the curtain slip through her fingers and went in search of cookies. Finding the emergency stash of heartbreak cookies hiding behind the granola and Cream of Wheat, she popped the lid off the tin and dug in. Three cookies later and Peyton’s heartbeat steadied and sanity returned.
Of course Shelby wouldn’t change the plan. At least not on this. Next to Ryder appearing unannounced a week ago and his leaving ten years ago, this was the single most important moment in both of their lives. Well, next to the birth of Mel, and in Peyton’s case, finding out she was pregnant.
Ryder was about to meet his daughter.
Peyton hadn’t let herself think about this moment over the years. Because along with a wishful, hopeful feeling rode feelings of anger and despair and resentment. She couldn’t divide the two. Despite this week of up and down with Ryder, the airing of most of their concerns and resentment and subsequent truce, even now, she rode the anticipation wave with a firm saddle of resentment supporting her. Why was she making things easy for him? Why answer to his demand to meet his daughter as soon as she got home and before she could prepare the young girl for a life-altering meeting?
A vision of the picture frame under her daughter’s mattress was the answer. Because Melanie deserved it. As long as it was what she desired—if her daughter even gave a hint of apprehension, Peyton would mama bear Ryder’s dictate up one side and down the other.
The sound of a dually engine had Peyton sprinting for the front door. She was down the steps before Shelby had shifted into park.
Melanie leaped from the back seat. “Mom!”
Peyton caught her daughter in a hug and swung her around, plastering kisses all over her daughter’s dark curls. She smelled of campfire and trees. “I missed you, honey.”
“Me, too,” Mel mumbled against her chest.
The sound of a door slamming broke them apart, and Peyton faced Shelby, who leaned against the side of her truck. Mitch, she noticed, remained inside. A flick of her gaze between the man and his wife had Shelby giving her a small shake of the head.
Melanie tugged her hand, jigging from one foot to another. “Mom, I found a moose rack! A. Moose. Rack.”
Peyton beamed. A moose rack had been on the long-coveted list for the past two years. Ever since Mel had caught a glimpse of the majestic creature drinking from the lake early one morning. Ruffling Mel’s head, she said, “That’s fantastic, hon.”
“Mitch said he would get it preserved for her and mount it.”
Peyton smiled at Shelby. “Sounds like something right up his alley.”
“You okay?”
Peyton nodded. She didn’t want anything else said on the matter until she could talk to Melanie.
“Well, we’ll get going. Have to run out to Gunther’s Ranch before heading back to Sky Lake.”
“Thank you again for picking Mel up.”
“It was our pleasure. Plus a much needed break. Even if the timing ended up being awkward. The ranch is still standing, I assume.”
“Standing, yes, although it might lean to one side now.”
Shelby paused, one booted foot on the running board. Then she crossed swiftly over to Peyton and planted a bear hug on both of them. She whispered in her ear, “Thank you. Thank you for giving him the chance.”
Peyton blinked to keep the tears from falling as Shelby backed down the small driveway.
“Can we go into town? I want to stop by the gallery and tell Miss Emily about the rack and maybe we could stop by the Wagon Train.” Mel batted dark, thick eyelashes up at her, and Peyton actually considered nodding in agreement. It would be so easy to put this off. To not tell her daughter. To give herself more time to prepare.
You’ve had ten years to prepare.
“Mel, I would love to take you into town. But there’s a few things I need to share with you. And I want to hear more about camp. I mean, I can see where the moose rack would be the highlight, but surely there’s a few minor things that had you excited.”
Mel didn’t look convinced and a pout spread across her face.
“Honey, it’s important.”
Her daughter had always been in tune with the adults around her. Maybe it was due to growing up on the ranch surrounded by them or just a genetic fluke, but Mel straightened her expression and said, “I guess town isn’t going anywhere.”
They made their way into the house. Peyton dropped Mel’s bag in the laundry room and directed her daughter to have a seat. She poured them both a glass of milk and fixed up a plate of cookies.
Peyton placed both on the table, and Mel whistled. “Cookies? You really must have done something bad.” She snagged one and shoveled it into her mouth.
Peyton scooted her chair closer to her daughter and sat.
“Sweetheart, while you were away…something, or rather someone, happened.”
Mel’s hand froze above the plate. She swallowed a few times before pulling her hand back and joining it with the other. “Was someone hurt?” she asked, staring at the plaid pattern on the tablecloth.
“No, honey. No one was hurt.” Not physically. Peyton downed her glass of milk and placed the tumbler back on the table, her fingers wrapped tight around it. What could she say? She’d thought about how she should approach this for a week. Yet now faced with a clearly intuitive daughter, Peyton couldn’t find the words.
“Grandma says blunt is best sometimes.”
Blunt it is. “Your dad has come home to Sky Lake.”
Large brown eyes widened and filled with so much hope that Peyton choked on a sob.
“My father?”
All Peyton could do was nod.
“Does he want…” Mel fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth.
Guilt needled Peyton. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, her throat so thick she couldn’t swallow. She’d missed the clues over the years that Mel wanted or needed to talk about her dad. She’d been so caught up in protecting herself she’d hurt her daughter.
Well, that ended today.
Peyton would never miss another clue from her daughter and she’d make damn sure Ryder told Mel how much he cared for her. Even if she had to force-feed the words into his brain.
I won’t have to do that. He already loves her.
Gently, Peyton cupped Mel’s porcelain cheeks. “He’s spoke of very little but you since he returned home. In fact, if you’re ready, he’s waiting at Grandma and Pappy’s right now to see you.”
Mel lurched out of her hold and practically tumbled backward off the chair. She straightened herself and jigged from one foot to the other. “Well, let’s go. Let’s go see my dad.”
…
Ryder paced the porch. It was that or drive to the entrance of the ranch and block it waiting for Peyton and Melanie. She’d said four o’clock. It was ten past. Was she backing out? Did she take Melanie somewhere? He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. No. Peyton wouldn’t do that. She would bring their daughter here for him to meet just as she said. Only…what was Melanie thinking? Was she upset? Did she not want to meet him? Was that why they were late?
Anger wormed its way into his veins. Damn his father. Ryder blamed him for all of this. For missing ten years of his daughter’s life. For leaving him so damn insecure that his own daughter might not want to meet him. For having ten years with the girl when he didn’t. For having memories of her first Christmas, her first word, her first pony ride.
Ryder kicked the porch. Damn it, he should have been the one to teach her to ride. What the hell was left?
The crunch of gravel sent him leaping over the railing, his boots landing hard on the grass. He smoothed his hands down his jeans and adjusted his hat and walked over to the driveway just as Peyton pulled her Subaru to a stop.
He froze.
What should he do? Go to her? Let her come to him?
Peyton hopped out and smiled but uneasiness spilled from her green eyes. “Ryder.”
He glanced at her, but his gaze darted to the back door opening. Two purple cowboy boots slid to the ground as a small hand reached around the side of the door. A moment later black curls came into focus as Melanie stepped away from the door and slammed it shut. She turned and met his gaze.
If it was possible to be pierced in the heart with love, that moment was proof. He’d loved her the minute he knew of her existence but until he’d seen her living and breathing, that love had been elusive. Now it was a physical manifestation.
His throat closed up and he cleared it several times but still no words came.
Peyton took Melanie’s hand and walked toward him. “Ryder, this is your daughter. Melanie.”
He took a step toward her and froze again. She was so small, so breakable. How could he protect something so valuable?
She smiled. “You can hug me if you want.”
And the damn of insecurities broke. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms and Melanie walked right into them. His daughter. Here, hugging him. Not afraid. Not running away. Smiling and openly inviting his love. He glanced up at Peyton to see her wiping tears off her cheeks.
And in that moment he knew he would celebrate every milestone for the rest of her life no matter how small. He may have missed ten years but he had at least fifty more to go. She would know she was loved every minute of every day by him. He would make up those lost years starting right now, and she would never know how much pain and regret resided in his heart toward himself and her grandfather. Melanie would only know the good of life. The good of her father.
He released her. “I’m so happy to meet you. I’m sure your mother’s talked to you, but I want you to know if I’d known…”
“Mom says you were in Alaska.”
Ryder nodded. Straightening, he offered his hand and Melanie placed her small, pale one inside. Together they walked up on the porch and settled in two rockers. Peyton, he noticed, went inside, leaving them alone. He was both grateful and terrified. Melanie seemed okay at that moment. So well-adjusted for a kid who’d come face-to-face with a missing father. But she was a kid and a female to boot. That surely meant ever-changing emotions and moods.
Melanie curled her legs under her and the rocker tipped forward. Ryder’s hand shot out and steadied it as his daughter giggled.
“I’m fine. I won’t fall. I have a great sense of balance. At least according to Pappy.”
A knife sliced through his heart. His father shouldn’t be the one telling his daughter what she did or didn’t have. How dare he take his place. Something must have shown on his face because a small hand landed on top of his.
“What’s wrong?”
Ryder smiled. It was brittle and fake and Peyton would have called him out on it had she been there. But Melanie didn’t know him. She would. But not yet.
“I’m good. Why don’t you tell me about camp.”
Melanie began a litany of stories and observations. Her voice, the cadence and speech so similar to her mother’s that if Ryder had closed his eyes he wouldn’t have known he was speaking to a ten-year-old. Was he destined to have nothing of him a part of her? Would time help or was ten years too much to overcome?
“And I found a moose rack! It’s old and slightly eaten, but I found it, and I’m going to ask Pappy to seal it and mount it for me.”
Ryder swallowed hard. “You know. I could do that for you. I mean…that is, if you want.”
Melanie bounced in the rocker, sending it tipping again. “That would be great. I bet you saw lots of moose in Alaska. I love moose. I’ve only seen one once. It was drinking at the lake. Did you see lots?”
“Some. Not as many as you would think. We loggers make an awful lot of noise.”
“I bet you can climb a tree really high.”
Ryder nodded, basking in the sparkle in his daughter’s eyes.
“I love to climb trees. I bet that’s where I get it from. You.”
And just like that. Ryder couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. His eyes grew blurry and a tightness spread across his chest.
The screen door slammed, and Ryder and Melanie turned to see Peyton carrying two glasses. A breath eased between his lips and he was grateful for her timing. Melanie didn’t need to see how emotional her father could become over a simple statement.
“Apple cider?”
Ryder reached for the glass and smiled. Peyton’s gaze lingered on him and when he finally conceded to meet it, she arched an eyebrow. He shrugged and took a sip, grateful for both the cool liquid and the content-to-not-dig woman standing in front of him.
“Guess what, Mom? Dad’s going to do my moose antlers.”
“That’s great, sweetie. And nice of him to offer.”
Ryder’s heart exploded. Silly that three little letters could bring forth so much joy.
Dad.
“Hey, Mel. Why don’t you run in and see how much time’s left on the oven?”
Mel hopped off the rocker and shot through the front door.
“Does she do anything in slow motion?”
Peyton laughed and took the vacated rocker. “No. She’s fidgety. Like you.”
Ryder snorted. “I’m not sure there’s anything about her that’s like me.”
Peyton placed her hand over his. “Hey. A fifteen-minute conversation doesn’t erase ten years. She likes you. I mean, she’s trusting you with her moose rack. Doesn’t get any more trustworthy than that.”
Ryder reversed the position of their hands. “Thank you.” He motioned around. “For this. I know I didn’t exactly couch it in a polite invitation at the time, and I know it must not be easy for you.”
Peyton looked down at their hands. “It’s not easy for anyone. Mel’s probably the most well-adjusted of any of us.” She tugged on his hand and he looked back at her. “I ran into your father storming out of the lodge. I think it’s hard all around.”
Ryder pulled away. “Nothing is hard for Mitchum Marks.”
…
Ryder completely shut down. The hope and excitement from a few seconds before washed away at the mention of his father. Peyton had heard Shelby pleading with Mitch before he walked out and made a mental note to track her down later and find out just how deep this Ryder-Mitchum issue went and how much she knew. Right now, her focus needed to be on Melanie and making sure her daughter was doing okay.
“I’m sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t realize…” What, how deep this issue went? Subconsciously she had. No one left their home and stayed away with little contact if they didn’t feel they had a valid reason, and yet seeing the hatred in his reaction brought home how much damage existed between father and son. “I’m going to check on Mel. Are you staying?”
Ryder nodded, his gaze focused on the strand of aspen trees lining the left side of the porch.
Peyton took one last look, noting the tightness of his lips and the rigidity in his arms as he gripped the edge of the rocker. He was holding on for all its worth, and she didn’t want to see the eruption. Or have Mel witness it.
She left Ryder to his demons and went to find their daughter. She’d always thought of Mel in that respect even if Ryder hadn’t been a part of their lives. In some small way, the part that didn’t resent him for leaving her high and dry, she’d relished that she had a piece of him in this world. That Shelby and Mitch could still have a part of their son around. She’d loved him. And that love lingered on in Melanie. Whatever else happened, their daughter was created in love.
“Hey, hon, whatcha doing?”
Melanie swung around, icing on her finger. Her eyes widened, and she glanced to the arch leading to the hallway and back.
“I was icing Dad’s cookie.”
Peyton crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. “With your finger?”
“Personal touch?”
“Big fat lie?”
Melanie dropped her head and nodded.
“Wash your finger and the drop on your face off. There’s a rule about sugar and you know it.”
Melanie looked up and smiled. “Do you think Dad has the same rule?”
Peyton cut the surge of annoyance off at the pass. Clearly she and Ryder would have to chat about the rules in their daughter’s life. They weren’t there just for the sake of it. Hopefully Ryder saw things her way, and if he didn’t, well, she would deal with it when the time came. One problem and upheaval at a time. As for Melanie, Peyton hadn’t foreseen any problems with her daughter and the arrival of her missing father. But apparently her too-smart-for-her-own-good child was ready to play them against one another.
“I don’t know what your father’s take on sugar is, but in this house and your life, my rules are the ones that matter. Capiche?”
Melanie’s shoulders dropped, and she cleaned herself up. Peyton grabbed a plate from the cabinet and loaded it up with cookies, including the few Melanie had managed to ice. She arranged them in rows and was reaching for a few napkins when Melanie asked, “Do you think he likes me?”
Peyton would have laughed if the moment wasn’t so serious. Hadn’t she just had a similar conversation two minutes before? They might not recognize it yet, but both daughter and father were more similar than she wanted to admit. Over the years, she’d always forced the parts of Melanie that screamed Ryder out of the way. They brought back emotions she didn’t want to—or more specifically know how to—deal with.
“I think he loves you. No, I know he does.” She placed her hand on Melanie’s shoulder and turned her. “Sweetheart, your dad’s a wonderful person. The circumstances that kept him away had nothing to do with you.”
Melanie looked thoughtful and finally nodded. Her brown eyes, identical to the man brooding on the porch, blinked up at her and in a blatant manipulative expression asked, “Does Dad love you?”
Well, thank God she hadn’t asked it the other way around. “I’m sure your dad cares for me as the mother of his daughter. I mean, I would hope he would share a cookie or two with me.”
Melanie giggled and thankfully accepted Peyton’s answer. Together they went out on the porch. Ryder stood in the middle of the yard looking up at his parent’s house. He smiled at them and came back up to the porch, settling into the rocker next to Melanie. Peyton leaned against the railing and nibbled on a cookie.
“I iced those for you,” Melanie said, handing two to Ryder.
He accepted them with a huge smile. “Nice job. I especially like your icing to cookie ratio.”
He bit into one and groaned. “Is this Mom’s gingersnap recipe?”
Peyton nodded.
“And she shared it with you?”
Peyton wasn’t surprised at Ryder’s question. Shelby Marks held her recipes so close to her heart that even Mitchum wasn’t allowed access. But the gingersnaps had been Ryder’s favorite, and Shelby had come to her one day and presented a small index card to her, claiming Melanie wanted her mom to bake some for her. Peyton had always wondered if it was a way for Shelby to link her granddaughter and son through her baking.
The three of them sat comfortably, chewing and smacking lips. No lingering concerns over Ryder and Melanie and how they might progress going forward. It was a relief to Peyton in many ways and also a source of stress. What if Ryder didn’t hang around? What did he expect of Melanie and of her? Was he a welcomed addition to their blessed life or would he tilt it upside down, only to leave her once again to pick up the pieces?
Tucking a piece of hair behind her ears, she figured the only way to get answers was to ask the questions. Ryder may not have shared his problems or concerns with her ten years ago, but he would this time. Because while she knew she could pick up the pieces again, she would be damned if she put her daughter through the same trouble.