Chapter Fifteen
I can’t recover from this. Kami faced the ravaged pasture, tears burning the back of her eyes. She couldn’t cry, not in front of her mother.
Mom had withstood Dad’s outbursts and crazy decisions, she’d weathered his death, all with a stoic expression and a straight spine. Mom didn’t put up with weakness. Kami hated to show any around her.
“The earth will bounce back. It’s what it does,” Mom said.
But would she? It’d been two days, and the fire department had given them the all clear. No more smoke curled from the ground, and it’d all been drenched so thoroughly an ember would have to possess supernatural powers to grow into a fire.
The old wood fence posts were nothing but nubs. The firemen had busted through one huge section of fencing and the rest hadn’t tolerated the heat.
So much for ranching sheep. The funds she’d use to start her ranch would now be diverted to rebuilding fucking fence, down to each and every post. She had two other pastures she could use, but they both bordered this one and shared the string of fence line.
How long would it take to replace—by herself? She’d have Kambria’s help some days, and yes, the girl would have to learn how to work on the ranch, but she was still a kid. She could hold wire, fetch tools, and the rest of the time she’d be in her philosophical wonder world of cartwheels, front rolls, and kittens.
And that’d be the extent of her activity. Because replacing all the fencing and purchasing the tools would eat into her allotted funds. So to buy even twenty head of sheep would be a financial burden. Kambria’s extracurricular activity would be work and more work, like Kami’s. And not even work she was thrilled about.
As she gazed at the destruction, waiting for the surge of “let’s do this,” the moment when ambition flooded her and she rolled up her sleeves and waded in. It didn’t arrive. Why?
Because ranching wasn’t in her blood as much as she thought it should be. Just like she wasn’t as important to a certain farmer and rancher nearby.
She ground her teeth together. Travis had spotted the fire first, called the fire department and then Mom. He hadn’t called her. Was he afraid of how she would’ve reacted? Or just had gotten what he needed from her?
Her emotions in that regard didn’t matter. Because as she looked at the devastation, she knew it’d only be a minor setback for his family. Cash had monitored his cattle and kept them safe. It she’d had any livestock, she’d have been at work and they’d have either succumbed to the fire and smoke, or busted through the gate and gotten miles away before she even untied her apron.
The Walkers would have this fence fixed in a few weeks at the most. Just like they’d hauled the cars out in a few days. They could even have planted a crop in the empty fields.
A hot tear rolled down her cheek.
What had she been thinking? If you can’t do it right, kid, why do it at all?
Yes, Dad. Why do it at all when she didn’t really want to? Kambria would be coming home soon, and what if Ben’s parents started in on how her daughter was alone too much? What if they—
Kami closed her eyes. She’d never voiced this fear, but it’d always been there, festering. What if they started lobbying for how good the schools were in Normandy? How they could take her to school and pick her up, even afford gymnastics on top of it.
She seethed with anger just anticipating it.
She was not going to give up on Kambria.
But in order to keep the most important thing in her life, she couldn’t be selfish. At the same time, she couldn’t let fear stop her. She’d abandoned her plans so easily when another option had come by, a “safer” choice.
That choice went up in flames. It was time to face her future.
Trudging back to her old pickup, she stared at her booted feet. Her last weekend alone where she could wallow in all the self-pity she wanted before Kambria came back. Then they could plan school shopping and… Kami gulped. Look for a small house to buy with Ben’s life insurance.
She slid inside the pickup and started it. Yep. No matter what, that money was going to the betterment of Kambria’s life. That was what Ben had intended.
Driving slowly back home, she let her decisions sink in. They gutted her, but they were right. Maybe if she would’ve tried last summer, but the life’s lessons pressed upon her this summer destroyed her. She had to think with a mother’s mind, not a wishful little girl.
Because what if she couldn’t parent right?
***
Her mom gaped at her.
Kami twisted her hands together. They stood at the base of the porch. Mom was just heading into town, probably for Doc’s place, as was her usual routine on the weekends.
Kami took a deep breath and plowed forward with her explanation. “I don’t think the Walkers will play hardball because of the fire. If they want to drop the price of the property, I’ll make up the difference, I promise.”
Mom narrowed her eyes on her. “If those boys try to do that, they can take my offer and bury it under the manure pile.”
“But you need to sell.”
“I don’t need to do a damn thing.”
Kami’s brows lifted. Mom’s tone was both adamant and defensive. “Don’t you want to sell?”
“Yes. I’m sick of toiling through winter only to drive past well-maintained Walker land and massive fields on my way to this dump. It used to be nice. Back when I had the stamina to care for it and before—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“Before what?” Don’t quit on me. They didn’t share much, and it was like her mom was dangerously close to confiding in her.
Mom glanced away and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Before your father trashed it.”
“Why’d you let him?” Why? Why had Dad had so much power over Mom when no one else got to her?
“Because this place was mine before he was around, and it was mine after. I wasn’t going to lose one bit of it in a divorce, because you and I both know he would’ve fought over it just to fight.”
Totally. Her parents not getting along wasn’t news, but that Mom had so much bitterness over it was. “Then why’d you marry him?”
“Why’d you marry Ben?”
Kami stared at her. Mom hadn’t uttered a single argument against Ben. “I know you think it was because I was pregnant—”
“No,” Mom interrupted. “I think being pregnant made you consider the idea, and I think you wanted to prove me wrong. Ultimately, I think you were too scared to do anything else. Lord knows your father never did a thing to build up your confidence.”
Ditto, Mother. “I could’ve handled raising Kambria alone, though Ben would’ve never let me do it by myself.” He probably would’ve moved to Moore to be close to his kid.
“Could you really? You’re thinking like a woman who’s been raising a kid on her own for two years now.” Mom floated down to perch on the first step. “Not many people knew I was pregnant when I got married.”
“Wait—you were?” She knew she was born less than a year later. Had they lied about the date?
“Not with you. I miscarried shortly after we tied the knot.” She let out a gusty sigh. “But it was already done. We charged forward, and you came along. By then, Earl had his ideas for what he was going to do, and he did it no matter what I said. I should’ve listened to everyone.”
She hated to ask. Speaking ill of Dad smacked too much of betrayal. “What were they saying?”
Mom snorted, her mouth curling in a wry grin. “That a man as old as he was still living with his parents wasn’t going to make a good husband. I ignored them. He helped his parents a great deal. But they were the ones that taught him not to bother with anything if it wasn’t done perfectly.”
“He was a perfectionist,” she agreed.
“He was the sloppiest perfectionist I’ve ever seen.” She paused a heartbeat, a crease forming between her brows. “That’s why I didn’t tell you right away that I was selling.”
“Because no one could live up to Dad’s expectations?”
“No. Because I didn’t want to see you stuck out here, losing hope because it’s not going the way you envisioned, then have you appear in front of a Justice of the Peace to marry Austin, or someone you didn’t really love, who didn’t really respect you. I didn’t want that for you, and I certainly don’t want the tradition to continue with Kambria.”
“Mom!” Outrage sifted through her but faded fast. What would she have done those times without Travis’s help? If she’d been left on her own, with no money, improper equipment, and unsafe living conditions, a proposal from Austin might’ve equaled the perfect solution.
“I’ve been there, Kami. It has nothing to do with being a woman, but everything to do with having a support system, and that’s something you and I lack. I couldn’t do much for you, but when you came out here asking about me selling, I thought, well, maybe it was all I could do for you. Kambria loves it out here. She would’ve been the fourth generation. Breaks my heart to think she won’t get to play with cats, have horses, or run and jump fences. But none of that helps her grow into a confident young woman who won’t hand her future to another out of fear and desperation.”
“I loved Ben.” Everything Mom said rung true, but she had to get that point across. Ben might’ve seemed like a last-ditch effort, and maybe he was, but he wasn’t a mistake.
“So did I. He was a good kid.” Mom’s voice shook. “When I saw how he treated you, I couldn’t not love him. I still worried about you. You seemed frustrated, unsatisfied.”
“It was normal couple issues. He made me happy. His family didn’t.”
Mom rose in one swift move, only wincing a little as her knees fully straightened. “Don’t you let them trot all over you. Don’t you let them push you around. They aren’t your Earl.” Kami was caught between shock at her mom’s defense and the complete venom over Dad. Mom must’ve noticed. “He was a bad husband, but he wasn’t a terrible father. Don’t let my opinion of him taint your good memories. But do know, he didn’t help you with his constant capitulation.”
“You’re okay with me giving up?” Kami asked quietly.
“It’s for the right reasons. You wouldn’t be taking away from Kambria all the things you want to give her by coming out here.” Mom laid a hand on each shoulder. Kami froze. This was almost affection, and it was more than Mom had ever shown. “Don’t you dare let anyone tell you that you aren’t a good mom. I know these last six weeks were hard for you without her. Yes, it was a great opportunity, but so’s the summer with her own damn mom. Don’t let them push you. Period.”
Kami should’ve burst into tears at her mother’s declaration, but a fierceness as swift as the prairie fire raced through her. She was good enough for her own daughter. Which meant she was good enough for herself. And she wouldn’t tolerate anyone thinking she was less than, either. Even if she was single her entire life.