Chapter 16
“Knock knock, anybody home?” Manny’s familiar voice yelled over a rock song as he entered the kitchen from the backyard. “Oh.” He stepped back when he saw them.
Amy ran to turn down the music.
“Uh, the trees are here,” he said awkwardly. “I can come back later.”
“It’s okay. Amy give Manny a cup of coffee. I’ll grab a shirt out of the dryer.”
“Sit down. I’m excited the plants have arrived.” She smiled at Wyatt’s friend, but her voice was ragged and her breathing hadn’t returned to normal yet.
Manny rubbed his chin as if wondering what he should do. He hesitated, then closed the door and sat at the kitchen table.
She ignored the fact her breathing didn’t want to slow down. “You take it black—right?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at the table and then took a quick gulp from the mug she brought him. “Hey, Amy, I spotted a grove of black walnut trees growing out past the corral. They must be over a hundred years old, judging by their size. They’re beauties.”
It was obvious he wanted neutral ground for a conversation.
“I’ve seen the ones you mean,” she said glad to move from the embarrassing situation. She joined him at the table “I never thought much about the grove. I was more interested in the Christmas trees. Why?”
“They’re worth a lot of money and are sought after for furniture. Don’t know if you want to sell, but if you ever do, it could bring a fair bit of cash.”
“Wow. I never thought—hope I never have to, but...thanks, Manny. It’s good to know.”
“Ready to go?” Wyatt entered the room, a navy t-shirt tucked into his jeans and his hair combed. “Let’s get those apple trees planted.”
He and Manny disappeared out the back door. Amy slumped in a kitchen chair. Her face must be red; she touched her burning cheeks.
***
The next day Bobby shouted from the top of the landing, “You’re on TV tonight, Mommy.” He jogged down the stairs into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. “Can we have popcorn?”
“It’s not a movie, honey. I’ll be over in a couple of minutes. I’m only in one part of the magazine show.”
He crossed his arms and slumped in his seat, his lips forming a pout.
“Okay. But don’t be disappointed when it’s over quickly.”
“I won’t. I like popcorn even if the TV is off.”
She laughed. “All right. I’ll get the air popper. Why don’t you choose a book to read until it’s time for the program?”
“I told everybody at school about you. They’re going to watch too,” he yelled.
“That’s nice.”
Carrying a large bowl, she set the snack on the coffee table.
“Yay.” Bobby clapped his hands when he saw it.
“Hey, am I on time for the show?”
“Wyatt, you’re back.”
“I wouldn’t miss seeing you.” He hugged her and then turned on the flat screen just in time for the opening credits of the magazine show.
About half way through the TV program, they watched in silence, except for the crunch of her son eating popcorn, as she guided the camera crew through the different parts of the farm, explaining each area as she went and answering questions about organic farming.
“Are you going to be on next week?” Bobby asked after it was over.
“No, only once.”
“Oh. You did good, Mommy.”
“Yeah, a great job and pretty too.” Wyatt kissed her on the lips and she tasted the buttered popcorn.
“I was so nervous,” she said with a giggle. “Thank goodness they didn’t show the part where I almost tripped walking backwards when I was showing them the orchard.” She laughed.
“Well, you looked like a real professional.”
“Wyatt, you tell a beautiful fib.”
“I mean it. Warm, friendly with the right touch of country. What’s the old saying?” He paused. “The camera loves you.”
“With ease, you walked the property, while answering the reporter’s questions. Talking about how you went from a bank teller in San Francisco to owning an organic apple farm in the California foothills.”
“I like the part where you said you grow good apples with no poison in them.” Bobby added.
“Thanks, honey.”
“Letting them see the kitchen and the old-fashioned stove was a nice touch.”
“Well, it’s the one I use.”
“Hey, don’t be surprised if the producer wants you to do the show again. You’ve got talent.”
“Well, I sure didn’t think so—but when I look back on the day, it was kind of fun.”
“Let’s play match the farm animals,” Bobby said.
She glanced at Wyatt and he winked. “Okay, the game is in the den,” she said.
Bobby ran out of the room.
“I can’t believe I’m looking forward to spending the evening playing a kid’s board game with a five year old. Last year at this time I was out on the town with my buddies, drinking and... He grabbed a fist full of popcorn and grinned, then leaned back on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and took a deep breath. “This is the life.” He hesitated. “You know what I’d love?”
“No. What?”
“A piece of your delicious apple pie.”
“Good idea.” She leaned closer. “Bring me a piece too.”
He chuckled. “You got it.”
***
It had been over a week since the trees were planted with the help of Wyatt, Johnny, Manny and his crew. With satisfaction, Amy surveyed the land.
Wyatt rode on the circuit again, but this time she didn’t mind because every day at the rodeo brought him closer to a time when he’d have money enough stay home and work in the mill, assuming he was given permits to reopen the place.
How about some rain? She sighed. The re-shingling of the roof was off the “to do” list, but with only a sprinkle of moisture they hadn’t needed it yet. Eighty-five degrees at this time of year was crazy.
She kicked a dirt clod with the toe of her work boot. How could these new trees survive without rain in the foreseeable future? The creek supplying water to the farm was a dry bed rather than a flowing spring.
She’d wanted to be a farmer. Today she understood exactly what that meant. People had warned her. Wyatt talked of the many problems a grower had to deal with, including pests and weather. She didn’t listen. Now her dream of walking the green fertile orchards, hanging heavy with ripening fruit, was fading.
She snapped a leaf from a mature tree and noted the edges had started to curl. She groaned. If this continued, she’d have to buy water, no matter the cost. Thankfully Manny had put in the irrigation for the new orchard.
She picked up a chunk of dry earth and crushed it in her hand and let the dust fall to the ground as if somehow as it was an act of defiance against the situation. She brushed the dirt from her hands and headed back to the farmhouse, nothing she could do except pray for rain and hope God didn’t think she was fickle after earlier asking the rain to stop.
Thank goodness Wyatt would soon be home.
***
A day later, Amy slammed the front door of the farmhouse and leaned against it. “I’m not going back to your father’s house again” Amy paused. “I took him to the doctor’s office today, but he’ll have to get someone else to help him from now on.” A look of hurt spread across her face as a tear hovered, waiting to fall.
Wyatt sprang to his feet. “What happened? Did he touch you?” Images of his mother after his dad slapped her, when she pulled on his arm and begged him not to leave her, flashed in his memory.
“No.” Amy sniffed. “I can’t—can’t seem to do anything right.” She wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “He’s so angry, yelling at me, swearing.” As though she was controlling her emotions, she hesitated. “I know he’s in pain with his knee and all—but he had no reason to say the things he did.”
“Honey, this is my fault. Dad’s a jerk. I understood that. I shouldn’t have asked you to go there.” He caressed her cheek. “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry to be so emotional. I’ve just never been around such unbridled anger before. I don’t think the tirade was really directed at me. He’s struggling because of his injury and for lots of other problems in his life—I think.” She took a deep breath and he felt a gentle breeze when she exhaled her warm breath. “My bad luck to be there when he lost it.”
Wyatt relaxed, but held her in his arms. “You won’t go back. Ever. The man’s old enough to know how to control his fury. He had an opportunity to be a decent person with you. His last chance.”
He stroked her hair and promised no one would ever harm her again, not as long as he was alive.
A truck’s engine rumbled in the driveway. His father’s red GMC truck pulled near the house and parked.
Before he could stop her, Amy ran out of the door, no doubt to tell his father he wasn’t wanted on the property.
“Hi, mister. Do you like my boots?” Bobby had run out to the driveway too. “They’re new. See?” He pulled up the bottom of his pant leg. “I know who you are. I’m going to get a pet. Want me to tell you what kind?” He continued without allowing the man to answer. “Not a horse. Daddy lets me use his.”
Mr. Cameron tensed at the name “Daddy.” But as far as Wyatt could tell, Bobby didn’t notice.
“It’s a dog.” Bobby grinned. “Next Thursday is Grandfather’s day at school. I don’t have a grandpa.” Amy’s son reached for and held the man’s hand. “You could be my grandpa. You’re my Daddy’s father.”
Stunned, Wyatt watched. He couldn’t be more surprised than his father, if facial his expression gave an indication of the man’s feelings.
“Go into the house, Bobby. Mr. Cameron and I have to talk,” Amy demanded.
Bobby looked at his mom and then ran into the house.
“I didn’t expect to see you on my farm? You’re not supposed to drive. What are you doing here?”
“My son lives here,” he said and scowled.
Wyatt watched from the back doorway of the house as the glare from his dad’s expression turned cold.
Alone in the driveway, Amy took a step backward.
“Unless Wyatt’s come to his senses and moved, these are his living quarters.” He coughed then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve tried to talk some sense into the boy, but he doesn’t listen.” He hesitated. “Maybe you will.”
Amy faced him, her head high as a severe expression hardened her appealing features. Her red hair flashed in the late afternoon sun and her eyes narrowed. She didn’t speak.
Wyatt took a breath, realizing he’d been holding it. Petit, even delicate, today she appeared frail next to his father. Regardless of an injured knee, he dwarfed her, out weighting her by at least seventy-five pounds. Wyatt was tempted to rush to stand guard, but waited as she remained firm against his father’s intimidation. She barred the entrance to her home.
The man could crush her with his bare hands. By Dad’s stance, he recognized the possibility. Of course, Wyatt wouldn’t let that happen. Nonetheless, he sensed Amy and his dad had to play this through without his interference if there was to be any chance of an understanding between them. Nevertheless, his tension grew with every second that passed.
“What did you want to say?” Amy challenged Mr. Cameron.
“You know I don’t want this coming marriage.”
She gave a slight nod and her lips tightened.
“You won’t change your mind and leave him?”
“Never.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t get a penny of my son’s money.” He moved closer.
A look of fear flashed in Amy’s expression, but it disappeared so rapidly Wyatt believed Dad hadn’t noticed.
“No matter what you think, I love your son. I wouldn’t care if he was an unemployed, broken down cowpoke. I’d still love him.”
Mr. Cameron wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something rotten.
“You don’t want this union, but I will welcome you in my home because you’re Wyatt’s father—but only if you do as I say.” She stared at him.
“Well?” he asked.
She nudged a stone in the graveled driveway with her foot, then said, “In a short while Wyatt and I will be a family in front of God and everyone.”
He grunted.
“Mr., you will respect our vows and treat my son with the same regard you do us. If you come to my house you will wipe your boots and remove your hat before entering the home. When Bobby talks to you, listen and answer him politely.”
Dad stood ready to pounce.
“Did you hear me? Do we have a deal?”
As if the unexpected heat of the day had burned him, Mr. Cameron’s face reddened. “You make me uncomfortable.” He rubbed his cheek as if it itched. “You’ve been okay to me.” He paused. “I’m not used to kindness.” He didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the front tire of his truck. “After all you did, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Had no cause… So, uh—I’m—you know what I want to say.”
“You’re apologizing.”
“That’s about it. Yeah.”
“And we have,” Amy asked, “a deal?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I believe we do.” He swept off his Stetson and bowed slightly. The corners of his mouth twitched turning up into what some might suggest was a smile. He took the petite hand she offered and shook it carefully in his huge one before releasing it.
Something changed in his father’s demeanor, resolve, acceptance, or respect? Wyatt couldn’t say for sure, but he stepped back from the doorway and let out a sigh of relief. It was going to be all right. A family was forming and if Amy could forgive his dad, he guessed he could try. He glanced back at the pair.
She turned her back, and shouted over her shoulder as she walked toward the house. “Come on Grandpa, let’s get some supper.”
Wyatt saw a tear run down her cheek as she faced him. For the first time, he understood her level of anxiety. However, his dad would never comprehend it.
Before Mr. Cameron entered the door, he took special care to stomp his boots several times on the outside doormat. With his hat in hand he entered. Bobby ran to him and grabbed his arm. “If you’re eating with us, I can show you where to wash up, Grandpa.”
“You’re in luck, Dad. Amy’s an amazing cook.” Wyatt patted his father on the back. The first sign of affection he’d shown the man in many years. “You and Bobby go on. I’ll be in the backyard preparing the barbeque.”
When the two left Wyatt said, “Thanks, Amy. Are you really okay with him being here?”
“As long as he behaves.”
“I love you, Amy. Words can’t tell you how much you mean to me,” he whispered in her ear not wanting to share this moment with anyone else. He kissed her parting lips. His body heated, his heart raced. He swallowed and stepped away. “I’d better tend the fire. I don’t want to disappoint Bobby and Grandpa.” He grinned. “By the way, I mean the grill, not the one you started in me.”
***
After dinner, Amy went upstairs to put Bobby to bed. Wyatt stoked the embers in the fireplace and added a log. His father grunted as he lowered himself into an overstuffed chair, sighing when he sank into the soft cushions.
“Don’t ever touch Amy.”
A startled expression spread across Dad’s winkled face. “Never would.”
“I remember Mom.”
“I’m sorry kid—son—Wyatt. Uh, I was young back then.” He stopped. “You won’t believe me, but it only happened once.”
Wyatt glared.
His father refused to look at him. “I felt trapped. I slapped her cause she wouldn’t let me go. I’ve never touched a woman since, no way.” He rubbed his knee and grimaced.
“I want to believe, but remember Amy and Bobby are depending on me. I won’t let them down,” he said pointedly.
“I failed. I understand—now. I didn’t back in the day.” Dad stared at the floor. “I can’t fix what I did years ago, never be able to make up for leaving you. Maybe I should go.”
“Yeah, it’d be just like to run out.”
“Hell, Wyatt, I’m not good at this sharing feelings bullshit. If I’d talked about this kind of stuff with my dad, he’d have beaten the crap out of me.”
Silence.
Wyatt resisted the urge to pace.
“How was I supposed to be a decent parent?” The man fiddled with a pillow in the chair and straightened his leg out in front of him. “My old man sure as blazes wasn’t a good role model. Not making excuses, but I did what he showed me. He ran out on his family too.”
“You understood enough to know a guy’s place is at home with his family. You could have stayed.” Wyatt’s scowl challenged his dad to dispute that fact.
Rather than contradict the statement, the old guy’s expression turned grim. For the first time, Wyatt saw an elderly man in the room. Shoulders hunched and gray head bowed, Dad withheld comment.
A huge man, he’d been a giant in Wyatt’s estimation. As a boy, he’d believed he was inferior. It had to be why his father had left him and taken Wes when he walked out. His brother was the “good” son, worthy of attention.
He’d carried the burden with him into adulthood, seizing too many unnecessary chances and daring fate to take him out. He’d ridden dangerous horses, doing stunts no one else attempted. All in the hope he’d be appreciated by a man who wasn’t paying him any mind.
He glanced at his father. The man appeared to have dozed off in front to the fire.
Let him sleep.
Wyatt had seen the hungry look, a begging for attention, in Bobby’s expression. The boy’s eyes searched for validation. Letting Bobby call him Daddy was a responsibility that hung heavy on his shoulders. Yet, a sense of pride when the little boy succeeded, even in the smallest things, filled him with satisfaction because he understood what it meant to grow up without a male example. As Bobby’s role model, he had a chance share his understanding of life and it provided a reason for Wyatt to be a better person.
A strange emotion of warmth had spread through Wyatt the first time he went riding with the kid. He’d held on to the frail boy who was scared, but excited. Being needed was new experience. Suddenly, he believed he had something to offer—confidence. At the time the knowledge shook him, and it sent a wave of confusion in him. An incredible desire to help the kid had stunned him. Up until that point in his life, he’d thought of children as rug rats, just as his father had called him.
Bobby might not be an individual capable of changing the world, but being a decent human being was powerful and not easy in today’s environment. The harder the kid fought to grow and mature, the more Wyatt was determined to assist him.
“You going to stand there all night and not saying anything?” His dad coughed. “Do you have to beat me up with the past forever?”
Though ornery, his father was proud man. It must have taken all his guts to apologize to Amy and admit he wanted to reconnect with the “kid” he’d abandoned.
“No, Dad, I’m not going to punish you.”
His father’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he leaned back in the chair.
“We’re going to start fresh.” He took a slow breath. “Don’t disappoint me and my new family or…” His throat tightened. “Bobby asked me to mention Grandfather’s day again. Next Thursday, if you can’t make he’ll be okay. I…”
Amy entered the room and stopped as if she recognized she was interrupting.
“Is it all right? Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said.
“I’ll be there. Tell Bobby,” Mr. Cameron responded.
“Great.” Amy smiled. “How about some pie and coffee?”
“I got to go soon, but a piece of pie first sounds real nice.”
Would his old man show up? For Amy and Bobby’s sake Wyatt hoped for once the man’s word was good. Still, he wouldn’t put much stock in it.