The Rancher's Secret Son. Betsy Amant St.
spa days at Emma’s expense. She didn’t mind pampering her mother—her father never did growing up, and her mom definitely deserved it.
Mom just never understood why Emma kept her secrets to herself.
“Will you still be in town for Thanksgiving?” Her mother’s tone was even, controlled, so much so that Emma couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the words. Did she want them to stay? Was that hope hidden? Or resignation of the inevitable inconvenience?
“I guess it depends on the program and Cody’s graduation.” She rolled in her lip. Thanksgiving. Seemed aeons away, though it was only about a month. “If Cody graduates then we should be able to join you. Or you could follow us to Dallas and we could get together there.” If he didn’t graduate...then Cody would go to juvie? Would the judge give him another chance? Would Cody stay out of trouble long enough to make it through the holidays?
She’d heard the tone of voice the judge had used when he’d pulled her aside privately after the hearing. “I know this is hard on you,” he’d said. “Especially as a counselor. So I’m playing this straight with you—Camp Hope is Cody’s last chance before serious repercussions. He’s on a bad road, Ms. Shaver, and the people he’s keeping company with are on a worse one.”
Like she didn’t already know.
But hearing it from an official’s mouth, from someone who had the authority to put her son in some form of teen confinement, made the slap of reality sting all the more.
Cody had to get through this program.
Emma set her teacup on the coffee table, emotion clogging her throat, and stood as her mother wisely remained silent. Adrenaline raced against exhaustion in a never-ending marathon. This was so messed up. She should be planning what to get her son for Christmas, not wondering if he’d even be home on December 25.
She moved to the lace-covered front window, admiring the sunset and soaking in the peace it offered as she ran her fingers over the worn edges of the curtains. They hadn’t changed, either. But then again, her mom didn’t have any more money now than she did when Daddy was alive.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the musty, familiar smell of the house of her childhood. She hadn’t been home since the funeral a few years ago. Even then, she’d kept to herself, rigid in the corner with a sandwich tray, feigning a smile and hoping Broken Bend didn’t stain her any further than it already had. She’d left after convincing her mom to come stay with them in Dallas. She had—and after two weeks’ worth of facials, manicures and new outfits, her mother went home.
While Emma went back to doing what she did best—fixing everyone else’s kids.
“We need dessert.” The chair squeaked as her mom stood. “You want a cookie? Homemade oatmeal raisin.”
She’d barely touched her dinner at the ranch, but comfort food sounded good. She accepted the plate her mother brought back from the kitchen and plucked a cookie from the top. Crumbly, just the way she liked them. She settled back on the couch, catching the crumbs with her hand. “You always made the best cookies, Mom.”
She smiled at the compliment. “You look like you need about ten more of them. I thought Dallas had all the best restaurants.”
“It does. We love eating out in the city. It’s just...” Just what? She was too stressed lately to eat? Too consumed with Cody’s issues to take care of herself? She wasn’t avoiding food. It just seemed so irrelevant compared to the bigger things going on in their life.
She intentionally took another cookie. “The campers and parents all ate together at Camp Hope earlier. I was really impressed with the way Max handled himself.” Shocked, too, but that detail wasn’t worth mentioning.
Her mother bit into her cookie, dusting crumbs from her pants onto the floor. “It wasn’t awkward, then?”
A raisin stuck in her throat, and Emma coughed, half choking as the raisin made a painful descent. “No—no, why would it be?” Did she know? After all this time, all the planning, all the carefully laid out details, her mother knew?
“Didn’t you hang out with him in high school a few times? When you were friends with what’s-her-name...Laura. That Laura girl, with the hair that came all the way to her bottom end.” Her mom gestured with her cookie.
Laura. The friend she used as an excuse when she decided to go out with Max. Emma winced. Laura existed, but the friendship wasn’t nearly what she’d implied back then. She couldn’t lie now—but she couldn’t totally evade the question, either, or her mom would grow even more curious.
She sipped her tea until her throat stopped burning from the coughing fit, then set the cup casually back on the table. “Yeah, I know Max. But it wasn’t awkward.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cut it.
Her mom tilted her head. “I wonder what happened to Laura. She seemed like a good kid. Maybe a little misguided, though.”
Good grief. Emma’s parents had been more sheltered than she thought. She knew she’d covered her tracks during her rebellious streak after senior year, but she hadn’t known she’d been that good. Laura was never without a cigarette in hand, even in the Broken Bend Church of Grace parking lot, and the stories of Laura’s weekend activities filled the chairs at the hair salon more than once. But that’s what happened when your father was a deacon and your mother taught Sunday school—not a lot of privacy, and a whole heap of judgment. Emma never knew for sure how she managed to get away with such a friend, but when compared to Max, Laura was a downright goody-goody.
“I think she moved away.” Like they all had, with their heads lowered in shame. Except for Max. Of all of them that hung out together that fateful summer, Max had been the one to stay and shape up his life. Talk about ironic.
She shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She couldn’t let the same thing happen to Cody, couldn’t let a season of bad choices ruin his life—or at least alter it forever. She couldn’t honestly say her own scarlet letter had ruined her life, but it’d definitely changed it. And left a permanent mark.
Cody deserved better. He had to take control now, before things spiraled out of everyone’s control. The judge was giving him a second chance at the right path, and if he didn’t take it, they’d all be roaming in the wilderness.
She couldn’t do that again—even if she deserved it.
Her mom sighed and ran her finger over the handle of her teacup. “I’ll never understand why you all wanted to get out of Broken Bend so badly. There’s something to be said for home, you know.”
Emma smiled and nodded, ignoring the tassel once again poking her in the back. Yes, there was.
But there was a lot more to be said for leaving.
* * *
Max hadn’t felt the urge to leave in a long time. But watching Nicole double over with her second contraction in the past two minutes made him want to turn his back on Broken Bend and bolt for the hills.
She turned wary eyes on him, as if somehow this whole situation were his fault, and braced both hands against her back. The morning sun shining behind her through the open barn doors served as a spotlight for her distorted silhouette. “Don’t even say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Max didn’t know much about expectant women, but he knew enough to be quiet. About, well, everything—especially the particularly bad timing of this event. He was supposed to have a month—four weeks. An entire camp. This changed everything.
What was he going to do?
But it changed a lot more for Nicole, so he wouldn’t dare address it. He took two steps backward, out of the barn. So much for their morning trail ride. “I’ll get Luke.”
“I’m here.” Luke rushed up behind him, boots clomping on the dirt-packed floor, sending several horses jerking their heads in aggravation at the interruption. “I was just getting the horses saddled outside