A Bride, A Barn, And A Baby. Nancy Thompson Robards
all his screwups, he must’ve done something right to have someone as good and pure as Lucy in his life.
“You doing all right?” She’d caught him watching her. He could see that her eyes were slightly misty from laughing.
“Fine,” he said, even though he was feeling a weird kind of off-kilter right now.
He took a fortifying sip of his bourbon. The ice had melted and watered it down.
“Do you like the movie?” she asked.
“Not really.” He smiled to make it clear that he was yanking her chain.
She shifted so that she was facing him, her tanned legs tucked underneath her. “We can switch to another one if you want.”
He waved her off. “You’re enjoying it enough for both of us. So no worries.”
He took another sip and she mirrored him, picking up her glass and raising it to her lips. She closed her eyes as she drank. He had the ridiculous urge to reach out and run a thumb over her cheek to see if her skin was as smooth and soft as it looked. He didn’t know because he’d never touched her like that.
This is Lucy, man. Be cool.
The world really was upside down if he was suddenly wanting to touch Lucy Campbell in ways that were decidedly unbrotherly, but he had to be honest with himself—that was exactly what he wanted to do. Even if he hadn’t realized it until now. Since she’d been back in Celebration, it had never been so clear to him that Lucy was a grown woman who was decidedly not his sister.
He picked up the bottle and refilled his glass. As he started to set it down, he realized Lucy was holding out hers even though most of the original pour was still in it.
“Are you going to be okay to drive home later?” he asked as he filled her glass.
She shrugged. “We have a lot of movies to watch. And if I’m not, I can just spend the night here.” She patted the sofa.
“Or I can call you a cab,” he added quickly, as much to chase away the thought of her spending the night. “People might talk if they see your car parked here overnight.”
She laughed. “Let them talk. I didn’t realize you were so worried about your reputation.”
She held his gaze as she reached over to set her glass on the table and missed the surface by a fraction of an inch. Bourbon sloshed over the edge and the ting of crystal hitting the wooden edge of the coffee table sounded just before the glass fell. She caught it a split second before it hit the carpet. Good reflexes. She must not be that drunk.
In an instant she was sitting up straight, both feet on the ground, simultaneously blotting the spilled liquor with the white paper napkins that came with the takeout and examining the glass for signs of damage.
“Oh, my God. Zane, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a klutz.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His hand touched hers as he commandeered the napkins—not so much because he was worried that there might be a stain, but because he didn’t want her to feel bad. “It won’t hurt the carpet. The bourbon will probably be an improvement.”
He laughed.
“No.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “This is your mom’s good crystal. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d broken it.”
He stopped blotting. “It’s just a glass. It’s nothing special.”
“Of course it’s special. It’s beautiful. And it was hers.”
He shook his head. “I gave her the set for Christmas a few years ago, but she never even used them. I just took them out of their original box when I was in the kitchen.”
Lucy blinked. “But they’re so pretty. I can’t believe she didn’t love them.”
“She did. Or at least she said she did. But she never used them because she said she was afraid something would happen to them.”
“Yeah, someone like me would break them.”
Zane waved her off. “Said she was saving them for a special occasion. Or, I don’t know, something ridiculous like that. She was never particularly comfortable with nice things. God knew her louse of an ex-husband didn’t even help with child support, much less spoil her with personal gifts.”
Yeah, that was the poor excuse of a man Zane and his brother, Ian, were loath to call father. He preferred to not even think about the jackass who maintained that Dorothy had gotten pregnant with Zane on purpose. That she’d trapped him. He was so busy carrying around the chip on his shoulder, he seemed to think he was exempt from supporting his family. Never mind he’d gotten her pregnant again after they’d been married for a couple of years. It was always her fault.
After he’d divorced Dorothy, he’d married again and had kids. Zane didn’t know his half brothers. There were three of them and they weren’t too much younger than him and Ian. He could do the math. He knew what that meant—that while his father was away, he was probably with his other family.
The real kicker was that Nathaniel Phillips had had the audacity to show up at Dorothy’s funeral. After the service, Zane had confronted him, asking him what kind of business he thought he had showing his face. Ian and Ethan Campbell had flanked him like two wingmen. Ethan had herded Zane away, while Ian had asked Nathaniel to leave. And he did. He’d slithered away just as silently as he’d appeared.
Zane sipped his bourbon, needing to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth.
“My mom scrimped and saved and worked her ass off. Thanks to her, we never went hungry. We were always clean and clothed and we always had a roof over our heads. Our clothes were always from the thrift shop and the meals she cooked were nourishing, but never anything fancy. Although, if the Redbird Diner had pie left over at the end of her shift, she’d bring it home to us. I didn’t even realize how poor we were until I was a lot older.”
When Dorothy discovered she was pregnant and she and Nathaniel had gotten married, they’d moved in with her parents at the family’s ranch on Old Wickham Road. A couple of years later, she’d inherited the land after her folks passed. When Nathaniel divorced her, they’d sold the ranch. Nathaniel got half.
His mom had lost her family home—his and Ian’s legacy—and after paying attorneys’ fees and relocating her sons, she had to struggle to make ends meet.
Nathaniel never paid a lick of child support. Dorothy had always claimed it would cost more to take him back to court than she’d get. But Zane suspected the real reason was that she didn’t want to deal with the hurt of having to acknowledge that her husband had chosen his new family over them.
Out of sight, out of mind. Or at least she could pretend it was that way.
Zane’s earliest and happiest memories were of working the Old Wickham Road Ranch alongside his granddad. Someday, he’d love to buy back the ranch. It wasn’t for sale right now, and even if it was, he didn’t have the money, since he’d used almost every penny he had to help his mom pay for her medical expenses.
Someday... But he knew that someday might never come. Dorothy’s death was proof of that.
“She was a good woman, Zane. She was like a second mother to me after my mom died. Did you know she taught me how to sew? She was so good at it. Remember how excited she was when the traveling production of Guys and Dolls bought that dress she’d designed?”
Zane nodded.
“They offered her that wardrobe position with the show,” he said. “She should’ve taken it and gotten out of here. Ian and I were out of the house. She could’ve traveled all over the country. I don’t understand why she didn’t do it.”
Zane shrugged. “I wanted her to do it. I think everyone in this town wanted her to. But she said she was too old to become a nomad and gallivant.”
He