The Rancher's Legacy. Jessica Keller
about his own flesh and blood.” There was no trace of a smile left on his features. Only hurt mixed with a hint of disappointment. “You know I’m right.”
Bringing up Brock had been a mistake, but it had easily slipped out. Brock and Rhett’s relationship had been tense since Wade’s death. They’d fought over blame instead of helping each other grieve. Macy had never understood how the fault of a boat capsizing in the Gulf of Mexico could belong to either of them.
Rhett tapped his thigh, causing Kodiak to rise and follow after him.
“Rhett, please,” she said. “The foster programs, they’re important. They were started because—” Because of you, she almost said. Right or wrong, they were supposed to be Brock’s love letter to you. “There has to be a way to make it all work.”
“It’s late, Mace. We can talk about it tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and walked past her up the hill in the direction of the Jarrett house.
Macy stared after him, watching Kodiak’s tail bob in rhythm with Rhett’s footfall—the whole time wanting to call after him, wanting to spill her secret so he could understand once and for all. So she could help him work through the hurt he felt over his father.
But she could never tell Rhett that he’d once been one of those children in need.
That Brock and Leah Jarrett had adopted him.
When Rhett padded into the kitchen at the family ranch the next morning, Shannon offered him a cup of coffee with a sad smile.
He declined. Shannon consumed at least six cups of the stuff a day, but Rhett had never taken to it. That hardly stopped his sister from trying to get him to drink it whenever she could.
However, he wished he was a coffee drinker because it had been a long night.
Rhett bit back a yawn. “Does Mom walk the halls yelling like that often?”
Shannon nodded, swiping at her eyes. Then she took a long swig from her mug.
Guilt stabbed through Rhett’s chest. Strong and palpable.
For the last three years he’d been gone, running Straight Arrow Retrievers, his dog-training business more than a hundred miles away from Red Dog Ranch. For his mom’s sake, Rhett had made a shaky truce with his dad and had visited the ranch a few weekends a year. It had been difficult to find days to visit when Macy wasn’t going to be on property or he would have visited more often. Foolish now that he thought about all he had missed. All for stubborn pride. He had missed his mother’s decline, missed so many days when he could have been spending time with her. Rhett rubbed his jaw.
He had kept in touch with Shannon, Cassidy and Piper with phone calls and video chats and they had often made the trip out his way for visits when he hadn’t been able to come home.
But he hadn’t been around when his mom had started showing symptoms. Hadn’t gone along to the countless doctor appointments. Hadn’t been a part of the discussion when her plan of care was decided. And having only been back living in the family house for three days, Rhett scarcely knew how to speak to his mother any longer.
Dementia.
Such a small word for such a life-altering disease.
Before now the extent of his knowledge had sadly been gleaned from TV ads that rattled off more about the dangers of the marketed drug than actually showing the truth of the illness. Commercials that depicted smiling elderly people watching their grandchildren play or sitting hand in hand with their equally elderly spouse.
All lies.
Rhett hadn’t been at Red Dog Ranch to watch his mom’s mind deteriorate, but Shannon had. Boone had too, up until he had enrolled in a divinity school last year, moving his wife and daughter out of state in the process.
Rhett opened his mouth to say something to Shannon but closed it just as quickly. What was there to say? “I’m sorry” sounded small. Too little, too late.
Six months ago Brock had hired a nurse to be with Mom during the day while he was working and he managed her care at night, but now with Brock gone...they needed to figure something out. Rhett made a mental note to pull out his mom’s insurance information and check over the plan to see what it would cover. The day nurse always arrived before breakfast every morning, but Rhett needed to look into the possibility of having someone with her at night, as well.
Ever present, Kodiak followed him to the fridge.
“Not much in there,” Shannon offered. “You’d do better to head to the mess hall. Cassidy does most of the staff meals there.” She jerked her chin to indicate the direction of the mess hall. It was located where the biggest hills began to roll through their property. Their father had insisted on building the dining hall there so that a huge, long basement could be constructed into the hill. All the nonperishable bulk food used to cook staff meals and feed the kids who came for summer camp could be stored there in a cooler environment without wasting tons of energy. The concrete basement also served as a great spot to find momentary relief from the heat of summer. Brock had searched for a contractor who would build into the shape of the land like that for a long time. Basements were rare in Texas.
His mom shuffled into the room, her hand resting on her nurse’s arm. Rhett had seen plenty of his parents’ wedding photos and snapshots of their dating history to know that his mother had always been a beautiful woman and maybe even a touch regal in how she carried herself. Now in her midsixties, he thought she looked a bit like the actress Helen Mirren. Outwardly she appeared healthy, but her pale blue eyes told the real story...she looked through him vacantly. She smiled pleasantly at him, almost blandly, as the red-haired nurse helped her into her chair.
A large common room made up the heart of their home. Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams gave the house a grand bearing, and a stone fireplace in the sitting room only added to that feeling. Every stone had been mined from Jarrett-held land. The kitchen flowed directly into a dining room and the large sitting area. In the sitting area, the wall without the fireplace boasted two-story-high floor-to-ceiling windows. From Mom’s vantage point, she could gaze out to the wide lake where he took Kodiak for her swims and beyond into a field of bluebonnets.
Her chair looked as if it was about to swallow her petite frame. As she gazed around the room, her eyes never really landed on anything in particular. It struck Rhett that she looked lost.
Lost and scared.
His throat felt as if someone had stuffed a bale of hay down it, followed by some of the pebbles that made up the driveway. Rhett swallowed hard, once, twice, three times before he could get any words out. “How are you this morning?”
She pursed her lips. “Do you know where Brock is? I’ve looked everywhere but, by the cat’s yarn, I can’t find him.”
Rhett glanced at Shannon, who gave an infinitesimal shake of her head. Don’t tell her. Don’t correct her about Dad. Don’t correct her at all. Shannon had gone over the rules with him in regard to how to deal with Mom a handful of times in the days since he’d been back. But every time Mom asked... Well, someone might as well have kicked him in the stomach while wearing steel-toed boots. And then sucker-punched him in the jaw for good measure afterward.
Their mom had been present at the wake and funeral. She’d wept with Boone and Rhett each on either side of her, holding her up. She knew.
But right now, she didn’t. Her mind was living in the safer Land of Before.
He wouldn’t lie to his mother, but he’d learned quickly there was no reason to cause her undue emotional trauma either.
Rhett cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen him in some time.”
True. Far too true.
His mother dipped her head. With