The Cowboy's Return (18 page)

Jilly wanted to spend the weekend with her grandparents to help Leona, and Camila allowed it. On Friday afternoon, Jilly had a suitcase in her hand and Button under her arm, waiting for Tripp to pick her up.

He arrived on time and Jilly put down her suitcase and hugged Camila. “Bye, Mama. I love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll see you on Sunday afternoon.” Jilly had spent the night at Kerri’s and Millie’s, but she’d never spent two nights away. This was going to be a long weekend for Camila.

She waved goodbye and Tripp waved back. As the cowboy drove away, she’d never felt so alone in her life. Or afraid. And she wasn’t sure of what.
The future. The unknown.
That wasn’t it. She was afraid of love and all the emotions she felt for Tripp. She was afraid of getting hurt. It was easier to suppress what she was feeling. That’s what made her so afraid. How much longer could she continue to do this?

To deny the woman in her.

To deny love.

Camila worked until midnight then fell into bed exhausted. She was at the shop early to finish two baby quilts while waiting on customers at the same time.

Jilly was usually in the shop on Saturdays and everyone was asking for her. Camila missed her like everyone else, but she’d talked to her three times already. Being away from home wasn’t easy for Jilly either.

Camila closed up the shop and took Unie some food so she could turn on her heater. Unie looked so much better in clean clothes and Camila sensed she felt better, too. She even asked how to use the washing machine. Camila showed her then drove to Benita’s for supper.

Benita sat on the living-room floor going through old photos. “Hey, chick,” she called. “I’ve got something for you.”

Camila sank to the floor by her mother.

“I found his picture,” she said, handing the photo to Camila. “That’s your father. Travis Holden.”

She stared at her father for the first time. He looked so young. But what surprised her the most was that she felt no connection to this man. She wondered if Jilly felt the same way when she saw Patrick’s photo. They hadn’t talked about it except to say the Danielses had made a nice gesture. Maybe they needed to talk more because Camila noticed that Jilly kept the photo in a drawer, not on her nightstand where Camila thought she’d keep it.

“What do you think, chick?”

“He’s very young and handsome.”

“You bet—blond hair, blue eyes. Us Puerto Rican women love those blue eyed blondes.”

Normally a remark like that would have Camila frowning, but today she only smiled, accepting Benita and her tawdry language.

“Whatever happened to the Holden family?” Camila asked, curious. Benita and Travis had been married such a short time that not only had Benita not taken his name, she hadn’t put it on Camila’s birth certificate either.

“As I told you, Travis went to college in Lubbock and his parents moved there to be near him. He went to work for an oil company to help pay for his education. Something came loose from the rig and hit him in the head. He died instantly. He was twenty years old and Claude and Mavis never got over it. Mavis had a nervous breakdown and Claude drank himself to death.”

“How sad.”

“Yeah.” Benita put the rest of the photos in the box.

“Did you love him?”

“Chick, I didn’t know what love was, not sure I do now.” She touched Camila’s cheek. “But I know I love my chick and her little chickadee.”

Camila choked back a tear. “You never used to talk this way. You’re different.”

Benita shrugged. “Maybe. Facing fifty, I’m taking a cold hard look at my life and, well, I’m thinking of staying in Bramble and being a mother and a grandmother.”

“I’d like that.”

They ate supper and then Benita showed Camila some of her beauty secrets. They laughed and talked like mother and daughter, and it felt good. Camila had a question and she felt comfortable enough to broach the subject.

“I haven’t seen you drink anything.”

“Nope. Gave up the hard stuff—too many bad decisions made under the influence. And that stuff is hell on a woman’s looks.” Benita launched to her feet. “But there’s something I haven’t given up.”

“What’s that?”

“Dancing.”

Visions of that night she’d danced with Patrick at the graduation party flashed through Camila’s mind and a chill spread over her body. Would that night always have this effect on her?

Benita ran into the kitchen and came back with a radio. She plugged it in and found a Latino station. A sensuous beat filled the room.

She held a hand out to Camila. “C’mon, chick.”

“I don’t think so.”

Benita placed her hands on her hips. “It’s just you and me. We can let our hair down and do what we want. This is a step to conquer all those repressed feelings. C’mon.”

Benita twirled and moved to the beat of the music. Camila sat there for a minute then rose to her feet. To conquer all the bad feelings she had to make an effort to change. She joined her mother in the living room and they swayed to the music, and Camila moved her arms and hips the way Benita had taught her.

“Oh, yeah, chick. You got it now. It’s all in the hips. One, two, move it here. Three, four, slide to the floor. Oh, yeah, we still have it.”

Benita swung her around. “One, two, move your hips, circular motion, now the other way. Go with the flow, the movement, the feeling.”

And they danced—the two of them oblivious to everything but the bond they were forming as a family, as mother and daughter—for the first time.

Finally the music stopped and they sank to the floor, arms wrapped around each other. The tears came then and they cried for all the years they’d been strangers and all that they’d lost.

The music started again and Camila helped her mother to her feet. “We have to keep dancing. No more tears, only happiness. Now the cha-cha. One, two, cha, cha, cha.” She swung around and came to a complete stop. Tripp and Jilly stood in the doorway. Tripp had his hat in his hand and Jilly carried Button.

Camila smoothed her blouse, feeling self-conscious.

“I wanna dance,” Jilly shouted and ran to join Benita.

Camila took a breath and walked to Tripp, unable to take her eyes from his face, and she hated herself for that reaction. But inside she knew something was wrong. Jilly wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.

“Is something wrong?” Camila asked, doing up the top button of her blouse, which had come undone.

His eyes watched her fingers. “Jilly…ah…she was very subdued and I asked what was wrong. She said she wanted to go home. She missed her mama.”

“Oh.” That surprised her. She didn’t expect that from Jilly, who was usually very independent.

“We’ll do it again another time.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good night.”

He walked out the door and she had that weak-kneed, Jell-O feeling again. She dragged in another breath and glanced at her daughter. Jilly was now laughing and dancing with Benita. Button barked and jumped up and down between them. Jilly was as far from subdued as she could get.

What had happened at Lady Luck?

♦ ♦ ♦

T
RIPP STOOD OUTSIDE
and took several deep breaths. God, Camila was beautiful, especially when she didn’t think anyone was looking. She’d looked uninhibited, her body free-flowing and sensuous, moving to the beat of the music. He wanted to take her in his arms and press his body against hers and… His thoughts skittered into something X-rated, but that was a movie he’d never see. Camila wasn’t ever going to see him as anyone other than Patrick’s brother.

And Tripp was in love with her.

He stopped in the process of opening the door of his truck. There. He’d actually let himself admit the truth.

But what good did it do him?

♦ ♦ ♦

C
AMILA SOON TOOK
J
ILLY
home because they had to talk. Jilly had her bath and Camila went in to kiss her good-night.

“It was fun dancing tonight, wasn’t it, Mama? Benita seemed happy. She’s really got the moves.”

“Yes. Benita’s very graceful.”

Camila pushed back Jilly’s hair. “Why did you want to come home, baby?”

Jilly pleated the edge of the blanket. “Tripp let me ride his horse and Cay, that’s the horse, is totally awesome. I like to ride and Tripp did some roping, which you have to see. He can make the rope go exactly where he wants it to.”

Camila had seen him rope on TV and he was very good.

“Sounds as if you were having a good time.”

“Yeah, then I helped Tripp and Morris wash windows. We had the radio on and were laughing and working. It was fun.”

“Where were Mr. and Mrs. Daniels?”

“They were taking a nap. That’s why I was helping. I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing.”

“And…” Camila prompted, not having a clue where this was leading.

“I went into the house to get more rags to dry the windows and Mr. and Mrs. Daniels were awake and in the den talking. I wasn’t eavesdropping. They were talking really loud.”

Camila swallowed. “What were they talking about?”

“Mr. Daniels was on the phone talking to a lawyer and Mrs. Daniels was saying what a fool he was and for him to hang up. But he wouldn’t.”

Her chest felt tight and a sense of foreboding gripped her. “What were Mr. Daniels and the lawyer talking about?”

Jilly clutched the blanket. “He wants to get custody of me.”

Camila’s chest caved in and she had trouble breathing. She strove for control, not wanting Jilly to see how upset she was.

“Mr. Daniels said that you work all the time and I need to be in a family environment. When he hung up, Mr. Daniels told Mrs. Daniels that they had a good chance of getting me. She said he was an old fool and she wasn’t supporting him in such a thing. He told her that was fine, Tripp would help him.” Tears slipped from Jilly’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave you, Mama.”

Camila reached for her daughter and held her tight. “No one is taking you from me. No one.”

“Promise.”

She kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

Jilly rested her head on Camila’s shoulder. “I should never have gone there.”

“Oh, baby.” She stroked her hair. “You have such a big heart and I’m sorry you had to hear what you did, but now we’re forewarned and you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”

“I like Tripp.”

Camila did, too, but he had to be aware of what his father was planning—to take Jilly from her. And he’d done nothing to stop him. How could he do that?

“You go to sleep and tomorrow we’ll have one of our days together, doing whatever you want.”

“I just want to be with you, Mama.”

Jilly sounded as if she were five years old again, needing her mama. Camila kissed her once more. “Go to sleep, my precious.”

She walked into the living room fuming because they’d hurt her child. Jilly had been nothing but nice to them and she didn’t deserve this. Camila wasn’t letting them get away with it. They could do whatever they wanted to her, but not to Jilly.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost ten, but she didn’t care. She had to go to Lady Luck and let them know how she felt—let them know that Jilly was staying with her. Camila called her mother. Benita came through the back door within minutes in her nightclothes.

“What’s wrong?” Benita asked.

“Sorry to bother you so late.”

“No problem.”

Camila told her what had happened.

“Santa Maria madre de Dios.”
Benita sank into a chair.

“I have to sort this out tonight.” Camila grabbed her coat. “If Jilly wakes up, tell her I’ll be right back.”

Benita pushed Camila toward the door. “Go, chick, go. I’ll take care of Jilly.”

On the way to Lady Luck, Camila cursed herself for ever trusting Tripp. He could have stopped this. Why hadn’t he? Why had he allowed Jilly to get hurt?

Tripp rode into the barn and unsaddled Cay. After seeing Camila, he needed to work off some restless energy. Riding always did that—took him away to his own private world. Most of the time Camila was there with him—like she was tonight with her beautiful eyes, long gorgeous hair, just out of his reach.

Like she always would be.

He walked in through the back door and the house was quiet. Everyone was in bed. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and twisted off the cap, taking a big swallow. The quietness seemed to echo around him and it gave him an eerie feeling. When Jilly was here, the house was alive with excitement, the way it should be.

He took another swallow. He still didn’t understand why she’d wanted to go home. They’d been having a good time. She’d ridden Cay and she’d asked about his roping and he’d had to show off a little. In the afternoon, the weather had been a little warmer and he’d taken off all of the screens and had sprayed the windows with a water hose. Sometimes he’d squirted Jilly and she’d run shrieking.

When his parents had taken a nap, she’d wanted to wipe the windows, so he’d let her. He’d climbed the ladder and had done the higher ones. She’d run into the house for more rags and when she’d come out, she’d been very quiet. Had she called Camila while she was in the house? Maybe she’d just gotten homesick. Maybe…

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts. He hurried to answer it, wondering who was calling this late. To his surprise, Camila was standing on the doorstep.

“Camila, come in.”

“No, thank you. What I have to say I can say out here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “It’s getting colder. Come on in.” He opened the door wider, and she marched into the den and turned to face him.

“I trusted you with Jilly. I trusted you not to hurt her.”

He did a double take. “What are you talking about?”

“Jilly’s heartbroken and you could have stopped it, but you didn’t.”

Tripp ran a hand through his hair. “Camila, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d never hurt Jilly and I’d stop anyone who tried.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes. Now tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the lawyer your dad hired.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Lawyer? What lawyer?”

“The lawyer he hired to get custody of Jilly.”

“What!”

“Jilly came into the house and heard him talking on the phone to a lawyer about getting custody of her. When he hung up, Leona said she wouldn’t support him in doing that. Grif said that was fine. You would help him.”

“Like hell!” Tripp couldn’t believe his ears. What was his father doing? More to the point, what was he thinking?

“Why didn’t Jilly say something to me?”

“Because she’s scared she’s going to be taken away from me.”

“Oh, God, Camila, I’m so sorry. I’ll get this straightened out.”

“There’s nothing to straighten out,” she told him. “Jilly is my daughter and she stays with me—always. Out of the kindness of my heart, I let her come here, thinking it was the right thing to do. But Jilly won’t be coming back to Lady Luck.”

“That’s where your wrong, missy.” Grif shuffled into the room in his pajamas, holding on to his cane. Leona was behind him. “Jilly’s a Daniels and she belongs here.”

“She belongs with her mother,” Tripp said.

“Not anymore. Frank said we have a good case.”

“What are you doing, Dad?” Tripp asked with barely controlled anger. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting my granddaughter.”

“You’ve scared Jilly so bad she doesn’t want to come back.”

“She’ll come back,” Grif boasted. “The law will make her.”

“That’s what you want? For Jilly to be forced to visit you?”

“She belongs in a family environment.” He pointed his cane at Camila. “She works all the time and is never there for Jilly.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about Camila and Jilly’s life. Camila has been there twenty-four hours a day since the second Jilly was born. Jilly is her life and Camila has created a business where she can come and go as she pleases. She’s completely involved in Jilly’s school activities. She’s there if Jilly needs her. Hell, she’s there if anyone in this town needs her. You won’t get anyone to testify for you. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I’m not the only one, am I, son?”

Tripp closed his eyes for a brief second, not wanting to have this conversation in front of Camila. She didn’t need to hear this.

“She played you and Patrick against each other and you still want her. Every man in town wants her and I will not have my—”

Before anyone knew what she was doing, Leona reached out and slapped Griffin across the face. His cane clattered to the floor and he fell backward into his chair, a shocked expression imprinted on his face.

Leona stood over him, shaking a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. Don’t you dare, Griffin. I’ll put your insane body in a coffin and slam it shut without one regret.”

“Mom.” Tripp tried to calm her, but she shook off his arm.

“If you want to throw slurs at someone, throw them at yourself.” Leona wasn’t through as she rounded on her husband.

Camila didn’t want to be a witness to this and desperately wanted to just slip away. But her daughter was a part of this family and something in her wouldn’t allow her to leave until she got her point across.

“Patrick was a dear, sweet boy, but that wasn’t good enough for you. You have to be a man, Patrick. That’s what you always said to him. You have to be a man like your brother. You have to ride a horse, you have to be stronger and you have to be a winner. Well, Patrick wasn’t like that, but you couldn’t accept it. You just kept at him.”

“You made him a sissy,” Grif shouted, rubbing his face.

“Maybe I did, but I loved him and supported him in everything he did, even his love for Camila.”

“She used him to get to Tripp.”

“Camila didn’t love Patrick and she told him that. She was honest with him.”

“Then why did she have sex with him?”

“Because he forced her to!”

The room became deadly quiet.

“What?” squeaked past Grif’s lips.

Tripp reached for Camila’s hand and she clutched it tight, feeling as if she were going to need something to hold on to. She’d never dreamed Leona knew what had happened that night.

“You just had to go to the principal and get Patrick to tutor the football players. He didn’t even like those boys and they filled his head with a lot of nonsense. But he had to be a he-man and he wanted to please his daddy. It got out of control, though. Those boys did drugs and they told Patrick they could give him something to make him a man.” Leona took a breath. “That night of the party, we went out to dinner so the kids could have the place to themselves, but later Patrick told me everything. They gave Patrick some feel-good drug and they gave him something to put in Camila’s drink. It took away her inhibition, her ability to reason. When Camila became drowsy, Patrick took her up to his room. Patrick did a bad thing to Camila and he was so sorry afterwards. He cried and cried, but there was no way to change it. He just wanted Camila to forgive him. Patrick was such a naïve boy. He thought if he and Camila made love, Camila would love him. He said that’s why he did it.”

“Why did she hold out on him—sleeping with other boys and not him?” Grif asked.

“You foolish old man,” Leona shouted. “Camila was a virgin. I changed the sheets on the bed that morning and I’d be very surprised if she’s slept with anyone since. But you made it worse, Grif. Patrick wanted to marry her to make everything right, but you said your son wasn’t marrying a tramp. You’d disown him. He ran out and I never saw my son again. You killed him with your control and your bigot ideas. I hate you. I hate you.” Leona slapped at Grif’s face over and over.

Tripp pulled her away. “Mom, please, don’t do this.”

“It’s long overdue. I’ve been quiet too long.” She looked at Grif who seemed turned to stone. “To make matters worse and I didn’t think there was any way for my world to completely disappear, but you got rid of our only remaining child. You accused him of killing his brother by spreading lies about the drugs and coming on to Camila. You told him to leave and never come back and Tripp didn’t even know what was going on. Tripp didn’t kill Patrick. Camila didn’t kill Patrick. You did by wanting him to be someone that he wasn’t.”

Grif didn’t respond and some of the things Leona had said were sinking in. If Leona knew Camila had been a virgin, then she knew that Jilly was Patrick’s. But not once in the past twelve years had she made a move toward Jilly. Or had even tried to acknowledge her.

As if reading Camila’s mind, Leona turned to her. “I knew Jilly was Patrick’s and I’m ashamed that I never did anything about that. But I grew up where a wife was obedient to her husband and I adhered to all Grif decreed like a weak, helpless woman. But to be honest, after I lost Patrick, I stopped living. I just existed in my grief and I wasn’t any good to anyone, especially a child. But the moment I touched her, I knew she was going to be my salvation.” Leona took a step toward Camila. “I’m so sorry for all the pain Patrick caused you.”

“I loved Patrick,” Camila said, “but I wasn’t in love with him. I’ve known him since kindergarten and we were the best of friends. He was kind and good to me and that’s what I remember about Patrick—all the good times we had—not that one night that changed so many lives.”

“Thank you, Camila. I hope you will continue to allow Jilly to visit me.”

“No, Leona, Jilly will not be coming back here. I don’t want her to face any of this unpleasantness.”

“Yes, she will. I’ll see to that,” Grif spoke up, but his voice wasn’t as strong.

Tripp confronted his father. “Why, Dad? Why are you doing this?”

“Because Patrick would want his daughter here.”

“Patrick loved Camila and he’d be very upset that you were hurting her.”

“He’s not the only one who loved her. You did, too.”

Camila’s stomach clenched tight, but she couldn’t force herself to leave.

“Camila was Patrick’s girlfriend and I respected that. There’s never been anything between Camila and me. She’s an attractive woman and I recognized that—that’s all. You accused me of flirting with her and upsetting Patrick to the point of him crashing the car. I lived with that guilt for thirteen years. But I’m not to blame for Patrick’s wreck.”

Silence crept into the unspoken questions, the unspoken pain.

Tears trailed down Grif’s aged face. “It was my fault,” Grif muttered. “But I couldn’t admit that so I blamed you and I blamed Camila. I could live with myself that way.” He gulped in a breath. “My son is gone and I killed him. I killed my son.”

“Dad.” Tripp knelt by his chair. “It’s time to stop placing blame. Patrick made some bad choices, but now we have to go forward.”

“To what? You don’t want me to have my granddaughter. I thought if I could do that for Patrick some of the guilt would go away.”

“The only way the guilt is going away is to do like Jilly told you—to be nice, and you start by apologizing to Camila and to Jilly.”

“Ah, fiddle-faddle. I’m not good at that.”

“Dad.”

Grif looked at Camila. “Missy, this pretty much changes everything. I blamed you for a lot of years for teasing my son and leading him on, but I learned today that’s not what happened.”

“No,” Camila said, surprised she could speak. “I was always honest with Patrick about my feelings. I suggested that we not see each other in school, but Patrick said he could handle his feelings. I learned later that he couldn’t, but it was too late.”

Grif swallowed with difficulty. “Like Leona said, I’m sorry, too, for the pain my son has caused you and for…for my callousness. Please let Jilly come back.”

She took a long breath as the past loosened its grip. “I’ll leave that up to Jilly. Whatever she decides, I’ll support her.”

“Fair enough,” Leona said.

“I have to go.” Camila headed for the door, needing some space, some time.

“Camila.” Tripp caught her at the door.

“Please.” She pulled away. “I can’t do this right now,”

She hurried to her Suburban before he could stop her. She had to think clearly for Jilly and she couldn’t do that when he was within touching distance.

♦ ♦ ♦

T
RIPP WATCHED THE TAILLIGHTS
of her car until they disappeared. He went back into the house feeling as if he were walking through a nightmare and couldn’t find his way out. He never wanted Camila to be hurt again, but his family couldn’t seem to stop hurting her.

“How’s Camila?” Leona asked.

“She’s upset, understandably so.”

“What in tarnation is going on?” Morris asked, walking into the room in his pajamas, scratching his bald head. “Why is everyone up?”

“Go back to bed, Morris. Everything’s under control.”

“Suits me.” He turned away. “My tails draggin’ the ground and I ain’t awake enough to beat my gums to make any sense in a Texas truck stop on a…” His voice trailed away into his usual nonsense chatter.

Tripp just shook his head. “Now let’s go to bed. And Dad, don’t do anything like this again.”

Grif struggled to his feet. “Just wanted to do something for Patrick.”

“I know, but next time talk things over with me first.”

“Ahhh,” was the response Tripp got and he took it for a yes.

Tripp glanced at his mother. “No more slapping.”

“Don’t know if I can promise that,” Leona replied. “I want to slap him about three times a day. Might make it part of my daily routine.”

“Since she can see, she’s gettin’ mean,” Grif said. “She’s a mean old woman.”

“You should recognize the symptoms,” Leona snapped back.

“You’re a mean old woman. My face hurts.”

“It should after what you did.”

“Listen up, you two, this arguing is going to stop. Camila’s not going to let Jilly come into this tension-filled atmosphere. She wants Jilly to be happy and so do I. It’s time for some fun and laughter in this house.”

They both remained quiet.