A Bride, A Barn, And A Baby

“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 slanted Lucy a glance. “Gallivant. Her word.”

He and Lucy laughed, but then they fell silent.

His mom had been a good, strong woman. Salt of the earth. You could rely on her like you could count on the sun to rise in the morning. But for all of her strengths, she didn’t take chances. She’d worked her way up from waitress to manager of the Redbird Diner in downtown Celebration and she did clothing alterations and freelance sewing jobs in her spare time for anyone who was willing to hire her. That didn’t leave a lot of extra time for fun.

When Zane turned fourteen, he’d gotten a job at Henderson Farms and helped his mom with expenses. He’d hoped that the extra income might make things easier. But somewhere along the way the person Dorothy Phillips could’ve become faded away, her potential lost to the demands of life, her fondest hopes and wants and wishes set aside in a box for a special occasion that never happened.

Lucy was quiet and Zane knew he should stop talking, but it was like he’d broken the lock on the compartment where he’d stuffed all his emotions, and everything was pouring out.

“You think you have all the time in the world to do all the things you want to do, but you don’t.” He took another swig of bourbon. “I have to get out of this town, Luce. I don’t know what I’ve been waiting for. I’m thirty years old and I still don’t know who I am or what I want. I mean, I know what I want, but I’m not going to find it here, not in Celebration.”

Ironically, most people thought he was doing well. In fact, one woman who dated him was surprised to discover he wasn’t rich. He’d owned a small horse ranch but had ended up selling the property after his mom got sick. The crappy insurance policy she had didn’t cover all of her medical bills and there was no way in hell Zane was going to stand down and let her worry when he was sitting on assets he could sell and use to help her out.

Again, it wasn’t that he was so magnanimous. Bridgemont Farms, the property that abutted his, had been pushing him to sell his land. Zane had been restless and they’d made it worth his while. They offered him enough money to allow him to help his mom and put a little bit in the bank; and he got to stay in his house because Bridgemont had hired him on as their general manager. Housing was a perk of the job. It was a means to an end, but there was no chance for advancement and Bridgemont’s owners weren’t interested in breeding champions.

Even though it was his choice to sell, it chafed to be limited by someone else’s vision when he’d once had such big plans. Once, he’d dreamed of using the proceeds of the sale of his farm to buy back the Old Wickham Road Ranch.

Fate had different plans.

Even so, he still had an ace up his sleeve.

“Leaving isn’t always the answer.” Lucy pulled him from his thoughts. “Remember how I couldn’t wait to get out of here?” Her eyes sparkled with optimism, or maybe it was concern. Zane couldn’t tell. “I went away to school, and then I went to California, but nothing fit. Isn’t it funny how once I came home, I found exactly what I’d been looking for and who I wanted to be.”

“But you have roots here,” he said. “You have your brother and your business. Of course you belong here. I have nothing keeping me here.”

“I’m just saying you don’t always have to go away to find your heart’s desire. Sometimes it’s right in your backyard, Toto.”

She laughed at her own joke. He knew she was trying to cajole him out of his funk, but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle.

He was happy for Lucy, that everything was working out for her. Of all people, he’d never begrudge her success and belonging. But she was six years younger than him. He needed to get his act together.

“I just have to get out of here—”

Zane’s voice cracked and he swallowed the wave of emotion that was trying to escape on the coattails of his words. He hadn’t gotten emotional since his mom had died. Until now, he hadn’t realized that for the past two weeks he’d been pushing through life—through everything that had to be done—on some kind of foggy autopilot. Tonight it felt like the autopilot had died and he’d fallen from his fog into this hard new reality.

And he would’ve been okay, but Lucy was looking at him with those huge brown eyes. The gold flecks in her eyes that sparkled a moment ago had darkened a few shades. Her expression suggested she didn’t know what to do with him. Hell, he didn’t know what to do with himself. How was she supposed to know what to do with him?

That was why he was better off being alone until he’d sorted out all this emotional crap.

But Lucy’s full lips quivered as if she was trying to figure out what to say to him. For a split second, all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss her so they didn’t have to talk anymore. He wanted to lose himself in the taste of her, bury his face in her silky brown hair and keep going until he forgot about everything else that was going on in his life.

He cursed under his breath and balled up the soggy napkins he’d been using to blot the spilled drink a few moments ago. He tossed it aside before pushing to his feet and walking over to the window, where he could give himself some space to get his head on straight and stuff this damn sentimentality back into the box where it belonged.

“Are you okay?” she asked from behind him. His awareness of her had his body responding.

He didn’t turn around. “Yeah, I—”