Page 99 of Keeping Kaitlyn

“Went, how about you take a walk with me and Thomas,” she says, with a sunny smile. “I’m sure after such a long plane ride, those long legs of yours could use a stretch.”

“We flew here in my private plane, Mrs. Barret. It wasn’t that uncomfortable.” Shooting Brock afuck yousmirk of my own, I stand, Mook immediately jumping to his feet beside me. “But I’d love a walk if you’re looking for some company.”

“That I am,” she says, beaming at me when I offer her my arm. “Make yourself useful, Brock, and snap these beans for supper.” Shoving the bowl into Brock’s hands, Hillary takes my arm and lets me lead her down the porch steps.

“Don’t worry—Brockisn’t nearly as brave as he thinks he is. He’ll stay on the porch,” Hillary reassures me with a pat on my arm. We took a lap around the house before we settled on a bench in front of a giant maple tree with a tire swing hanging from one of its sturdy branches. “Besides, he’s got a lot riding on what’s going on in the house between Tom and the girls, he’d be stupid to mess it up.”

I want to ask her what she means by that but I have a feeling she’d deflect the question so I don’t bother. Instead, I ask her another one. “Do you know where my brother is?”

She nods her head, eyes glued to the boy swinging from the tire and the dog barking and dancing happily around him. “He’sworking a ranch in Cut Bank, last I heard,” she says. “It’s not too far from the reservation where his grandfather lives.”

“Your husband fired him for bringing me here, didn’t he?” I know the answer but I ask anyway.

Hillary makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Loyalty is very important to Tom and he feels like Damien betrayed him,” she tells me, effectively avoiding the question. Before I can push by asking her again, she gives me a smile. “Do you and Kaity have any children?”

For some reason, the question is like a punch in the gut. “No.” Shaking my head, I look at the little boy, hanging from the tire swing. “Not yet.”

“Well, that’s okay.” She pats my arm again. “You’re both young. There’s plenty of time… did she go to nursing school like she planned?”

“She did.” This time the smile I give her is genuine. “In Boston. She works with wounded veterans.”

When I say it, Hillary’s chocolate brown eyes fill with tears. “Oh…” she says on a shaky smile. “That’s good. Luke would’ve loved that.”

Remembering the stories Kait told me about her brother on the drive here, I can believe it.

“I want to thank you,” she says quietly, almost like her gratitude is a secret. “For taking Kaity away from here.” Giving me a knowing smile, she sighs. “When I noticed she’d started spending more and more time up at Northpoint, I’d dared to hope. That girl was baking every damn day and she doesn’t bake for just anybody.” She laughs at the memory but the sound of it dies quickly. “I knew the things they were saying about you in the papers couldn’t be true. Damien’s a good man and loves Kaity almost as much as Luke did—he wouldn’t bring anything less than that around this ranch.”

“Youwantedme to take Kait with me when I left?” I ask, not sure I understand her meaning.

“Tom’s mind was made up and he wouldn’t be swayed, no matter how hard I tried…” she tells me with a shake of her head. “Emma would’ve risen from the grave and killed me dead if I’d have let her daughter marry that?—”

Stopping midsentence, she gives me a wide-eyed look like she just told me something she shouldn’t have.

“Kait told me, Mrs. Barrett,” I tell her as gently as I can. “She told me her birth mother was named Emma and that the two of you were cousins. She also told me that you were a good mother to her and never made her feel like she was anything less than your daughter.”

“Emma was more than my cousin. She was my best friend. When she died…” Smiling through her tears, Hillary takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you for helping me save her daughter.”

“I love her,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “There was no way I was leaving this valley without her. Not after what that piece of—” Now it’s my turn to stall out when I realize I’ve said too much.

“The kitchen window was open. I heard the two of you talking on the porch,” she says with a sigh. “I’d always known Brock didn’t hit a deer but I wasn’t completely sure of what happened that night until then.” She gives me a fierce look. “You did that to him, didn’t you?”

Even though telling her the truth is a risk, I do it anyway. “Yes, ma’am. I’d fallen asleep on the front porch—” When she opens her mouth to admonish me for it, I laugh. “I know—bears.” Giving her a sheepish grin, I shake my head. “Anyway, I woke up to see a truck rolling past the house and I saw Kait, asleep in the front seat.” I skip over the part where I’d thought the worst of her daughter and followed after them so I could see for myself what kind of person she was. “I followed them onfoot and when I caught up, Kait was unconscious on the ground, bleeding, and Brock was getting ready to—” Shooting a look across the yard at the house in the distance, I make a low, angry noise in the back of my throat. “I stopped him and took Kait back to Northpoint with me.”

“I’m not surprised.” Hillary gives me a short, bitter laugh. “He’s just like his father.”

“If that’s true, if you knew what kind of man Brock is” I say because it’s something I just can’t wrap my head around. “Why would you let Abbey marry him?”

“I didn’t—” Her voice breaks and she looks away from me to train her watchful gaze on her grandson. “I tried talking her out of it but she wouldn’t listen. Abbey’s just as stubborn as her father. She’d made up her mind and once that girl makes up her mind…” Shaking her head on a sad chuckle, she sighs. “She told me that I could either respect and support her decision or lose her forever. I know my daughter and I believed her. So I let her go.”

FIFTY-SIX

KAITLYN

As soon aswe’re in the dark cool of the house, Abbey pulls me into her arms and gives me a hard, desperate hug. “I love you, Kaity,” she whispers in my ear. “I’ve missed you so,somuch.”

She feels frail. Almost as wasted away as our father. Taking her by her bony shoulders I pull her away from me so I can get a good look at her face. Dark circles, carefully concealed by make-up, under flat, blue eyes. Soft, round cheeks replaced by sharp angles. I try to tell myself that when I left, Abbey was just eighteen. Barely out of high school. Still young. Not a wife. Not a mother. But she’s only twenty-four. She’s still young. Too young to look like she’s a hundred years old.

“Brock,” I hiss in her face, unable to believe what I saw with my own two eyes. “You married Brock Morris?”

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