Page 22 of Cowboy Stalker
We’re quiet for so long that I think she must have fallen asleep, but then she says, “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Like a secret?”
“Anything,” she answers.
I open my mouth to tell her something light and funny, but what comes out is a truth that she doesn’t know. “My dad killed my mom when I was a kid. He was a raging alcoholic that couldn’t get his life together. But she was the kind of person that loved everyone. Even after she divorced my dad and struggled to pay the bills, she always had a dollar for someone in need. She ran the bake sale and volunteered at the women’s shelter. Every holiday, there were always new people around our table because she had this habit of finding the unwanted and making them welcome.”
She doesn’t say anything, just presses a hand to my chest. She strokes her fingertips along my skin. The gesture soothes me, grounding me in the present.
I blink at the blurry ceiling. I can’t think about my mom for too long because then I think about all the things she’ll never get to see me do. Like marry Missy and start our family. “That’s not the secret. Almost everyone in town knows what happened with my parents. At the time, we were living a few hours away, and the state eventually located my aunt and placed me with her in Courage.”
I don’t tell her there’s a door in my mind. It leads to a closet filled with my darkest memories. The door rarely springs open anymore. But every so often it does try, and those are the hard days. The ones that make me wonder who I’d be without this grief and pain I carry. Would I still have gone into law enforcement?
“I can’t imagine how frightening that must have been,” she whispers, even though I think she has some idea. She was a foster kid too. She knows what it’s like to worry about where you’re going next.
Trauma teaches you to fear the future, that nothing good is coming tomorrow. It takes a lot of time and healing to realize that’s not true. Not every day will be a bad one. There’s still so much good to come.
“Everyone thinks I became a cop so I could catch men like my dad and put them in jail. But I did it because I needed to prove to myself that I’m not him. I won’t hurt the people I care about. I can be one of the good guys.” It’s the thing I’m most ashamed of, the heaviest secret I carry. What if I’m like him? What if there’s nothing good in me, nothing worth loving?
“You’re not him,” she whispers.
“His blood flows through my veins.” A few years ago, I had my DNA tested. I had been holding onto this crazy hope that we weren’t related. If I could say that, then I’d be free. I could argue that he was a bad person, and bad people do bad things. But if bad people have kids, what does that make those children? Does that mean I’m evil?
“And her heart beats here.” She taps my chest, the spot right above my heart. “You’re only studying one side of the equation. If his blood is in your veins, so is hers. If he gave you half his DNA, so did she. You have two paths to walk here. You can focus on how evil your father was, or how much your mother loved you. I know, as a mom, which one I’d want for my child.”
I’m quiet, absorbing her words. I’d never considered that. I’ve spent my life so focused on my dad and all the pain he caused. Maybe the path to healing isn’t to keep looking for signs of evil in myself. Maybe it’s to live the way my mom did—with love and grace, believing that even the smallest acts of kindness make a difference.
“Thank you,” I whisper around the lump in my throat. I don’t know if she’ll ever fully grasp the gift she gave me, the weight that rolled off my shoulders. But I feel like I can finally move forward with my life. A life that’s going to include marrying Missy and adopting her beautiful daughter. They’re both mine, and I can’t wait for the day I can tell the world.
Missy
When it’s time to leave Griffin’s cabin, he helps me with my clothes, and I button his shirt. It’s a different shirt since he lost the buttons on the one he was wearing earlier.
It’s the little moments like this that make me sure we’re meant to be together. It’s not the passion between the sheets or the protective instincts he has with Daisy. It’s the way he cares for me and lets me care for him in return.
I didn’t know about his past or the heaviness that fills him. I’m even more in awe of this man’s strength and the way he’s carried on. He was a scared little boy who had to face overwhelming evil. He did it without letting it consume him. His mom would be proud.
I wish I could meet her. I know that when I get to heaven, the first thing I’ll do is throw my arms around her and give her a big hug. I’ll thank her for raising the man that would become my guardian angel.
We walk hand-in-hand to Dorothy’s house. When we come into the living room, she’s snoring lightly in the recliner, her mouth agape. Russell is rocking Daisy as a detective show plays in the background. She’s fighting sleep, her eyelids fluttering closed only to open again seconds later.
I reach for her, delighting in the sleepy smile she gives me. The moment her weight is in my arms, and her tiny body is snuggled against my chest, contentment sweeps through me. Everything is right in my world when my baby is in my arms.
“Thank you,” I mouth to Russell as I walk back to the guest bedroom.
Griffin stops to talk with him for a moment before he joins us. He gives Daisy a kiss goodnight before I settle her in her crib. We both stand over her, staring down at the most perfect girl in the world. I can’t believe I got so lucky that I was picked to be her mom.
“Tomorrow, I want to take her out, both of you, and show you around the farm.”
“That sounds perfect,” I tell him as I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day, and I’m glad I don’t have work tomorrow. Instead, I’ll get to spend the day with the two people I care most about in the world.
I wake late in the morning to find that Griffin’s side of the bed is already cold. He slept in here again last night. His aunt has to have noticed what’s going on, but she hasn’t said a word.
Daisy is gone from her crib, and I can hear the sound of cooking coming from the direction of the kitchen. I take a hot shower and throw on some old blue jeans along with a light blue T-shirt that makes my eyes pop. I pull my hair back into a high ponytail and add gloss to my lips before I head downstairs.
In the kitchen, Griffin is gliding across the floor with Daisy in his arms. He’s humming along to the radio, and she’s laughing. My baby is happy in his arms, and something about the sight turns me into goo. She’s going to grow up so differently than either of us did. She’s going to be loved and cherished and protected. She’s going to know what it is to have a stable home with two people that love her.
Dorothy is at the stove, scrambling eggs. She already smells like horse and hard work. She’s been up for hours. When I got up to use the bathroom at four in the morning, she was leaving the house. Like most farmers, she has an incredible work ethic.
