Page 39 of Wrangling Hearts
I found Charlotte’s room with the help of a peppy nurse. Her scrubs were pink, and something about that was unsettling. Far too cheerful for a place like this, I thought.
“Charlotte,” the nurse said, pushing open the door slowly, “you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” It felt like a blow straight to the chest to hear her voice. It was so frail. Definitely not the woman who used to referee our horse races, screaming at the top of her lungs like she was at the Derby. “Who?”
The nurse looked at me over her shoulder and opened the door wider. When I walked in, Claire was in the same clothes she had on yesterday, curled in a recliner in the corner, sleeping. Charlotte was in bed, her skin pale, nearly translucent. A purplescarf was wrapped around her head, and she had an oxygen cannula in her nose.
But when she saw me, she smiled. “Beaumont.”
God damn, I wanted to cry seeing her so happy to see me. I cleared my throat and kept my voice low so I didn’t wake up Claire. “Hi, Mrs. Hayes.” I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too, sweet boy. It’s been a while.” She patted my cheek and looked me over. “My word, you sure have grown up into a handsome young man.”
I chuckled—and blushed. “Thank you.”
I set the flowers on the rolling tray next to her bed, right on top of the newspaper that was open to theWhispers, and sat down in the chair next to her bed. “Those for me? They’re beautiful.”
I smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
I couldn’t hold it back anymore and glanced over at Claire. She looked peaceful, absolutely dead to the world. Her dark auburn curls were left unbound, framing her flawless face. My chest tightened just watching her, and I wondered if Anna was right. Because even though she wasn’t more than five feet away, I missed her.
“She’s beautiful, isn't she?”
“Yes,” I answered, my voice a little breathless.
“I haven’t been the best mother”—she took a deep, rattling breath—“since Ben died. She had to grow up too fast. And the rest of my kids ran away as soon as they could. Emmett to the Army, Savannah to Stanford, Tess…Lord only knows.”
She raised an oxygen mask to her face, taking several deep puffs from it before she spoke again. “Emmett came back to us in one piece, Savannah is coming to say goodbye as soon as she can, and Tess didn’t even answer the phone. But Claire? Shegave up her life for this family. For Golden Bridle. She’s never wavered.”
I didn’t say anything because what could I have said? It wasn’t my place to make comments on how they ran their family. But I knew this was going somewhere, especially if she read thatWhispersarticle.
“My Claire needs someone who lets her be independent, but also takes care of her.” I fidgeted in my chair. “She doesn’t like to ask for help. Likes to do things herself. She needs someone who jumps in and gets things done without being asked. Someone as selfless as her.” She took another deep breath. “It’s a hard balance, but I know the right man can do it.”
The room went quiet for a while aside from Charlotte’s labored breathing, the monitors, and the blood rushing in my ears while I waited for the loaded question I knew was coming.
“Are you that man, Beau?”
I looked at Charlotte then. “I don’t even know what’s happening between us yet.”
“She sleeps like the dead, and I’m dying. Your secret will be safe with me.”
My heart pounded, the room suddenly growing hotter as I faced the truth that had been staring me in the face since the night she left me on the dance floor.
“I’d like to be. If she lets me.”
Charlotte smiled. “I think she will. She’s sweet on you.” Her eyes dragged, and she let out a long sigh. “Now take our girl home.”
Her saying our girl felt like the stamp of approval I didn’t know I was waiting for. I swallowed back the knot in my throat and nodded. I had barely made it out of my chair before she was asleep.
Walking over to Claire while she was sleeping felt surprisingly the same as the first time I met Henry. There wassomething horribly vulnerable about it: the uncertainty, the fear of doing something wrong, the hope that they’d like you. It was all there.
I crouched down in front of her. “Claire,” I whispered, and she stirred a little. Brushing her hair back behind her ear, I leaned in a little closer. “It’s time to get up.”
She hummed, nuzzling into my touch. “Is that really you?” she rasped, her voice thick with sleep, and I hoped to God himself this wasn’t the last time I’d hear her voice like that.
“It’s me, baby. Now let me see those pretty eyes.”
