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He sauntered into the kitchen after Jesse. “Okay, but no more talk about a massage. And I’m picking the movie.”
Jesse’s face could have carved stone. “How about Apollo 13? Because if Vi goes to Houston, we have a problem.”
Vi sat on a wrought-iron bench on the estate where Mom and Rodney lived, facing a beautiful rose garden. Roses in every hue rioted over the mounds, filling the air with a sweet, flowery fragrance. Daddy’s tablet lay in her lap. The winding path around the beds reminded her of home. Home, Vi thought dully. The place Rory had filled with his magnetic presence. Cyrus loped up with a stick between his teeth. She took it from him and tossed it again. Streaky white clouds dotted the sky. She scrunched her nose, peering at the ladybug on her sleeve.
Jesse needed a text from her. He wouldn’t have a problem with her taking vacation time—she had accrued tons of it. Then what? Leaving Valiant hadn’t helped her think more clearly. If anything, depression was gaining the upper hand. She shook her head, trying to clear the haze in her mind.
Paige deserved an update as well, though she’d been kind about not asking questions. Waving the tiny red bug away, Vi twisted her hair into a long coil, securing it with a grimace. The makeshift do imitated her emotional state. Both could unravel at any moment. Her universe had tilted, and she couldn’t find her balance.
Vi had dreamed about Daddy last night, the first time since he’d passed. He’d sported a red and black checkered shirt and his favorite pair of jeans, worn to threads at the knees. Black cowboy boots. And his pipe. The smell of tobacco still lingered in her mind—or would it be her nose? Could you dream a smell? She didn’t know.
Cyrus bounded back, and she lobbed the stick again. At least the dog had energy. Vi’s movements were languid. Daddy talked to her in the dream. Earnestly. His lips moved, and his expressive eyes conveyed the importance of his message, but she couldn’t hear him.
If only Daddy could tell her what to do. “Lord, help me. I can’t see my way to Valiant—not with Rory everywhere I go. But I can’t stay here either. Can I? Could I make any kind of life for myself here—apart from Mother?”
She expelled a deep breath and opened the tablet. Her lovely dates with Rory had distracted her from Dad’s letters. No, she corrected herself. Rory was a fun, hunky distraction all by himself. He occupied every moment of her thought life, her carefully arranged schedule, and even her sleep.
A few clicks later, she pulled up a file.
Dearest Red,
This is another hard one. We’ve never talked about it, but I need to get it off my chest. You were so lost in grief, you couldn’t make much sense of things at the time. Talking about it then wouldn’t have helped.
In high school, you went through a hard spell. The hurt over that sorry-no-good’s abuse spilled out, and you were mad at the whole world. It didn’t make me love you less though—if anything, I loved you more.
Vi looked away from the screen into the bright sunlight, her eyes already moist. Daddy hadn’t been joking about this letter being a hard one.
I’d hoped you could keep your baby, but your mom wouldn’t budge. To this day, I don’t know what we could have done different. You were so sick and grieving so bad, I thought we were going to lose you. Finally, Tru let you come live with me. You had a lot of nightmares. When you were little, I’d rub your back until you calmed down. Once you were asleep, I’d go out on the porch and cry. I begged God over and over to fix what had been broken inside you. One night I got real upset. You were having a rough time of it, and I went down the lake so’s you wouldn’t hear me. I ain’t no preacher—ain’t got no spiritual guns. I just loved you so much, it made me spittin’ mad. I started yelling and told the devil he couldn’t have you. All night long, I hollered at him to stand down. Then I told God He had to save you and heal your broken heart, cause I couldn’t do it.
I remember walking up to the house. The sky had pinked, and I was pretty worn out and sleepy.
Afterward, though, the nightmares stopped, and health-wise, you turned a corner. When you’d gotten over the worst part, your mom came and took you back to Houston. I had no say in the matter.
I learned an important lesson that night. All the fancy prayers in the world don’t amount to a hill of beans if you don’t have love. I ain’t bragging on myself. I loved you enough to fight about it, and I’m hoping it was enough.
Vi drew in a shuddery breath and gazed into the sky. Memories moved into her present circumstances. The reason she felt so drawn to massage—Daddy’s touch had calmed and healed her. She’d wanted to die, but he’d loved her enough to fight the unseen forces swirling around her during those dark, terrible days. Now she understood why she got better.
Daddy had done what she couldn’t do for herself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rory stood at the front door of the imposing house and rang the bell. No exaggeration when Vi said her mom had married into money. These types of houses sold in the upper millions. Suddenly, he missed his three-piece suit and tie. The gray hoodie and jeans he wore shouted country bumpkin in this opulent setting.
The door opened. Once again, the resemblance between Vi and her mother struck Rory as ironic. Eerily similar in looks. Polar opposites in their approach to life. Even now, Tru’s chin had a proud lift, and her blue eyes snapped with impatience.
“Hello, Tru. It’s good to see you again.” Rory extended his hand.
Her eyes shot skyward, but she reluctantly took his hand. Rory hid a grin. Mama had made sure his manners could rival Emily Post’s—a part of her legacy he appreciated with all his heart. He had no doubt she’d known women like Tru.
Without a word, Tru turned, her shoes clicking on the tile entry floor. Rory followed. Once they reached one of the living areas, she faced him, all claws and wary feline. “You’ve come to take Violet back to that godforsaken place.”
Rory stared at her evenly. “God hasn’t forsaken Valiant. Yes, I want Vi to come home, but it’s her decision.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, affecting a non-threatening air since he stood a foot taller.
Not that Tru Marshall was easily intimidated.
Tru gave him a long look, then expelled a breath in a most unladylike fashion. “Well, you showing up may be a good thing. Vi said she came to visit, but it hasn’t happened. She’s been far too distracted.” She leveled another hard look at him, crossing her arms. “I suspect you know why.”
Rory’s focus had been off the last few days too. “I need to talk to her … if she’ll see me,” he finished, his heart in his throat.
