AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let’s finish up with Butterscotch. She doesn’t need to be confined to a stall. When she’s done eating, we can release her into the pasture.”
“I’d like to contact Swede and see if he came up with any hits on the names of the cast and crew.”
“If you can’t get enough reception for your cell phone, you can use the landline in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” Nash said. “Ben fed Butterscotch. She’s ready for the pasture.”
“Good,” Londyn rubbed her hand along the animal’s neck. She hooked her fingers through the halter. “Ready to go hang out with the gang?”
Nash held the barn door open for Londyn and Butterscotch and walked with them to a gate. He opened the gate.
Londyn walked through with Butterscotch. “You’re on vacation now,” she said, rubbing the horse’s nose. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Butterscotch trotted off to join the other horses on the far end of the pasture.
Londyn’s gaze followed her all the way. “She wasn’t the same horse yesterday when she ran off.”
“No, she wasn’t. But she seems back to normal now and happy to be home.” Nash leaned on the fence rail, staring out at the animals in the pasture. “Are you going to ride a different horse around the property?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of taking four-wheelers,” Londyn said.
“I’m game either way. Give me ten minutes for that shower, and I’ll be ready.”
They walked back to the house together. Londyn led him through the back door and up the stairs to the bathroom. “There are towels in the cabinet and shampoo in the shower. I’ll be back with clothes that might fit you.”
Nash was already unzipping his jeans when Londyn turned to leave. She was tempted to stay and help him. But there was a lot she wanted to do and see before she headed back to Yellowstone.
The only clothes Londyn could think of that would fit Nash were her grandfather’s clothes. Gramps had been a big man, standing over six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick muscular arms. She hadn’t been back in his room since the funeral when she’d had to pick his best Sunday suit for the viewing.
With a deep breath, Londyn squared her shoulders and marched down the hall and into her grandfather’s bedroom. It still smelled like him, and that smell almost brought her to her knees. As she fought back tears, she crossed to his closet, opened the doors and thumbed through the hangers full of neatly pressed denim jeans. The jeans were well-worn and faded. Some had rips that had been patched, and others had frayed hems. But they were her grandfather’s, and she hadn’t had the heart to donate them to a local shelter. She wiped away a tear that had trickled out of the corner of her eye and grabbed a hanger with a pair of blue jeans on it.
“My father wasn’t always gruff and seemingly unfeeling.”
Londyn spun toward the voice.
Dana Tyler stood near the four-poster bed her father had slept in for most of his life. “He changed when my mother died. It was like the light went out of him. Sadly, I looked so much like my mother that he couldn’t even look at me. He was heartbroken. But so was I. I needed him, and he wasn’t there for me. I acted out for attention, and all it got me was the wrong kind of attention. It seemed like I was always crossways with my father through my teen years. I didn’t have my mother to talk to. I didn’t have many close friends at school. Just my boyfriend.”
“Is that why you left home and never came back?” Londyn asked. “All because you butted heads with Gramps once too often?” Londyn’s brow puckered as she stared at her mother. “Gramps was a good man. He didn’t always know how to show his love, but he did love me, and I know he loved you, too. It always hurt to know that the two people I cared about most never made the effort to reconcile. You were both so stubborn.” Tears flowed down Londyn’s cheeks. “It broke his heart when he lost Grandma. It broke all over again when he lost you. It took him a long time to open his heart to me, but he did.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “And I loved him very much, and I miss him every single day. He was the father I never had.”
Her mother stared out at the fields and the mountains beyond. “I left because the man I fell in love with told me he didn’t love me anymore. I’d wrapped all my hopes and dreams around him. When he broke my heart, I had to leave. I couldn’t be in the same town or the same state with him without being reminded of everything I’d lost.” She turned to face Londyn, tears streaming down her face. “You see, my father disapproved of my boyfriend. In fact, he told my boyfriend to leave me alone because he couldn’t provide the kind of life I deserved.” She turned back toward the window. “Granted, we were just kids, having just graduated high school with no firm plans for our future.” She snorted. “We were convinced love would find a way. We didn’t care that we were dirt poor. We both knew the value of hard work and were convinced a life together was what we wanted.”
“But you said your boyfriend broke up with you,” Londyn said.
Her mother nodded. “My father got to him. After they had a little discussion, my boyfriend didn’t think he was good enough for me and thought I would be better off without him. So, he staged the breakup, even though he really still loved me. He said awful things to make me hate him. I was hurting so bad that when my father cornered me and told me it was all for the best, I blew up. I said things that I’d been bottling up for years after Mom’s death. I packed my bags and left, promising never to return. It wasn’t until I got to LA that I realized I was pregnant.”
“With me.” Londyn’s whole world seemed to shift. “So, your one-night stand at the bar wasn’t my father, was it?”
Her mother shook her head.
“In fact, there wasn’t a one-night stand at the bar.” Londyn’s teeth ground together.
“No,” her mother admitted.
“You’ve known who my father is all my life.” Londyn said that as a statement not a question.
“Yes.” Dana Tyler’s beautiful face was drawn, making her look older than her forty-five years.
Londyn slung the jeans over her shoulder and reached blindly into the closet for a button-down shirt.
