and went. The only other patient visitors in the dining area were a family Effie recognized from the ICU waiting room. The father had suffered a heart attack, but his prognosis was good.
Wallace had only eaten a third of his sandwich when he changed course to attack his pie. He finished in four bites, then washed it down with half his cup of joe. “That’s better.” He wiped pie crumbs from his mustache. “Now, I suppose this is something best kept in the family, but I would appreciate a woman’s take on the matter.”
“Of course.” Effie leaned in.
“Let me first say I’m no angel. What seems like a hundred years ago, I made a killing in oil. I let the money go to my head, stepped out on my wife, and she packed up our little girl and left me. Marsh is my daughter Jacinda’s son. I only cheated that one time, and I was so damned drunk I didn’t remember much other than waking up with a head throbbing with regret, but my wife wasn’t having it, and she moved back out east to stay with her folks. They were a hoity-toity bunch who dabbled in Thoroughbred breeding and never much cottoned to me. We were separated for forty years before Jacinda called to tell me her mama died from flu.” He shook his head while tears shone in his eyes. “Flu. You hear about folks dyin’ from it on the news, but it seems like an unnecessary way to go.”
“I’m sorry.” Effie placed her hand over Wallace’s.
He snatched his hand back and waved off her concern. “No need for sympathy. The damned fool woman made her choices, same as me. Save for ten minutes, I was faithful to her my whole life, but got nothin’ to show for it. Now, I finally have my grandson with me, and look what happened to him.”
“You could no more control Marsh getting bit by a rattler than you could the outcome of your infidelity. Sometimes life just plain sucks.”
He snorted and reached for his fork, pressing crumbs between the tines. “What’s worse, my grandson’s now in the same kind of bind.”
“Marsh cheated on his wife?” Effie’s respect for him plummeted.
“No, no. Of course, not. Hell, they’ve been divorced for darn near three years, and he still wore his ring—took a rattler to pry it off him. I just meant that he’s as alone as I am. When his little boy drowned, Jacinda worried grief might drive Marsh under.”
Wallace’s story trapped Effie’s heart on a spinning carnival ride. Up and down, around and around. Whereas moments earlier, she’d felt contempt for the man, she now ached for him. Had his wife blamed him for the loss of their son? And was that why their marriage died, too?
She drew her lower lip into her mouth. Poor, poor Marsh.
“I didn’t share all of this to draw pity. I don’t get out much, and am genuinely curious to hear a woman’s point of view. Was my wife right to never speak to me again? Was Marsh’s wife right to leave him?”
Effie slowly exhaled. “Honestly, without hearing both sides, it’s hard to say. But just having heard your version, sounds like you and Marsh both deserved another chance.”
Silent tears streamed down the man’s weathered cheeks.
He wadded his napkin, turning his back to her while drying his eyes. “I’m a silly old fool.”
She rose to hug him. “It’s never wrong to love someone, and it sounds to me like you and your grandson loved your wives very much.”
Achy longing took hold in Effie’s gut.
More than anything, all she’d ever wanted besides being a nurse was to be a great mom and to be loved. Love seemed like such a simple thing. Lots of people had it. What was it about her that Moody had found so unlovable?
Would any guy find her worthy of his affection?
She chided herself for even asking the question. With three kids and a grandmother and ragtag ranch to tend, the last thing she had time to even think about was a man.
Marsh woke to bright sun, cartoons and fighting. Since none of that made sense, he closed his eyes, figuring when he next woke, life would once again be normal.
Give it!
No!
Yes!
Boys!
Something broke.
Both of you sit down. If I have to tell you again, you’re not going to Scotty’s party.
I hate you! I’m calling Dad!
Colt William Washington! This voice was different—older sounding, in a scolding, grandmotherly way.
Grandma, I’m sorry. I thought the boys would behave, but—
“Hey...” Marsh fully opened his eyes to find not one boy who would have been older than Tucker when he’d passed, but two. “How come you’re giving your mom such a hard time?”
“You’re awake!” A petite blonde rushed to his side. My angel? He recalled the sweetest humming and soft strokes to his hair. She clapped her hands to flushed cheeks, then her hair, then to his shoulder. “Oh my gosh. I need to get your grandpa. He’s going to be so happy.”
One of the boys stepped alongside his mom. “Your hand blew up to the size of a football and had lots of icky gunk squirting out of it. It was awesome!”
Not to be outdone, a clone of the first boy said, “When I was little, a stick poked out my eyeball!”
“Remington, Colt, come here.” The grandmotherly voice was attached to a slim body with spiky white hair. “Leave that poor man alone.”
Marsh licked his lips. “Would one of y’all mind helping me out with a few clues as to what’s going on?”
The boy scampered to a window seat, where he joined his other half in coloring in a Transformers book with crayons.
“I’m sorry.” The angel’s flighty hands were back to her cheeks. “I’m Effie. You were bitten by a rattler, and I found you and your horse. These little hellions are my boys—Colt and Remington. And this—” she put her arm around the older woman who had her impish smile “—is Mabel. My saint of a grandmother, who took us all in.”
Mabel said, “We’re your grandfather’s neighbors to the east.”
“Guess I owe you a heap of gratitude.” Marsh struggled just to scratch his stubble-covered jaw. “Everything that happened is kind of a blur.” Mostly what I remember is you, Effie. The way you made me want to fight my way back from the dark.
A crying whimper came from somewhere near the window.
His angel headed that way to pluck an infant from a carrier. With a cherub-cheeked mini version of herself, only with curls, settled on her hip, Effie returned. “This is Cassidy. She gets cranky when she’s left out of the action.”
“Don’t blame her.” Marsh tried reaching for the nearest of the infant’s bare feet, but even that small effort seemed
