pool had been constructed to resemble a country pond. A pile of boulders at the deep end featured a grotto with a swim-up bar and slide. Country music played from speakers hidden in more rocks, and the sweet scent of petunias blended with suntan lotion and chlorine and lingering smoke from the grill to form the perfect backdrop for a lazy summer afternoon.
“Colt! Remington!” she called above the splashing, shifting Cassidy to her other hip. “We need to go!”
“No!” Colt swooshed his hand through the water, creating a massive wave. “We’re having fun!”
“Now.” Effie walked to the pool’s edge. “If you’re not out of this pool by the time I count to ten, you’re grounded from TV and your friends for the whole first week of school.”
Cassidy must have sensed the change in her mother’s mood, as she whimpered. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Effie said with a light jiggle. “Mommy’s not mad at you.”
Remington sloshed to the pool’s edge and hopped out, racing across the sandstone pavers for his towel.
“Don’t run!” she shouted after him.
Meanwhile, Colt crossed his arms and glared. “I don’t wanna go!”
“One.” Why was Colt doing this? He never used to talk back when Moody had been around. Was she such a horrible parent that she’d brought out this defiant streak?
He stood chest-deep in the water, staring.
“Two.”
His friends stopped playing keep-away to gawk. Apparently the parental showdown was more entertaining?
“Three.”
“Colt, come on,” his brother said. “We gotta pick school stuff.”
“No!” Colt looked away to swim to the deep end.
“Four.” Effie’s heart pounded. She’d always hated confrontations, and fighting with her son in such a public setting was the worst.
“I’ll get him, Mom.” Bless his little heart, Remington handed her his towel, jumped back in the pool, and swam to his brother. He whispered something in his ear, then Colt slapped the water but eventually turned for the shallow end.
“Thanks for your help,” she said when Remington stood beside her while Colt took his time getting his Spider-Man towel.
“You’re welcome.”
She wanted to ask Remington what he’d said that had worked such magic but in the end realized she didn’t want to know. What if her youngest boy had told his big brother that if he didn’t come, Mom was going to have a stroke? Or embarrass them even more in front of their friends?
When Colt finally reached her, Cassidy’s weight had taken a toll on Effie’s lower back. Eager to place the baby in her car seat, she said to both boys, “Go and thank Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, then get dressed. We need to hurry and get to the store.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, frazzled didn’t begin to cover Effie’s mood. The school supplies had cost double what she’d budgeted and Colt had insisted on specialty items instead of plain number-two pencils and standard notebooks. She knew she should have told him no, but it was tough when Remington behaved like a saint in the crowded back-to-school aisle and deserved a little something special for the start of first grade.
She had money tucked away from selling vegetables and eggs at the summer farmer’s market, and every so often Moody did send a check, but she hated needing his money and felt guilty living off Mabel’s generosity. Effie vowed to one day finish nursing school so she’d be able to support herself.
Last year, Moody had been with her and the boys when they’d shopped for kindergarten supplies. When Colt pitched a fit over wanting the extra-large box of crayons with the built-in sharpener, Moody hefted him over his shoulder and carried him kicking and screaming to the truck.
Unsure what she’d do if Colt behaved like that with her, she’d bowed to his pressure—a horrible parenting move, but what else could she have done? With Cassidy riding in her carrier, if Colt pulled a stunt like running off, her only option would have been hefting his brother into the cart, then chasing after him.
Back at Mabel’s ranch, Effie was surprised to find a familiar red Ford pickup in Mabel’s drive. What was Wallace doing at the house? Had he driven himself without a license? More importantly, her racing pulse wondered, had he brought his grandson? If Marsh was even out of the hospital.
After parking her minivan, she flipped down the visor to check if she looked as bad as she felt—just in case Marsh was feeling well enough to tag along. In a word? Yes. Her once-neat ponytail sagged, and dozens of wispy curls framed her flushed face.
“What’cha lookin’ at, Mom?” Remington still sat in his safety seat, but Colt had already unbuckled himself and opened the van’s side door.
Since she couldn’t tell her son she was checking herself out for a possible encounter with the handsome neighbor, she crossed her fingers behind her back before saying, “I, um, thought I had something in my eye.”
“Oh.” He scrambled from his seat to take Cassidy from hers. “Ready to see Great-Gramma?” he asked his baby sister in an adorable soft tone.
Cassidy grinned, bucking with excitement.
“Sure you’re strong enough to carry her?” Effie asked.
“Mo-om.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m really big, and she’s really small.”
“Oh, well in that case, you can always carry her.” She kept a close eye on the pair while opening the van’s rear door. “How about you start by taking her in the house. Colt and I will grab your school supplies.”
“Okay.” He took his time with his baby sister, being extra careful on the short step to the porch.
“There you are.” Mabel burst out the front door.
Wallace followed behind her, then spotted Effie. “Let me help with that. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
He bounded out in front of Mabel to take Effie’s bags.
“Thank you.” She eyed her blushing grandmother, whose expression landed between the cat who swallowed a canary and a randy teen who’d been caught making out. “Everything all right?”
“Oh, fine, fine,” Wallace said. “Marsh!” He waved toward the barn, where his grandson exited at a snail’s pace. “Come on over here. You should both hear our happy news.”
Mabel beamed.
What in the world is going on?
And how did any man have a right to look so good straight out of the hospital? Should he even be walking? Marsh’s left hand was bandaged. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with NAVY written on the front in big blue letters. She couldn’t tell which was in worse condition, his battered cowboy boots or his equally shabby brown leather cowboy hat. The closer he got, the more she couldn’t help but wonder how she hadn’t
