had been precious to her. A birthday present from her aunt, the year her mom had forgotten the day entirely. “Mom never even apologized. Not about the horse or forgetting my birthday.”
A look of understanding mixed with sadness filled the old man’s gaze. “I had a daddy who liked the bottle. Like your mama he never apologized for nothin’. Mam said it was ’cause he didn’t recall doin’ it.”
“My mom used to say horrible things to both me and Keenan.”
“That was the alcohol talking.” The lines on Mr. Marstand’s face appeared to deepen. “Pap used to tell me I was more trouble than I was worth. My sis used to cry when he said that to her. Not me. I never cried.”
“Keenan never cried either.”
“I told everyone the words just bounced off me like one of them bouncing balls.” Mr. Marstand gave a humorless chuckle. “It sounded good.”
“My mom’s words hurt,” Betsy admitted. “But I tried not to let her actions—or her words—affect my life.”
“Sometimes they still do, just in ways we can’t see.”
Even if Mr. Marstand hadn’t been staring at her with that expectant look on his face, she’d have made the connection. “You think my past is affecting my relationship with Ryan.”
“Isn’t it?”
Even though she didn’t owe her neighbor an explanation, Mr. Marstand was much more than simply the man next door. He was her friend. The grandfather she’d never had.
“No, it isn’t. There are reasons Ryan and I can’t be together,” Betsy said. “Big, important ones.”
“Have you shared those big important reasons with him?”
Betsy shook her head.
“Then I think it’s about time, don’t you?”
Ryan left the Teton County Courthouse with most of his questions answered. At first he’d encountered some resistance. Until he’d mentioned he was there representing Betsy’s interests. Was it his fault they took that as saying he was her attorney?
After hearing the details of the case against Chad, Ryan knew why the prosecutors were so grateful Betsy had come forward. Although there was good forensic evidence, the legal assistant Chad had assaulted had a few things in her past that the defense would likely use to their advantage.
But with Betsy also reporting inappropriate actions, the chance that they would get a conviction had increased exponentially.
Ryan knew that surprises were never a good thing. He mentioned to the district attorney that Betsy now worked for him and that they were involved. He didn’t stop there. Ryan made it clear he expected Chad’s legal team to use that fact to discredit her.
Had she coerced him into that relationship? the attorney had asked. When Ryan made it clear that Betsy was the woman he wanted to marry and confirmed her report that anything that had happened between them was consensual, he was told no worries.
All that was left was for Ryan to go to Betsy, explain what he’d done and tell her there was no obstacle to keep them from being together.
Only one thing worried him. What if this wasn’t why Betsy had broken off their relationship? What if she simply didn’t love him?
What was he going to do then?
* * *
Betsy took Mr. Marstand home, then returned to the house. The sun had set and the house that had been comfortable at fifty-two degrees while they’d been working had taken on a decided chill.
If she emptied more closets or cleaned out a few more cupboards, she might have been able to keep warm. But she was tired of working. Tired of wondering why Ryan hadn’t returned.
Not that she wanted him to, but it was rude to promise to come back and then not call. Still, even if he did call, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Mr. Marstand had given her a lot to think about. Who knew the quirky octogenarian was such a sage?
Pulling a musty-smelling crocheted afghan from the table, Betsy wrapped it over her coat and leaned back in the chair. In the past when a childhood memory surfaced, she pushed it back.
For the first time, Betsy let the memories wash over her. Happy. And not-so-happy ones.
She recalled the drunken binges, the broken promises, the horrible things said in anger. To her surprise, she remembered a few happy times, too. Times when her mother’s eyes had been clear and bright. Times when they’d laughed and sang songs. Times when her mother seemed genuinely glad to have a son and a daughter.
Her mother had never asked for her forgiveness. Now, because she was dead, that would never happen. What had that minister said? Something about grace being needed but not deserved?
Could she forgive her mother? Let go of the hurt? Put aside the anger?
She’d seen evidence of the rage that burned inside Keenan. Even though he was innocent of the charges that had sent him to prison, he’d been a short-fused bomb waiting to explode. It would have been only a matter of time until he’d really hurt someone or himself.
Betsy closed her eyes and summoned up an image of her mother and the trip to Devil’s Tower. When they’d stopped for gas. When she’d returned to the car after paying and surprised Betsy and Keenan with the bottles of orange Nehi soda.
Another good moment, Betsy thought in surprise. Good times that she’d nearly forgotten.
“I forgive you,” Betsy whispered. Then, because it seemed if you were going to forgive someone the words should be said with more certainty, with more gusto, Betsy took a deep breath and tried again. “I forgive you, Mother,” she called loudly, her words echoing in the silent house. “For everything.”
At first nothing happened. Then, like a warm summer rain that washes everything clean, the hurt and anger Betsy had been holding on to since she’d been a child let go of her heart and the tension in her chest eased.
Betsy glanced around the darkened living room. Nothing had changed on the outside. But on the inside, well, on the inside, the sun, which had been covered by clouds, was shining brightly.
* * *
Because the sidewalk leading up to her apartment was wet, Betsy carried Puffy from the car. She sniffed. “Puffball, I don’t know if it’s you or me, but one of us needs a bath.”
Betsy figured it was probably both of them. Aunt Agatha’s home had a musty, foul smell that made Betsy wrinkle her nose each time she walked through the door. Soon it would be clean. The hardwood floors would be resurfaced and waxed, and lace curtains would hang at bright and shiny windows.
She pictured Ryan and Puffy bursting through the door and her opening her arms to hug them both.
Stop it, she told herself. What Mr. Marstand had said was all well and good, but
