Page 25 of Cowboys at Coconuts

Fernando rushed to the piano and played “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Almost immediately, Violet cooed.

“My man has the touch.” Jon wrapped his arm around Fernando’s waist. Vanessa tweaked Violet’s nose and kissed her tummy. “She loves the piano almost as much as Crystal Lake. We took a day trip to watch the boats and jet skis. The guys bought Violet a pink hat so big it looked like an umbrella perched on her head. “She’ll never get a tan with that thing.”

“We have to protect her skin,” Fernando said, “It’s brand new and simply perfect.” He kissed the baby’s pudgy, pink arm. “We’re going to miss this charming house, you Mama Suzy, and Ken, but everything will be here when we return.”

Jon’s frown indicated he wasn’t as pleased as his husband about going abroad. “The timing isn’t the best. We just unpacked our last box. I finally got my clothes in order.”

“Tsk, tsk. Don’t be so rigid, Jon,” Fernando said.

Suzy studied Vanessa. “I’m surprised you aren’t staying here with Violet.”

“Mom, that’s the whole point. Like we said, Mama Gia wants to see her granddaughter.”

Fernando chuckled. “I can’t wait to watch Luigi change a dirty diaper. I hope it’s an extra messy one.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I don’t. He’ll probably rub my face in it. Your brothers are nuts.”

Fernando elbowed him playfully. “They’re Italian and boisterous. You’re used to being an only child. Being around them will be good for you. It’ll be good for all of us.”

“Except me.” Suzy couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry, guys. I know Mama Gia wants to be part of Violet’s life too. I shouldn’t be selfish. It’ll be hard but we’ll manage.”

Chapter 25

After taking two Advil for a splitting headache, Hope reached for the newspaper article about Montana. She had kept it in her top drawer for months, still unable to process the best way to handle the delicate situation. Being a counselor, she knew she was professionally equipped to wade through the relationship puzzle pieces, but on a personal basis, it was a different matter entirely.Should I leave this alone or go to Nashville to see my thought-dead mother? Should I be the one to tell her that her husband is in love with another woman? In fact, by the way, your husband just got married.Putting her head in her hands, Hope groaned. Eyes welling with tears, she stared at the worn newspaper article.I thought you died in the train accident. I thought you both died. This is an impossible situation.

As she stared at the photo of Montana, Hope’s mind wandered. Her adopted mom was a hippie like her dad. She was a petite, blond woman and raised her—actually, Hope did the raising. Her parents were deadbeats, plain and simple. They rarely held down a job for more than a week, were constantly stoned or drunk, and expected her to pay their bills. Hope shuddered, finally admitting the awful truth she had tried to bury along with them. Staring at the photo, Hope could see Montana was clearly alive.I wonder if her memory is intact. She at least remembers how to make those beloved macramé plant hangers, so maybe she’ll remember her husband and me.

Hope glanced out the window as students from a gym class jogged by.I should join them, but my weight is the least of my worries right now.How will I handle this?Everyone at Hilltop knows Larry as Mac, the janitor. Still uncertain why he chose that blasted name but trying to go along with it in front of the students, Hope was mystified that he couldn’t remember a darn thing following the accident.

Peering back at the photo of the only mother she knew who now lay in a nursing home, Hope studied the meager surroundings. Montana was under the covers surrounded by her colorful creations. A sad thought crossed her mind.I wonder if she has all of her limbs.Montana had always worn short shorts with a tee from her favorite rock concert, which included many bands, but KISS was near the top of the list. She had always dressed like a teen, and much to Hope’s chagrin, looked like one. Growing up, Hope always questioned why she was the only chunky person in the family with unruly brown, frizzy hair while both of her parents were lean with silky, if not greasy, blonde hair. After the accident, she found out the truth from her biological dad. Paul had the same short, round body and large brown, doe eyes she inherited. Hope chuckled.Thanks, Dad.

Hope laid the newspaper on top of her stacks of student files. She had read the article so many times, the paper was dog-eared and soft. After tossing and turning about Larry and Willow’s wedding, she knew she and Larry had to have a face-to-face meeting with Montana—and fast. She had to convince him to go to Nashville with her.

Closing her office door, she rushed up the Hilltop stairs, checked every bathroom, and raced down several hallways as fast as her legs would allow. Eventually, Hope discovered the janitor polishing a floor in the gym with a huge round, rotating brush. Thrusting the newspaper in front of Larry-Mac one more time, Hope decided to beg. “Larry, er, Mac, this is important. Will you turn that thing off?”

He fiddled with the off switch while simultaneously giving her a puzzled glance.

“Thank you.” Tapping the paper, Hope said, “Please read this article, study the photograph, and think long and hard before you answer.”

Hope held her breath as Larry-Mac reached for the paper. She studied his lined, weathered face for a reaction. Any reaction.

“Nice plant hangers. I’ve seen one in your office.”

Shaking her head, Hope persevered. “Think hard. Do you remember this woman?”

Larry-Mac shook his head. “Nope. Don’t know her.” He grinned a crooked smile and held up his left hand which sported a thin, silver band. “Guess who got married over the weekend?”

“I know. Willow told me.” Hope managed a smile. “Congratulations. Listen, I know the timing is weird but you and I need to take a road trip right away.”

“A road trip? Why?” Staring hard at the newspaper, Larry lowered his voice. “You’re sure bein’ mysterious, ma’am. This is a fairly new job. I don’t know if I can get off work. I can’t afford to lose my work, plus, remember, I’m kinda on my honeymoon. The old lady and I can’t afford anything besides our stay at that silly Crescent Hotel that’s supposed to be haunted, but I thought I’d attempt to cook dinner or somethin’ for my wife this week. Maybe give her a backrub.”

Cringing at being called ‘ma’am’ from the man who raised her and hearing him refer to Willow as his old lady, not to mention the backrub, Hope held up both hands. “Please don’t say any more.”

“Suit yourself.” Larry-Mac raked his fingers through his long, greasy hair.

“Hear me out.” Swallowing, Hope continued, “There’s someone you need to see.”

“Who?” he asked as three basketball players bounced a ball at the opposite end of the gym.

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