Page 9 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

Just thinking about it made her already aching head pound harder.

Today, in the throes of the flashing, painful lights that intensified when her eyes were closed, waiting until autumn seemed like an eternity.

Taking deep breaths, Meredith tried to force a calmness over herself. She lightly massaged her temples, letting her mouth go slack, her breathing go shallow. She swallowed passed the nausea and let the ebbing darkness blissfully claim her.

A sudden banging, the loud sound reverberating through Meredith’s head, pulled her from her sleep and forced her to jerk upright. Bile rose up her throat, its bitter taste only making her queasiness worse. When the bright overhead light went on, she ducked her head, covering her eyes with her hands.

“What are you doing?” her father bellowed.

Meredith was torn between continuing to cover her eyes or move to her ears as both his voice and the light were like an assault on her senses.

“I have a headache, Father.” Her voice sounded rough, dry, but not without a pleading tone. “Could you please turn off the light?”

“Get up. We’re late as it is, and you aren’t even ready. Have you been sleeping all afternoon?”

She knew he was moving toward her by the sound of his heavy footsteps and could feel them reverberate around the room as they pounded against the wood floor.

When he stopped at her bed, she felt him loom over her. “I can’t go. I’m not feeling well.”

“Did you take any medicine? What about those pills Dr. Goodman gave you?” His tone was not of a concerned parent but was laced with irritation and frustration.

She’d seen him like this before. Soon he would spiral into anger and there would be no point in reasoning with him. Yetshe tried anyway, hoping he was still merely irritated. “Those pills don’t help, and they make me spacey.”

“Meredith,” he boomed. “I don’t have time for this. Get up and get dressed. This is an important dinner. Lyle Brady is going, and he asked about you.”

In for a penny, in for a poundher Mother had always said.

“Lyle Brady is an old man, Father. Didn’t he graduate a year or two behind you in school?”

“He would still be a powerful ally to have on my side. The political climate is changing and—”

“No.” She opened her eyes, knowing she needed to see his reaction, but the pain and energy required to do so was exhausting.

“No?” His voiced echoed through the room, forcing Meredith to wrap her arms around her head to block out the sound.

“I’m not going, and I will not be sold off to some old man to suit your business needs. What year is this anyway?” Hoping to steady her world, she let out a long exhale. Only, the churning in her stomach increased, the bile rising higher.

“Why can’t you ever do as I ask?” he roared. “Just do as I say.”

“Father, puh-p-please.” She hated the begging, but she'd do it if it meant he would go away and let her be. It wasn’t worth the effort to point out she’d done everything he’d asked, or commanded, since momma died. Being the daughter he wanted had never been and wouldn’t ever be enough.

He grabbed her by the wrist, her hair getting caught up in the grasp as well, and jerked her from the bed. “Enough of this Meredith.”

But the sudden movement was too much for her, and she recoiled, twisted away, and retched on the floor. Tears stinging her eyes, she fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath, control the heaving. Her wrist stung from his abrasive grasp, andher head ached from where her hair had been pulled from the scalp.

Never had he touched her like this. Yes, her father was a calloused, single-minded, distant person who’d come to her birthday parties when she was younger, but stood in the background. Even so, he’d taught her how to drive a car the year before her mother died, and for all his flaws, he’d never been aggressive. But the longer her mother was dead, the more bitter, angry, and resentful he grew. Even intolerable.

But he was her family. He was all she had left. Both her parents had been only children of only children, and there was no aunt or cousin with which to seek refuge.

Meredith reached forward and found the edge of her bed. She pulled herself closer and collapsed against it. Through narrow slits, she looked up at her father’s red face.

“Get a handle on this, Meredith. This is unacceptable.” He turned on his heel and marched out.

Left to clean up the mess, her throat burning from the acid of her vomit, she rested her head against the soft cotton of her quilt, using the cloth to absorb her tears. She couldn’t do this anymore. Ever since her mother’s death, nothing had been the same, and it looked like it would never improve.

In this dark moment, Meredith accepted she’d lost both parents. Hoping her father would become the man she wanted him to be, needed him to be, was gone. He was a person she didn’t like, a person she didn’t respect. Yet she was forced to live as he chose.

Not any longer.

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