Page 45 of A Reckless Memory

“I knew you two had something going on,” Dr. Jake grumbled.

“A long time ago. Is that why you’re constantly underestimating her?”

He sighed and brushed dirt off his coat. “No. I see people like her all the time. Big hearts, big pocketbooks, no damn sense about what caring for hurt and neglected animals really takes. I was worried when I heard about this place—and yeah, she’s a nice-looking chick. But I’m not going to be complacent and load her up with rescues when I don’t know she can handle them.”

“She can handle them.”

He tipped his head. “They all think that.”

Some of my anger ebbed. I had to give him credit. He was using his best judgment, and while he might’ve come down harder on her when he realized getting into her pants wasn’t an option, he was ultimately worried about the welfare of the rescues. “Just talk to her. She’s got all this space, and I’ve got time. Melon and Downy are going to be ready to sell soon. The cats take five minutes of care a day, and the chickens don’t require that much more time.”

“I do feel better seeing what you’ve done with them.” He held his hands up. “Don’t take that as an insult to her. I know you’ve got a thing for her.”

I had a big fucking thing for her. “There was a time we were going to go into business together. But she’s the boss. Call her with the information. I’m just the help.” And for once, I didn’t suck on a big ol’ lemon wedge saying that.

He snorted and started for his pickup. “From what I saw the other night, you’re more than the help. Call me if Downy has any more issues.”

Yes, I was more to her than the help. I was her past. Her present and future were what I wanted, and I had a bigger hill to climb than I first thought. I went into the barn to play with the kittens and give Fancy some love. She was curled into my jacket when Archer shouted for me.

“In here,” I called.

They both wandered in together, same stance, same build. I’d be a triplicate. But this view was new. After Archer graduated and took off, and I did the same, the three of us hadn’t been in the same place as adults. “Nice spread,” Archer said. He was wearing the heavier winter coat I needed to buy. If it wasn’t for Fancy and the kittens, I’d be frozen to the hay bale. Sunlight didn’t reach this far into the barn.

I gently set the cat down, and she twined around Dad’s legs. He chuckled and picked her up. “This one yours?”

“I’m just the guy who feeds her,” I said. “She and the kittens were dumped about a month ago. Aggie would let you take her home with you.”

Dad’s brow crinkled with his grin. While he tucked Fancy into his elbow and petted her, I took notes. He looked hale, hearty in a way he hadn’t while we were growing up. Signs he was getting older were there, but he looked good. Seeing him unknotted something I didn’t know was tangled inside me.

“Nice to see you, Dad.”

He aimed his smile my way and set Fancy down to give me a hearty hug. Dad was lanky but strong. The same citrus aftershave he’d used my whole life filled my nose. Hugging him was like someone shoved a cloak made of concrete off my shoulders.

“Been a while, Ansen. Having you two in the same spot was too much for this old man to resist. I had to make a flight work. It’ll be nice to have the kids show me everything instead of seeing it through a screen.”

Between his job and his finances, he couldn’t travel often or very far. Guilt ate at my stomach. I should’ve seen him more.

“Look at us,” Archer said, stooping to grab one of the kittens. A little tortie. “All in one place after how long?”

“Gosh,” Dad said, adjusting a stocking hat he’d probably worn twice in his life. “Near fifteen years?”

“At least. Anyone want a cat?” I asked before we got too melancholy about lost time. Now that we were together, I wanted to enjoy my dad and brother. “The one you’re holding, Archer, is Pepsi because she’s the darkest tortie. Coke is the tabby with the whitest stripes.”

Archer laughed. “Coke with the little white lines?”

“Aggie’s idea. The tortie with more orange is Fanta. Root Beer has the most brown and then there’s Pepper because she’s still a little spicy.”

“Not Dr Pepper?” Archer grinned.

“She’s not that smart. And Tab because she looks like a traditional tabby cat.”

“That’s my kind of six-pack.” Dad stepped out to check the horses, then twisted to scan the rest of the property. He tucked his chin into a navy-blue-and-silver North Face coat I suspected he borrowed from Archer. When he faced the trailer, he stopped. “That where you’re staying?”

“Yeah.” Showing Dad where I stayed the few times he’d visited me never failed to leave a stain on my pride. Someday, I’d show him something I was proud of. Someday, I wanted to show him my home. “I’ve been in worse.” Rarely better. “Nicer than camping.”

“Most definitely,” Dad said. “I’m not made for the ground anymore.”

He let out a gusty breath and circled. Snow had dusted the ground last week, but after a day above freezing, it was gone. The rolling hills were brown, and the random buttes dotting the countryside were the same color. Cattle graced the landscape in the pastures adjacent to Aggie’s property. A large “for sale” sign had gone up across the highway. Hopefully, another rancher bought the land instead of having it parceled out for a subdivision.

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