“So, you’re going to be an aunt,” he said with a small smile, starting the truck.
“I’m going to be an aunt.” She smiled back, and it was more relaxed this time.
It seemed that God had provided for him before he even knew what to ask. Maybe in some small way, He’d provided for both of them. Because Sawyer wanted to help her. Even if that was just sitting there and listening when she needed to talk.
Chapter Six
Sawyer sat at the kitchen table the next morning, his Bible in front of him and his gaze locked on the side door. He was frustrated. He had no memory of how to do the work that used to occupy him, but his muscles seemed to remember having done something other than this easy-paced recovery. And he was itching to exert himself. In fact, he was eager to get out there and actually work. It would come back to him—other memories had been resurfacing. Why not his job?
This was what he had—his hard work. That was one thing he’d heard over and over again—and he could see the evidence on his calloused hands. He might not have been half-good enough for a lot of women, but at least he’d been a hard worker. There was a lot of stuff outside of a man’s control, but his work ethic wasn’t one of those. He could choose how hard he worked—and that could define a man.
So being stuck in the house with his little girls was grating on him—as awful as that sounded. He loved them already, and he could remember a few little details about them now, like the way their newborn hair had swirled. He couldn’t remember anything else about those early days, but he remembered the tops of their heads. So this wasn’t about not loving his girls, it was about something deeper—his own need to put his muscles into some good, hard work, and loosen himself up again.
Lloyd’s footsteps sounded on the steps outside, and the door opened. The older man came inside, pulled off his hat and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“Another twelve calves since last night,” he announced. “And one had triplets.”
“Yeah?”
“Rare—it doesn’t happen too often. All three survived, too. The smaller two will have to be bottle-fed, but the bigger one is feeding fine.”
Sawyer nodded, then rose to his feet. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Lloyd pulled off his boots, then headed for the sink.
“Did you get my text?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah. My answer is no.”
Sawyer heaved a sigh. “It’ll come back to me, Lloyd. I know it.”
“You’ve had a head injury,” his uncle retorted. “We’ve been over this! I mean...” His uncle faltered and looked at him over his shoulder. “Do you remember us discussing that?”
“Yes, I remember it,” Sawyer said irritably. “I’m antsy. I need to do something.”
His uncle washed his hands, silent through the process, then grabbed a towel and slowly turned.
“You’ve got a real chance here to start over,” Lloyd said slowly.
“A chance?” he said with a short laugh. “I have no other choice. That’s what I’m trying to do—get back to where I was before.”
“But you’ve got a chance to do things differently. We don’t all get that.”
Sawyer eyed his uncle uncertainly. “Like, how differently? From what I can figure, I worked hard and I did a good job. That’s what you told me, isn’t it?”
“Yep, that’s true.”
“So why would I want to change? Let me learn that again. I feel like a coiled spring. I’m going nuts here.”
Lloyd regarded him for a moment, hesitating. Then he sighed. “We all have our faults. For me, I never took risks. I lived to regret it, you know. I look back on my life and I see times when I should have stepped up and done something. I should have put myself out there. I was always more afraid of rejection than I was of just not trying. I was more comfortable with cattle than people...than women.”
“Was I...like that?” Sawyer asked.
“I’m talking about me. I’m saying, I have regrets,” Lloyd replied. “I never got married. I knew I was kind of funny-looking, and I took a few well-aimed insults to heart. Eventually I just stopped asking girls out.” He laughed uncomfortably. “You used to know about this. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but here I am. I’m fifty and single. I don’t have a wife, or kids of my own. I was honored to take you in after your dad passed, don’t get me wrong. But I was too scared to make a life of my own. Too scared I’d put my heart out there and get turned down.”
“But you said I had the chance to start over,” Sawyer prodded. “What are my regrets that I don’t remember?”
“I’m not judging, Sawyer,” his uncle replied quietly. “But you’re like me in a lot of ways. You buried yourself in work instead of really living your life. Every extra minute, you were out there trying to build this ranch into something bigger. Like you had something to prove to yourself. And you had a good woman here—she loved you and she understood your drive, but when you get to be my age, you don’t look back on those years and regret not having worked harder. You regret the time you didn’t spend with the ones you loved.”
His hard work—had it gone overboard?
“I...neglected my wife?” Sawyer asked, frowning.
“She understood, but your daughters might not,” Lloyd said, and he shrugged apologetically. “That’s all I’m saying. Those little girls are going to grow up whether you’re around to see it or not. And they’ll have a few resentments of their own if they feel like you weren’t there for them. Maybe this loss of memory can give you
