“What do you think? I’ve brought them back.”
“Early,” she said. “Their school doesn’t start until—”
“I know when the fall term begins. Try to keep up, Elizabeth. The last time we spoke, I told you about job interviews. They’re scheduled now, half a dozen. Did you think I planned to take them with me?”
Hoping the children couldn’t hear, she kept her voice low. “I thought you planned to have them for the summer. I’m glad they’re here, but really, how can they trust you if you’re of one mind today and another tomorrow?”
He surveyed the room, as if he were conducting a meeting at town hall, his gaze focused in turn on each member of his administration, except that Elizabeth was the only other person in the room now. “Jordan was bored. Stella misses her dolls. I can never remember their names, a mark against me in her book. Seth is always homesick. Nothing I tried changed that enough, but surely you don’t want me to miss an opportunity to quit being unemployed?”
“I didn’t want you to miss this time with them—the whole time,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way? There’s a lot going on here too, Harry. I’m up to my ears at the shop, with the upcoming rodeo in Barren—”
“A rodeo,” he muttered. “Ah, I see,” he said. “I’m interrupting your plans?”
Elizabeth tried to explain. “I promised to help my neighbor.”
His voice oozed with disdain. “That cowboy?” He sounded like her mother.
“And Clara McMann. The kids will love it, which is a big part of the reason I agreed to take part, but honestly, I don’t even have a babysitter who can fill in while I’m at work in the shop or for the event.”
He smirked. “You’re too busy to take care of your own children? I can’t imagine that would please Claudia.”
Elizabeth ignored that. Harry had often tried to keep her in line by mentioning her mother. “Excuse me? You never had time to look after them yourself. You and I had an agreement. I expected to have the summer—” which she’d dreaded in June “—to fix my own life, which I’ve been trying to do, and now you’ve reneged. What am I supposed to do? Quit the job I just started so you can trot off to all your interviews? Abandon people who are depending on me?”
“Jordan, Stella and Seth depend on you.”
“As they did on you, Harry. You let them down, which isn’t new, and you keep changing the rules. First, you have an affair, and you father a child who is not part of this family. You betray me in front of this whole town, all my friends...yes, my mother too. You leave me to pick up the pieces of my life, then waltz out of here again now to pursue your own interests when you should be—”
“Apparently you’ve pursued yours, as well. Don’t get on your high horse with me, Elizabeth. That was an issue from the day we got married. Maybe I looked for someone more giving, more interested in who I was...which means part of the blame for our ridiculous divorce falls on you. One person in a relationship doesn’t get to supersede the other.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” She might not confront her mother as she should, like Dallas advised, but she’d put Bernice in her place, and it was time to stand up to Harry. “In case you’ve forgotten, you were home maybe one night out of five. When you were, you stayed in your den on the phone with people who obviously meant more to you than we did. Than I did,” she said. “We both know how that ended. And it is over, Harry. I’ll expect you to pay for the sitter I need to find.” She walked to the door, making sure she didn’t come near him. “Thank you for bringing the children home. We’ll manage, as we did before. Good luck with your interviews, wherever they may be.” Elizabeth would not ask. “Let me know when you want to see them again.”
She held the door until he walked through, then slammed it shut, rattling the windows.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IN HER BEDROOM Becca huddled up in a ball on her bed. She shouldn’t have talked to Elizabeth the other day. She shouldn’t have told Calvin about the pregnancy. Becca had been hiding out since then. When she’d reached the house again late today, her dad had been in the kitchen, the telltale sizzle from a skillet telling her he was browning meat for supper. Tiptoeing past the doorway, Becca had gone straight to her room. Now, filled with dread, she waited for him to come upstairs.
The soft rap at her door startled her anyway. “Yes?”
His deep voice rumbled from the hallway. “May I come in?”
She couldn’t say no, and he’d only try the doorknob if she didn’t answer.
The door opened. With one eye she peeked out from beneath the arm she’d flung across her face, shutting out the light, the world, as if hiding might make things simpler. Now there he stood, eyes dark with concern, the coveralls he’d worn for work today—every day—smudged with dirt from the barn.
She wondered how he managed without help. They couldn’t afford hired hands, and it wasn’t as if the farm was big like the Circle H or Wilson Cattle ranches, or even Clara McMann’s, but her dad worked too hard. Drove himself, really. Becca asked, “Did you finish fertilizing the fields?”
“Almost done.” He edged into her room. “Anything you want to share with me, Becca?”
“No,” she tried, hoping he’d give up and go away.
He stayed, of course. “It’s not like you to come home yesterday without saying a word, and today you must have known I was in the house. You didn’t even call hello or eat dinner.” He crossed
