Which was probably why she never told Morgan that Nathan was his son until the boy was two years old.
“I know, but we live on a road and we don’t want anything to happen to her.” Morgan kept his tone even as he told Brandy to heel and led her back to the rope attached to the veranda and tied her up.
Nathan didn’t reply but followed Morgan into the house. He trudged up the stairs behind him, his footfalls heavy. Morgan knew he shouldn’t expect more enthusiasm from the boy over the situation. Thanks to Gillian, the kid barely knew him.
Morgan and Gillian had met during his first year of vet school. She was in town to compete in a rodeo. They fell hard for each other, got married quickly, and then, after a year, she left him, claiming that she didn’t want to be tied down.
Gillian moved back to her mother’s place in Idaho and returned to the life she’d lived when she and Morgan had met. Driving around the country, pulling her horse trailer behind her, entering any rodeo she could.
Two years after she left Morgan, he found out, via her mother, that he and Gillian had a son. A five-year-long battle for visitation rights followed soon after.
For some reason, Gillian kept Nathan away from him with her constant movement, chasing her dream of being a champion barrel racer. Gillian’s mother had no explanation either since she had become as estranged from her daughter and grandson as he was.
Then, this spring, as Gillian was competing in a rodeo up in Grande Prairie, her horse’s feet went out from under him around the second barrel. Gillian fell beneath him and, in a freak accident, was crushed and in a coma. Gillian’s mother, Donna, had flown in from Idaho to be at her daughter’s bedside and was with her when she died hours later. Donna had also arrived with Nathan.
Thus it was at the hospital, at his wife’s bedside, for the first time in the seven years Nathan had been alive, Morgan finally met his son.
They were complete strangers to each other. It was a horrible time. Nathan was withdrawn and grieving and clung to his grandmother, the only other person he was familiar with.
While Morgan was tempted to leave Nathan with Donna, he also knew the sooner he could take care of his son, the sooner they would bond.
And he also knew he needed to come back to a place where he had family and community.
Cedar Ridge.
So he contacted Dr. Waters, the local vet, about a job and managed to snag a commitment. He was supposed to start today but he’d asked if he could begin tomorrow instead.
He and Nathan had moved back to Cedar Ridge only yesterday and were barely unpacked. He wanted to spend one more day with Nathan before he went to school. Though it would be a scant three weeks before school was out, Morgan wanted to get Nathan used to the kids he would be attending school with. That way September wouldn’t be as much of a shock.
Thankfully Morgan’s father lived in Cedar Ridge and was willing to let Nathan come to his place after school. Cord and Ella, his brother and his fiancée, had also offered assistance as needed.
It was a patchwork support system but it would do for now.
He hoped by the time summer vacation began that he would have found a nanny or someone to help out.
“So, it’s a good thing that Uncle Cord and Auntie Ella came to help us get the house organized yesterday,” Morgan said to Nathan with forced joviality. “I’m sure you’ll get to be good friends with your cousins Paul and Suzy.”
“I never met them before.” Nathan’s tone indicated that he didn’t care if he ever met them again. He flopped on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the conversation was now over.
“But you’ll get to know them better,” Morgan replied, struggling once again with a sense of sorrow. Ever since he met Nathan, the boy had been prickly and angry and rejected every advance Morgan made.
He knew Nathan was grieving and confused and upset, and that it would take time. Morgan tried hard to understand but each rebuff was like a blow.
“When do I get to see Gramma again?” Nathan asked.
“In a couple of weeks.” Donna had asked if Morgan would be willing to drive down to Idaho for her fiftieth birthday and he had agreed. The counselor he talked to had underlined the importance of maintaining contact with the one constant in Nathan’s life. “But for now, let’s see about making this room cozier.” Morgan pulled out his jackknife to cut the tape on one of the few boxes of personal items Nathan had.
Nathan charged to life and yanked the box away from Morgan. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he cried.
“I was trying to help,” Morgan said.
“Don’t need your help.” Nathan pushed the box under his bed, grabbed the other two larger ones and pulled them closer.
Morgan was too taken aback at the fury in his son’s voice to reprimand him.
“Okay. You can put what you want in the dresser. There are hangers in the closet for your other clothes. Any toys you have can go in the toy box.”
“Toys are for babies” was all Nathan said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away from him.
His rejection was like a hit to the stomach. Morgan waited but Nathan didn’t turn around.
So he left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, dragged his hand over his face and uttered a prayer for strength and patience. He simply had to give him time.
For now, Morgan had his own unpacking to do.
He was fortunate that his father owned this house, giving Morgan a place to stay. The house had been part of a ranch that Boyce and Cord had purchased a few years ago and his father was willing to subdivide the acreage and sell it to him.
And thanks to his share of Gillian’s life insurance policy and his own savings, he had a down payment to put on the place. The irony of it all hadn’t escaped him. Gillian had given him more in death than she had in life.
Morgan pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall to finish setting up his bedroom. The bed, dresser and the bedside table his father and Cord had picked up at a yard sale were the only pieces of furniture in a room that looked like it could house a small family.
While he worked, Morgan listened for any sounds coming from Nathan’s room.
Nothing.
He was finished putting his own clothes away when his cell phone rang. It was his father.
“So, does the place feel like home yet?” Boyce Walsh asked.
Morgan looked around the bare room and chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m unpacked.”
“It’s a start. Do you want to go out for supper?” his father asked. “I don’t feel like cooking and I’m sure you don’t either. We could meet at the Brand and Grill.”
He hesitated. “What about the pizza place?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet in the same place he knew Tabitha worked.
“I hate pizza. Ate too much of that in my bull-riding days.”
Morgan had to smile. His father often used his bull-riding days as a convenient excuse.
“Isn’t there another place we could go?” Morgan said.
“We could do Angelo’s but it’s too quiet.”
“Guess it’s the Brand and Grill, then.”
His father was quiet as if acknowledging how difficult going there could be for him.
“May as well get it over with,” Boyce said. “You’re going to run into Tabitha sooner or later.”
“I