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“It was nothing serious, Ma.”
“You were in the hospital. Which you didn’t tell me, by the way. I had to hear it from rumors around town.”
“I checked myself out in less than twenty-four hours,” I countered. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
Ma snorted.
“I’m your mother. That’s my job.”
When we reached the bunkhouse, I opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.
“Well,” I said. “I’m back on my feet. That’s the important part. Practically good as new.”
Ma narrowed her eyes as she passed me. Then she poked a finger into my ribs. I grunted in pain and flinched. She arched an eyebrow.
“Practically good as new, my ass.”
I offered a sheepish smile with a shrug, just like I always did as a boy when she caught me in a lie. Shaking her head affectionately, Ma patted my cheek.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Beau. Don’t turn those soft brown eyes on me in the hopes it will get you out of hot water.”
“It’s never failed me before,” I replied.
Mom huffed good-naturedly. She set up her crockpot in the tiny kitchen area of the bunkhouse—a dented and scratched stretch of counter, a crusty old stove, and an ancient tank of a refrigerator. I fetched dishes and silverware, setting the table.
“By the way,” she said. “I got your check in the mail last week. I told you to stop sending me money, Beau. It’s not necessary.”
Growing up, I’d watched my mother slave away as a waitress, taking double shifts, exhausted, and we still barely scraped by. She never shared her financial worries with me, but I could tell when the paycheck wasn’t stretching as far as it was supposed to. She wouldn’t touch a bite of dinner, and piled the food on my plate instead, making sure I went to bed with a full belly.
As soon as I was old enough to pick up work around local farms and ranches, I set aside part of my earnings for her. Even after I’d moved out, I still kept doing it, and no matter how much she protested, I had no intention of stopping. Ma worked herself to the bone to care for me after Dad abandoned us. She deserved someone who looked after her in return. It was the least I could do. My paycheck as a ranch hand wasn’t all that much to begin with. I wish I could have given her more.
“I know I don’t have to do it, Ma,” I said. “You’re supposed to save it for a rainy day, or an emergency. Or treat yourself—go on vacation. You never do that.”
“I’m perfectly happy in Ash Ridge. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”
“Because you’ve lived in this tiny town your whole life and you should get out more, maybe meet some handsome, rich, eligible bachelor.”
Ma turned around with a hesitant look on her face.
“Actually, now that you mention it…I have met someone.”
I blinked in surprise.
“When did this happen? I didn’t realize you’d started dating again. You never dated when I was a kid.”
“Well,” she hedged. “That was different. Come on, let’s sit down.”
She pulled out a chair at the table, encouraging me to join her. I sat, feeling a little blindsided. I’d always harbored a little hope that my mother would fall in love with someone who treated her right. Now that it might actually be happening, I had my hackles up. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone break my mother’s heart again.
“When you were a boy,” Ma continued. “I didn’t have time to date. And when your father left…I was bruised for a while. Besides, I didn’t want to bring another man into your life who might get your hopes up and disappear.”
Just another example of my mother putting her life on hold to raise me. Most of the time, I didn’t waste my energy on memories of my father. Other times—like now—I hated him. He had no right to turn our world upside down. He had no right to abandon my mother and me, leaving us to fend for ourselves.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and pasted on a smile for my mother’s sake.
“So, when do I get to meet this guy? I need to have a talk with him, you know. Man to man.”
Mom patted my hand.
