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“Even if we could, they’re somewhere in the middle of the ocean. It could take them several days to get home. We might not have that much time.” Cecil hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of saying more. “The truth is, they’ve been having problems. They wanted some time alone to work on their marriage. They asked me not to disturb them unless there was a serious emergency.”
“This is an emergency,” Rush said.
“But it’s not their emergency. It’s ours. Could you take her for a few weeks? There’s nobody else we trust. We can’t have her with us in the hospital. And we can’t go off and leave her with strangers.”
Rush held back his answer. For the past year he’d ached to spend time with his little girl again; but he’d known that staying away was for the best. How could he say yes?
How could he say no?
“Please.” Rush could hear the desperation in the good man’s voice.
“All right,” he said. “But I can’t come to Phoenix. My partners need me here.”
“I understand. We just need to get her to you. Are you still in Texas?”
“Yes, in a little town called Branding Iron. But there’s no major airport close by.”
“We need to fly to Oklahoma City. If we bring Clara with us on the plane, could you pick her up there?”
Rush took a moment to estimate the distance and time. It wasn’t that far—a few hours each way by road. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “Call me when you’ve got your flight.”
Rush ended the call and turned around to find Conner standing in the doorway of his room. Travis stood behind him.
“I hope you’re going to tell us what’s going on,” Conner said.
Rush stood, weariness and worry dragging like a weight on his shoulders. “I guess it’s time,” he said. “Come on in the kitchen. It’s a long story.”
They gathered around the kitchen table. Travis took three Bud Lights out of the fridge and passed them around. Conner popped the tab on his and took a long swig. “We’re waiting,” he said.
Travis took a seat and opened his beer. “We haven’t pried into your past because we figured it was none of our business, Rush. But we’ve got our own stories, and we don’t judge others. Whatever you’ve got going on, know that we’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, that’s good to know,” Rush said. And it was. These two were the best friends a man could have. He took a deep breath and began.
“I met Sonya, my ex, when I was just starting my practice. She was still in college and a real stunner, the whole package. Dark hair, big, green eyes—she’d been homecoming queen the year before, and first runner-up to Miss Arizona. To top it off, she had a rich daddy who gave her anything she wanted.”
“I’m guessing she had plenty of guys to choose from,” Conner said.
“More than plenty. The frontrunner was a fellow named Andre Duval. A race car driver, if you can believe it. He was a real mover with the ladies. I was a distant second, if that.”
“I get the picture,” Conner said. “You were the boring, steady, nice guy that every parent wants their daughter to marry.”
“Thanks. That’s just about right.” Rush responded to Conner’s grin with a mock scowl. “I wasn’t her first choice, but when she and Andre had a fight and broke up, I was the one she turned to. We got engaged—me with big dreams and a load of student debt, Sonya with a fortune about to drop into her lap. Soon after we got married, her father died of congestive heart failure. We moved into his big house—now hers—complete with two family servants. In accordance with her father’s will, everything was in her name, not mine. But she did pay off my student loan debt and gave me the money to build a veterinary clinic adjacent to the house.”
Travis looked cynical. “I think I saw a TV series based on that plot,” he said.
The irony wasn’t lost on Rush. “That’s about what it was like. Things went sour pretty fast. I worked hard, trying to build my practice, but Sonya owned everything, including me. And she never let me forget it.
“We might not have lasted as long as we did, but when she got pr
egnant, I made an extra effort to hold the marriage together. At the hospital, when I held that baby girl in my arms, I knew everything we’d been through to get her here was worth it. She became my reason for living. I couldn’t get enough of being her dad. She was mine, and no one, not even her mother, could take that away from me—or so I thought.”
“I don’t suppose you have a picture to show us, do you?” Travis asked.
“Not anymore.” In an effort to forget Claire, Rush had destroyed his last photo of the little girl. But he couldn’t erase the picture in his mind.
“Claire wasn’t quite three years old when Sonya called me into the study. Her lawyer was there. He did most of the talking. Before Sonya got pregnant, she’d hooked up with Andre again. Recently, without telling me, she’d had DNA tests done. Claire wasn’t mine. She was Andre’s child.”
Travis and Conner were silent. What was there to say about such a betrayal?
