“How long does it take to write it?”
“Again, depends. I’ve been warned that it could take anywhere from fourteen months to twenty months.” She grimaced. “I’m proving to be closer to the latter because I take on part-time jobs to help pay bills. I just finished a house sitting/dog sitting job when I got the call about Beck. Thank goodness, too. It would have been hard reaching JoJo’s owner in Patagonia.”
“JoJo?”
“A Chihuahua that likes to bite people.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not a good fit with a baby.”
“Uh, not a good fit with anyone.”
She laughed, the sound light and surprisingly bright, almost joyful. “JoJo tolerated me toward the end. But the beginning was rough. Once I realized treats were the way to get her to stop snapping, I carried them in my pocket all the time. Wouldn’t be in the same room with her without them.”
“This is why I like big dogs.”
“Oh, and big dogs don’t bite? Come on.”
“No dog should ever bite.”
“You have two very big dogs here.”
“We used to have three, but we lost our big boy, Runt, just after Christmas. Granddad took it really hard. Runt was his boy.”
“I’m sorry.”
Billy realized yet again he’d misjudged her. April and Erika were nothing alike, and that was both good and bad. Good, because Erika obviously had her act together, and was someone who could be counted on to make the right decisions for Beck. Bad because Erika intrigued Billy, and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman interested him at any level other than sexual. Erika was beautiful, but she was also smart, and he liked talking to her. He wanted to keep talking to her and that was not his norm.
“I don’t know how your family could not want you,” he said abruptly. “You’re incredibly successful—”
“But not a member of their church.” She gave him a tight, bright smile but he could see it didn’t reach her eyes. “And if you don’t believe, and don’t follow their principles, well, you don’t matter. You’re a heathen, and an outsider.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.” She glanced toward the house, expression troubled. “But it is what it is. Dysfunction perpetuates dysfunction.” Her shoulders slumped and she looked weary. “It’s why I wanted to study psychology, why I wanted to learn, and grow, and try to learn what healthy behavior is. I don’t want to be like my family—”
“I don’t think you’re anything like your family.”
“You don’t know that.”
“As soon as you heard about April, you headed to Las Vegas and jumped into action, taking on her son”—he broke off, correcting himself—“possibly my son. You put your life on hold to handle her affairs and try to find Beck’s father. That’s admirable—”
“But it shouldn’t be admirable! It should just be what people do for each other. It should just be decency—”
“Exactly.” The conviction in her voice did something to him, making his chest tighten. He liked her. She wasn’t the enemy. And she wasn’t the problem. “I’ll get the paternity test done in Bozeman tomorrow. We should have results soon after, I imagine.”
“Thank you.” She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m thinking I should retrieve Beck from your mom. I don’t want to take advantage of her kindness.”
“She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t want to do it. Mom is no pushover.”
Erika hesitated. “Do you mind telling me why she needs the walker? Is it arthritis?”
“We used to think it was arthritis, but she was recently diagnosed with MS. Fortunately, she’s on new medicine and it’s really helped her. Just two years ago Joe was carrying her up and down the stairs.”
“Thank goodness for new medicines.”
“Agreed.”
*
Back in the house, Erika changed Beck’s diapers, and then after giving him a bottle, walked him around, including a look at all the framed family photos in the hall, that also went up the stairs. Baby photos and family photos. Faded color photos of boys in football uniforms, as well as team wrestling photos. There were other photos of showing animals, and early rodeo wins. A photo of Christmas that had to be back from the seventies by the collared shirts the guys were wearing.
Granddad joined her in the hall. “Those are my boys,” he said gruffly, pointing to two handsome teenagers holding trophies in a rodeo arena. “JC and Samuel. Their first national win in team roping before they were invited to join the professional association.”
She glanced at Melvin, heart tender. “How old were they there?”
“JC would have been about nineteen. Sam seventeen.”
“They were good.”
“They were good boys.” Melvin’s voice deepened. “Did everything together. A lot like Billy and Tommy. Best friends.”
She searched Melvin’s strong features, his skin weathered from years outdoors. In her research on the Wyatts, she’d read how Melvin’s sons had died together in an accident when they were in their late twenties. JC and Summer already had four little boys. Sam hadn’t yet married, but had been seeing someone for a while. “It must have been devastating,” she said softly.
“Hard losing them both like that, yes.” He reached out and ran his hand lightly across the top of Beck’s head. “But they went to be with my Bess, and hopefully they’re in a better place.”
“And then you raised JC’s boys.”
“Family first always.”
Again her heart ached, and she had to hold her breath, to keep emotion in check. “They’re lucky to have you.”
“They saved me. Without them, I doubt I’d still be here. They gave me purpose. They kept me busy. They gave me a lot of love.” He looked down at her, with the same blue eyes Billy had, with the same blue eyes Beck had. “At the end of the day, love is what matters. Integrity, honesty, respect… those all matter, but they mean nothing without love.”
For the second time that day Erika was on the verge of tears, and she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t like feeling so emotional. “I hope Beck is your great-grandson, if only that he could have you for a great-grandfather. He’d be so lucky to be part of this family.”
“Well, if he is, you are, too. We’d be family together.”
*
Dinner that night was less rowdy than the night before. Sam and Ivy were missing, and Joe and Sophie were eating dinner together at their place. Tommy had made dinner, his favorite, fried chicken with mashed potatoes, and Erika silently marveled that the Wyatt men all seemed to cook. She didn’t say this, of course, since her own culinary skill was next to nothing, but she admired Summer for making sure her sons knew how to fend for themselves.
It was during dessert, over coffee and leftover birthday cake, that Tommy brought up Erika’s studies. “Billy said you were in graduate school, working on your PhD. That’s pretty impressive.”
She blushed as all attention shifted to her. “It’s been a commitment.”
“What drew you to psychology?”