Page 14 of High Water

“I figured you’d tell me when you wanted. But I’m getting tired of waiting. You’re on a clock, you know? I’m not getting any younger, and frankly, I’m ready for the good Lord to take me whenever he’s ready. These knees are killing me, and this arthritis in my back makes me so cranky any given day that I’m ready for my welcome margarita at the pearly gates whenever he is.”

“I thought you wanted whiskey? Isn’t that what you told Chase?” I grumble.

“I just like to send him on a mission now and again. Makes him feel important, you know. He’s always been jealous that your dad paid more attention to you than him.”

“I would have been happy to share that kind of attention.” Chase was spared a lot of my father’s wrath, and I’d imagine the fact that he didn’t have my mother’s eyes had a lot to do with it.

“Well, he doesn’t realize how hard you had it.” She looks me over like she’s assessing me. “It’s a wonder you turned out so well under all that stress. I guess that’s how they say diamonds are made, right?” Her eyes soften, and she offers me a sympathetic smile. “You’re mine anyway. Better than your grandfather and your father. I’m proud of you, you know?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” I rub my knuckles over my sternum and reach to take another sip of my lemonade to wash down the heartburn of the bad memory-compliment sandwich she’s just handed me.

“I’d rather see this ranch go to you than him or your distant cousins. I know you’d do right by it, but I have to be fair. Your grandfather will haunt me all the rest of my days if I just give it over without making you work for it.” She blames him, but it’s as much her belief as anyone’s. I suppose her life wouldn’t make much sense if she didn’t believe pain and suffering weren’t a requisite for success.

“I don’t think I can meet the terms of your conditions, Grams. My daughter doesn’t know me yet, and her mother—well, I’m not her favorite person.” That’s the understatement of the year.

“I imagine not, given your disappearing act. Didn’t make any of our best lists with that behavior. I hope you didn’t run when she told you the first time. Stockton or not, she deserved to have your support.”

“I had no idea. If I’d known, I’d have stayed.”

“Well, let it be a lesson to you about running.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So the only way back to your daughter is through getting back in the mother’s good graces then, I assume. Or you planning to fight her for custody?”

“I’m not fighting Aspen Stockton. I’d be outmatched and outgunned.”

“I thought you were friends with the one Stockton boy.” She narrows her eyes. To her, we’re all still boys, meant to listen to our elders and get in line.

“I am.”

“That doesn’t count for anything?”

“Against his own blood? I don’t think so.”

“I thought they counted you as family. Wasn’t that the speech you gave me when you told me you weren’t coming to Christmas dinner anymore as a teenager?” Her snow-white eyebrow lifts with the memory. She’d given me grace and understood why I couldn’t pretend even on the holidays anymore after the day Aspen found me in the homestead. But having her grandson falling in with the rival family on the other side of the mountain still ate at her soul, nonetheless.

“They did.”

“And you are now. By all rights.”

“Her brothers don’t know that, and if they did…” I let the words die on my lips. I don’t know what they would have done. I can guess. Levi might have found forgiveness in his heart. Ramsey, too, under the right circumstances. But Grant was another story entirely.

“They’d put you six feet under like they do all their problems, I imagine.”

“The one time he’d caught me looking at her too long, he’d threatened as much.”

“I don’t expect you’ll let that stop you though.” It’s a directive as much as it is an observation.

“I’d like to be back in their lives. Yes.”

“I understand wanting your daughter. But why would you want that she-devil over someone like Tiffany? Doubt she’s gonna make you a home-cooked meal or clean your house lest she risk breaking a nail or losing one of her dozen diamonds down the sink.” My grandmother purses her lips in disapproval as if she doesn’t live in the most expensive assisted living facility in the state with a waitstaff that obeys her every whim. She’d argue she earned it after all her years putting up with the men in this family, and I’d be inclined to agree with her. But I’d guess Aspen could make a similar argument.

“Like I said, I don’t need a cook or a housekeeper.”

“I suppose she has both if she’s willing to share. But she doesn’t seem like the type.” There’s another look of disapproval before she turns her eyes back on me, bright with concern. “All the challenges you’ve seen in your life, don’t you want a softer place to land?”

It’s a fair question, but I already know the answer.