Forever Kisses (Romance on the Ranch Book 7) (13 page)

Toby sat on the corral fence and wanted to punch something. He held Dovie's letter in his hands. When his mother had greeted him and his father early that morning with news of her leaving, he'd been shocked, but he'd understood her reasoning. He would have done the same thing. It wasn't until he'd read her letter that he'd gotten hurt and then pissed.

Dear Toby,

I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but I received a phone call that my father is dying. I have often wondered what I would do if such a thing happened. Now I know. I would drop everything to see him.

I am also writing this letter to let you know that meeting you has been a precious gift, but I have decided to terminate our relationship. You are a wonderful man and I consider myself blessed to have known you in such an intimate way. However, I am a woman with "baggage," and that is not what you deserve. In my mind, I see you with a wife who has the ability to keep up with you physically. I see you hiking, skiing, jogging on the beach together, and the myriad activities that you are accustomed to doing. If we were together, I fear I would always feel guilty about holding you back.

So, Toby, I want you to find that special woman who can keep up with your boundless energy. I only ask that you forgive me for taking the coward's way out by writing this letter and not facing you.

Dovie

The irony was not lost on Toby that only a year earlier his brother had received a letter from Freckles that sent him chasing after her. Preston had won Freckles' heart and Toby intended to do the same with Dovie's. Muttering, he said, "Dovie, if you think I'll just let you walk away, you're mistaken. You're the
only
woman for me and I'm coming to get you."

Two days later Toby entered Portland Memorial Hospital and walked to the information desk. He removed his Stetson and asked the clerk where Mr. Ronald Juniper's room was. The lady in pink punched her keyboard, gave him the information, and then pointed him in the direction of the elevators.

At the nurses' station of the cardiac wing, he said he was there to see Mr. Ronald Juniper.

"Are you a family member, sir?"

Toby gave the nurse a friendly grin, hoping to soften her scowl. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm engaged to his daughter, Dovie. I believe she's already here. I've just flown in to offer my support to the family." Toby glanced at her nameplate and added, "Marge."

The middle-aged woman tilted her head, appraised him, and then smiled. "I'm so happy you're here. Ms. Juniper is such a sweet woman. She's barely left her father's side." She pointed down the hallway. "At the end of this hall, turn right onto another one. Mr. Juniper's room is the last one on the left. We always give families privacy during times such as these."

Toby nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that." He inhaled calming breaths while walking toward his future. What would Dovie do when she saw him? He knew she wouldn't make a scene in front of her father, but he feared what he would see in her eyes. Had she already dismissed him from her life?

He paused outside her father's room, inhaled again, and prepared to face his woman.

Dovie had been watching her father's sleeping face for some time. His breathing had become even more labored and she knew he would leave this life soon. Their reunion had been an emotional roller coaster. When she'd first entered his room, they'd both wept. However, whenever he was coherent now, they'd talk and sometimes laugh. It was strange how the finality of death could erase years of hurt and animosity secretly harbored in her heart.

Her father had apologized for leaving his family and made no attempt to justify his actions, which she admired. He'd simply said he was young and driven by ambition, money, and power. He'd never remarried because his career was the driving force in his life.

Over the course of the day Dovie had learned much about him. In his mid thirties, his import/export business had suffered great losses and he'd spent the next ten years trying to keep it afloat. Eventually, he'd been forced into bankruptcy. After that, he'd worked for several firms while trying to raise capital to restart his company. It never happened.

In his forties he began reassessing his life. In his fifties his conscience became a driving force that wouldn't give him peace until he made the decision to contact Dovie's mother, but he was six months too late. He said her death devastated him in a way he could never have imagined, and he knew Dovie must hate him for leaving his family. When he'd had the heart attack at age fifty-six, he'd figured it was just dues for his sins. But when he'd been readmitted to the hospital to die, he'd known the only thing keeping him alive was his need to apologize to his daughter. He'd begged the hospital advocate to contact her.

Dovie heard the door open and glanced up. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Toby said, "Hello, Dovie."

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you, honey."

Dovie's father stirred and opened his eyes. She felt his tremulous hand on her arm and she covered it with her own. Her father glanced from her to Toby.

Slowly, Toby stepped forward and said, "Hello, sir. I'm Toby Tanner, a friend of Dovie's." He paused at the foot of the bed.

In a weak voice Ronald Juniper rasped, "So you're the young man she speaks so highly of. You love my girl?"

Toby smiled. "I do." He pulled a chair to the side of the bed.

Dovie's father returned Toby's smile and said barely above a whisper, "So, tell me how you two met."

"Gladly, sir." Over the next hour Toby explained how his clumsiness had brought him and Dovie together and how he'd been smitten at first sight. His revelation about how he'd fallen in love with her during her stay at the ranch brought tears to her eyes. Often, he'd look up and hold her gaze. Her father's expression, usually one of pain, became one of serenity. Toby even had him laughing when he revealed his parents' plot to get them together.

Many times Dovie had to turn away to hide her tears. The fact that Toby had traveled to Portland to be by her side at such a time, and his heartfelt confessions, convinced her beyond any doubt that he loved her unconditionally.

Suddenly, goose bumps skirted up her spine and she felt her mother's presence in spirit.

"Dovie," her father whispered, "Give me your hand."

Dovie quickly swiped moisture from her cheeks and placed her good hand in his.

In a voice weakened by disease, he said, "I want to hold your other hand, too."

She placed her prosthetic hand in his other hand.

With strength she knew he did not possess, he lifted her good hand to his mouth and kissed it, and then he lifted her prosthetic one and kissed it, too. Raising his eyes to hers, he breathed the words, "Forever kisses, my daughter," and then his hands went limp.

Dovie's mouth trembled and she released a quiet sob for the father she had never known, but always loved. For long moments she stared at him and then bent to kiss him goodbye. "Forever kisses, Daddy."

Dovie stepped through the front door onto her porch carrying a cup of coffee dashed with a dollop of cream. Early mornings were her favorite time of day and summer was her favorite season. So much had happened since the previous summer that it was mind boggling.

Settling onto the porch swing she sipped her coffee. Her heart overflowed with gratitude remembering how many people had shown up the previous day for her and Toby's housewarming. Of the many guests, there had only been a handful that she hadn't met since her marriage eight months previous. One family was the Koskys. Dixie Kosky was the former owner of Dixie's Cuppa Joe and her husband, Alligator, was the inventor of ChocoDrops and its many unusual flavors. Their two adorable children, obviously adopted, gave Dovie something to ponder. She and Toby had discussed having a child, but she wavered because she knew her disability could be inherited. On multiple occasions he had reassured her that they could raise a special needs child, which she knew to be true, but still she vacillated between adoption and having her own child.

A sparrow perched on her balustrade and she decided this glorious morning was not the time to ponder her future. She returned her thoughts to the previous day and the many friends and families who had joined them in celebrating their new home. In her mind's eye she saw them all: her beloved in-laws, Sarah and Sage Tanner, who were like a mother and father to her; her sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Jacob and Julie Hackstetter and their children, Maudie, a senior in high school, and Kate in junior high; her other sister-in-law Hannah; her brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Preston and Freckles, who had announced they would become parents in December; Jackson and Annie Martinez, owners of the
Triple T,
and their grown daughter, Angel; Miles and Tooty Brightman and three of their five children because Harris, the oldest, was serving in the military, and the next oldest, Eli, was away at college; Mac MacKenzie, the father of Sean Barfield, with his wife Cecelia and their two children, Goldie and Merry; Flatfoot and Sally Trotter and their dog, Rambler; Dirk Branigan, the father of Tessa Barfield, with his wife Monica and their daughter, Candi; Grady Granger and Nan, the woman whose voice Dovie recognized from the bathroom at Boot Bustin' Barn; Sean and Tessa Barfield who had written another song topping the charts; Newt and Molly Tucker whose housewarming gift was one of Newt's paintings of the
Lazy M
from a birds-eye view; Beaner and Skipper and the ranch hands and their families; Mrs. Doolittle; Mrs. Hornblower; Justin and Tilly and Samantha who worked at Dixie's Cuppa Joe; and so many more.

But the person who had made Dovie's heart the happiest was Roxy. The teenager had arrived for this year's Trail Blaze and the change in her was miraculous. She'd confided to Dovie that she was dating a wonderful guy at her school and making plans to attend Colorado State University in two years. Her heart's desire was to become a therapist helping others whose lives, like her own, had changed dramatically because of a physical condition.

Dovie sighed with contentment and turned her attention across the meadow that Toby had kissed her so passionately in the previous summer. She scanned the tree line for him. He also loved early mornings and often rode Blue on the trails traversing their land. Now he broke through the trees and trotted his mount across the meadow. Behind him majestic peaks that glistened with snow, even during summer, framed a picture that took her breath away. The man, the horse, the mountains, the meadow, all were larger than life and brought tears to her eyes. Her life was perfect and she wouldn't change anything, not even her disability. It was her challenge that had molded her into the person she was, the person Toby admired and loved. She was proud of what she had accomplished, but mostly she was proud of her ability to forgive a dying and broken man his shortcomings.

She pressed her hand over her heart that burned not only for her husband, but with a desire to make a difference in the lives of the many children, some challenged, some not, who arrived every summer to participate in the dude ranch.

Toby rode Blue to the house and dismounted. Stepping onto the low porch that had been designed with Dovie in mind, he sat beside her on the swing. "A penny for your thoughts, love," he said.

Lifting liquid eyes to his, she replied, "I was just offering a prayer of thanksgiving for meeting you."

Toby reached for his wife's hands and kissed them. "Forever kisses," he whispered.

Sometimes my stories move me to tears, and this was one of those stories. I love how Toby stepped up to the plate when the chips were down and how he comforted an emotionally tormented man during his last hour of life.

As for Dovie, I'm so pleased she found closure for a period of her life that caused her much sorrow. She is now ready to make beautiful memories with Toby.

This story and the one before it,
Rock Star Kisses,
were written back-to-back. I didn't even take a breather between them. Perhaps the reason is because Toby and Preston are twins and writing only one of their stories made me feel incomplete. Whatever the reason, I'm happy their tales have been told. As for Hannah, Toby and Preston's sister, I did some setup for a story that is still maturing in my mind.

At the end of a story, I always like to include one or two excerpts from other books. The first excerpt is from my young adult novella,
Fragile Hearts,
which was written under the pen name of Colleen Clay. The heroine is also a woman with physical challenges.

The second excerpt is from the second book in a fun series titled
Oasis.
In
Branded in Oasis,
I return to the theme of mismatched characters who eventually realize they are perfect together. Of course, all the misadventures encountered on the path to that realization make the writing and reading so much fun.

All my books can be read as standalones.

Fragile Hearts (Excerpt)

One: Sexy Blue

Late August, 2013

I glance at the printout. My first day at university and I'm lost. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat. I know it's stupid to feel so anxious when all I have to do is ask someone where Psych 101, Room 11A, is located.

"Ah, you look a little lost. Can I help you find wherever you're supposed to be?"

The deep voice that's a little scratchy startles me and I drop my printout in my lap. Placing my hand over my heart, I jerk my head up and fall into blue eyes. They're bluer than the water on the Big Island where I spent a week's vacation with my family when I was thirteen—a year before the end-of-my-life as I knew it.

My heart jumps into my throat when I look from the azure eyes, to the straight nose, to the sexy mouth with perfect teeth—except for a slightly crooked eye tooth—to a dimple-crease on the left side of a beautifully chiseled face—the kind of face a woman would be hard-pressed not to fall for.

Instinctively, I place one hand over the right side of my face, and with the other, I push the joystick of my wheelchair to move it out of the way of oncoming students, but I can't get my vocal chords to move. The guy gives me a curious look. He probably thinks I'm mentally challenged, as well. He tilts his head to read the printout in my lap. His hair is close cropped, but not a buzz cut, and a shade lighter than my own.

He says, "Room 11A. Well, it just so happens my class is a few doors down so I can
personally
escort you there."

The guy is being super nice. My voice finally works. "Oh, hey, no need. I don't want to hold you up. Just point me in the right direction." My eyes are drawn to a tat on the hot guy's right arm—a snake that wraps around his forearm from elbow to wrist. He shifts his backpack and his T-shirt sleeve slides above an impressive left bicep. There's another black snake encircling it.

He looks at me again with an expression I can't decipher and I feel even more flustered. Rather than argue and appear pathetic, I reply, "Ah, okay. I'll follow you."

He grins and that dimple-crease peeks at me again. The guy starts forward but turns around and walks backward. Maybe he thinks I'm such a lame brain I might not follow him.

Whatever.

The classroom that's been giving me hives turns out to be only a few paces down an intersecting hallway. The awesome guy stands in front of the door waiting for me. Because of my upbringing, I know I have to thank him.

Overcome by the curse I've been born with—shyness—I feel my face turn as red as the stripes on the American flag I passed when I entered the halls of Brookside University, a private college in my hometown of Brookside, Arizona, east of Tucson, and off the I-10. My manners prevail. "Thank you for coming to the rescue."

Did that sound dumb?

The guy holds his hand out for a shake. "Tyce Brandon."

Almost imperceptibly, I shrink backwards. I can't help myself. Since the accident that killed my sister and her boyfriend, and disabled me, I don't like being touched by strangers. I stare at his hand, willing myself to grasp it.

I can't.

Instead, I lift eyes almost overflowing with tears. "I'm Morgan Weston."

The guy pulls his hand back and smiles so sweetly, I blink, and a tear leaks. Jerking my head down, I quickly maneuver my chair into the room. Before I've gone three feet, a pair of faded Levis and worn Nikes step in front of me, and once again I find myself staring up into eyes too beautiful for words. I almost gasp when the guy goes down on one knee in front of me. "Morgan, if you need anything, you just let me know."

I want to pinch myself. Am I dreaming? I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Promise?" he prods.

Slowly, I nod. He gives me another heart-stopping grin, and then he's gone.

Did I just hallucinate this guy?

Rolling my chair to the back of the room, I hope to make it there without knocking someone's books off their desk. I still feel hot with embarrassment and want to cry. The dozen or so students in the room had all stopped what they were doing when Tyce knelt in front of me. Most have gone back to talking or pulling stuff out of their backpacks, but not all. Over by the windows, three pretty girls whisper and keep glancing in my direction. I hate garnering attention.

Finally, I reach a desk at the back and maneuver my chair as close as I can. Although the room is accommodating with a desk for wheelchairs, it's in the front row. I never sit in front. Not only am I in a wheelchair, but I have a facial scar that, as much as I try to cover it with makeup, is still slightly visible. It runs from the middle of my right cheek to below my jaw and over to my ear. Cosmetic surgery and time have minimized the scarring, but not my awareness of it.

It takes a second before I realize someone is speaking to me.

"Hello, earth to whoever you are." The girl at the desk next to mine, wearing a red T-shirt that clashes with her orange hair, tries again, "Hellooo. My name is Lucy. I'm a sophomore. What's your name? I'm guessing you're a freshman?"

The girl seems genuinely friendly, not like some people who only act friendly, but can't wait to get away from the invalid in the wheelchair.

For the second time within minutes, I introduce myself. "I'm Morgan Weston, and yes, this is my first year."

"Nice to meet you, Morgan. Oh, my last name—are you ready for this—is Arnez. Yep, my mother loved Lucille Ball so much that she couldn't resist naming me after her daughter so she could introduce me as Lucy Arnez. The spelling's a little different, but it sounds the same.

I immediately like the friendly girl and uncharacteristically joke, "Do you have a brother named Desi, Jr., or a dad named Desi?"

Lucy grins. "Nope. My dad's name was John and he died when I was five. I'm an only child. After me, my mom said she couldn't handle more children. She said raising me was like raising triplets." Lucy chuckles at her own joke. "What about you. Got any brothers or sisters?"

A stab of pain pierces my heart for my dead sister. "Ah, two brothers, Nate and Les. Nate is four years older and Les is three years younger." I don't tell her about Emily who died at the age of seventeen.

Lucy leans closer. "You
do
know, don't you, that the guy who knelt in front of you is the hottest of the hot guys on campus, right?"

"Um, no. I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do. He's a senior and super smart. I think he tutors a lot of students."

"Oh, that's nice."
Another lame response.

"I think he's between girlfriends. From what I've heard through the gossip mill, he used to go with Cindy Thornton." She motions toward the window with her eyes. "Those girls that keep glancing your way and whispering are some of her friends."

I lower my lashes and peek in their direction. True to what Lucy said, they're still eyeing me and whispering.

Lucy leans closer, lowers her voice, and says expressively, "O. M. G., when Tyce knelt in front of you with all that male intensity, I thought someone might have to peel me off the floor."

Our conversation is suddenly interrupted when a very short, stocky man, with bushy gray hair pulled into a low ponytail, walks into the room.

In a booming voice that should belong to a tall man, he says, "Welcome newbies to Psych 101. My name is Professor Shields. Hopefully, by the end of the semester, you'll have learned something useful for everyday living."

As much as I try to concentrate on what Professor Shields is saying, I can't get Tyce Brandon out of my thoughts. Why would the campus hottie even notice me?

He probably felt sorry for the crippled girl.

After an hour of listening to Professor Shields call roll, warn students about intolerable behavior, and finally introduce class objectives, he writes the homework assignment on the whiteboard and dismisses us. I'm almost finished copying the instructions when I hear Lucy's quick intake of breath and feel the atmosphere in the room shift, like it just got electrified. Gut instinct tells me Tyce Brandon is back.

Lucy drops her pencil on the floor. When she bends to retrieve it, she let's loose with an F-bomb and whispers, "He's coming our way."

I nervously place a hand over my scarred cheek. After I lift my lashes, I wonder if I'll be able to speak. Tyce looks better than any model in GQ magazine. Dropping onto the vacant desk on the other side of me, he says, "Hello, Morgan Weston. How was psych class?"

"It was, um…" I decide the truth would be best. "Long and boring."

He laughs. "I can relate. My class was also long and boring." He glances at Lucy. "Hello, I'm Tyce Brandon. And you are…?"

Lucy stutters, "L-Lucy Arnez."

Tyce blinks. "Seriously? That's your name?"

Lucy's face blushes the same color as her hair, but she says evenly, "Seriously, it is."

Tyce grins and I see his crooked tooth. To Lucy he says, "Cute name."

Lucy blushes even more.

"Hellooo, Tyce," says a sexy voice. It's one of the pretty girls with her friends beside her. They give little waves to Tyce.

I think I see a slight grimace in his expression, but I'm not sure. He says, "Hello Tina. How's it going?"

"Great. Hey, are you coming to the party at Lenny's tonight?"

"You know I'm not into those parties."

Tina glances at me and then Lucy, not even acknowledging us. She returns her attention to Tyce. "One can always hope. Hey, I'll tell Cindy I saw you."

Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, Tyce's expression doesn't change and he says casually, "You do that." He returns his attention to me and Lucy.

Now that he's not looking at her, Tina gives me and Lucy a venomous look.

So much for being invisible. I'm probably on her shit list now.

Tina leaves and Tyce asks me, "What's your next class?"

I reach for the paper I tucked in the side pocket of my wheelchair.
Why is he being so nice to me?
"It's water aerobics. It doesn't start for almost an hour. Ah, I know where the gym is located."

"Okay. What about your class after that?"

I look at my schedule and my face must reflect my horror. "Speech. Room 7, Building G."

"Hey, speech class isn't that bad. Who's your teacher?"

I look back at the paper. "Professor Wilkes."

"He's great. Believe me, you'll enjoy the class. The room's not far from the gymnasium. When you leave the gym's main entrance, turn right. The first building is H. Enter that building and continue to the exit at the end of the hallway. The building directly in front of you will be G." He glances at Lucy. "You were a student here last year, right? Do you need directions?"

Lucy stumbles over her words. "N-no. I'm good."

Tyce stands and stretches a little. "Well, ladies, it was nice meeting you. Let me know if I can help with anything. See you around."

After he leaves, I hear Lucy visibly exhale. She says, "Did you see that man's eyes? I think he's invented a new shade of blue called, Sexy Blue. Geez, I'm sweating and my heart is racing like a jackhammer." She turns speculative eyes on me. "He sure had those sexy blues on you."

Shocked, I reply. "That's crazy."

"Crazy or not. I know what I saw."