Once a Father. Kathleen Eagle

around Mary’s shoulders. “Of course, if you’d been here.”

      “I don’t blame you for not inviting him. If I were having a wedding, I wouldn’t invite him either. He’s.” Mary glanced at Logan. “.difficult.”

      “You know how he feels about the horses and the sanctuary,” Sally said. “That’s the problem.”

      “With my father it’s not about feelings. It’s about having things his way. That’s what he lives for. His way puts food on the table, so that’s a good thing. As long as you like to eat what he likes to eat.”

      There was an awkward silence. Mary let it play out, a buffer between revealing more than she meant to—not quite as much as she wanted to—and taking a deep breath of fresh Drexler air.

      She turned to Logan. The challenge was more important to her now than it had been an hour ago. “How does half sound?”

      “What are you willing to do for your half?”

      “Learn. If you’re as good as they say, I’m willing to be your apprentice.” She smiled. “I know how to take orders.”

      “I don’t give orders. You watch and listen, maybe you’ll learn from me, maybe not.” He glanced at Sally, whose grin was all atta boy. He folded his arms and turned back to Mary. “So, what else?”

      “Whatever needs doing.”

      He gestured toward Sally’s wire baskets. “Staple us together and give us a horse.”

       Chapter Two

      “Mother, what are you doing?” Mary hurried to Audrey Tutan’s side and reached for the handle on the old ice cream freezer her mother had just carried upstairs. “This comes under the heading of heavy lifting, which is against the doctor’s orders.” It was the metal canister and hand crank inside the bucket that made the old turquoise contraption so heavy, and the steep stairway made the heavy lifting potentially fatal. Mary eased the load from her mother’s hand, pulled the string dangling from the bare lightbulb and shut the door against the darkness.

      “I thought we were taking some time off from orders,” Mother said after catching a couple of breaths. “Besides, that isn’t so heavy, and your father has a sudden urge for homemade ice cream.”

      “If we aren’t taking orders that includes everybody’s orders.” Mary lifted a warning finger. “Except your doctor’s. I took notes, so don’t even think about pushing your limit, which is a package of marshmallows. Did he tell you to make ice cream?”

      “No, no, he just mentioned it. He remembers how you used to go crazy over homemade ice cream after you discovered Grandma’s old ice cream freezer down in the basement. Haven’t used it since you left home.”

      “They make electric…” Mary unloaded the 1960s dinosaur on the same vintage kitchen table and brushed her hands together. “You don’t mean you’ve been rummaging around in the basement.”

      “Didn’t have to. I knew right where it was. Beside, it’s nice and cool down there. On the way back up the temperature seemed to rise five degrees for each step. I thought I’d make strawberry.”

      Mary eyed the old clunker. She hardly remembered Grandma, who had died when she was eight and was fondly remembered, especially for all the unwritten recipes she’d handed down to her daughter. Clearly Mother clung to some hope for her own daughter. Into your hands I commend the mighty ice cream freezer. She took the top off the metal canister and checked for debris. There was only the paddle she’d cleaned of ice cream more than once with her eager young tongue.

      She’d use soap and water this time.

      “They make smaller ones, too,” Mary said absently as her mother took a large kettle from the cabinet above the stove. “Did he really say all that? Let’s have homemade ice cream for Mary? “

      “I know how he thinks.”

      Mary kept her doubts on that score to herself. Audrey Tutan had become a recluse since her children had left home. She’d always been a mind reader as far as Mary was concerned, but she’d been as protective of the cache in her daughter’s head as she was of her own. The only tales she ever told were meant to promote peace in the Tutan household. What she could see inside her husband’s head was anybody’s guess. Steadfast and quiet, Mary’s mother had always stood by her man. Just this once, could she step away and be with Mary?

       Don’t bring him into our conversation, Mother. Let me have your ear. Let me give you mine.

      “How’s Sally?” Audrey asked as she opened the refrigerator door.

      “Sally Drexler has met her match. I’ve never seen her this happy.”

      “I’ve met him. He seems like a nice man, but does he.” Audrey turned, milk jug in hand. “Well, realistically, how’s her health?”

      “Realistically, multiple sclerosis is incurable, Mother.” Don’t hang your head, Mother. It’s just you and me. Mary checked the contents of the sugar canister before setting it within Audrey’s reach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You were just asking.”

      Audrey wasn’t ready for the sugar, but she laid her hand over the canister lid anyway. Mary touched the hand that once fed her, felt Mother’s gratitude through cool, tissue-paper skin. The feel of fragility shook her to the core. Word from afar that her mother was in the hospital hadn’t surprised her. She knew her duty. She took the leave, took the journey, took her place at her mother’s side, and then, finally, it hit her. Her mother was mortal.

      “She had her cane close at hand,” Mary went on, “but she’s full of Sally spunk. All excited about the competition they’re running to get more people interested in wild horses. You enter up, you get to pick a horse and train it for whatever you want and show it at the end of the contest. Big cash prize for the winners. Winner. Whatever.”

      Mary opened a cupboard and took out measuring cups. She pulled a ring full of spoons from a reliable drawer. Mother’s helper was a familiar role. Knowing the drill made for a comfortable segue from what they both knew to what one of them wanted to say and needed the other to hear. They could take turns. There was so much, and it was confusing and even if there were no answers it seemed as though the questions should be voiced.

       What’s going on with our bodies, Mother? You don’t know? If you don’t know, who does?

      Disorder, that’s what. One wonky part throws the whole system off, right? One misstep causes temporary tailspin. Take a deep breath and wait for the spinning to stop. Take the time to get everything in line. What Mary liked best about the army was order. Clarity. Why couldn’t she bring the clarity home with her?

      Home? What was that?

       Start with something simple, Mary.

      She leaned her hip against the edge of the counter. “I want to try it.”

      “Training a horse?” Audrey turned the burner on under the milk. “How long does that take?”

      “You get ninety days.”

      “You mean.” Breathless pause. “.you’re not going back?”

      Was that hope or fear? It was hard to tell with Mother. Either way, Mary knew the feeling, and it was damn prickly. She lifted one shoulder. “I’d have a training partner.”

      “What are you talking about, girl?” Both women turned in the direction of the voice. “That dog food farm down the road?”

      Speaking of prickly. Dan Tutan either stormed into a room or appeared out of nowhere. Either way, he enjoyed taking people off guard. He would have made a hell of a c.o., Mary thought. George Armstrong Tutan.

      “I was talking to