The Heart of a Cowboy. Trish Milburn

it was one of her favorite memories of her dad. They’d still lived in Texas then, and that day he’d seemed to be totally sober, the kind of dad she’d always wanted. Though it’d been many years since that day, she remembered the hope that had surged within her. Sometimes hope was cruel when it led you down a path toward even more hurt.

      His smile faded away, and she wasn’t sure if it was because it took too much energy to maintain or a darker thought had shoved aside the happy memory.

      Despite everything, she searched for a way to make him smile again. “I remember we sat beside the lake and had chicken-salad sandwiches and bread-and-butter pickles from the Primrose Café.”

      The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t believe you remember all those details. You were so small.”

      She’d liked living in Blue Falls and the fun she’d had with her best friend, Chloe. But she also remembered how her heart had broken when her dad said they had to move to Kansas. She’d watched the lights of Blue Falls fade away as she stared through the back window of their old Buick sedan, fat tears streaming down her face.

      Her father turned his hand so that he could hold hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the father you and your sisters should have had. I wanted to be, but...” He shook his head on his pillow. “There’s no excuse.”

      She wanted to tell him it was okay, to let him be able to slip into the next life knowing he was forgiven. But the words got stuck in her throat, and all she could manage was to squeeze his hand. He looked so haunted, more so than she’d ever seen him.

      “What was it that made you drink so much, Dad?” She’d asked before, many times, but he’d never had an answer. The intensity of her need to know felt as if it was burning a hole inside her. This time, when his eyes met hers, she could tell he was finally going to tell her. Suddenly, she was scared to know the truth. Had it been better all along not knowing?

      No, she needed this answer, whether or not it proved satisfying.

      “There was a reason we left Texas. I...I was in an accident.” He paused, and she wondered if he was reconsidering telling her the truth. “I hit someone, and then I ran.”

      “You were in a hit-and-run?” For some reason, it took a moment for her to realize he’d fled because he was driving drunk, that he could have ended up in jail.

      “Yes. I hit another car. I stopped to check on the driver, but...there was nothing I could do.”

      Natalie’s stomach churned. Surely he wasn’t saying what it seemed, that he’d... “Dad, no.”

      “I knew the moment I saw her that she was dead.”

      Oh, God, this couldn’t be happening. Without thinking, she slipped her hand out of her father’s grasp. “You’re confused, not remembering things correctly.” That was a symptom of late-stage liver failure, right? This couldn’t be a horrible deathbed confession.

      “I wish that was true.” He shifted his eyes to stare at the ceiling, and she got the impression it was so he wouldn’t cry. “But the truth is that your father is worse than you ever realized. I killed someone and I never owned up to it, not even when I realized who I’d hit.”

      “You knew her?” Her question came out as a strangled whisper. But in the next breath, the true horror of his confession slammed into her. “No. Please tell me you’re not saying what I think you are.”

      His bottom lip trembled and he lost the war against his tears. “It was Karen Brody.”

      Natalie stood so quickly that she knocked the chair over and nearly followed it to the floor. Karen Brody, Chloe’s mom, the woman who had been like a second mother to Natalie. As if the mere mention of her name pulled a sense memory from Natalie’s mind, she suddenly smelled fresh sugar cookies straight from Karen’s oven.

      She paced across the room, hoping that she was having a nightmare and the movement would make her wake up. But when she finally stopped and looked at her dad, any hope that she was dreaming disappeared like water down a drain.

      For what felt like hours, she simply stood searching for something to say. But what did you say when your father admitted he’d killed your best friend’s mother?

      “Mom and I went to her funeral. Chloe clung to me and cried so hard I thought she would fall to pieces.” She shook her head slowly, her heart breaking in so many ways she couldn’t count them all. “Why didn’t you come forward?”

      “Because I was scared, a coward. And we thought they’d take you away from us.”

      It took a few beats for Natalie to process all the information coming toward her like poison-tipped arrows. “We?” Then the way her parents had exchanged that glance a few minutes before caused a lump to form in her throat. “Mom knew? Oh, my God. She knew and she still walked into that funeral home and hugged Karen’s kids.”

      Her stomach churned so violently she was afraid she was going to vomit.

      “We were so scared. We couldn’t lose you and your sisters.”

      “Chloe, Owen and Garrett lost their mother!”

      A sob shook her father’s failing body, and she did her best to rein in her anger.

      “If I could go back and do things differently, I would,” he said, his breath growing more labored. “I’d have gone to prison, but maybe you all would have been better off without me.”

      Despite the anger and horror nearly choking her, the pure, unadulterated pain and sorrow she heard in his voice made her feel a sliver of compassion for him. This then was the reason he drank so much more after they moved to Kansas, to try to forget that he’d ended someone’s life. To drown the guilt.

      She wanted to set fire to every alcoholic beverage in the world and wipe the knowledge of how to make them from the memories of mankind.

      “I want to make it right, but I need you to help me do that,” he said.

      Suddenly so weak she felt as if she might collapse in a heap, she righted the overturned chair with a shaking hand and sank onto the seat again. “There’s no way to make this right, Dad. What’s done is done.”

      Even if they told the cops now, most likely they wouldn’t even arrive until after her father had passed from this earth. Honestly, by the look of him, she was stunned he’d found the strength to voice his confession.

      “I need for you to tell the Brodys the truth, tell them how very sorry I am. Your mother can’t do it because they might come after her for knowing.”

      She shook her head, unable to believe what he was asking her to do. “I can’t. It’ll just reopen all the old wounds. It won’t bring Karen back.”

      “But they’ll have the answer to the question they’ve never been able to find.”

      But would that be worse than never knowing?

      Natalie dropped her head into her hands, feeling as if the entirety of her insides were being scalded raw. Gradually, the fact that her dad’s breathing was becoming even more labored registered, and she looked up to see tears still streaking out of his tired eyes. Though it was impossible, he seemed even smaller than when she’d walked into the room.

      Yes, she was angrier than she ever remembered being, but could she let her dad die without promising him that she’d fulfill his dying wish? She knew it wasn’t fair of him to ask it of her, and he likely knew it, too. But he’d carried the guilt with him for so long, and it had obviously eaten away at him every bit as much as the alcohol, probably more.

      Though she had no idea how she would be able to face the Brodys with such a horrible truth, she found herself unable to let her father slip from the world with his heart so unbearably heavy.

      “I’ll tell them.” She’d figure out the how later.

      The relief came off her father like a wave, and something felt