A Family For Rose. Nadia Nichols

second time that day, Shannon felt a jolt of shock down to the soles of her feet.

      “Tess?” She stared in disbelief, then opened the screen door as the dog approached, blue eyes milky with cataracts. The border collie sniffed her outstretched hand and after a moment her tail wagged and her blind eyes lifted, searching. Shannon dropped to her knees and enclosed the frail dog in her arms, overcome with emotion.

      “Tess,” she choked out as her throat cramped up.

      “She waited a long time for you to come back,” a man’s voice said.

      Shannon knew that gruff voice as well as she knew the old dog she held in her arms. She looked up, blinking through her tears. Her father stood in the doorway, folded-up newspaper in one hand. She rose to her feet and swiped her palms across her cheeks to blot her tears.

      “Hello, Daddy.”

      His expression was chiseled in stone. For the longest moment Shannon thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he gave a curt nod. “Fool dog still looks for you every afternoon, about the time the school bus used to drop you at the end of the road. She never stopped waiting for you to come home.”

      His words were like a knife twisting in her guts, but of course, that had been his intention. To hurt her. Shannon would’ve dropped down beside the old dog and bawled her heart out if he hadn’t been standing there.

      He was thinner, older, but still tough. A couple days’ worth of stubble on his lean jaw. His hair had gone completely gray and was cut short, like he’d always kept it. Neatly trimmed mustache. Sharp blue eyes that could still make Shannon feel guilty about things she hadn’t done and never would. Blue jeans, worn boots and a reasonably clean white undershirt. Handsome in a steely-eyed, weathered way.

      “You might’ve let me know you were coming. Phone still works,” he said.

      Shannon shoved her hands into her pockets and lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry. It was a spur-of-the-moment trip. I brought Rose with me, Daddy. I thought you might like to meet her.” She raised her voice and turned toward the car before her father could send them both packing. “Rose, come on and meet your grampy.” The car door opened. Rose stepped out and stood in the dust of the yard, staring up at them. To her father, Shannon said, “She’s a little shy with strangers, but it doesn’t last long. C’mon up here, honey. It’s all right.”

      Rose just stood there, watching them.

      “Where’s Travis?” her father asked in that same flat, hard voice, eyeing the car.

      “I left him, Daddy. I should’ve done it a long time ago. We’re divorced. It’s over. I guess that’s why I’m here. I didn’t know where else to go. Come on, Rose. It’s okay.”

      Rose climbed the porch steps one at a time, holding on to the railing. She stared gravely at her grandfather with her dark blue eyes. Peaches-and-cream face. Tawny curls. How could he not fall in love with her? Shannon thought. How could this sweet little girl, his own flesh and blood, not melt his heart?

      “Hello, Grampy, I’m Rose,” she said, and, like they’d rehearsed, she held out her small hand to him.

      He took it in his strong, calloused one after a startled pause. “Hello, Rose,” he said, and released her hand awkwardly. Shannon was relieved to see his expression had softened.

      “Is this your dog?” Rose asked him.

      “That used to be your momma’s dog. Her name’s Tess.”

      “Her eyes look funny.”

      “She’s blind,” her father said bluntly. “That happens sometimes with old animals.”

      “Do you have horses?”

      “A few.”

      “Are they blind, too?”

      “No, but they oughta be. They’re old enough.”

      Rose’s expression became pained. She looked at her mother. “Momma, I really have to go pee.”

      “The bathroom’s inside, up the stairs and on your right. Go on. And don’t forget to wash your hands after.”

      The screen door banged behind her and light footsteps raced up the stairs.

      “Been a long time since there were any kids in this place,” her father said.

      “I passed a house being built on the way in,” Shannon said, figuring it was best to get it out of the way. “In that pretty spot where I used to wait for the school bus.”

      Her father nodded, rubbed the bristle of gray stubble on his chin and carefully studied the distant mountains. “I sold ten acres out by the black road to someone you used to know. Billy Mac, from the rez,” he said. “He paid some cash up front and he’s paying cash for half of each month’s mortgage payment, giving me the balance in work. I charged him interest just like a bank would. Seemed fair.”

      For a few moments Shannon struggled to process what he’d just said. Billy Mac! Then the blood rushed to her head and her Scots/Irish spirit took over.

      “You sold ten acres of land along the Bear Paw to Billy Mac? A guy you wouldn’t even let me date in high school?”

      “Property taxes were due and the town...”

       “Billy Mac?”

      “I needed the money to pay back taxes, and you left, Shannon. I didn’t drive you off, you left of your own free will.”

      Shannon pressed her fingertips to her temples. “You’re taking half the mortgage payment in labor?” Shannon glanced around at the neglected slump of the place. “Doesn’t look like he’s in any danger of drowning in his own sweat from all the work he’s doing around here. How much did you sell him the land for? Two hundred an acre?”

      Her father never flinched. “He’s working hard and doing all right by me. I got no complaints,” he said. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and rounded his shoulders. He refused to look at her, just gazed across the valley. The silence between them stretched out, long and awkward.

      “I’d have bought that piece of land from you, Daddy,” Shannon said quietly. The anger drained out of her and, with it, the hopes and dreams of her fairy-tale homecoming. “You know how much I loved that spot.”

      “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

      “Too late for a lot of things, I guess.” Shannon felt empty inside. She’d been a fool to think that coming home would make life better. If it weren’t for Rose, she’d get back into her car and leave this place for good.

      “How long were the two of you planning to stay?” he said, still not looking at her.

      “I was hoping you might let us stay for a night or two,” Shannon said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

      They heard Rose’s footsteps descending the stairs at a gallop. “You can stay as long as you need to,” he said. Curt, clipped, brusque. He wasn’t going to bend. Wasn’t going to soften. Wasn’t going to cut her any slack. Never had, never would.

      “Thanks, Daddy,” Shannon said, biting back the angry words that burned on her tongue. “We won’t be much bother. We might even be of some help. I still remember how to do chores, how to drive the mowing machine and how to pitch bales of hay. I noticed the fields hadn’t been hayed yet. It’s getting late for the first cut and there can never be too many hands at haying time.”

      Rose pushed the screen door open and rejoined them on the porch. She dropped to her knees beside the old border collie. “Hello, Tess. I’m sorry you’re blind.”

      “Be gentle with her. She’s very old,” Shannon said. “Fifteen years, anyway.”

      “I’ll be gentle, Momma. Do you think she’s hungry?”

      “Maybe.”