A Bride For Liam Brand. Joanna SimsЧитать онлайн книгу.
had been irritated all day about their dinner guest. She was annoyed with her daughter for extending the invitation, and she was even more annoyed with Liam for accepting.
“Everyone loves your cooking.” She shoved the paper towels hard with both hands.
Callie put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “True.”
No matter how hard she shoved that stupid pack of paper towels, it refused to fit into the space. Kate stared at the offending paper towels before she sighed, grabbed ahold of the plastic encasing the paper towels and yanked on it until she pulled it free and dropped it onto the floor.
“We don’t have company during the week.” She picked up the paper towels and put them on top of the refrigerator.
“I—I know.” Her daughter was busy gathering the ingredients she would need to make dinner. Callie always needed help with measuring, but she could follow her list of ingredients and then double-check after she was done. “B-but,” her daughter said as if she were the parent, “you’re gonna need someone to eat dinner with when I—I’m living in New York.”
This had been a conversation that had been going on for years. In spite of her disability, Callie was a very goal-oriented young woman. She wanted to live in New York City on her own, go to culinary school and then open a restaurant. Kate had always supported Callie’s dreams, but there had to be limits.
“You know that New York isn’t an option, Callie. Our life is here at the Triple K.”
“That’s why I—I’m going without you.” Her daughter put her armful of ingredients on the counter. “You stay here, and I—I go to New York.”
This was said with another giggle.
Kate walked up behind her daughter, wrapped her arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, sweet girl.”
Always affectionate ever since she was a baby, Callie turned in her arms and hugged her tightly. “Don’t be afraid, Mommy. I—I’ll be okay.”
“If you want to move out, Callie, you know I support that. But you’ve got to take baby steps. Get a place in town.”
“I-I’ll live in New York first.”
This wasn’t the first, or last, discussion about New York. Down syndrome hadn’t quelled Callie’s ability to dream big for herself; she was goal-oriented and ambitious, dreaming of attending culinary school in New York City. For someone born with Down syndrome, Callie was on the higher end of the spectrum as far as her IQ was concerned, but there would never be a time when she could live independently in a small town like Bozeman, much less in the largest city in the country. Her daughter was so full of life, so full of dreams, but simple, daily tasks, like taking money out of an ATM machine, stumped Callie.
It was important to Kate that her daughter gain as much independence as possible; they had often spoken about Callie finding an apartment in town. Kate had even been in touch with a local, non-profit organization that supported individuals with disabilities to review options for transitional living in Bozeman. But every time they discussed moving, Callie inevitably circled back to her goal of moving to the Big Apple.
“You may move out and hate it,” Kate teased her daughter.
“No.” Callie said, emphatically. “I-I know what I want.”
She waited for Callie to slowly go over the ingredient list, check each item off as she doubled-checked to make certain she had everything she needed. Her daughter leaned her elbows on the counter, her face very close to the enlarged print on the recipe card, talking aloud to herself as she went along. It had taken years to develop this routine, this step toward independent life, and Kate was proud to watch Callie make continued progress. Her daughter had gotten the King stubbornness and determination quite honestly.
“I—I’m ready,” Callie told her.
Kate stayed with Callie, making sure all of her measurements were accurate, before she headed back to the barn. The barn, the ranch, was both her albatross and her solace. When she was angry or upset, there was nothing better for it than mucking out stalls. But the work was never ending and there was always something that needed to be fixed.
“Well, Visa.” She had ended hours of work back at the injured horse’s stall. Now that he was stall bound, she spent more time with him. He was a young horse and to be stuck in a twelve by twelve space for months was going to be tough for him.
Kate rubbed the space between Visa’s eyes, then twirled his long, black forelock around her finger.
“Guess who’s coming for dinner?” The horse trainer frowned at the thought.
Halfway through her work, she had thought to call Liam and give him a chance to get off the hook. But in the end, she thought better of it. Liam was a smart man; he’d figure out that she was trying to revoke her daughter’s invitation. No, if he wanted out, he’d let her know. She knew that she had a reputation in Bozeman for being private and a bit standoffish, but no one could legitimately pin rudeness on her and she’d like to keep it that way. All she could really do was hope that Liam’s schedule would prevent him from coming all the way out to the Triple K. The rest of the afternoon, while she paid bills in the office above the barn, Kate hoped that her phone would ring. But often times, hoping wasn’t enough to make something happen.
* * *
“Howdy!” Liam Brand had been looking forward to heading out to the Triple K all day.
In fact, the day didn’t seem to go by fast enough.
“Hi, Dr. Brand.” Kate was kneeling at the front of the barn, surrounded by a pride of ragtag barn cats who had seen better days.
Liam sensed that the horse trainer was still in the process of warming up to the idea of him having dinner at her ranch for the second night in a row; even when she wasn’t smiling, with the light of a smile reaching her eyes, Liam still thought she was mighty pretty.
“I’d appreciate you callin’ me Liam.” He stopped a few feet away from her. “We go back an awful long way.”
Instead of responding, Kate finished feeding her barn cats. “I have to have the oldest barn cats ever. I’ve got to feed them now—they’re too old to catch mice anymore.”
Liam laughed. Kate’s cats were bony from old age, with noticeable cataracts, scraggly fur and weak meows. One brown tabby cat with narrow shoulders, curled white whiskers and a barrel belly broke away from the group to greet him. Her scratchy meow touched his heart as he knelt to pet her.
“Sissy.” Kate glanced up from her chore. “She’s the flirt of the barn.”
The old feline rubbed her face and body against Liam’s knee, purring hard and loud, before falling onto her side at his feet. Sissy gave him a slow blink, a sign of love from a cat, while her paws curled under happily.
“Love has always been more important to her than food.”
Liam petted the retired mouser until the feline decided it was, indeed, time to fill her belly. Kate stood and he joined her. They watched the ex-mousers make short work of the food she had put down for them.
“I can’t seem to get her eyes cleared up,” Kate said after a minute or two. “They’re always so swollen. Allergies, I suppose.”
“I’ll give you one of the ointments I like to use with cats before I leave.”
“Thanks.” She seemed surprised when she said, “I’d really appreciate that.”
Liam wanted to check on his patient, swinging by Visa’s stall before he strode beside Kate back to the house. It occurred to him, as he walked next to the horse trainer, that he didn’t have to measure his stride. She had some long legs of her own, and it was nice to walk beside her.
“Look who I found!” Kate said to her daughter when they entered the small ranch house.
“Hi,