Desert Dreams
"Mama, Kylie let Mr. Quakers in again."
Shaylene Thomas turned, intending to reprimand her youngest for tattling, but was distracted by the sight of a feathered butt disappearing around the corner and the splattered mess on her just-mopped kitchen floor.
"Kylie Elizabeth Thomas, front and center!" she yelled, then added an ominous, "Now."
Her oldest daughter appeared as if from the mists, Mr. Quakers tucked under one of her elbows, his webbed feet flailing in the air.
"Yes, mama?" Hopeful blue eyes stared up at her.
Shay made herself take a breath, then another, until the flare of anger receded and her sense of humor returned. Am I really getting riled up over a little duck shit? But after a challenging day at work, a forty minute commute, preparing dinner for the girls, and then spending another half hour cleaning the kitchen, she was exhausted and her fuse short.
"Kylie, what's our rule about indoor pets?"
"But mama, the coyotes--"
Shay cut her off, having none of it. "What's the rule?"
Kylie dropped her head and stared at the floor, sullen. Finally she mumbled, "If it doesn't have fur, it doesn't come in."
"That's right, sweetheart." Then in a lighter tone, Shay asked, "Does Mr. Quakers have fur?"
Pout forgotten, Kylie giggled. "No, that's silly."
"As silly as a duck in the house, poopin' on my clean kitchen floor?"
Her daughter's baby blues, so much like her ex-husband's, clouded with contrition. "I'm sorry mama, I'll clean it up."
Shay nodded. "Thank you, sweetie. But first, please put Mr. Quakers back outside. He'll be fine. The coyotes can't get past the inner fence, and I doubt they'd come that close to the house anyway."
As Kylie complied, though not before heaving a reluctant sigh, Shay thought back to the incident that led to the fur-only rule. It had involved her tomboy daughters, a six foot long bull snake, and her kitchen sink. "But mama, we just want to see if he can swim!" Good lord, she still had nightmares.
A city gal born and bred, she'd managed to fall for an honest-to-goodness cowboy. Jake Thomas. He'd been a friend of a friend, an out-of-town visitor attending the same cocktail party on the seventeenth floor of a Chicago high-rise. It had been lust at first sight. A year later she was married, pregnant, and setting up house on a five acre spread of land in Arizona's high desert country, twenty miles from the nearest town.
At first she'd been appalled by the sheer distance between her home and ... everything. Forty mile round trip just to pick up a gallon of milk? The closest hospital more than an hour away?
But bit by bit, the desert seduced her with its quiet beauty. She'd go for walks with her girls and pick the orange and yellow wildflowers that sprang up from the cracked, thirsty ground. They'd sit out and watch the blazing sunsets morph into purple twilight, and then count the brightest stars she'd ever seen. Not that she had much to compare them to. She'd never paid attention to the night sky before, in her other life. She fell in love with the country even as she fell out of love with her husband. His affair didn't help. But Shay, always honest, knew their problems had started long before he put his boots under some other gal's bed.
He'd been a cheating bastard, but at least he had tried to be an honorable cheating bastard. Before disappearing to parts unknown, he deeded over the house and land solely to her. For a half a second, she'd consider selling the place and heading back to Illinois. But no. This was her girls' home, the only one they'd ever known, and it was her home now too.
So five years later here she was, able to handle the occasional field mouse her daughters brought in-- the creatures had fur after all-- but drawing the line at snakes and ducks. And life was good. Sure, she sometimes wished she didn't have to work so many hours, but what parent didn't? And on occasion she might yearn for a warm male body to curl into at bedtime, but not enough to do anything about it. For one thing, there weren't many eligible men around, for another, she'd really have to trust a man before she could let him become a part of her daughters' lives ... and trust, well, that was a tall order these days.
The crunch of gravel in her driveway pulled her from her thoughts, then a car horn blared and she grinned.
Elizabeth.
Her forever impatient sister-in-law. But heaven knew she adored the woman, enough to name her firstborn after her. The day her divorce finalized, Liz had given her a tearful hug and said, "Remember, you divorced him, not us," in reference to the Thomas clan scattered across the countryside.
Her own eyes watery, Shay had replied, "Well, duh," and returned Elizabeth's embrace, her grip fierce.
"Aunt Liz!" her youngest squealed, running across the living room.
"Walk please, Annabelle," Shay instructed automatically.
Her daughter slowed to a fast walk, then threw open the screen door with a bang. "Aunt Liz! I've been waiting for you forever!"
Shay sighed. Her oldest might be Elizabeth's namesake, but her youngest best matched her sister-in-law for temperament. She followed her daughter out the front door and greeted Liz. "Hey, crazy lady. You still planning to take on my girls for the whole weekend?"
Liz looked up from hugging Annabelle and winked at Shay. "That's the plan and I'm stickin' to it. Tent's already set up in the backyard, and I rounded up every bar of chocolate and bag of marshmallows I could get my hands on. We're ready to rock."
"Ohmygosh, s'mores!" Annabelle screeched and started doing victory jumps around the front yard.
Shay raised her brows at Liz. "Uh huh, you really are nuts. Stealing your nieces and loading them up with sugar? Give me a call if you want me to pick them up early."
A strange look crossed Liz's face. "Um, Shay, about that ..." she trailed off, her gaze moving to Annabelle.
Intrigued but also concerned, Shay turned to her daughter. "Annabelle, you need to make sure the animals are fed before you leave. And while you're in there, nicely remind your sister to clean up the duck poo if she hasn't already. Then double-check that you both have your toothbrushes in your weekend bags."
"Yes, mama." Her daughter was quick to obey with the promise of camping and sweets in the future.
Once the screen door slammed behind her youngest, she turned to Liz. "What's up?"
Liz gave a nervous smile, not quite meeting Shay's eyes, then plopped down on the front porch swing. She patted the spot next to her. "Shay honey, why don't you have a seat, too."
"Ooo-kay," she answered, worry beating out her curiosity. "Liz, what's wrong?"
Her sister-in-law seemed to be struggling to find words, a first in the decade Shay had known her. Just then, a vehicle rumbled in the distance, interrupting them. Someone turned down her dirt road. Both women watched a moving van amble past her driveway and continue on.
"Huh, someone must have bought the old Fredrickson place," Liz said, her hands wringing in her lap.
At any other moment, a new neighbor would have been big news; people were few and far between out here. But the last of Shay's patience had disappeared. "Damn it, what is it? What's wrong?"
"I hired a male escort for you," Liz blurted out.
Shaylene Thomas turned, intending to reprimand her youngest for tattling, but was distracted by the sight of a feathered butt disappearing around the corner and the splattered mess on her just-mopped kitchen floor.
"Kylie Elizabeth Thomas, front and center!" she yelled, then added an ominous, "Now."
Her oldest daughter appeared as if from the mists, Mr. Quakers tucked under one of her elbows, his webbed feet flailing in the air.
"Yes, mama?" Hopeful blue eyes stared up at her.
Shay made herself take a breath, then another, until the flare of anger receded and her sense of humor returned. Am I really getting riled up over a little duck shit? But after a challenging day at work, a forty minute commute, preparing dinner for the girls, and then spending another half hour cleaning the kitchen, she was exhausted and her fuse short.
"Kylie, what's our rule about indoor pets?"
"But mama, the coyotes--"
Shay cut her off, having none of it. "What's the rule?"
Kylie dropped her head and stared at the floor, sullen. Finally she mumbled, "If it doesn't have fur, it doesn't come in."
"That's right, sweetheart." Then in a lighter tone, Shay asked, "Does Mr. Quakers have fur?"
Pout forgotten, Kylie giggled. "No, that's silly."
"As silly as a duck in the house, poopin' on my clean kitchen floor?"
Her daughter's baby blues, so much like her ex-husband's, clouded with contrition. "I'm sorry mama, I'll clean it up."
Shay nodded. "Thank you, sweetie. But first, please put Mr. Quakers back outside. He'll be fine. The coyotes can't get past the inner fence, and I doubt they'd come that close to the house anyway."
As Kylie complied, though not before heaving a reluctant sigh, Shay thought back to the incident that led to the fur-only rule. It had involved her tomboy daughters, a six foot long bull snake, and her kitchen sink. "But mama, we just want to see if he can swim!" Good lord, she still had nightmares.
A city gal born and bred, she'd managed to fall for an honest-to-goodness cowboy. Jake Thomas. He'd been a friend of a friend, an out-of-town visitor attending the same cocktail party on the seventeenth floor of a Chicago high-rise. It had been lust at first sight. A year later she was married, pregnant, and setting up house on a five acre spread of land in Arizona's high desert country, twenty miles from the nearest town.
At first she'd been appalled by the sheer distance between her home and ... everything. Forty mile round trip just to pick up a gallon of milk? The closest hospital more than an hour away?
But bit by bit, the desert seduced her with its quiet beauty. She'd go for walks with her girls and pick the orange and yellow wildflowers that sprang up from the cracked, thirsty ground. They'd sit out and watch the blazing sunsets morph into purple twilight, and then count the brightest stars she'd ever seen. Not that she had much to compare them to. She'd never paid attention to the night sky before, in her other life. She fell in love with the country even as she fell out of love with her husband. His affair didn't help. But Shay, always honest, knew their problems had started long before he put his boots under some other gal's bed.
He'd been a cheating bastard, but at least he had tried to be an honorable cheating bastard. Before disappearing to parts unknown, he deeded over the house and land solely to her. For a half a second, she'd consider selling the place and heading back to Illinois. But no. This was her girls' home, the only one they'd ever known, and it was her home now too.
So five years later here she was, able to handle the occasional field mouse her daughters brought in-- the creatures had fur after all-- but drawing the line at snakes and ducks. And life was good. Sure, she sometimes wished she didn't have to work so many hours, but what parent didn't? And on occasion she might yearn for a warm male body to curl into at bedtime, but not enough to do anything about it. For one thing, there weren't many eligible men around, for another, she'd really have to trust a man before she could let him become a part of her daughters' lives ... and trust, well, that was a tall order these days.
The crunch of gravel in her driveway pulled her from her thoughts, then a car horn blared and she grinned.
Elizabeth.
Her forever impatient sister-in-law. But heaven knew she adored the woman, enough to name her firstborn after her. The day her divorce finalized, Liz had given her a tearful hug and said, "Remember, you divorced him, not us," in reference to the Thomas clan scattered across the countryside.
Her own eyes watery, Shay had replied, "Well, duh," and returned Elizabeth's embrace, her grip fierce.
"Aunt Liz!" her youngest squealed, running across the living room.
"Walk please, Annabelle," Shay instructed automatically.
Her daughter slowed to a fast walk, then threw open the screen door with a bang. "Aunt Liz! I've been waiting for you forever!"
Shay sighed. Her oldest might be Elizabeth's namesake, but her youngest best matched her sister-in-law for temperament. She followed her daughter out the front door and greeted Liz. "Hey, crazy lady. You still planning to take on my girls for the whole weekend?"
Liz looked up from hugging Annabelle and winked at Shay. "That's the plan and I'm stickin' to it. Tent's already set up in the backyard, and I rounded up every bar of chocolate and bag of marshmallows I could get my hands on. We're ready to rock."
"Ohmygosh, s'mores!" Annabelle screeched and started doing victory jumps around the front yard.
Shay raised her brows at Liz. "Uh huh, you really are nuts. Stealing your nieces and loading them up with sugar? Give me a call if you want me to pick them up early."
A strange look crossed Liz's face. "Um, Shay, about that ..." she trailed off, her gaze moving to Annabelle.
Intrigued but also concerned, Shay turned to her daughter. "Annabelle, you need to make sure the animals are fed before you leave. And while you're in there, nicely remind your sister to clean up the duck poo if she hasn't already. Then double-check that you both have your toothbrushes in your weekend bags."
"Yes, mama." Her daughter was quick to obey with the promise of camping and sweets in the future.
Once the screen door slammed behind her youngest, she turned to Liz. "What's up?"
Liz gave a nervous smile, not quite meeting Shay's eyes, then plopped down on the front porch swing. She patted the spot next to her. "Shay honey, why don't you have a seat, too."
"Ooo-kay," she answered, worry beating out her curiosity. "Liz, what's wrong?"
Her sister-in-law seemed to be struggling to find words, a first in the decade Shay had known her. Just then, a vehicle rumbled in the distance, interrupting them. Someone turned down her dirt road. Both women watched a moving van amble past her driveway and continue on.
"Huh, someone must have bought the old Fredrickson place," Liz said, her hands wringing in her lap.
At any other moment, a new neighbor would have been big news; people were few and far between out here. But the last of Shay's patience had disappeared. "Damn it, what is it? What's wrong?"
"I hired a male escort for you," Liz blurted out.
