Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, sir.”
His eyes went wide. “First off, it’s not sir, it’s Brock. And second, you don’t owe me or anyone else any apologies. I couldn’t be happier to meet you. I won’t lie and say I’m not on pins and needles waiting to hear this story, but I can be patient.”
Deciding to put him out of his misery, I gave him the story. “My mother and your brother dated, they were in love, and he planned on marrying her when he got out of the military.”
Brock nodded. “Is your mother’s name Heather?”
It was my turn for my eyes to go wide. “Yes. Did he tell you about her?”
He smiled, and it was so bizarre to see the same blue eyes I saw every day in the mirror, staring right back at me. “He didn’t tell me much. He did say he was crazy about her, and she was the reason he was getting out. Well, one of the reasons. He said he couldn’t wait for us to meet her in person, to see what an amazing woman she was. I often thought about her over the years. I figured one of his Marine buddies had told her when he died. At least, I’d hoped. They all knew about her, had met her a few times.”
The constant squeeze around my heart felt like it eased a little more, knowing that my father had told at least one of his brothers about my mom.
“I don’t know if they ever did or not. She received a letter from the Marine Corps, telling her of his passing while in service. She’d sent him a letter to tell him she was pregnant, which he never received. She didn’t talk about my dad a whole lot, but she did tell me little things. Nothing about his family, unfortunately.”
Brock nodded. “If I remember right, she came from a wealthy family. Not sure which state, though. Beck never told me. He did tell me that her father wasn’t happy about them being together.”
“No, he was against the relationship, even after she told him she was pregnant. When I was growing up, she would tell me stories about their time together. When I would ask her for more information, the older I got, the less she wanted to tell me. She died of cancer last year.”
Brock’s brows drew down slightly as he said, “Oh, Beck, I’m so very sorry for your loss. That had to be so hard on you, with her passing so young.”
I nodded. “It was tough. Still is. It was always her and me. We were a team.” I smiled. “That’s what she used to say.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I went on. “She told me about some boxes she had up in the attic of her house. They held letters from my father, and some other items she wanted me to have. When I asked her why she never told me about my father’s family, she kept to the same story she always gave. She never wanted to disrupt your lives.
“When I found the letters, and googled his name, I learned about the ranch. Took me a bit to decide what I wanted to do with that information. Eventually, I decided to come to Montana. The crazy part of the story is, Avery sat next to me on the flight from Dallas to Montana.”
“Avery? What was she doing in Dallas?”
“Layovers and storms rerouted her there during her flight home from Paris. For some reason, maybe it was all the beers I’d had at the airport, I told her my story, and she figured out who I was. Brought me to her parents’ house for dinner last night without telling them who I was. They had just about the same reaction you did.”
“I imagine,” Brock said. “What does your grandfather think about you being here?”
“He isn’t happy, but he can’t run my life like he did my mother’s. He held money over her head, told her if she left to be with my father, he’d cut her out of the will. From the sounds of their letters, she didn’t care. I only have Beck’s, though, not my mother’s. So it’s only one side of the love story.”
Brock slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe Beck had a son. How old are you? Where do you live? What do you do?”
Avery sat down next to me. “Are you sure you can’t wait for everyone else to get here, Uncle Brock?” she asked sarcastically.
He grinned. “I suppose I can.”
“I’ll be twenty-eight in July. I work for my grandfather, who’s in the oil and gas industry. I went to Texas A&M and got my degree in petroleum engineering.”
“Wow,” Brock said, smiling at me. “He would have been so damn proud of you. Although, if he hadn’t died, you most likely would have gone to school for something completely different and grew up on this ranch, ranching.”