The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,44
faces, Cactus said with a winking emoji.
Will you play your guitar, Ward? Judge asked. I can jump on the piano here at the Ranch House.
Sure, Ward said. I’ll text you a set list, Judge.
A set list? Bishop asked. How formal is this? Do I need to get dressed, because I really don’t want to….
At least put on a shirt, Bishop, Arizona said.
I’m crying over this, Ida said. I hate that I’m the only one not up there.
We’re all in separate houses, Ida, Mister said. Don’t feel bad.
Ranger and Etta didn’t answer, and Ward navigated over to a note-taking app and started making a list of songs he could play on the guitar. Judge was quite an accomplished pianist—as was Willa, though Cactus didn’t have a piano out at the Edge Cabin—and he could play anything.
“Nothing too long,” Ward said, knowing that video could be tricky sometimes. People forgot to mute themselves, and the Internet connection could be bad. Sometimes a link wouldn’t work, or it would only allow a few people into the chat.
He made a list of six songs and sent them to Judge. The Glovers always sang Silent Night last when they did their family caroling, and Ward saw no reason to change that.
Amazing list, Judge said. I’m going to suggest eleven-thirty if that’s okay. I think a lot of people got up and made breakfast, and that way, we’ll be free for lunch or naps or whatever.
Sounds good to me, Ward said, and then he went back to the family text string. Ranger had commended Ward for a great idea, and he said any time was fine with him.
Etta had said she’d join Bear or Ranger, and others had started suggesting songs. Bishop had sent pictures of his mother and Aurora with matching necklaces, as well as a huge spread of French toast, bacon, and fresh strawberries and cream.
Judge had been right about breakfast, that was for sure.
Ward thought about his trek through the snow that morning. He’d been so scared to go past the shed. The back yard ended with the shed, and the land beyond that went down at a steep decline to the road that went around to the Ranch House. If he’d fallen down that….
Ward knew he was lucky to be alive, and he should probably tell his family about the incident. At the same time, he didn’t want anyone to know his girlfriend had come to save him, and she’d been smart enough to get the job done.
Ward looked up from his phone, his eyes landing on the closed office door. He couldn’t be upset with Dot because she had a past. He supposed everything he’d experienced had shaped who he was in this moment, and she hadn’t said she blamed him for being named Ward.
“Stupid name,” he muttered to himself as he stood. His name had always been a sore spot for him, because Grandmother had given everyone else a special name that meant something. Ward had felt overlooked and insignificant, and he hated that. He’d been inadequate, and he absolutely didn’t want to feel like that.
He didn’t have a letter from his daddy explaining his name. He didn’t know why Grandmother had never chosen something for him. As he picked up his guitar and went to rejoin Dot, he told himself that none of the girls had gotten nicknames either, and not having one didn’t make him better or worse.
He’d been telling himself that for decades, and he still didn’t quite believe it. He wasn’t going to stay silent with Dot. He wasn’t.
He found her on the couch, and he lifted his guitar. “Would you like to hear one of my songs?”
“Absolutely,” she said, getting to her feet. “But first, Ward, I’m sorry if my confession upset you. I’m working past—I’m—it’s my problem, not yours.” She put her hands on his chest, and it would be so easy to slide his hand along her waist and pull her closer.
So he did. “Mm, this is nice,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you my confession after I play, okay?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, cowboy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dot helped Ward push the couch back so it wasn’t quite so close to the fire. He then sat on the hearth, and she retook her place on the sofa. His fingers played over the strings, but he clearly wasn’t fully committed to making beautiful music with the guitar yet.
He shifted and cleared his throat. “I guess I have two confessions, and this is the first one.”