The Barefoot Summer

Amanda nodded seriously. “I’m Amanda Christine Hilton, and I’m just Amanda.”

“Well, I am Grace Elizabeth Ruth—what’s our name again, Mama?”

“Mendoza.”

“Okay.” Gracie took a deep breath. “I’m Gracie Mendoza, and Mama only calls me by all my names if I’m in trouble.”

“I’m honored to meet all of you.” Kate followed Amanda’s directions to the nearest IHOP. She and Gracie shared a middle name. That did make the little girl partly hers, now didn’t it?

They shopped. They ate. They laughed. They argued. And at the close of the day, Kate drove them all the way home and parked in the driveway at the cabin just as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Poor Gracie greeted their arrival with a tiny snore. Jamie eased her daughter out of the car and carried her inside. Amanda started to get out but grabbed her stomach with a wince.

“I’m fine.” Amanda smiled. “It’s just been a big day. Thanks again for everything, Kate. I’m going to have the best-dressed baby girl in Bootleg, Texas.”

“Hey, it’s amazing how far the dollar can be stretched at those places y’all took me to. And you are very welcome. It made me feel like I was really a part of something when you and Jamie let me buy a few things,” Kate told her.

“Do you feel like because you have money that we . . .” Amanda paused.

“Sometimes having money is as hard as not having it. That doesn’t make sense, but it puts me at a disadvantage with folks who don’t have as much as I do. I never want to make either of you feel like . . . well, you know. It makes me so happy to do things for y’all and for Gracie, but I don’t want . . .”

Amanda laid her hand on Kate’s arm. “I know what you are trying to say. I can never do for you financially what you do for me, but if you ever need anything I can provide, all you have to do is ask.”

“That means more to me than anything that money could ever buy.” Kate’s voice cracked.

“Don’t you dare cry, because with my hormones on a roller coaster, I’ll start bawlin’ like a baby if you do,” Amanda said. “Let’s take all those bags inside. We can go through them tomorrow, but right now I want to prop up my feet and watch television until I fall asleep.”

“You get your feet up. I’ll bring in the bags.” Kate went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, handily hiding her face in case tears decided to escape. She was taking out packages when her phone rang. Her mother’s picture came up on the screen. She backed up against the vehicle, kicked off her high heels, and wiggled her feet in the grass as she answered. Teresa would have a hissy fit if she could see her daughter at that moment, but the damp grass felt so good that Kate didn’t care.

“Mary Beth tells me everything is done. She sent a check to the church for a year’s rent and has talked to the funeral home. They sent a courier over to the bank with a copy of the death certificate for Jamie,” Teresa said. “How does it feel to be Kate Truman again? Did it help to close the books on the past?”

“No, but spending the day with Jamie and Amanda did. We’re about to get this whole thing talked through and settled.” Mercy, but she did love the soft green grass under her bare feet.

“Talk faster. I’m ready for you to come home,” Teresa said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you in court today. I had some meetings that couldn’t be postponed and I couldn’t miss.”

“I understand.” Kate meant what she said. Her mother would never change, so she’d have to learn to love her just the way she was. “We were in and out of the courthouse in less than half an hour. No more than fifteen minutes before the judge. It took longer to drive there than to actually get the decree signed.” The phone beeped under her ear. “Got another phone call, Mother. Can I call you back?”

“Not necessary. I’m walking out the door to go to dinner with the potential buyer. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Teresa said.

Kate touched the screen and said, “Hey, Waylon.”

“Hello, Miss Truman. How did things go today?”

“They went great. I figured out that I don’t like high heels anymore and that I do like the feel of damp grass under my feet,” she answered.

“That’s a step in the right direction. You ready to drive a tractor tomorrow? The weatherman says it’s going to be another scorcher,” Waylon said.

“I’ll be there.” She smiled.

“I miss you on the days when I don’t get to see you.” He dropped his voice to a deep drawl that sent little waves of heat through her body.

She eyed the expensive shoes lying in the grass. “I’d almost put those high heels back on for a kiss right now.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’. There will be plenty of kisses waiting on you tomorrow when you get to the ranch.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She flirted, and it felt good, even if it was just because she’d had an emotional day, out of character for her.

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