Montana Read Free

suspiciously. It was a look Molly recognized, a look that said Tom, with his newly developed teenage cynicism, wasn’t about to believe any adult. Especially his mother…
    â€œI told you this has nothing to do with your father!” It bothered Molly that her son would assume she’d lie to him. There was nothing she abhorred more than lying. Daniel had taught her and their children more than enough on that subject. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
    â€œThen what’s wrong?” Clay moved into the kitchen and Molly held out her arms to her youngest son. Clay didn’t object to an occasional hug, but Tom had let it be known he was much too old for that sort of thing—and much too cool to display affection toward his mother. She respected his wishes, and at the same time longed for the times when they could share a simple hug.
    â€œIt’s Gramps,” she said. Her throat started to close and she couldn’t say more.
    Clay wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pressed his head to her shoulder. Molly sighed deeply.
    â€œIs Gramps sick?” Tom asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. He paced restlessly, back and forth across the kitchen floor. It’d become a habit of his lately, a particularly irritating one. Oh, yes, Molly thought, sighing again. The last twelve months had been hard on all of them. Tom seemed to be having the toughest time coping with everything—the public humiliation of his father’s trial for fraud, the lack of any extra money and then the move from a spacious three-bedroom house to a cramped two-bedroom apartment. But this place was the best she could do, and his dissatisfaction underscored her own feelings of inadequacy.
    â€œGramps’s heart is giving him trouble,” Molly finally answered. She spoke in a low toneless voice.
    â€œAre we going to go see him?”
    Molly brushed the hair from Clay’s brow and gazed down on his sweet boyish face. “I don’t know yet.”
    â€œBut, Mom, don’t you want to?” Tom cried.
    That hurt. Of course she did. Desperately. If she had the choice, she’d be on the first plane out. “Oh, Tom, how can you ask me that? I’d give anything to be with Gramps.”
    â€œThen let’s go. We can leave tonight.” Tom headed toward the bedroom he shared with his younger brother, as if the only thing they needed to do was toss a few clothes in a suitcase and walk out the door.
    â€œWe can’t,” she said, shaking her head, disheartened once again by the reality of their situation.
    â€œWhy not?” Tom’s voice was scornful.
    â€œI don’t have enough—”
    â€œMoney,” her oldest son finished for her. He slammed his fist against the kitchen counter and Molly winced, knowing that the action must have been painful. “I hate money! Every time we want to do something or need something, we can’t, and all because of money.”
    Molly pulled out a kitchen chair and sagged into it, her energy gone, her spirits deflated by anger and self-pity.
    â€œIt’s not Mom’s fault,” Clay muttered, placing his skinny arm around her shoulders, comforting her.
    â€œI don’t know what to do,” Molly said, thinking out loud.
    â€œIf you wanted to go by yourself,” Tom offered with a show of reluctance, “I could baby-sit Clay.”
    â€œI don’t need a baby-sitter,” Clay insisted. “I can take care of myself.” He glared at his older brother, challenging Tom to proclaim otherwise.
    â€œI can’t leave now, with or without you boys,” Molly told them sadly. She had less than twenty dollars in her checking account. It was the all-too-familiar scenario—too much month at the end of her money.
    â€œI remember Gramps,” Tom said suddenly. “At least I think I do.”
    The last time Molly had visited the ranch was shortly after her divorce almost ten years ago. Her