Page 9 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

The word sat between us, loaded with thirty years of separation and secrecy. I’d watched her grow up from a distance, influenced her life through the trust, but hadn’t met her until two weeks ago.

“There’s still more to tell you—about your parents’ marriage, about what happened after we came here, about why Patricia felt the need to create the trust, in the first place.”

She wiped tears from her cheeks. “I need some time. To process this.”

“Of course.”

“But I want to know everything. All of it.”

“Tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Tomorrow.”

As we prepared to leave the chapel, she paused at the door. “JW—Johnny—why now? Why tell me about yourself after all these years?”

“Your mother said she trusted I’d know the right time to share everything with you.”

She reached out and touched my arm. “Thank you for taking care of us. Watching over us. Even when we didn’t understand why certain things were happening.”

“It’s been my honor. Your mother and I were very close.”

We returned to the lodge in silence, the truth settling between us.

Tomorrow would bring more difficult conversations, but today had been enough.

The secret I’d carried for three decades was beginning to unfold, and she—Patricia’s youngest daughter—was handling it with the same strength her mother had shown all those years ago.

I’d been awake since four-thirty, unable to silence the voices from the past that had been stirred up by yesterday’s conversation. By six, I’d given up on sleep and made my way to the kitchen, where Alton was already preparing for the day.

“Storm’s coming,” he said without looking up from his prep work. “Jim says we’ll get hit around noon.”

“How are we set for provisions?”

“Good for a week, maybe more. I made sure we had extra of everything before the Warricks arrived.” He paused in his chopping. “Should be cozy enough with just the one family here, although they might get stir crazy.”

I poured myself coffee from the pot Alton kept brewing. “They’re from Colorado—they’re used to winter storms.”

I returned to my office and waited for Flynn to arrive.

At nine-thirty, a knock interrupted my thoughts.

“JW? It’s me,” said Flynn.

“Come in.”

She entered, unwinding her scarf as she closed the door behind her. She looked more rested than I’d expected, though I didn’t doubt her questions had multiplied overnight.

“Good morning,” she said. “Irish is keeping the kids occupied while we talk.”

“How would you feel about continuing our conversation in the library? It’s more comfortable than my office, and we’ll have privacy.

Also, severe weather is heading our way—should hit around noon.

We’ll likely be snowed in for several days, so it will be a better place for these conversations than trudging back and forth to the chapel. ”

“That makes sense. We’re used to getting snowed in at home—probably more than you are here.” She smiled. “I’m relieved we’ll have the uninterrupted time we need.”

I led her to one of my favorite rooms in the lodge—a cozy space lined floor to ceiling with books, anchored by two leather armchairs positioned near a stone fireplace. I’d lit the fire earlier, anticipating we’d need the warmth and comfort it provided.

She settled into one of the chairs while I took the other, the portfolio resting on the small table between us.

“Where would you like me to start?” I asked.

“Before we do, you should know I called my brothers last night and told them you were the trustee.”

I waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, I asked, “What was their reaction?”

She grinned. “Buck said he was heading here immediately.”

I smiled too. “And?”

“I told him this was my journey, and if you’d wanted him here for it, the codicil would’ve said so.”

“Good for you, Flynn.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed, but her gaze was direct and steady. “Anyway, I know the basics of why my mother had to leave East Aurora, but not any of the details. I’d like to start with that.”

I slid a color snapshot of three teenagers standing in front of a small house across the small table between us. Patricia was in the middle, flanked by a younger version of myself and my twin brother, Jimmy.

“This was taken not long before we left,” I said.

She studied the image, her finger tracing the edge. “You all look so young.”

“We were seventeen years old. Your mother was living with us after our grandparents died. While she and my father were siblings, almost twenty years separated them. He was more like a father figure to her.”

“Did you spend a lot of time together?”

“We did. We went to the same school, shared the same friends. Patricia was the best person anyone could know—kind, smart, always looking out for others. That’s why what my father planned to force her to do was so heinous.”

“The abortion,” she whispered.

“When my father discovered Patricia was pregnant, he decided she would terminate the pregnancy. He told her she was going, whether she wanted to or not.”

Flynn’s hands tightened around the photograph. “How awful.”

“Ursula discovered what he was trying to do and paid a visit to Cena. She was my father’s employer as well as his aunt. My mom explained the situation, saying she knew people in Colorado and we could go there. Cena agreed to help Ursula and Patricia disappear.”

“And you went with them?”

“Patricia and my mother were the most important people in my life. I couldn’t let them face an uncertain future alone.”

“You said your mother knew people in Colorado?”

“Yes. Victor had moved to Crested Butte for a job. We went to live with him, and while my mom told him she’d left my dad and that I came with her, he never knew about Patricia.”

“How did that work?”

“Not long before all this took place, Irma contacted Cena to ask for financial help. Your grandfather had died, and their ranch—the Roaring Fork—was about to go into foreclosure.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. So Cena agreed to help them as long as my dad married my mom?”

“It wasn’t quite that simple, but Cena did hatch a plan. She told Irma that in exchange for bailing them out, they had to take in Patricia and keep her whereabouts secret.”

Flynn folded her arms. “So now, you’re saying the marriage wasn’t part of the deal?”

“Not officially. Irma encouraged Roscoe to get to know Patricia, but he wasn’t stupid. My guess is he figured out that her arrival was linked to them being able to save their ranch.”

She rested against her chair and stared into the fire.

“We can stop for today if this is too much,” I offered.

She shook her head. “No, I want to keep going.”

“Of course.” I stood and poured two glasses of water from the pitcher I’d asked to be brought in earlier, then began again.

“Your mom and I had to be cautious about how often we spoke to each other. Cena made it clear that her top priority was keeping Patricia safe. If my dad found us, she didn’t want him to find your mom too. ”

“Understood,” Flynn said, leaning forward. “What happened next?”

“Your parents fell in love. Or so it seemed. I know your mother cared very much for your dad. She would never have agreed to marry him if she hadn’t.”

“Who knows whether the feelings were mutual,” she said under her breath.

“I believe they were. Think about it. After Buck was born, your parents had five more children.”

“From what little I’ve been told about her, she wouldn’t have had kids against her will,” Flynn commented.

“You’re right. She wouldn’t have,” I agreed.

“I have a question,” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“My dad adopted Buck, raised him as his own. Was that something Cena forced him to do as well?”

“No. It was something he wanted to do.”

When she raised a brow and smirked, I held up both hands.

“We can’t know for certain, because they’re both gone, but from what your mother told me, he offered.”

“From what I heard, he hated Buck.”

“There were things that happened that played a part in him developing those feelings.”

“What?”

As easy as it would be to skip ahead, I couldn’t. For her—and her siblings—to understand how I came to play such an important, albeit secret, role in their lives, I had to tell the story as it happened.

“We’ll get to that,” I said, which she accepted with a nod.

“Backtracking a little, shortly before your parents were married, Cena purchased the ranch outright and created the Roaring Fork Ranch Trust, something neither Roscoe nor Patricia knew about at the time. If they ever divorced, your mother would retain ownership. Roscoe would get nothing.”

“Wow.” She sat back in her chair.

“As I said before, Cena did what she thought was best to protect your mom.”

“I think that’s enough for today.”

“I agree.”

As she prepared to leave, she paused at the library door. “Does Irish know about any of this?”

“No more than you did.”

She nodded, then headed toward Pueblo Moon, where her family waited. I watched her go, thinking about Patricia and how proud she would be of the woman her daughter had become.

The first chapter of our story had been told. Tomorrow, the real work of understanding our family’s complicated history would begin.