Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones of Texas 6)

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CLICK TRIED TO argue when Tandy followed him back to Lynnie’s place. He tried to argue when she told him to take a shower and go to bed. He tried to argue when she rummaged through the refrigerator, looking for something to make for dinner. But when she put Pearl on her lap and opened Lynnie’s piano, he didn’t say a word.

The wonder on Pearl’s face was awe inspiring. He leaned against the door frame, watching her tiny fingers hover over the ivory keys. Tandy played one song, then another. Pearl sat, her hands folded in her lap, watching closely. When the song ended, Pearl clapped and clapped. So did he.

“You’re supposed to be taking a shower. And a nap,” Tandy said. “Tell Daddy to go to night-night, Pearl. Say night-night, Daddy.”

Pearl shook her head, giggling.

“No?” Tandy said. “You want Daddy to make music?”

“Mew-sik!” Pearl said. “Da da.”

He laughed. “Tandy’s the musician, Pearl. I might be able to hammer out chopsticks.”

Tandy slid over.

“Da da,” Pearl whispered, clapping her hands again.

He sat, his weariness melting away when both Pearl and Tandy stared at him. “Here goes.” He held his hands over the keys, waved them in the air and shook his head.

Pearl patted his arm.

He nodded and started playing. He fumbled through it, turning it into a show for Pearl more than a serious attempt to produce music. Pearl was too delighted to care. And Tandy... She was laughing along with Pearl. “You’re up,” he said to Tandy, glad to be done.

Tandy played a song he’d never heard before, the notes soft and light and carefree. When she started singing, he and Pearl stared at her.

“Time for bed, little one, time to dream

Close your eyes, cuddle close, and sleep sweet

Rest your head, little one, rest easy

Sail away on white clouds, and dream deep.”

Tandy kept playing, her fingers coaxing the soothing melody from the piano keys. Click watched her fingers, her hands, the way her body swayed slightly to the music. And Pearl, Pearl looked at T

andy like she was an angel. Her bright eyes stayed on Tandy’s face, her little rosebud mouth mimicking Tandy silently. When Tandy played the song again, Pearl put her hand on Tandy’s arm.

Tandy’s smile wavered ever so slightly, reminding him of how hard this must be for her. He ached to comfort her, to hold her while she cried. She’d had no one to hold her while she grieved for their baby. He’d let her chase him away, leaving her alone with her mother—and he hated himself for it. Susan Boone had no heart. And he’d left Tandy in her care. If Tandy held on to her grief and guarded her heart, it was his fault as much as her mother’s.

Pearl relaxed against him, her little hand sliding from Tandy’s arm as she drifted off into sleep. Tandy nodded, shooting him a sweet smile when their eyes met. He turned Pearl into his shoulder and stood, carrying her across the parlor and down the hall to their bedroom.

He placed Pearl in her bed and stared down at her. Poor Pearl. One minute she’d had a mother, of sorts. The next, she had him. Did Pearl miss her? From what Georgia’s roommate had told him, she’d been a good mother—as good as expected for a drug addict. He could do this on his own. He had to. Hell, seeing the damage Tandy’s mother had done, he knew having a bad parent could be worse than having none. Would Georgia come back for her? Did he want her to?

He straightened, rubbing the names inked on his arm. It was pointless to wish for the impossible. That family—him and Tandy and Pearl—could never be. And yet, for one brief moment, he let the warmth of that idea wash over him. There would be so much love there.

He smoothed the blanket over Pearl and walked down the hall, listening to Tandy play. He took his time, wanting to delay the inevitable change that Pearl’s absence would bring. There was a gulf between them, so deep and wide, he didn’t see a way around it. Still, he was willing to try.

She broke off when he entered the room, pushing off the piano bench and looking at him. “How long will she sleep?”

He shrugged. “An hour. Maybe two.”

“So you can nap?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest—warning him away.

With no Pearl between them, all the things said and unsaid crowded in on him. But, maybe, things didn’t have to stay unsaid. He cleared his throat. Where the hell to start?

“I came here to help you with Pearl,” she said, as if sensing his thoughts. “You should sleep.”