Cowboy Daddy (11 page)

“Dad, do you know?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, just so long as they’re relatives. I haven’t had many relatives before, have I, Daddy?”

“Just your grandparents,” he said. And now, not even all of them. He didn’t want to remember what Ellen’s father, Michael, had said and done, but he couldn’t forget.

They were miles from any large city, in the dusty west part of Texas. Instead of the dirt and scrub stretching out on both sides of the road, he saw the look on Michael’s face when he refused to spend time with Laurel on her birthday.

“Why would I care about some bastard brat? I only dealt with her for Ellen’s sake. She’s your problem now. Keep her away from me.”

Jake had been stunned by his father-in-law’s dismissal of his only grandchild. But Laurel wasn’t his by blood. Michael had taken great pains to remind Jake of that fact. So Jake had lied to his daughter and told her that her favorite grandparent was out of town on business the day of her birthday. With his father dead and his mother remarried and living in Florida, it had been up to Jake to make the day special for his daughter. There’d been a pool party with friends, but the happy event had been marred by sadness. It had also been a going-away party. He and Laurel had moved to Colorado the following week.

Even as he listened to Laurel and Anne talking about her “new” relatives, he wondered what kind of reception she would get from Anne’s family. Would they welcome her with open arms or would they hold back and hurt his child?

Laurel leaned as far forward as her seat belt would let her. “What about—?” She paused. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her troubled expression. “What about your old boyfriend?”

What about my real father.
She didn’t have to say the words. He heard them pounding in his head. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Anne looked at him, but his sunglasses hid his pain from her. He swallowed. What if that boy —no, he would be a man now—staked some claim on Laurel? He didn’t want to hear what she would tell Laurel, didn’t want to know that another man was his baby’s real father.

“He didn’t have much family,” Anne said. “I think they’re all gone. Either passed away or moved somewhere else.”

That was something, Jake thought grimly. That only left the man himself. He shook his head. Funny how all this time he’d been grateful that Ellen wasn’t
around to hear Laurel talking about her birth mother. He’d never thought about himself. About the man who had given life to his child. About the man who might now take her away. What good was the law when this stranger might steal her heart?

He should have left, he thought with sudden clarity. He should have left the marriage and taken Laurel with him. Those last years with Ellen had been horrible for all of them. The fights, the stony silences. Her bitter accusations that he had better not leave her, not after she stayed all those years, not when she’d adopted a child when she could have easily left him and had her own baby with another man. How many times had she thrown his sterility in his face? How many times had he raged at God for depriving him of a son?

“Is B-Bobby still there?” Laurel asked quietly, stuttering over the name.

Anne turned in her seat and smiled gently at Laurel. “A couple of months before you were born he was killed by a bull at a rodeo.”

The relief was sweet. Jake let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed.

“Oh.”

Jake watched Laurel in the mirror. She dropped her chin to her chest and flopped back in the seat.

“At least I’ve got you,” she said.

“And your dad,” Anne said quickly.

“I’ll always have him,” she said matter-of-factly, then slipped on her headset. She flipped on the tape recorder and started bouncing with the beat of the music.

Anne shifted to face front. She reached out her fingers and gently touched his forearm. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Except for the heat boiling between them.

“I probably should have told you about Bobby sooner. I didn’t think that you’d worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

She chuckled. He glanced at her.

“You’re a lot of things, Jake,” she said. “But not a very good liar.”

He checked the mirror, but Laurel was involved with her music. “Maybe I
was
a little concerned about having to fight some rodeo cowboy for my kid.”

“Bobby burned too bright to live very long. I always thought he was destined to die young. I think that was part of his appeal.” She looked out the window. “The turnoff is in about twenty miles.”

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere.”

“Tell me about it. I grew up here.”

As they got closer to Paradise, he could feel her tension growing. Soon they turned off the highway onto a two-lane road. It was late afternoon, but the sun

beat down unmercifully. The car’s air-conditioning was set to high, but the temperature inside continued to climb. Up ahead he could see a cluster of tired buildings, surrounded by dirt and a few low-lying bushes. There was an elementary school, a diner, a gas station. The general store looked about a hundred years old. An old couple sat on their front porch rocking. Several of the side streets were paved, but some weren’t.

“Welcome to Paradise,” Anne said. She held herself so stiffly, he wondered if she would snap if he touched her.

“You want to keep going?” he asked when he saw a sign pointing back to the highway

“More than you know. There’s something about coming back that makes me feel—” She gave him a quick smile. “Ghosts. Can’t seem to shake ‘em. It’s through here.” She pointed to a narrow lane that dead-ended in a trailer park.

A few limp trees grew in the dust. Rusting cars sat on blocks. Barefoot kids played around a scraggly bush. His new Ford Explorer was as out of place as a Thoroughbred at a mule sale.

He heard a burst of music as Laurel pulled off her headset. “You grew up here?”

“I spent seventeen years in Paradise. All I ever dreamed about was getting away. Becky Sue’s trailer is at the end.”

He drove slowly to avoid the children and dogs crowding the dirt trail. Jake had assumed Anne wanted Laurel to see where she grew up as part of some master plan to steal her away. Now staring at the sun-bleached trailers, the frayed curtains and dirty children, he knew he’d misjudged her. He thought about her big office and her hopes for a promotion. He thought about her white-on-white condo, another lifetime from here.

“Park over there,” she said, pointing to a spot past the last mobile home. A lone tree provided a fair amount of shade. As he came to a stop, a group of people rushed out of the trailer. A woman about Anne’s size led the way followed by several children and two mangy-looking dogs. He opened the door and got out slowly. Anne and Laurel followed suit.

The woman stopped a couple of feet away. Her hair was several shades darker, a true auburn. It was pulled back in a braid, revealing features much like Anne’s, but a little older. Her smile was wide and genuine. A clean but faded sleeveless blouse had been tucked into a loose skirt. He wondered if she’d dressed up to meet them. “Annie Jo Baker, you are lookin’ mighty pretty. Is this beautiful young lady your little girl?”

Anne took Laurel’s hand and led her forward. “Laurel, this is my cousin, Becky Sue.”

“Laurel. Ain’t that a lovely name.” She moved closer, then touched her cheek. “Oh, my. You’ve got Aunt Rose’s eyes.” She held open her arms.

Laurel looked at him for guidance. He felt as if someone had sliced his belly open and was now twisting the knife. He wanted to drag Laurel into the car and drive so far that they both forgot about Paradise and Anne Baker and birth mothers and being adopted. But he couldn’t. He nodded his approval and his daughter stepped into Becky Sue’s embrace.

“Welcome home, Laurel Baker. Welcome to the family.”

Chapter 6

”N
ow are you sure you don’t want another piece of pie?” Becky Sue asked, rising from the table.

“Not for me,” Anne said. “I’m stuffed. Jake?”

The man beside her shook his head. He’d been silent through their meal. Not that she blamed him. It was hot and sticky; even talking was an effort. The air conditioner in the mobile home had long since given up. Even though she’d showered and changed before dinner, Anne could feel the sweat dripping down her back. Her normally curly hair was lying flat from the heat. Jake’s tailored white shirt clung to him in patches. Only Becky Sue looked comfortable in her loose floral print skirt and blouse.

The three adults sat at the old table in the kitchen. The six kids were scattered throughout the trailer. Two dogs and an assortment of cats wove between their legs and generally added to the heat and din.

Anne glanced at the cherry pie sitting in the center of the table. Becky Sue would have gotten up early to bake it herself. The fried chicken and biscuits had been from a family recipe, the corn picked that morning. This was the home she remembered. It was all the same; she was the one who had changed.

Tm sure sorry J.T. couldn’t get home early,” Becky Sue said as she cleared the table. Anne rose to help, but her cousin pushed her back in place. “Now I know you’re family, darlin’, but today I’m gonna treat you like company.”

Her familiar open smile eased the pain in Annie’s heart. Becky Sue could always put her world right.

“Anyway, he wanted to meet your little girl, but he can get to it in the morning. He’s got an extra half shift down at the gas station.” She looked around the trailer. “We sure could use the money to fix up this place.” She moved efficiently around the small but clean kitchen. When one of the dogs walked in front of her, she easily stepped out of the way.

“Annie Jo and her mother had a real nice mobile home,” she said, then gave Jake a wink. “‘Course it was only the two of ‘em. Kids have a way of wearing a place out.”

Anne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She wasn’t ashamed of where she’d grown up. There might not have been a lot of luxuries, but there’d been plenty of love and understanding. Still, what did Jake think of all this?

“You must be very proud of Anne,” he said, taking the cup of coffee Becky Sue offered.

“Oh, we are. She’s got that important job of hers. And her place. Have you seen it?”

He nodded.

“Ain’t it pretty? All white.” Becky Sue gave her a grin. “She tried to buy us a new mobile home, but I wouldn’t let her. This one might be a little worn, but it still works for us.”

“I’m sure Jake doesn’t want to hear this,” Anne said, starting to get uncomfortable.

Jake ignored her. “That was very generous.”

“She is. She gives me money for the kids. College, she says, if they want to go.” Becky Sue glanced over at her brood. “I think only little Dolly will take advantage of that, but the others might want to learn a trade.” She sat down and patted Jake’s shoulder. “Your little girl comes from strong stock. We ain’t fancy, but we’re good folks.”

Anne felt the blush climbing her cheeks. She glanced down and smoothed her skirt. If Jake was half as uncomfortable as she was, he’d probably pay her to get him out of the sweltering kitchen. She looked at her cousin and smiled. “It’s going to be a pretty night. Would you mind if we took a walk?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Jake?”

He looked over at her. A puzzled expression wrinkled his brow. “Sure. I’ll tell Laurel.” He headed for the big family room.

“He’s nice,” Becky Sue said before Jake was out of earshot.

“He’s Laurel’s father. Don’t get any ideas.”

“But you haven’t been out with a man since before my youngest was born.”

Anne tried glaring at her cousin, but it was impossible to get or stay angry at her. She grinned instead. “Don’t go matchmaking.”

”I’m not. But you must admit, he’s nice lookinV

”I’ll admit to that, but nothing else.”

Becky Sue started to speak, but Anne saw Jake returning and jabbed her in the side with her elbow. She led the way outside. Here the temperature was about ten degrees cooler than inside the trailer. The night sky hung low.

“I’d forgotten about the stars,” she said, staring up at the thousands of twinkling lights. “I never could wish on that first star. As the sun set, there weren’t any, then I’d look up and the sky would be like this.” She waved her arms toward the heavens.

“It’s like this on the ranch, too,” Jake said as he walked along beside her.

“But not so hot.” She fanned herself with her hand.

“You got that right.”

By silent agreement, they headed away from the trailer park. Quickly the sounds of the children and the dogs, the bang of pots on the counter and the blare of the televisions faded. Soon all Annie could hear was the soft hooting of an owl and the crunch of Jake’s boots on the small rocks underfoot. Her own sandals were quieter as she stepped on the familiar, uneven ground.

The smells of cooking faded more slowly, but soon she could inhale the scent of the desert, the clean air and the musky fragrance that belonged to Jake. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. They moved in the same direction to go around a small boulder, and they brushed together.