Jackson: The McBrides of Texas

by Emily March

  Uh, yeah. Before she could formulate a response, a piano riff ringtone sounded from the back pocket of his jeans. He repeated the curse and reached for his phone, adding, “And I totally compound the screw-up. Sorry, Caroline. I meant to mute this before I picked you up. Actually, I meant to turn it off completely. The weeks before we brought cell service to Enchanted Canyon were awesome. I seriously considered keeping the canyon unplugged.”

  Caroline waved his apology away, glad to have a moment to collect herself. However, her moment lasted only seconds due to his reaction upon reading his screen.

  Every drop of color drained from Jackson’s complexion.

  He looked as if he were carved from granite as he thumbed the green dot and lifted the phone to his ear and shot his words like bullets. “Is she okay?”

  Caroline read the response he received in the visible relaxation of his body. Obviously, whoever “she” was meant the world to him.

  “Hell, yes, I want to talk to her,” he said into the phone after listening for a long moment. “Except for seeing her, there’s nothing I’d like better. You know that. But why would you take the risk? If Sharon finds out, my ass will be grass and yours won’t be in great shape, either.”

  The person on the other end of the phone responded and Jackson listened, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he did so. Finally, he said, “Damn, Mary. I’d owe you big time.”

  Whatever she said in response had him closing his eyes. When he spoke, his tone was gruff. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It means a lot to me.”

  Caroline could pick up the sound of a feminine voice—Mary, she guessed—though she could not make out the words. Then, ignoring her curiosity and thinking to allow him privacy for his call, she stepped away, headed for the dance hall’s front door. She’d taken only half a dozen steps before his hand snagged hers and held on, stopping her in her tracks.

  “That’s so sneaky that it just might work,” Jackson said into his phone. “If Sharon hears about it, I guess I can follow her example and lie like a rug. What’s good for the goose and all that.” He paused another moment, listening, and then added, “Absolutely. Right now is great. Yes. Sure. Mary, thank you.”

  He disconnected the call, but didn’t release Caroline’s hand. If anything, his grip tightened. “That was Haley’s nanny. They’re going to call me. I’m going to talk to her. My daughter. I haven’t seen her since February. Talked to her since April fifth. But today is her birthday. She’s in Europe and—” Jackson broke off abruptly when his phone rang again. His grip on Caroline’s hand tightened like a vise when he connected the call and said, “Hello? Lovebug? Are you there?”

  Raw pain etched across his face and his bittersweet smile bloomed. He closed his eyes. “Yes, Haley. It’s Daddy. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so much. Happy birthday, baby. Happy birthday.”

  The phone call lasted a little over six minutes. His grip on her hand never once loosened. Her heart ached when she heard him ask about Haley’s lost teeth and her pet goldfish and her imaginary friend, Pickle Kumquat. It melted when she heard him softly sing a vaguely familiar tune about Daddy’s little lovebug.

  When one lonely tear spilled from the corner of his eye and trailed slowly down his cheek oblivious to his notice, Caroline’s heart broke.

  * * *

  “‘Lovebug’ is my song,” Haley said to Jackson. “You wrote it just for me.”

  “That’s true. I did.”

  “It’s a really pretty song. I love it. I never get to hear it anymore unless I sing it to myself. Mommy took it off my playlist.”

  Jackson’s jaw tightened with about a million pounds of torque at that but he managed to keep his voice gentle as he asked, “Do you like to sing, Haley?”

  “I do. Mommy says I’m a natural. Will you write another song for me, Daddy?”

  “I would love to do that.” He envisioned the mounds of crumpled balls of paper he’d created during the past year when he’d attempted to do exactly that.

  In the way of six—no, now seven-year-olds—Haley switched gears and started talking about a recent visit to an interactive children’s museum. Jackson didn’t interrupt the recital with questions. He was content to listen to her voice. The sound of it had matured during the past year, the timber wasn’t pitched as high and she’d lost that childish lisp. She definitely sounded older.

  “… and the robot cow made burping sounds and it even tooted! But it didn’t smell bad. I was glad it didn’t smell bad. There was a big fly there, too, Daddy. And it talked about vomit.”

  She sounded so prissy and prim and disgusted about it that he couldn’t help but laugh. “You didn’t like learning about cow digestion and fly vomit?”

  She paused and Jackson mentally pictured her little brow wrinkling in thoughtful consideration. After a long moment, she said, “Well, the cow was kind of funny, but I didn’t like the fly. He was gross! There were these boys there, too, and they liked the fly. One of them pretended he was a fly and he ran around flapping his arms and pretending to vomit. He pretended to vomit on me, and Poppins got after him for it.”

  “Good for Poppins.”

  “I don’t like boys. Are you going to give me a birthday present, Daddy?”

  With that one innocent question, she cut him off at the knees. As he fumbled for an answer, Mary swooped in and saved the day. Even as she ruined it. “Coco is home.”

  The call disconnected abruptly. The silence was a knife to Jackson’s heart.

  He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, fighting hard to cool the rage that had ignited inside him. He held his phone in a crushing grip and came within a hairsbreadth of throwing the damn thing against the wall. Only Caroline’s quiet presence prevented him from surrendering to his temper. Damn Sharon. Damn her to hell.

  “Jackson?” Caroline asked softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He laughed bitterly. “Depends. Do you know a hit man?” When she widened her eyes, he added, “Just kidding.”

  He covered his eyes with his hand and wiped away the wetness pooling at the corners under the guise of massaging his temples. If he didn’t get hold of himself, he was liable to start bawling like a baby. Like Haley used to do. Only Haley wasn’t a baby anymore. She was seven years old. Seven! A first-grader. Homeschooled, or as Jackson thought of it, hotel-schooled, because Sharon continued to drag the child along on her tours.

  That had been one of their fiercest arguments during the separation. The day they’d learned that Haley was on the way, Coco had promised him that they’d quit touring when their baby started kindergarten. Jackson had wanted a childhood like his own for their child. In the small town just west of Fort Worth where he’d grown up, neighbors had known one another and watched out for one another. It had been safe for Jackson and his friends to walk to school and ride bikes all over town without adult supervision. He’d had a happy, healthy, idyllic, normal childhood and he wanted that for his child.

  A touring musician’s lifestyle was anything but normal. Hayley’s life was anything but normal. She spent months on end on the road and away from home. Her only playmates where ones somehow attached to people who were in one way or another were indebted to her mother, which created an abnormal balance of power in the playgroup. The only reason Haley wasn’t already a spoiled princess brat was because she had a fabulous nanny, and she’d been born with a gentle heart. Kindness appeared to be hardwired into Haley. She’d need both of those qualities to survive being “Coco’s Little Precious” with her character intact.

  Cocoa’s Little Precious. The tabloid name that her mother had encouraged made Jackson physically ill.

  He was so angry. So consumed with rage. Without intentionally planning to do so, he voiced the question that continued to plague him to this day—despite the fact that he knew the answer. “How could the woman I fell for change so much?”

  Though he didn’t open his eyes, he sensed Caroline stepping toward him. Her arms sli
d around his waist. “Don’t take this wrong. I’m a hugger. Is that okay?”

  He smiled and embraced her, burying his face against her hair when she pillowed her head against his chest and began to croon soothing sounds. They stood that way for the better part of a minute and ever so softly, words whispered through his mind. See that girl. Sweet heart. Learned to fight and now she’s sharing what she knows.

  Then she spoke, and the tune in his head went poof.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. Maybe. In a minute. Let me…” His voice trailed off. The word that came to mind was “wallow” but he wasn’t going to say that to Caroline. It was one thing to have a pity party. Something else entirely to admit it. Bad enough that he was pretty sure she’d caught him in his dust-in-the-eyes moment.

  Holding her … being held by her … felt good. It was a slather of aloe vera over the rawness in his soul, but her hugger observation aside, this moment probably came too soon after that inflammatory kiss for him to allow it to continue.

  He sucked in a deep breath, drawing in the heady scent of her, and he allowed himself a moment, just one moment, of indulgence. Then he exhaled heavily, dropped his arms, and stepped back. “Obviously, the call was from was my daughter, and today is her birthday. It’s always hard to be away from her, but on a day like today it’s the hardest damn thing.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jackson. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one, but to be separated from your child in this way.” She shook her head. “It’s just horrible.”

  “It sucks. It’s like I’ve lost one of my limbs and the phantom pain never leaves.” He raked his fingers through his hair and added, “And, I feel like a heel for having whined about this to you. Your husband passed away. Compared to you, I’m lucky. Haley is celebrating a birthday today.”

  “Don’t compare,” she chided. “My situation doesn’t diminish your loss. She’s your child and today’s her birthday and you aren’t with her. It’s okay to grieve, Jackson.”

  “‘Grieve’ isn’t the right word. You’re grieving. I’m…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right word.

  “Devastated? Shattered?”

  “Pissed as hell. I’m pissed and I’m embarrassed and I’m ashamed that I was stupid enough to ignore the red flags where Sharon was concerned. There were plenty of them. Boone never liked her. Tucker cooled on her before I ever popped the question. She never got along with my mother. Never tried. I turned a blind eye to all of that because…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t want to admit how easily he’d been seduced.

  Caroline waited for him to finish, and when he didn’t, she observed. “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  He gave his head a dismissive shake. Even before Sharon’s words and actions revealed her inner ugliness, Jackson had never considered her beautiful. She was attractive, yes, but her looks weren’t what made him notice her. That voice of hers had been what drew him into the outdoor patio bar in the Fort Worth Stockyards the Sunday afternoon they’d met.

  She’d been a hairdresser who moonlighted on weekends playing acoustic guitar and singing for tips. He’d been on the hunt for breakfast burritos, having just rolled out of bed following a late night at Billy Bob’s Texas as a member of the band who’d opened for Jerry Jeff Walker, a man whom Jackson considered to be one of the greatest Texas songwriters of all time. Sharon had been crooning a Patsy Cline song when he’d followed the sound of her voice. That’s what had seduced him. Her voice.

  “She’s had a lot of enhancements since we met. Not much of anything about her these days is original equipment, and even with all the work, she’s not nearly as beautiful as you are, Caroline. It’s that voice. I fell for her voice. It’s honey with a touch of smoke that lingers in the air like morning dew. As much as I despise the woman today, when she sings, it’s magical.”

  In a lighter tone of voice, Caroline said, “I don’t believe you intended the compliment you gave me. Nevertheless, I thank you. It’s been a long time since a man told me I was beautiful.”

  He turned a keen look her direction. Caroline’s observation was just what he’d needed to drag his mind away from the ugly to the lovely. He suspected that had been her intention. “I like to think that I’ve always been an honest person, but the events of the past five years have made me a stickler about it. I don’t lie, Caroline. You are beautiful, and I’m happy to tell you so whenever you’d care to hear it.” Following a moment’s pause, he added, “If you promise not to consider it a come-on.”

  “I promise. Now, tell me more about your little girl, Jackson. Do you have a picture of her?”

  “Only about a million. Want to see?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Maybe not a million, but I’m up for a couple of hundred.”

  “Let’s find a place to sit.” He glanced around. He hadn’t brought in any chairs yet, so the stage provided the only place to sit. “No chairs in here. How about we adjourn to one of the porch swings next door? That lemonade Celeste mentioned is starting to call my name.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He escorted her through the backstage door and took the long way around, which took her past the pool. Upon seeing it, Caroline stopped in her tracks. “How gorgeous! The pool looks so inviting. I can’t believe y’all have accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. My experience with the construction industry is that things seldom get finished on time. You’ve pulled off a miracle.”

  “Things just came together. We only lost a handful of days to weather, and the suppliers came through. Our contractor said he’s never had a job go so smoothly. The pool company even finished ahead of schedule, which is unheard of in this part of the world.”

  “It’s a fantastic pool. Such a creative design. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was natural. You recreated the swimming hole, didn’t you? Complete with a waterfall.”

  “Yep. We decided to keep the section of land that the waterfall is on private. It was Tucker’s idea to recreate it here.”

  “There’s nothing more inviting than a swimming hole on a hot summer day in Texas.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  They climbed onto the porch by way of the side steps and walked around to the front only to halt abruptly. Celeste and Angelica stood faced off and arguing in fierce whispers, Celeste with her hands braced on her hips, Angelica with her arms folded and her chin lifted mulishly.

  For a long moment, the two women’s angry gazes remained locked. Angelica slowly arched a challenging brow. “Fine!” Celeste flung up her hands and turned on her heels in a huff. “It’s your funeral.”

  “It certainly is!” Angelica fired back.

  Celeste spied Jackson and Caroline, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, dear. I apologize that you had to see that.”

  “See what?” Jackson asked, as innocent as an angel. “Did you see anything, Caroline?”

  “Not a thing.”

  He winked at Celeste and continued, “May we take you up on that lemonade offer now?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I’ll bring cookies,” Angelica added.

  “I’m counting on it. We’re going to sit in the west side swing for a spell.”

  It was Jackson’s favorite spot at the inn due to its fabulous view of the sunset. Painted a creamy white and hanging by metal chains, the wooden porch swing sported a thick yellow cushion. Jackson gestured for Caroline to take a seat, and then pulled his phone from his pocket before taking a seat beside her. “Want to start with baby pictures or how she looks today?”

  “They send you pictures?” Caroline asked, her surprise obvious.

  “Not hardly. But I was married to a woman who used to call her favorite paparazzi to tip them off about when she was going to the gym. Haley is a pretty little girl so Sharon likes being photographed with her. I can find a new shot somewhere online almost every day. I don’t like it, to be honest. It scares me to think of all the predators and pervs out there
who might be looking at her, but I have no ability to change it, so I find the good in the bad and keep up with how she’s growing and changing every day. Some days it breaks my heart, but I try to keep those days to a minimum.”

  “Why don’t you start with the baby pictures,” Caroline suggested as Celeste appeared with two glasses of lemonade. Angelica followed on her cousin’s heels carrying a plate piled high with cookies. “Let me watch her grow up, too.”

  For the next ten minutes, Jackson chowed down on Snickerdoodles as he played proud father scrolling through photos and videos of his daughter. Caroline acted genuinely interested in Haley, and he appreciated the opportunity to share stories about his baby girl now on her birthday more than he could have imagined.

  When he judged he’d whipped Caroline enough with kid pics, he put away his phone. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “I enjoyed it,” Caroline replied. “I love children.”

  The wistfulness in her voice had him looking hard at her. He recalled that she’d told him she didn’t have any. Had she wanted them? Should he ask? It was such a personal question. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  She took the decision out of his hands. “I badly wanted children. We couldn’t have them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She paused a moment and sipped her lemonade. “Me too.”

  Now the wistful note took on a hard edge. Jackson’s already keen glance sharpened. There was a story here. He wanted to hear it, and something in her expression conveyed the idea that she wanted to tell it. “Caroline—”

  The swing swayed as she abruptly stood. “I need to move. Too much sugar between the cookies and lemonade. What else do you have to show me, Jackson?”

  He could take a hint. He filed away the question for another time. Climbing to his feet, he glanced down at hers. Her boots were Ropers. That would do. “Do you ride?”

  Warily, she asked, “Ride what?”

  “Well, your choice. There’s an animal trail I’ve found that winds from the canyon floor up to the rim. Some pretty views along the way. Hiking it takes a couple of hours. An ATV can do it in a quarter of that. The best way to go, in my opinion, is on horseback.”