Before that, she was in foster care for several years. At the last home, the foster parents went through a divorce and lost their certification. Before your daughter could be placed again, she vanished. Tracking her steps over nearly seven months was the most difficult part of the investigation, but a few stops at homeless shelters helped our investigator stay on the trail. During that time, she changed her name and lived on the fringes of society. Apparently she was hitchhiking toward New Orleans when she abruptly left the truck in which she was riding on Interstate 10. How she arrived in Sweetgrass Springs is not clear. She is currently residing in the home of Ruby Gallagher Howard, owner of Ruby’s Diner.
Unless you require us to perform the introduction or make the approach on your behalf, we now consider ourselves to have completed your bequest from Mr. Hopewell. As stipulated, ten thousand dollars will be deposited in a bank account of your choice to enable you to reunite with your daughter.
Please do not hesitate to contact me with any questions.
Regards,
Frederick Bach, Esquire
That lovely old man, so dignified and patient. She’d barely remembered his name, but Harold Hopewell, one of the many to whom she’d told her story and confessed her regrets, had remembered her and given her the gift of a lifetime, the only gift she really wanted.
Blue pressed the paper to her chest, her head spinning, her heart pounding inside her chest.
Dilly. She could see her Dilly again.
But would Dilly want to see the mother who’d deserted her so long ago?
Foster care. For years. No one had adopted her sweet Dilly…how could that be? Her bright, beautiful fairy child had never had a family?
What did you expect? What options did you leave her?
Then Dilly had been on her own for months. Homeless shelters. Hitchhiking. With a moan, Blue sank to the floor, carefully folding the letter and clasping it to her chest, rocking back and forth as grief clawed its way inside. What had Dilly seen? What had she experienced? Had anyone ever reached out to her? Cared for her? Loved her as Blue—
What kind of love was that? What mother didn’t see to her child’s welfare first?
Oh, Dilly…
How could she ever face the child who was clearly so much better off now without her?
Brenda finished arranging the last vase of flowers for Veronica’s baby shower and set them in the carrier that would go in Spike’s car. Room was also required for Spike’s offerings, the amazing cake in the shape of a baby carriage and the cupcakes each with a baby rattle or pacifier on top—not real ones but made of spun sugar and paste and who knew what else.
Brenda wondered if she should be buying her own car. She lived so close to work at the cafe, and Ben or Jackson or Henry or someone was always available to take her out to the flower farm. She was saving so much of her pay from both jobs, all three jobs, that she could probably afford something used.
She would talk to the town mechanic Jonas Mickan soon, get his advice on the best place to begin a search. She only needed something reliable, nothing fancy. Fancy was not what she wanted in her life.
The greenhouse door opened, and Deputy Sheriff Tank Patton entered, a smile on his face. “You need help carrying anything?” The transformation in Veronica’s brother was amazing. Before he’d met and married her fellow waitress Chrissy Daniels, he’d smiled very seldom.
She tried not to stiffen. Wished she could quit worrying every time she saw him, simply because he was in law enforcement. She was eighteen now. No one could make her go back.
“Brenda?”
She yanked herself back. “Um…if you wouldn’t mind, the carrier is kinda heavy.”
“No problem. Veronica is going to be blown away. I never imagined a town this gossipy could pull off a surprise like this.”
“Jackson still has her occupied?”
He nodded. “He’ll bring her to town in time.” He lifted the carrier but paused. “Listen…I wanted to talk to you about something.”
She couldn’t help hunching her shoulders. “Like what?”
“Like what is it about me that bothers you?” He glanced away. “I mean, I know I haven’t been very easy to get along with before Chrissy, but is there something I’ve done to you?”
“Why would you say that?” She fought the urge to fidget.
“You always tense up when I’m around. I—” He stopped. Waited.
“No, it’s fine. I’m…” She wished she could figure out how to change the topic. “There’s nothing wrong, really.”
“Are you afraid of me?” He looked uncomfortable himself. His gaze turned assessing. “Has someone…hurt you? I know I’m big and all, but—”
She ducked her head. “It’s nothing.” Coward. Look at him. Meet his eyes. “It’s not—I’m not afraid of you.” Exactly. It’s only your job. He was the law.
He studied her a minute longer. “Look, if there’s anything…I would help you if you’d ask, Brenda.”
Brenda. She wanted to be Brenda Jones, so much. She didn’t like lying to these good people with every breath. She summoned a smile and tried to make it convincing. “I appreciate that, I do.”
His eyebrows rose as if waiting for more.
“I’m fine, really. But I do appreciate your offer.”
He shook his head. “Just don’t forget it, okay?”
“I won’t. And Tank?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so glad you and Chrissy found each other. You’re really good for her. You make her happy.”
He…beamed, was the only word that fit. Once so solitary and closed-in, now his face lit from within. “I’m the lucky one. She and the kids…” He shook his head again, this time in wonder. “They’ve changed my life. And now we’re having a baby.” He gulped visibly. “I’m scared to death.”
She forgot her fear in the face of his. “You’ll be a great dad.”
“You don’t know that. Chrissy says that, but nobody knows for sure. My father—”
She’d heard a little about how his violent father. “I’ve seen you with Thad and Becky. You’ll be really good.”
He exhaled in a powerful gust. “I’m going to, I swear. I won’t let any of them down.”
“And now you’re having a baby shower at your house,” she said to lighten the mood.
He flashed a beautiful smile. “I know, right? Chrissy is all about family, and she really wanted to do this for Veronica and Jackson. Her sister Laura has cooked all this great food, and Chrissy had us cleaning every inch of the house—” He stared off into the distance. “The ranch has never seen anything like this. Everything is different there since the day Chrissy and the kids moved in. So much happiness when before—” He shook his head. “No. Before is gone. The Patton ranch is going to shine, I swear it. I’ll make my ancestors proud.”
“I bet you already have,” she said. “I’ve only been there for the wedding, but it’s a beautiful piece of land, and the house you built for Chrissy—”
“The house everybody pitched in on.” He interrupted. “I still can’t get over that.”
“It’s the Sweetgrass way,” she said.
“Yeah, it is. Took me way too long to become a part of it.” He nodded toward the greenhouse door. “So…you ready to get this party started?”
She understood completely his feeling of not being fully a part of this magical place. She wanted to belong desperately, and she had been welcomed thoroughly.
But if they knew… She wasn’t a criminal, she reminded herself. She’d only been a terrified runaway. Maybe one day not too far from now she would come clean and ask for forgiveness.
“Brenda?”
“Coming!” She picked up her purse and one last pot of flowers and made her way out the door.
Jackson stood out on his brother-in-law’s back porch as the giggles and sighs continued inside. He held his little niece with both hands, scared half to death he’d drop her.
Mary Rose’s father, his buddy
Mackey, leaned against a porch post watching them. “She’s not an explosive device, you know. She’s sturdy, our Rosie.”
Her first name had come from Jackson’s mother, whom everyone had loved. “She’s the smallest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. What does she weigh, two pounds?” Jackson’s fingers were long, his hands big as befit his height, but he still felt the need for a couple more hands. What if he dropped her?
“You’ll get over those nerves soon enough when it’s your own.” Mackey’s daredevil grin flared. “And no, she weighs twelve whole pounds now. But I gotta admit that I carried her around like she was crystal for the first few days.” He glanced over. “Look at Bridger, though. He’s got it wired.”
“Bridger’s always been great with kids, plus he’s delivered babies. He doesn’t count.” Bridger’s son, James Jackson—which still blew Jackson away, that the boy bore his name—snuggled against his daddy’s shoulder.
“It’s not rocket science.” Bridger Calhoun said with an easy smile. “Babies are simple.” Bridger glanced over at Tank. “You might want to get in a little practice yourself.” He peeled JJ off his shoulder and extended his arms.
“What? No—I don’t think—”
All this was so new to Tank. After so many years of being solitary, he’d been surrounded by family for weeks now. Jackson understood. He’d gone nearly twenty years without family and had had to relearn how to be with others. How to be loved.
His early years had been filled with affection, however—his mother Mary’s life was all about family and love. Tank had never had that, except from Vee, but in their childhood home, emotion and affection were dangerous to display. He chuckled. “You look more terrified than I do.”
Tank didn’t take his eyes off the baby cradled in his huge hands. “Bite me.”
The other three men laughed. Since childhood, he and Mackey and Ian had considered Tank their nemesis. That Tank would say that and only be teasing was a big step.
“I hear you, man. I’m trying to think how soon I can give this one back without being called a wimp.”
Tank glanced up and returned his smile. “Do it soon, so I can.”
Just then Ian strolled out on the deck, having reclaimed his daughter Georgia after Scarlett had fed her. He looked so at ease, the way he handled her. Jackson knew he was a good father to Ben and the twins, but he’d never been with any of them when they were babies. “You look entirely too natural with her.”
Ian glanced up from where he and his daughter had been smiling at each other while she patted his cheek. “It gets easier. Six months helps a lot. Plus you’re past the sleepless nights at that point. And we didn’t have colic to deal with.”
Mackey groaned. “I wish we’d get past the Hell Hours every evening.” He glanced over at Bridger. “Still no problem with him?”
“Nope. But he’s never gonna sleep more than two hours, I swear.”
“I have to give Rosie that much—once she stops howling, she sleeps a good six hours.”
Suddenly Ian burst out laughing. “Listen to us. Holy crap. We were such badasses.” His one dimple flared.
“You never were,” Mackey said. “You were always the good one.”
“SEALs, cops, firemen, ranchers—” Jackson began.
“Billionaire computer geeks.” Ian nodded at him. “Studs. Manly men.” He grinned. “Then love walked in, and we’re comparing baby sleeping habits.”
“Anybody want talk about diaper changes?” Bridger asked.
“No!” was the resounding answer, and they all laughed.
Then they were silent for a moment, and out of that came Tank’s voice. “I’m so damn glad for it. I’ll change diapers all day if it gets me Chrissy.”
Jackson stared at him and knew the others were, too.
Tank looked up from JJ. “What? I’ve watched you. Every one of you feels the same.”
Mackey clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “Yeah, we do. Best day of my life was watching that redhead take the fence on her horse and realizing it was my buddy’s kid sister all grown up.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Very nicely, I might add.”
“Stop.” Jackson screwed up his face. “Some things a brother doesn’t need to hear.”
The screen door opened, and Ruby walked out, looking like a tiny shrub in a forest of sequoias. “I don’t see a crying baby in the bunch, so what excuse are you going to use now for getting out of the coed shower?”
“Aw, Ruby…” complained Mackey.
“Don’t you aw, Ruby me. Get your fannies inside.” She glanced at Tank. “You’re doing a good job of holding that boy, but now you have to let me have my turn.”
“Gladly—” Tank relinquished his charge, then held the door for her as they all trooped inside.
“Mackey, here’s your girl,” Jackson offered.
“Nah.” Mackey sauntered inside. “You’re doing just fine. Hate to disturb her when she looks so happy.”
Jackson sighed and returned to the living room.
Veronica glanced up from the mound of presents surrounding her, glowing and so relaxed. Smiling at him with her heart in her eyes as she patted the seat beside her.
He smiled back at the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen and prayed to all the powers in the universe that soon they would have their own twins here, safe and sound.
Ready or not.
But he would be—he was prepared to spend every dime of his considerable fortune to make sure all bases were covered.
Brenda watched as, one by one, the men of Sweetgrass Springs entered and went to their wives. Such big men, strong and powerful, yet each with a baby in his arms. Was there anything more designed to make a woman sigh than the sight of a strong man cradling a child? Even Tank, so endearingly awkward with the infant he had held on the porch as if JJ were a loaded bomb, had looked at the child with his features softened by affection.
Jackson went to Veronica and took his place at her side, but even when his sister Rissa offered to take her daughter, he only smiled at her and patted the back of the tiny girl who nestled on his shoulder. Ian settled beside Scarlett, Georgia between them, still safe in her daddy’s arms. Bridger’s son JJ, barely a month old, had been reclaimed from Ruby and was tucked into his daddy’s broad chest, nestling securely within Bridger’s embrace.
What must it feel like to be so safe? No question they would all be protected, she knew—each of these children and their siblings plus any to come would know only what it felt like to be loved, to be cherished.
And never, ever abandoned.
For a moment, bitter longing held her fast in its grip. She’d never had a father, never even been sure Mère knew which man it might have been. Cat Fontaine had been a fantasy woman, always admired for her extraordinary beauty, her bawdy laugh, her dancing, flitting presence that never lit in one spot long enough to bore.
Brenda’s father—Dilly’s father, she admitted—was No Man. Nobody. A donor, no more. She craved that knowing, that safety she was certain she’d feel if she’d ever been so lucky.
Did he even know she existed?
Or had Mère been too lost in the moment to sort out who he was?
The scene before her blurred, and she realized she was crying. Quickly she turned away and fled, hoping no one would notice. That she wouldn’t mar the beauty of this day. She hurried away from the house, blindly walking up the long drive that led to the road into town.
“Brenda?”
She didn’t turn at the voice of Jackson’s son Ben.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She brushed at her tears, then forced herself around. “What are you doing here?”
“Dad has a special surprise for Mom.” He gestured with his head toward the bed of the far-from-new pickup that was his pride and joy. He and Jackson had rebuilt the engine together.
“What is it?” she approached, grateful for the distraction. “Ohhh.” Her hand covered her lips. “So beautiful.” A double cradle, wide enough for t
wo, gleamed in the sunlight.
“Dad made it for her.”
“I didn’t know he could do woodwork.”
“He couldn’t, not before this. But Granddad and he built it together. They let me help.”
She knew Jackson and his father had a troubled past, and Jackson’s return to Sweetgrass had brought with it all the old tangled history, but he and James Gallagher had found their way back to each other after Ben had been hurt and hospitalized. “She’s going to love it.”
Ben smiled shyly. “He’s nervous. It’s funny, since he’s so powerful in the business world and has all this money, but he’s really nervous about these babies.” A small shadow crept over Ben’s face. “He still worries about how he didn’t know about me until I was nearly sixteen, and he’d never even held a baby until Aunt Penny and Aunt Rissa had theirs.”
“Are you sad that you didn’t know him when you were little?”
Ben gazed at her for a minute. “I had a dad, a really good one. I just didn’t know he wasn’t my biological father. What’s your dad like?”
She froze.
“I’m sorry. Nobody ever asks personal questions, do they? But everyone wishes they knew, just—”
When he didn’t say more, she prompted. “Just what?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna be in a lot of hot water if you take off now. You won’t, will you?”
She blinked. “Why would I leave?”
Ben shrugged. “You’re the town’s big mystery. Everyone wants to know how old you are and where you came from and why you never talk about your past, but no one wants to ask because they don’t want you to go.”
“People are…talking about me?”
“Oh, man, now I’ve really screwed up. You can’t run off, okay? Promise? I don’t need to know where you’re from. Nobody does. We’re all happy you’re here. People just…worry. They want you to be okay.”
Brenda marveled. “I’m not really very interesting.”
Texas Sweet Page 5
