Texas Sweet

by Jean Brashear

  She hugged each of them hard. “Thank you so much. This is—” Her voice broke. “This is—” She literally didn’t have the words.

  Others began to crowd in as she turned in Henry’s direction, and soon she couldn’t see him anymore.

  “Hey, girlfriend, happy happy!” Big D cried out and lifted her into a hug, then began to twirl her around.

  “I can’t believe she did this,” Henry said to Jeanette and Spike.

  “What about us?” Spike complained. “We helped. What do you think she was doing while I was suffering through your ten thousand sample flowers?” She gave him a hug.

  Others wanted to greet him, too, and he needed to thank Ian and Scarlett and Ruby—

  But first he wanted to thank her. He scanned the tops of heads, searching for her blonde one. At last he spotted her and started to make his way over—

  Just as Big D picked her up and twirled her while she laughed and glowed with happiness.

  No. You can’t have her. She’s—

  “Hey, Henry,” greeted Bridger, his big body blocking Brenda from sight. “Hell of a surprise you managed, huh?”

  Bridger was the best guy in the world, and normally Henry would like nothing better than to hang out and talk, but right now he wanted to shove the big man away and stalk through the crowd and—

  “Henry!” Jackson’s twin girls, Abby and Beth, rushed over, chattering away—well, Abby chattered and Beth, as usual, let her twin do the talking.

  Others crowded around, and Bridger slapped his back. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Now I’d better get back to the grill.”

  “Bridger, thank you for everything—”

  “Glad to do it, my man. Real glad.” He tipped the bill of his ball cap and moved away. Plenty of others took his place, and Henry had no choice but to give in graciously and talk to all those who had come to celebrate with Brenda and—he shook his head over this—himself.

  “Henry,” Abby tugged to be picked up, even though at eight she was nearly too big. “Do you know we’re having babies, two more babies who are twins like Bethie and me?”

  Beth slipped her hand into his free one, and he smiled down at her before her more gregarious twin turned his face back to her. “Did you know?”

  “I did, yes. Pretty soon, right?”

  “Yep. And Bethie and me, we’re going to be babysitters. There’s one for each of us.” Her mouth made a moue. “But nobody will tell us if they’re boys or girls.” Her brows pinched together. “We don’t know if we want boys or girls. We already have a brother, and brothers aren’t that much fun because they don’t know anything about doll clothes or makeup or beautiful shoes—” She stuck her foot out, shod in a bright blue slipper with flowers and glitter on the toe. “Do you like my new shoes? They’re special for your party.”

  “Abby?” said a deep voice approaching from behind. “Lots of people want to visit with Henry and Brenda,” Jackson said. “How about you come with me?” He bent and picked up Beth. “Hey, sweetie, is this a great party or what?”

  Abbey kissed Henry’s cheek. “Bye, Henry.” She held out her arms for the big man who’d adopted both of them when he’d been reunited with their mother. “Prince Daddy, doesn’t anybody know if Mommy’s having boys or girls yet? Henry agrees with us that girls would be more fun.”

  Jackson’s gaze shifted to Henry, and he rolled his eyes as he grinned. “I thought you’d decided that boys would be useful for picking up bugs and stuff.”

  “That was yesterday. We don’t need boys to pick up bugs because you’ll do it, you and Ben. Won’t you, Prince Daddy?”

  Jackson was going to be in so much trouble when this one reached dating age. Henry couldn’t help chuckling.

  Jackson’s look clearly said he agreed. “What do you think, Miss Beth? Let’s move aside and let Henry talk to others for right now.”

  “Bye, Henry!” Abby waved as they moved off. Someone else stepped in as Jackson turned away with his precious burdens.

  He wanted that, Henry realized, and his gaze naturally sought out the blonde head again. Not yet, of course, but…someday.

  “Happy birthday, son.” Harley clapped him on the shoulder, and the one person in Sweetgrass who talked as fast as Abby soon had him tugged away into the crowd.

  Others had taken Big D’s place, though he’d claimed a dance from her for later.

  A dance? Brenda hadn’t planned music.

  Then a guitar strummed, and the crowd quieted as the voice she recognized as Walker Roundtree’s spoke into a microphone. “I know not everybody’s gotten to visit with the birthday boy and girl yet, but we’ve neglected an important part of the celebration. Let’s do this first, then we’ll get on to the eating and visiting and dancing, all right? Henry and Brenda, where are you? Need you two to come on up.”

  Gentle hands pushed her forward, but she couldn’t help dragging her heels. Walker was a huge star in the country music firmament, and she’d always felt shy around him, even though he’d never been anything but kind to her. As she neared the open space, with so many eyes turned her way, she wished she could hide from this, from all the attention she didn’t know what to do with.

  “Here. Hold on to me,” said the voice that soothed her as no one else’s did. “Since you decided to put me in the spotlight, only fair we should face it together, right?”

  She smiled up at Henry and slipped her hand into his. “I just—I don’t—”

  “I know.” He smiled. “An awful lot of attention. But thank you for thinking of me and planning this.”

  “Thank you—” she began, then they approached the microphone and she spotted the huge cake covered with daffodils. She gasped as she saw her name on it.

  “There might be crooked petal or two—I’ve still got work to do to master making those.”

  “You—” Her gaze rose to his. “You made this?”

  “Do you like it?” His eyes were soft and vulnerable.

  “It’s absolutely beautiful. How did you—” know they’re my favorite?

  He leaned down to her ear. “Happy birthday, Dilly.”

  She closed her eyes as tears threatened.

  “I’ll never tell anyone,” he vowed.

  “I know. I just—I waited a lot of years to hear that said again. Thank you.” She tangled her fingers. “I hope you’ll like your cupcakes.”

  He glanced toward the table, and his smile went wide. “John Deere.” He looked at her. “You made those?”

  She knew she was blushing, but the tips of his ears were red, too. “Do you like them?”

  “I love them,” he said softly. “I sure want to kiss you.”

  Her lips parted, and her eyes raced hungrily over his face—

  “Happy birthday to you,” Walker began, and the crowd picked up the song.

  They turned to face the crowd, but not before Henry caught her gaze and mouthed Later.

  She ducked her head and indulged in a secret smile.

  He squeezed her hand, and they stood together as the crowd serenaded them, all full of cheer. Her gaze wandered over the many faces she cherished, and she knew this was the best birthday she could ever imagine having. It made up for all the years she’d missed.

  Then she spotted Blue at the edge of the crowd.

  But Blue wasn’t smiling. She was wiping away tears, and Brenda wondered why.

  Just then the clapping began, and once again they were swept up in hugs and kisses and celebration.

  Walker rose and handed Henry a guitar. “Want to sit in with us, son?”

  Henry shrugged. “Oh, I don’t—”

  But Brenda wasn’t the only one who recalled how beautifully he’d played and sung at the recent weddings. She joined the others in clapping. “Do, Henry. Please.”

  He nodded to her and accepted the guitar.

  Then the band struck up a lively tune, and Mackey approached her. “May I have this dance?”

  Brenda blushed, terrified that she’d step on his toes. “I�
��m not that good at dancing.”

  “That’s not a problem,” said the gorgeous former SEAL and expert horseman. “I’m good enough for us both.” He winked, and Brenda couldn’t help laughing as he swung her onto the floor.

  Henry watched from the stage as most of the men in town took a turn dancing with Brenda. He’d like to be dancing with her himself, but he was waiting for the moment he’d get his chance to give her another surprise.

  Meanwhile, it was fun watching the people who were such an important part of his life whirl around the floor, swaying to ballads, two-stepping in circles, skipping through a schottische. The very pregnant Veronica didn’t get to dance, but she and Jackson held hands while he watched over her like a hawk. She’d received special dispensation from Dr. Jake to attend the party but only for an hour at a time before she was required to go back inside and lie down, he’d been informed. Ian and Scarlett danced with Georgia held between them, and even Ian’s dad Gordon, who walked with a cane, had managed a shuffling sway with Ian’s mother Sophia.

  Tank was surprisingly graceful for such a big man, dancing with Chrissy, and Harley could cut a rug with the best of them. Even the very reserved Arnie Howard had Ruby on the floor, and Mackey and Rissa only had eyes for one another. Bridger and Penny clung to each other as though painted together. Even Blue was dancing with Jonas Mickan, and her normal reserve was thawing.

  Then he spotted the one figure he couldn’t quit watching, only to realize Big D had claimed a dance. He was terrible at the two-step, but he and Brenda were laughing like crazy as she tried to teach him.

  He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning so far forward until Walker looked over, one eyebrow lifted. “You can go out there whenever you want,” he said, nodding toward them as there was a break in his solo.

  “Nope. Haven’t done my song yet.”

  “Then we’ll do it next, how about, so you can go claim your woman.”

  “She’s not mine,” Henry said sadly.

  Walker just shook his head. “Women. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.” Then he returned to the chorus and brought the song to an end.

  Chapter Ten

  When the music stopped, Brenda was breathless from laughing. “You’re not trying,” she teased Big D.

  “I am. Scout’s honor.” But he winked. “I want the next dance, okay?”

  She was about to reply when Henry rose to the microphone as Walker began speaking. “After this next number, we’ll take a break and dig into that amazing barbecue I’m smelling. But first, Henry here—he’s great, isn’t he? Wish I could get him out on the road with me.”

  Everyone began to clap, and Brenda clapped harder than anyone, though the thought of Henry leaving town with Walker made her chest ache.

  “Anyway, Henry here has a special song he wants to sing for someone in the audience. Someone special.”

  When gazes drifted toward her, Brenda shrank into herself.

  Mercifully, Henry began to strum his guitar.

  Blue had stolen glimpses of Dil—Brenda every chance she’d had, so happy to be here to see her child celebrated so fully. Brenda was a truly remarkable person, and Blue knew she could take no credit for how her daughter had turned out. She’d done nothing in her life but screw up in so many unforgivable ways.

  Yet somehow, the young woman to whom she’d given birth had triumphed over everything life had thrown at her, first, a mother who couldn’t keep her feet on the ground, who’d wandered far and wide, searching for something to complete her, to steady her.

  That something had been there all along. Cat Fontaine hadn’t realized it until much too late.

  Somehow, without the benefit of family or home or any sense of grounding, Aurora Daffodil Fontaine had made herself into the remarkable young woman all these people knew as Brenda Jones.

  She was so proud of her daughter she could burst. That she could claim no part in how remarkable Dilly had turned out was only proper. Dilly had borne too much, been through too much—yet somehow she’d emerged as pure steel, strong and beautiful and kind and wise. Shy, yes—watching her daughter blush at all the attention was both charming and so, so sad.

  She still didn’t understand how special she was.

  But that man playing the guitar, whose gaze had never wavered from her daughter, knew. Henry understood that she was both pure steel and the finest of diamonds. Beautiful and strong. And someday, God willing, she’d sparkle as she deserved to do.

  Henry loved her, and Brenda loved him. Blue would give a lot to be there when they admitted it, both to themselves and each other.

  The music stopped, and Walker Roundtree began to speak. All eyes were on Henry, then, and when he strummed his guitar and sang the first two notes, Blue lost her breath.

  Lavender’s blue, dill dilly

  Why would he choose that? He couldn’t know, could he? Unless…

  She turned toward her daughter, seeing the same shock on Dilly’s face, the stunned surprise and…the aching.

  Blue’s eyes filmed as she stared at the child she’d loved more than life—and still did.

  But somehow, that hadn’t been enough to keep her from ravaging the heart of the sweetest soul Blue had ever met.

  Oh, Dilly…

  The song Henry played sent Brenda reeling. “Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly,” he sang, his voice a beautiful tenor, “Lavender’s green, dilly, dilly…”

  He must be doing it because he knew her real name. He couldn’t know that her mother had sung that song to her, though Henry’s version was more like a love song than a lullaby, and it was lovely almost beyond bearing.

  Around her people went silent. “When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen…” She listened breathlessly, caught in the spell. Drawn to the front to be closer to Henry, another voice wafted to her, singing softly along with him. She dragged her gaze from Henry, desperate to hear the voice again, to see who was singing—

  As she neared, the voice grew louder, and she searched the crowd—

  Blue. It was Blue singing, her cheeks wet with tears.

  Brenda froze as Blue’s gaze swing to her. Dilly dilly… she heard in stereo, Henry’s voice and—

  Oh, God. Mère’s voice. It was Mère’s voice, the voice in her head.

  Coming out of Blue’s mouth. But it couldn’t be. Mère was beautiful and soft. Blue was tough and hard and—

  Blue stopped singing. “Dilly—” She took a step toward Brenda.

  Brenda gasped. Took a step back.

  Blue reached out, gaze pleading, eyes stark with longing.

  Brenda began to shake, and her head whipped side to side as she tried to speak, but nothing would come out of her mouth except an eerie moan, a cry of anguish so deep all she could do was—

  She whirled and tore from the crowd, her breath sawing in her chest, blindly seeking for everything to make sense.

  The music halted mid-verse. “Brenda—” Henry shouted.

  “Dilly! Dilly—” From a stranger’s face came the voice she’d missed for most of her life, and her heart shattered.

  “Are you all right?” someone nearby demanded.

  “Brenda, what’s going on?” another voice asked.

  “Dilly Fontaine!”

  But she couldn’t answer anyone, talk to anyone.

  All she could do was run.

  Henry saw Brenda turn and run. He handed off his guitar and tore out after her, charging through the crowd.

  “Dilly!” he heard a voice shout.

  His attention shot over to see Blue standing there, pale as death.

  What—

  “Dilly Fontaine, please!”

  Dilly? How did she know that name? He shook off the questions and charged after Brenda, shouting at Ian as he raced past. “Let me take care of her. Keep everyone back, okay?”

  Ian nodded and turned to the crowd as Henry raced to get to the girl whose feet ate up the ground.

  Suddenly she stumbled and nearly fell but gathered h
erself and raced into the trees at the edge of the clearing. She went to her knees at the base of a tree, sobbing her heart out.

  Henry sank to the ground beside her and reached for her.

  “No! No, she can’t!! I can’t!” She burrowed into a ball, so he simply picked her up and put her in his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Brenda, who—what—”

  “She abandoned me without a word—” She shook her head violently and continued to sob as though something essential had broken inside her.

  He rocked her. Stroked her back. “Why would Blue call you Dilly?”

  It was forever before she could answer.

  “Because—” she choked out. “She’s my mother.”

  When Henry kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, Brenda curled into him. He held her tightly and rocked her in his arms, surrounding her with all the love she could imagine, all the tender caring and the fierce protectiveness she could ever want.

  But the ache didn’t cease. It had claws and teeth and it dug in hard, so hard that she whimpered and writhed, seeking a way to get out of it, to get away, to escape.

  He cradled the back of her head and tilted her face up to his. “Your mother? Are you sure?” She could feel his muscles tense, ready to go to battle for her.

  Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Blue wasn’t—

  But as Brenda’s inner gaze roamed over the woman’s features, she saw what she’d missed before. The hair was dark, not blonde, the face angular and thin, her eyes haunted and not dreamy. Her body was nothing like the curvaceous goddess the little girl Dilly had known.

  Had loved.

  Had lost. And mourned for years.

  But despite the lines of whatever the years had wrought, Blue’s mouth was the same. Her nose. Her…eyes, though Blue’s were shadowed so much more than Cat’s had ever been.

  Mère was flighty and light, ready to dance, to play when she was at the top.

  Dark and shadowed when she hit bottom.

  Blue was…strong. Hard, even. Forged by life into something …tough.

  Mère had never been tough. She’d been soft and vague…a cloud floating on wherever the breeze sent her.