Dry Creek Daddy

by Janet Tronstad

  “You were all alone,” he said, his voice stark. It wasn’t a question; he didn’t need an answer. He doubted she had known anyone up there.

  “Jeremy was worth it,” Hannah said fiercely. “Every minute of it. But sometimes I worry what would happen to him if anything were to happen to me.”

  Mark’s stomach clenched. “Are you sick?”

  Hannah shook her head. “But things happen all the time. My dad just had that accident. It could have been me and it could have been worse.”

  “So,” Mark said. He was trying to figure this out. “I’m the one who will be there for disaster management?”

  Hannah nodded. “Something like that.”

  “But I want to be there for the day-to-day things, too,” Mark protested. He felt a little desperate. “For the boring Sunday afternoons, for the picnics when the mosquitoes torment everyone, even for the bad report cards and the visits to the principal’s office.”

  “Well, maybe I could—” Hannah was clearly prepared to negotiate with him, and Mark’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to stay here. She’d accept his help in getting Jeremy well, but she wasn’t planning on having a future with him. He’d be relegated to a few weekends of visitation in the summer and monthly duty letters. Mark let his options reach out in front of him.

  Then he decided it would not do. He would save Jeremy in such a blaze of glory that Hannah would be forced to think twice about living her life without him. Women always liked a winner. He’d learned that in high school.

  “Is Jeremy at Mrs. Hargrove’s place?” he asked.

  Hannah nodded. “She called a little bit ago to let me know he was up from his nap. She knows I worry.”

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Mark said as he stood and picked up the cat. Fortunately, the feline was finished eating and ready to leave.

  “I’ll pick up the empty tin in a few minutes,” Mark said as he took off walking across the road. He could see Mrs. Hargrove’s garage from where he stood across from the café. He’d reach it in no time.

  Jeremy opened the door a crack when Mark knocked. He peered out at Mark’s kneecaps.

  “Mrs. Hargrove said I could answer the door since it was you,” the boy announced, obviously proud of his responsibility. “But not any other time.”

  “That’s wise of Mrs. Hargrove,” Mark said. “There could be someone frightening at the door.”

  “I’m not afraid of anyone,” Jeremy said as he held up the hand that had been behind the opened door. He was clutching a comic book. “I’ve got my friends to protect me.”

  “Your comic book heroes?” Mark asked in astonishment as the cat slid away from him and jumped to the floor. “But they’re not real.”

  Mark stepped inside the house. Jeremy was staring at him with a stubborn look in his eyes.

  “They rescue people from bad guys,” the boy said.

  Mark closed the door behind himself. He knew he had to tread carefully. “Have they ever rescued anyone who you know?” Jeremy started to speak and Mark cut him off. “Not someone in the comic books. Someone you’ve met? Someone your mother has met? Someone in your day care?”

  Jeremy looked down at the floral rug in Mrs. Hargrove’s entryway and shook his head. The cat curled around the boy’s legs in what seemed to Mark to be sympathy. Taking his cue from the animal, Mark squatted down until he was at Jeremy’s level and spoke softly.

  “It’s fun to believe in superheroes,” he said to the boy. “I imagine it makes you feel safe, too.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Sometimes I get scared.”

  Mark put his arm around the boy. “And what do you do then?”

  “I don’t want to worry my mommy,” he said.

  “Ah,” Mark said as he pulled the boy closer. “But your mommy wants to keep you safe. So does Callie. And, I do, too. That’s what a father does.”

  Jeremy pulled back and Mark’s heart sank until he saw the boy was only trying to get a better look at his face. Jeremy furrowed his brow and asked, “How can you be my father? I’ve never had a father before.”

  Mark nodded solemnly. “I can see why it would be confusing, all right. But I was your father all those years when I was asleep in the coma.” He saw Jeremy was following his words. “I would have wanted to keep you safe if I’d been awake.”

  Jeremy thought for a moment and then nodded. “Kind of like the time when some big boys came by and teased me at the grocery store. Callie was in the car so she couldn’t get out, but she would have.” Jeremy leaned closer. “I think the big boys thought she might be able to get out anyway and they ran away.”

  Mark pursed his lips a moment. “Something like that, I guess. A father’s a little bit like Callie. She guards you all the time when she can. A father does, too.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Will you sleep on the bottom of my bed at night, too?”

  “I’m kind of big for that,” Mark said with a grin. “So I’ll leave that space for Callie. But I’ll come and say good-night whenever I can.”

  “Can I have a pony?” Jeremy asked.

  Mark grinned. “Maybe later. When you can take care of one. If your mom agrees.”

  Jeremy was silent for a minute.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “You can be my father if you want to be.”

  “I very much want to be your father,” Mark answered as he bent and kissed the top of his son’s head.

  Mark turned so the boy would not see the tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to alarm Jeremy, especially not when he’d finally been accepted as his father. Before he’d been determined to find the money for Jeremy’s treatment, but now he felt his heart would break if he couldn’t. Mark had never before realized the sweet burden of having a child. He now knew what Hannah had been feeling for these past few years.

  * * *

  The afternoon had grown long before Hannah went to Mrs. Hargrove’s to pick up Jeremy. No sooner had the older woman opened the door than she started listing all of the people who were going to come to the café in the morning to help bake the chiffon pie crusts for the sale.

  “Who knew we had so many cooks?” Mrs. Hargrove exclaimed in delight. “Even that new woman, the one opening the bed-and-breakfast, offered to come and bring some kind of gadget she has to crush graham crackers for the crust.”

  “She is?” Hannah asked in astonishment. She wouldn’t believe a total stranger would come to help.

  “She’s inherited a huge old house north of town a mile or so,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “Used to belong to an old gold miner by the name of Keifer, so her name might be that, too, since she’s got it now. She’s going to make her bed-and-breakfast into a destination place with gourmet dinners and old-fashioned charm. Even weddings. I think she’s planning to open around Christmastime.”

  “Then she has enough work of her own.” Hannah couldn’t stop herself from protesting. “Why would she stop that and help me?”

  Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “I’ve been telling you, most people around here are good of heart. They don’t need to know you to care about you and Jeremy.”

  Hannah wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t know what she could say in the face of the older woman’s beaming enthusiasm.

  “My daughter, Doris June, is coming to help, of course,” Mrs. Hargrove continued. “And the women folk at the Elkton ranch. Mark’s sister, Allie, will be here, and Linda Enger isn’t just letting us use her café kitchen—she’s going to round up some high school kids to help, too.”

  Hannah was overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “They won’t expect you to say anything,” Mrs. Hargrove told her. “We all pull together around here.”

  “But I can’t repay them,” Hannah said. She didn’t even know how long she would be living in the area.

  Mrs. Hargrove waved away the repayment concerns as she called for Jeremy to come
, but Hannah couldn’t let it go, not even after she had Jeremy and his cat settled in her car and they were on the road home.

  “Do you like it here?” she asked her son. “In Dry Creek?”

  He nodded with some enthusiasm.

  “Well,” she said as she started to think. She and Jeremy had moved every six to nine months for the whole time she’d had him with her. She hadn’t realized until now that it was the same pattern of moving that she’d had as a foster child before being adopted by the Stellings. She’d always told herself it was good to get a new start every few months. But, she thought now, maybe that had just been her way of making herself feel in control of the chaos in her life. For the first time, she really had a choice.

  “It gets cold in the winter here,” she said. “And there’s lots of snow.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I like to make snowballs.”

  Hannah nodded to herself. She could stay in Dry Creek. She’d prefer not to live with her father, but he might be willing to continue renting her that small house. Mark seemed keen to help her fix it up.

  She stopped herself. That was another thing to consider.

  “We’d be closer to—” what did she call him? she asked herself, and went for the easy answer “—Mark.You know, the man who painted part of our new house?”

  “I know him,” Jeremy said. “He’s my father.”

  Hannah blinked. “What did you say?”

  “He’s my father,” Jeremy repeated patiently. “He couldn’t protect me from scary things because he was asleep for such a long time. But he’s awake now. He’s going to tuck me into bed sometimes, but he won’t sleep on the bottom of my bed on account of he’s too big. And someday, maybe I can have a pony.”

  “Oh,” Hannah said. “Well, it sounds like you two have it all worked out.”

  Jeremy nodded. “He lives in Dry Creek, too.”

  And that, Hannah thought, might be what mattered most to her son.

  They spent the rest of the drive home in silence. She was still cooking their meals in her father’s house, so she carried Jeremy there after she parked her car. He fell asleep easily and often these days and she figured he’d keep doing that until the doctors figured out how to address his leukemia.

  After laying him on her old bed, she went into the kitchen and started to fix a traditional meatloaf like her mother used to make. With a few baked potatoes and some canned green beans, they would have a nice, hearty supper.

  While the oven cooked everything, she sat down at the table with a piece of paper and made a pro and con list for whether or not she and Jeremy should stay in Dry Creek. By the time she heard her father climbing the steps, she had fifteen reasons to stay and none to leave.

  “Something smells good,” her father said as he stepped into the living room. She could see him from the kitchen and noticed he was looking better than he had earlier. She’d have to make it sixteen reasons to stay. Having her and Jeremy around made him happier.

  “Mom’s meatloaf,” she said.

  “I thought so,” he answered with satisfaction in his voice.

  “You haven’t let me know what I owe you for rent on that small house,” Hannah said.

  “What kind of father would I be if I charged you rent on that place?” he answered.

  She didn’t even know how to answer that one so she went for the other question that was bothering her. “You never have said what you have against the Nelson family, but I think I should know. Mark has decided to be Jeremy’s father and I—well, I should know what the problem is.”

  Her father walked over and sat down at the table with her. “It’s not a pretty story,” he said.

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  “Old man Nelson was a real ladies’ man,” her father said. “I hate to say he was my friend, but he was. Even after he was married, he’d get to drinking and would chase women at the bars over in Miles City. Wouldn’t even know who they were when he woke up with them the next morning. I know because I’m the one he’d call to go get him. Half the time he didn’t even remember what bar he parked his truck at.”

  The sour face her dad wore told Hannah that wasn’t all of it.

  “And?” she prodded.

  “One day when I came home from Miles City, I found him here. In my own house.” Her father was still burning with indignation. “Your mother was in the bedroom crying. He’d been here. She always said nothing happened. That he’d just stopped for coffee and—well, I didn’t ask too much more. I knew they’d done more than talk because she had lipstick on and it was smeared. Besides, they both looked guilty as sin.”

  Hannah was aghast. “You just left it that way?”

  “Your mother and I were going through a hard patch,” he said. “We couldn’t have children and she wanted one desperately. She wanted to adopt and I refused. I think maybe she’d been planning to get herself pregnant but then backed down. After that she made me start the adoption process.”

  “So it was all her idea?” she asked.

  Her father didn’t respond, but she knew the answer. It wasn’t grief that had eaten him alive after her mother’s death, it was vengeance. He’d been wronged by his wife and his best friend.

  “I’m so sorry,” she finally muttered.

  “Was my fault for trusting them,” her father said as though that settled things. Then he stood up and started walking out of the kitchen. “I should change my shirt before I eat.”

  Hannah sat at the table, letting the smell of the cooking food sweep over her. She supposed most teenagers would have assumed their parent’s foul mood was because of them, but she’d been convinced her father didn’t want her around. And while that may have been part of it, he was raw from the betrayal of his friend and his wife. He would have needed to pick his way through that before he could have shown any affection for her.

  She didn’t want to make his mistakes. He stewed in his distrust until he couldn’t go to church, couldn’t speak to his daughter and couldn’t even take care of his ranch and house.

  Father, she prayed as she sat there. Show me how to help my dad. Show me how to trust people myself. I don’t want to be the way my dad is.

  She remembered the verse she’d learned in Mrs. Hargrove’s classroom about the sins of the father being visited on the children. In this case, she was the one making this true.

  Please, Father, she added. Lift the burden of resentment in this household. Show me a way to trust people.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mark had been so full of joy over his pitiful breakfast the next morning that his father kept frowning at him. Allie wasn’t there to fix their eggs this morning so Mark was scraping some scrambled eggs into a bowl that was sitting in the middle of the table. He wore a dish towel tied around his waist for an apron. Four slices of nearly burnt toast sat on a plate with a jar of honey close by. Mark had set a whole red apple on the table at the last minute in an effort to balance out the meal before pulling out his chair and sitting down.

  “You haven’t found one of my old whiskey bottles, have you?” his father asked, looking skeptical as he walked over to the table.

  “Allie got rid of those years ago,” Mark replied cheerfully.

  “Then what’s wrong?” his father mumbled as he sat down in his usual place. “Besides the toast, of course. It’s so burnt I doubt even the chickens would eat it. It should be buried instead of served up with coffee.” His father looked around. “There’s no coffee.”

  “I know,” Mark said. “We’re out.”

  At that announcement, his father looked at him in astonishment. “You’re not going back into that coma, are you? You never forget to get coffee.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Mark assured him breezily. “I’m just excited because I’m a father.”

  “Well, I know that,” his father said grumpily. “The whole county knows that b
y now. It’s been four years.”

  “No,” Mark said. “I mean, I’m going to be a father. Jeremy approves. I’ll take him fishing. Get him a pony someday when he’s older. And, until then, maybe let him ride a horse sometimes.” Mark stopped and looked at his father. “Whatever happened to that child’s saddle we have?”

  “It’s up in the hayloft just waiting for the boy,” his father said, sounding as excited now as Mark was. “Does that mean he’s going to come visit us some more?”

  “I believe so,” Mark said. “Of course, I haven’t talked to Hannah yet.”

  “Oh,” his father said and the light left his eyes. “Don’t you think you should clear it with her before you make any plans? The mother rules in cases like this.”

  “She already implied he could come someday,” Mark said. “But I’ll talk to her today and make sure.”

  “You going in to help make them pies?” his father asked as he gingerly picked up a slice of the cold, dark toast.

  Mark nodded. “I figure I can do whatever needs to be done to help.”

  “Maybe you could bring us out an apple pie for tomorrow’s breakfast,” his father suggested hopefully.

  “The pies are all chiffon,” Mark said.

  “Oh,” his father said stoically as he bit into the piece of toast. “I heard someplace that burnt bread is good for the stomach. Like a tonic.”

  “I’ve never heard that,” Mark said. “Don’t think it’s true, either.”

  “Just leave me with my illusions, boy,” his father said as he took another bite.

  Mark laughed. He was a father. Nothing could dim his happiness on this day. Unless, of course, he thought as he came down to earth with a thud—the leukemia. And then there was the fear that Hannah could move away and take Jeremy with her.

  Mark reached out and took a piece of that toast. For the first time, he understood fathers who tried to take the custody of their children from their mothers. He wanted to be a big part of Jeremy’s life. How could he do that if Hannah moved far away?

  * * *

  The café was packed with volunteers when Hannah got to work. The sun was just starting to come up. The day was dry and warm. She hadn’t slept well, partly because Mark had come over last night after dinner to tuck Jeremy in for the night. They’d been at the small house, the one she was starting to think of as hers. Jeremy had been delighted to have his newly minted father there and took a half hour to tell Mark all about his nighttime rituals. Many of them had been invented on the spot, but Mark played along. When he finally had Jeremy exhausted and in bed, Mark stayed to help her with the dishes.