by Sharon Sala
Chance’s stomach and arms tightened.
“No!” Shock and confusion warred inside him.
“Wait,” she whispered, and feathered several small kisses across his chin. “Let me explain.”
“Jenny…don’t do—”
“Chance! After all the time I’ve spent trying to get you to admit you love me, do you actually think that I’m now ready to throw it away?”
He shrugged, refusing to look at her. He didn’t want to hear whatever hair-brained scheme she had on her mind. He only knew he didn’t want her to go.
Jenny sat up in bed and turned to face him. She cradled his hand in hers and traced his knuckles as she began to explain.
“The most wonderful thing has just happened to you, Chance. You’ve regained your memory. That means you’re…you’re you again. Do you know what I mean? But remembering everything about your life hasn’t been easy…has it?”
Chance stared. He was beginning to see where she was headed, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was probably going to be right. He sighed.
“It was pure, holy hell…until I met you.”
“There’s a lot about you I don’t know. And I don’t want or need to know…until you can come to terms with it. That’s why I think I should leave. If you’re ever going to be completely and fully healed, you need to bury old ghosts. And you don’t need me to do that. In fact, you need to do it alone.”
Chance groaned. Letting Jenny go was not possible.
“Please do this for me.” Jenny slid on top of him, fitting herself, curve to plane, ridge to valley…and waited, staring at him point-blank.
“I’d do anything for you, Jenny.” The pain in his voice was thick. “But letting you go may kill me, even if it’s only for a while.”
“No, it won’t,” she said. “Just look forward to what’s waiting for you when you get home.” She grinned and kissed the tip of his chin. “Me!”
“You are a witch. A conniving…” a kiss feathered her eye, “scheming…” his hands cupped her backside, “lovable…” he lifted her up, “dangerous…” his body was taut and hard as she slipped down and over, “witch.”
“Hocus pocus,” Jenny whispered, and began to move.
Chance gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and let the feelings swamp him. There was nothing in his world but the heat of her body, the honey melting around him, and the wave that came and washed him under.
“Is this the last bag?” Jenny asked, as Chance dropped it into the trunk of her car with a thud. She caught the disgruntled look on his face and knew that he’d finally accepted her decision to leave.
“Yes,” he said shortly, and stuffed his hands in his pockets, already feeling the loneliness engulf him.
“I’ll call when I get home, to let you know I’ve arrived,” she said. “You hurry up and get through with what you need to do here, okay?”
“Okay,” he muttered. His dark eyes raked her body as the breeze fluttered the fabric of her blouse and slacks, outlining her slender figure for all to see.
Just for a moment, Jenny hesitated. What was she doing…going off and leaving him here with people she didn’t know or trust? And then she caught herself. Chance knew them, and once he’d trusted at least some of them. It was like he’d said…he was a big boy. He could take care of himself.
The next instant she was in his arms. He groaned as she wrapped her hands in his shirt, and clung to her as she returned his kiss in quiet desperation.
“My God, I’m going to miss you,” he said, as he reluctantly let her go. Everything inside him was hurting. She was his world, and she was leaving him alone.
Tears burned bright in her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you too, you fool. And you better not linger. Don’t forget. It’s not long until Saturday night. From now on, I’m your only choice.”
She drove away. Chance smiled as he remembered her last remark.
“You always were, Jennifer Ann,” he said. “You just didn’t always know it.”
19
“Momma! He’s here,” the twins shouted, then each tumbled on top of the other in an effort to race to the front door. A red pickup had just pulled into their driveway.
Ken Oslow walked to the window overlooking the front yard. A twinge of nervousness pulled at his belly as he watched Chance McCall crawl out of his truck. It was a good thing he’d never seen Chance, or he’d never have had the nerve to try and fill his shoes.
The blue jeans, light blue western shirt, boots, and cowboy hat were normal attire for Chance. To Ken, a CPA who wore suits to the office and khakis at home, the man looked like he’d just stepped out of a picture of the Old West. The man’s long legs and broad shoulders were intimidating.
“I’m damn near as tall,” Ken muttered as he went to the door.
Chance was grinning from ear to ear at the look of awe on the two boys’ faces.
“Gosh! He looks a lot like Grandpa,” Kenny said. Mark nodded in agreement and mumbled, “Grandpa.”
Chance was hard put to keep the smile on his face. That was the last thing he wanted to hear.
Ken saw the shock in Chance’s eyes and quickly changed the subject by introducing himself and his sons.
“Chance. It’s a real pleasure to finally meet you,” he said. “I’m Ken. Victoria has told me a lot about you. And these two outlaws are Kenny and Mark.”
Chance stared. Silent questions and silent answers passed between the two men, and then he smiled.
“It’s a pleasure,” he said quietly, and shook Ken’s hand.
His grip was as strong as his unspoken promise. Ken breathed an audible sigh of relief. Victoria was right…as usual. He was probably going to like this guy, even if he did look too much like Logan.
The twins giggled and punched each other in embarrassment. Chance grinned again and knelt down to their level.
“So…which one’s Kenny, and which one’s Mark?” He burst into laughter when they each pointed at the other and then ran to the back of the house as their mother’s voice called for them to go wash up.
Ken rolled his eyes, shrugged, and slapped Chance on the back as he ushered him toward the patio.
“Victoria’s out back. She likes to barbecue in the summer. Says cooking too much in the kitchen heats up the house.”
Chance smiled and nodded. “My mom always used to say the same…” The words froze in the back of his throat. He swallowed.
Ken saw the stricken look come and go. “Come on. I’ve got a cold beer with your name on it.”
“It’s about time you got here,” Victoria said, as the men approached her. “Where are the boys? The food’s ready.”
“I’ll get them,” Ken said. The two of them probably needed a quiet moment together, he thought, and maybe Victoria would know how to put Chance at ease.
“Smells good,” Chance said. He felt a little self-conscious at being here without Jenny at his side, as if he was off-balance without her.
“I wish Jenny could have stayed,” Victoria said, almost reading his mind.
He nodded. “Sometimes she’s too smart for her own good,” he said with a sigh. “She’s always known what was best for me…and the best way for me to do it. I have orders to…bury my ghosts.” Then he teased, “Not that you’re all that spooky.”
Victoria was happy. Chance was going to be all right. Jenny Tyler would see to that. Victoria just didn’t know what she was going to do about her father. Logan was adamantly upset about his part in the misunderstanding, but her anger was still justified. For his good as well as her own, she’d said her piece and left him to stew over it.
Like it or not, her father and his son were never going to love each other. She could learn to live with that. But they had to learn to get along. She couldn’t bear it any other way.
“Come on, you guys,” she said as Ken came out urging a boy with each hand. She smiled, her eyes filled with love for the tall, sandy-haired man, and leaned her face up for a quick kiss as he
shoved the boys toward their seats. “Thanks,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said softly, for her ears alone. “You’ll never have to find out.”
Jenny stood in front of the window, staring down the long, dusty driveway.
“Are you okay, honey?” Marcus asked as he walked up behind her.
She nodded, and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m just…I guess I’m lonesome.”
“You love him a lot, don’t you, Jenny?”
“Yes,” she said.
Marcus heard the depth of her short response.
“I just miss him,” she added. Then she turned and smiled. “But, you know what else?”
“What?”
“When I was in Odessa, I missed you, too.”
Joy overwhelmed him. He hugged her tight. “Honey, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”
Jenny stepped back and grinned. “I didn’t think you would either.”
Marcus laughed, long and loud. There was one thing about Jenny that would never change. She didn’t mince words. Her personality had been forged by her father. He couldn’t disagree with her, it would be like arguing with himself.
“Was it bad for Chance…in Odessa, I mean?” Marcus hadn’t asked her before. He’d read between the lines of Jenny’s quick explanation as to why she’d come home alone.
“Oh, Marcus.” Tears sprung. “It couldn’t have been much worse.”
“But he had you. You know that it had to help, knowing someone who cared was with him.”
“I know.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “But before we knew him, before he ever left Odessa…I don’t think he had anyone…except his sister…” Her eyes got a faraway look as she remembered the nursing home, “and a man named Charlie. I think he must have loved Chance…a lot.”
“Then that’s good. He didn’t grow up unloved, Jenny. And if it’s up to us, he won’t grow old without love either.”
She nodded and smiled and then pointed. “Here comes Henry.” The little man was coming toward the house with a determined look on his face.
“He’s probably coming to tell me some piddly-ass thing just for an excuse to see you.”
Jenny grinned and went outside to meet the old wrangler.
“Hi, stranger,” Henry said gruffly, letting his eyes feast on the welcome sight of his girl.
Jenny hugged him and planted a big kiss on his cheek. “Hi, yourself,” she said. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”
He flushed and patted her on the back. “Didn’t know you was gone,” he teased. “Where you been?”
Jenny punched him playfully and then pulled him with her toward the house. “Come on,” she urged. “Juana made chocolate cake this morning. Let’s go have a piece.”
Henry grinned. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Say, Marcus,” Henry said, as he walked into the house and saw his boss standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face. “We got another foal.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep,” Henry nodded. “We’re gonna celebrate it by having ourselves some cake.”
“Is that right?” he asked again. “Do you suppose I might have some, too?”
“Don’t rightly see why not,” Henry said. “After all, they’re your horses.”
Jenny and Marcus looked at each other and then burst out laughing. It took Henry a minute to realize that they’d been on to him all along as to why he’d come to the house.
“Well, don’t be so damned smug about it,” he muttered. “She’s part mine, too. Even if it don’t really count.”
Jenny hugged him again. “Henry! You’ll always count with me. Come on. Let’s go get that cake.”
Chance walked into his motel room and tossed the key onto the dresser. He stared at the clean, comfortable room and sighed. It was too damn empty.
He sat on the edge of the bed and thought about his sister and her family. There was still something he had to do. He picked up the phone book, searched the pages until he found the number, and then dialed.
“Hello?” Logan Henry’s voice was low and subdued. Chance heard the defeat and, for only an instant, a bit of sympathy surfaced. But it didn’t last long.
“This is Chance,” he said. “I want to meet with you tomorrow. There are things we need to say to each other, and I don’t think either one of us wants an audience.”
Panic surged through Logan, along with elation. Either his son was going to beat hell out of him, or…maybe there was a possibility of something else.
Logan was too quiet. Chance suspected it was fear. “I don’t want to fight,” he said. “Just talk.”
“Will you come here?”
Chance inhaled sharply. Once he would have given a year of his life to have his father ask him that. Now…it was too late…simply too late for it to matter.
“Give me directions.” He wrote quickly and then hung up without a good-bye.
Logan replaced the receiver, sat for a long moment in thought, and then buried his face in his hands and wept.
Chance knocked at the door to hell and the devil answered.
“Come in,” Logan said, and stepped aside. The look on Chance’s face mirrored the knot in his belly—hard.
Chance followed him into the den. A large wet bar ran the length of one wall. From the looks of the bottle sitting on the counter, Logan had been fortifying himself for this meeting.
He walked over to the bar, refilled his drink, and then offered one to Chance.
Chance shook his head.
Logan shrugged and tossed the fiery liquid down the back of his throat, relishing the quick kick of numbness that followed.
Chance frowned. He’d watched his mother drink herself to death. He drank an occasional beer, but he’d never been tempted to acquire a taste for the strong stuff.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Logan asked.
Chance heard something in the tone of Logan’s voice besides sarcasm. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn it was regret. He yanked his hat off his head, tossed it on a nearby chair, and stared at the man who called himself his father.
Logan stared back. It was unnerving to look at a familiar face and know that the person behind it was a stranger.
“There’s something I want to say to you,” Chance said.
Logan held his breath. His fingers tightened around the glass until they turned white at the tips. He had no idea what was coming. But when Chance finally spoke, a band of pain that had been around his heart for the last twelve years finally broke and disappeared.
“Victoria and I…we never…” Chance hesitated and then continued. “We were never intimate.”
Logan took a step back, reached blindly for the chair he knew was there behind him, and sank down onto it. He wiped his hand across his face.
“Thank God!” he said. “And…thank you for telling me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Chance said. “I did it for Victoria. She deserves a clean slate. I don’t give a damn what you think about me.”
“Okay, I accept that,” Logan said. “But I listened to you. Now you owe me the same privilege.”
Chance frowned. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t owe this man a thing, but still he sat there waiting.
“I did your mother a terrible injustice,” Logan said. “I treated her badly…and I know it. It’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”
Chance’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want to hear this, but Logan kept talking.
“What I did to her…and to you…is unforgivable.” He held up his hand as Chance started to turn away. “Wait! Hear me out. No matter how wrong I was to become involved with Letty, I’m not going to say I wish it hadn’t happened. There’s one thing that Letty and I did that turned out right. We made you, boy, and I’ll be forever grateful to her that she didn’t have the abortion I wanted her to have.”
Ch
ance started to shake. All this was coming too late to matter.
“But there is one thing I wish hadn’t happened.” Logan stood up and walked as close to Chance as he dared. The look on his son’s face kept him from touching him.
“I’m waiting.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, boy. That night…at the dance…and the fight…I just lost my temper.”
Chance was quiet. Logan watched the emotion he was trying to deny coming and going in those dark, secretive eyes.
“Bad habit,” Chance finally said.
Logan grinned. “That’s what Letty always said.”
An old pain dug into his belly and spun Chance around. “I’ll be leaving now,” he said.
Logan reached out, unable to stop himself. “If you wanted to, we could…”
“Don’t say it!” Chance said. The bitterness he’d been trying to hide shot up with the threat. “Don’t you dare be nice to me now, you bastard. I thought I needed acceptance from you, but that was before I knew who you were. I don’t need you now…or anything from you.”
He grabbed his hat, walked out of the room, out the door, and never looked back.
Logan sighed as he went back to the bar. The house echoed as the front door slammed shut. It was a lonely sound. He stared at himself in the plate-glass mirror over the bar.
“Yes you do, boy,” he said softly. “You need it…and you need me. You just don’t want it. But I do, Chance. By God, I do.”
The sun had risen on a new day in Texas as Chance approached the retirement home. There were a couple of things he still needed to do before he could call this chapter of his life closed. One involved another visit to Charlie. And this time it would be special.
The first time he’d found him, he’d been a stranger and Chance had been looking for answers. Now, he remembered everything, and regret for what had happened to the old man was uppermost in his mind.
He stopped short at the door to Charlie’s room. A short, middle-aged woman with curly brown hair was standing beside Charlie’s bedside. Her slightly plump figure was encased in blue stretch pants and a loose fitting red and white top decorated with gold stars. She looked up at him and smiled. Chance had the strangest inclination to salute.
