“I understand.”
Her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she realized she’d just given this man a piece of her life. She’d given him a part of her heart. The part that belonged to a little boy.
As she tried to process her emotions, he took her hand gently in his and held it briefly, before shaking it to seal the deal.
That gentleness undid some of her fears and multiplied others. She’d come to Bluebonnet Springs thinking it would be easy to discount him as a parent. He would be the angry, difficult man that Sammy had described, and Lissa would have walked away with Oliver, thinking she had done her best.
But he wasn’t that man. If the eyes were the mirror of the soul, then he wasn’t cruel and unfeeling. He wasn’t a monster. He had been wounded. Deeply. And he cared for his family. Very much.
Chapter Four
The rain continued to come down, and by Thursday, as Marcus made his way up the long gravel drive to Essie’s house, it looked as if the ponds had turned to lakes and the ditches were streams carrying debris all the way to the main road. They were in trouble. They all knew it. Farmers were moving cattle away from the spring that ran through town and the countryside. Roads were being closed left and right.
The rain they’d had since Monday was mild compared to what was coming over the weekend.
The house came into view, a two-story ranch house with large windows, a lot of stucco and wood trim, and warmth. Essie’s house always felt like home. The Palermo kids had all done their share of running to Essie’s. And then Jesse had dragged them home. Essie, like most people around town, hadn’t liked to cross her nephew. For the most part she had avoided him.
He parked beneath the portico at the side of the house and got out. The sky was heavy with clouds and the air was thick with humidity. He hurried up the steps to the side door that led through the breakfast sunroom to the kitchen. Essie smiled a greeting and went back to making coffee.
“I closed the café. People don’t need to be driving to town in this, not for my biscuits and gravy.” She explained her presence without looking up from the coffeemaker.
“They’d drive through a blizzard for your biscuits and gravy,” he assured her as he gave her a quick hug. “How are your guests?”
“Sleeping. Lissa had a restless night and finally slept in the recliner. I have a casserole in the oven and cinnamon rolls are ready to eat. Which do you want?”
“Both,” he told her as he grabbed a plate and snatched one of the rolls. “But I’ll start with this.”
“I’m sure you’ve already had a full day.”
“Been up since five this morning. Fed, moved cattle, loaded up my horses and took them to Alex’s place.” By Alex’s place he meant the Palermo ranch. But he was content to let it be Alex and Marissa’s home.
“It’s only going to get worse,” Essie told him as she poured two cups of coffee. “Have you seen the radar?”
“Yeah, and thanks for the optimism. I thought you would be praying for it to stop.”
“I’m praying, but sometimes it rains and the only thing you can do is have the buckets ready. I told Lissa they’re welcome to stay here as long as they need.”
“Thank you.”
She gave him a look over the rim of her coffee cup, her dark eyes saying more than words. She was wanting to know how he could have walked away from a child.
“I didn’t know,” he defended. “Do you think I would have left a kid on his own if I’d known?”
“I would hope not. But what you did isn’t as important as what you do going forward.”
“I know that. I’m a different person.” A completely different person. He was a new man with new faith. That didn’t make him whole, but he could at least look at the situation with those new eyes.
The only person he couldn’t make it right with was Sammy. Because she was gone. The thought settled like a heavy weight in his chest. They’d both been too damaged to make a relationship work, but he should have done better by her. He should have called.
He guessed this was a real lesson in thinking things through and knowing there would always be consequences. And the consequence appeared, sleepy-eyed and dark hair tousled. He had a thumb jammed in his mouth and he wore red plaid pajamas that were a little too big on him.
“Good morning, Oliver.” Aunt Essie swooped his son up and hugged him tight. “Are you hungry?”
It was a shame Essie had never had kids of her own. Instead, she mothered everyone she came into contact with. Including Bea, her cook and chief problem maker at the café.
Oliver nodded as an answer to Essie’s question and pulled the thumb from his mouth. He let his dark gaze settle on Marcus. He was waiting.
Marcus cleared his throat. “Morning, Oliver. How about coffee?”
Essie rolled her eyes. “He’s five, Marcus. He drinks milk.”
Marcus winked at his son. “I knew that, but I like to get Essie all riled up. I’ll pour you some milk and get you a cinnamon roll.”
Marcus pulled milk out of the fridge and got a glass.
“I like chocolate milk,” Oliver informed them.
“I think I have cocoa.” Essie went to the cabinet. “I’ll measure it into the milk and you can stir.”
Oliver nodded and stuck to Essie’s side as she produced the container of chocolate powder, and Marcus set the glass of milk on the counter. He leaned a hip against the counter and watched.
They were stirring the milk when Lissa appeared. He glanced her way and quickly averted his gaze. She was bleary-eyed with her dark hair going in all directions. She might not have slept a lot, but he guessed she’d slept hard. She noticed his amusement and frowned.
“You’re not allowed to laugh at me. It isn’t like I can untangle this mess.” She lifted her left hand to try to smooth the strands that framed her face.
“You look fine,” he said. As far as lines went, or compliments, that probably rated bottom of the scale.
Behind him, Essie chuckled. He shot her a look as she pulled the casserole from the oven.
Lissa glared at him as she continued to brush her fingers through her hair. He reached out, smoothing the silky strands of hair, letting them slide through his fingers. It was about the worst thing he could have done, making that connection with her, touching her. He’d meant to help. Instead, he stood there all tangled up in something he hadn’t expected. Her breath caught as he slid his fingers free of the strands of hair. Blue eyes caught and held his attention.
Behind him the pan banged on the counter with meaning. He stepped back. “It looks fine. I can braid it for you, if that would make it easier.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll leave it down.”
“Did you manage to get any sleep?” he asked.
“Some... Enough. But the shoulder does feel a bit better today.” She cleared her throat. “That casserole smells so good.”
“It’s ready,” Essie piped up. There was a smirk this time when she made eye contact with Marcus. He didn’t like this version of his aunt. She usually minded her own business. Now it felt as if she had a plan, a plot, and he was the victim.
He needed something else to focus on. That would be Oliver. The little boy looked kind of lost. Marcus ruffled his hair.
“Want to help me set the table, little man?”
Oliver nodded and followed him the way Lucky the dog sometimes did. As if he was just waiting for something good. A pat on the head, a bone. Marcus knew that this boy, his son, wanted and needed more from him.
He pulled plates from the cabinet and silverware from the drawer. He handed the forks and knives to Oliver.
“Can you take those to the breakfast room?”
Marcus led Oliver to the sun-filled breakfast room. It might mean losing his man card, but he loved the room with the white trim and pale yellow walls. Ferns hu
ng from hooks in the ceiling, and potted plants filled the corners. The window seat, cushioned with aqua-and-yellow pillows, looked out over the field. Essie’s cat, Midas, stretched and graced Marcus with a contented feline look.
Essie had placed the casserole on a trivet in the center of the round table. Marcus sat down opposite Lissa and then realized that more was required from him. Oliver stared at the casserole with big eyes and anticipation. Essie had gone back to the kitchen for napkins, so Marcus took over serving.
Oliver’s eyes widened at the portion of casserole and the cinnamon roll with icing that Marcus piled on his plate.
As the boy dug in, Marcus was amazed and a bit lost. He’d missed out. He’d missed five years’ worth of breakfasts. Five birthdays. Five Christmases. Walking. Talking. Every single thing that would have meant building a relationship, precious moments stolen from them both.
Two days ago he had been in denial. Today he got swept up in the anger and unfairness of it. It didn’t matter that he believed his son would be better off without him. What mattered was that he was the dad and he should have known his son. He wanted to blame the woman sitting across from him, but it hadn’t been up to her. And as mad as he was about the situation, he understood why Sammy had blocked him from Oliver’s life.
A hand touched his arm. He glanced down at the woman seated next to Oliver. Her eyes were warm and met his with compassion. She gave his arm a squeeze, transferring that compassion with her touch. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
Without asking, he served her a portion of the casserole. And then he grabbed his coffee and left. Because he couldn’t look at Oliver without feeling guilt. Without feeling angry.
He walked through the house to the covered front porch, where he stood sipping his coffee, trying to get his better self back. The door behind him opened. He expected Essie. Instead, Lissa stepped out to join him. She was the last person he’d expected to come chasing after him. She was probably the last person he wanted chasing after him. For any reason. She made him question himself a little too much. She made him want things he had told himself he didn’t want.
He’d spent a lifetime building himself up as a happy bachelor. Okay, maybe not happy. A bachelor. Single. Living for himself. No worries about hurting people or letting them down. He didn’t want or need a woman in his life.
At least that was what he’d been telling himself for a long time.
“You should go eat,” he said, once again staring out over the rain-soaked farm.
“So should you. And yet you’re out here fighting with the past and someone who isn’t here to argue back.” She stood next to him now. Man, she smelled good. Like sunshine.
“Yeah, well, I do like to argue. And I have every right to be angry.”
“You do.” She agreed, and that surprised him. “When Sammy found out she was pregnant, I told her to call you, to give you a chance. She said she couldn’t do it...that she’d had a lifetime of men with commitment-phobia and she wasn’t going to have you in her life just to have you walk out on them.”
“I wouldn’t have walked out.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not.”
“What made you decide to find me now, after all this time?” He glanced down at her. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, which made it easy to look her in the eye, easy to see her distrust.
“I don’t know. I love Oliver and I don’t want to lose him. But it was never right to keep him from you.”
“I missed out on five years. He doesn’t even know me. I’m a bull rider you decided to visit one day. He has to wonder why.”
“I’m sure he does. And we’ll tell him.”
“When?”
“Soon.” She moved away from him. “Have you read the letter?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You should.”
Yeah, he guessed he should. He had it in his pocket, a crumpled piece of paper with a lawyer’s signature on the bottom.
He skimmed the letter, wishing he had read it sooner, read it somewhere private. Instead, the words jumped out at him as Lissa stood by the door to Essie’s, her expression concerned and distrustful, all at the same time.
Sammy hadn’t trusted him to be a father. She had given Lissa custody and the power to decide if he was capable of parenting his son. He raised his head, making eye contact with the woman who held his future in her hands. A woman who clearly didn’t like him any more than Sammy had.
“I guess I can fight you. It would take a DNA test and not much else.” He wasn’t even sure why he uttered those words. He hadn’t planned to keep Oliver. He knew the boy was better off with Lissa.
But he’d been considered unfit. And that made him mad. It made him want to fight.
“Yeah, I guess you could.” She stood a little taller, and he guessed she was trying not to show her fear.
He shoved the letter back into his pocket. “This should never have happened. It shouldn’t be you here giving me ultimatums. It shouldn’t be me trying to figure out which end is up.”
“I know that. But we can’t go back and undo what Sammy did. We can only figure out what is best going forward.”
“I guess so. But I wish I knew what it was you wanted from me. What kind of hoops do I have to jump through to earn your approval?”
“Come back inside, have breakfast with your son. Be a dad.”
Be a dad. He’d met men who were fathers, real fathers. He’d watched them with their sons, encouraging them, disciplining without anger. They were men he looked up to. And the type of man he’d never considered becoming. Until now, when Sammy had ultimately put the ball in his court. And a son in his life. He followed Lissa inside and found himself wishing he wasn’t a scarred-up, angry Palermo. If he wasn’t, he might have tried to come up with a response that made her smile, something better than “Fine.”
* * *
After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Lissa made a phone call to her foster parents. She’d called them on Tuesday, but she’d promised to keep in touch.
“How are you doing?” Jane asked, her voice bringing a sheen of moisture to Lissa’s eyes. She quickly blinked it away.
“I’m good. I’m taking your advice and staying. I know you all could come get me. And I’ll have a rental car as soon as I can get somewhere and find one. But you were right. For Oliver’s sake, I need to see this through.”
“Do you feel more optimistic about his father?”
The question brought the conversation to a standstill. More optimistic probably wasn’t the way she’d put it. She was dangerously attracted to him and yet she knew better. Her last relationship had been a disaster. Troy had been a dysfunctional disaster, the product of a son raised by a controlling father. It felt like a repeat, even if Marcus wasn’t anything like Troy. If anything, he was surprisingly gentle. It didn’t make sense that this was the man Sammy had walked away from and refused to tell he had a son.
She wished she’d questioned her foster sister a little more, asking questions about why the relationship had ended. She wished she’d pushed for answers. Something more than two dysfunctionals don’t make a positive.
No, she had to keep her thoughts focused on what was best for Oliver. She had to make the right choices for the little boy.
She told her foster mom that same thing. “It isn’t that I’m optimistic. I just see that there might have been two sides to Sammy’s story. And I want to do the right thing for Oliver.”
“And you don’t want to lose our little man in the process.”
That part hurt the most. “Exactly.”
The call ended and she stood on the covered front porch, watching as rain poured down in seemingly limitless amounts. The gray sky didn’t show any signs of blue. The clouds were heavy and hung low. Fog rolled over the distant hills.
It was quiet here. The kind of quiet that mad
e a person feel as if they were alone on the planet. She might have felt peace if she hadn’t been worried about what the future held for herself and for Oliver. It wasn’t as if she’d lit out for Bluebonnet Springs with no thought toward the future, no prayers for guidance. But now everything felt different. Marcus wasn’t who she’d thought he would be. In Bluebonnet Springs, Oliver had family. Aunts, uncles and cousins. She didn’t know what she’d expected to find here, but it wasn’t this family looking out for each other.
The door opened behind her. She wasn’t surprised that it was Marcus. He eyed her suspiciously. It seemed this was going to be their relationship, circling each other, questioning, worrying.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he moved to her side.
“Yes. I just wanted to touch base with my family. I wanted to let them know I’m staying so we can work this out.”
“You think a few weeks will fix this situation?”
“I’m an optimist.” Or at least trying to be one.
He half grinned at her words, and the faint sign of amusement caught her by surprise. “Yeah, me too.”
She laughed. “Right.”
“I even think this rain will let up a bit and maybe we won’t have to build an ark to get out of Texas.”
“I hope you’re right about that.”
He had a cowboy hat in his hand and he placed it on his head, adjusting it a little. His slightly long hair curled out from under, making him appear younger, less hard around the edges.
“I have to run over to my place to check on my livestock, and then I’ll swing by my brother’s place to assess things there. Oliver is curled up on the sofa watching a cartoon.”
“Is that an invitation for me to go with you?” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.
He pushed the hat back a bit and gave her a long look.
“I don’t have to go,” she said.
The Rancher's Secret Child Page 5
