“Marissa. She’s inside giving a hand with the evening meal. I wanted to see Doc. He asked if I could help him for a few days. And since I only have a few more days in Bluebonnet, I thought I’d make myself useful.”
“Do you mind if Oliver and I head back to the ranch, then? I thought we’d have a riding lesson.”
“You don’t have to ask permission to take your son with you, Marcus.”
“No, of course not.” He placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “But I’m also not going to take off and not discuss plans with you.”
They were co-parenting. Okay, she could handle that. Step one in the two of them raising Oliver together. And not together. With a pang, she watched Marcus and Oliver leave, and then she headed inside to find Doc.
She met up with Marissa in the hall.
“Lissa, you okay?” Marissa asked as she approached. “Did Marcus do something?”
She smiled at that. Yes, he’d done several somethings. And it had ended with a kiss so sweet it had felt as if her heart would never recover.
“Of course—” she hesitated “—not.”
Marissa slipped an arm around Lissa’s waist and the two walked together. “What did he do?”
“He talked to a lawyer about custody of Oliver. I know that makes sense. I just hadn’t thought about it.”
“He isn’t all bad, you know.”
“I know he isn’t. But no matter what, this is going to hurt.”
“I hope that it doesn’t have to hurt. And I know Marcus well enough to know he’ll try to do the best thing for all three of you. He’s been building himself up as the bad twin for a long time. He’s the rebel. He’s the one who struggled in school. He fought anyone who dared to challenge him. He rode some of the meanest bulls in the country. All to prove that he is cold, angry, bad to the bone. But he isn’t.”
“No, he isn’t. And that’s made this whole process so much harder than I thought it would be. I thought I’d come here, Marcus would be the person I’d pictured.”
“Angry, dysfunctional and a drunk?” Marissa asked.
“Yes, I guess. And instead...”
“He’s angry, charming, sweet.”
“Stop.” Lissa held up a hand. “I just want him to be a dad to Oliver.”
“Of course. So you’ll be leaving at the end of the week?” Marissa stopped outside Doc’s office. “I think Doc was hoping you’d change your mind and stay here.”
“I can’t stay.” She said it with less conviction than in weeks past, because leaving now meant leaving something more than a job. She was abandoning a community and people she’d come to care about in the past two weeks. She would be leaving behind the friendships. And Marcus.
“We all wish you would,” Marissa said. “Some of us more than others, I think. And that’s something I never thought I’d believe about Marcus. I really thought he’d be an old man living on that farm, no wife, no kids, just his grouchy old self.”
“I think that’s still his plan. Except he’ll have Oliver.”
“Right, of course. He’ll have Oliver.”
Lissa reached to open the door to the clinic. “I’m going to help Doc.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to my brother-in-law.”
It didn’t matter what either of them said. Marcus had made it pretty clear how he felt about her. She was the thorn in his side. And she understood how he might feel that way. She’d upended his world. She and Oliver had stayed and he’d been forced to take on the role of father.
And...he’d kissed her. She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. He might have said no to her in his life, but that kiss said yes.
Chapter Thirteen
It was toward the end of the week and Marcus didn’t like to think about time slipping away. Oliver and Lissa would be leaving in a matter of days. And he would miss them. He didn’t want to admit that to himself, to his twin, to anyone.
“I’m going to donate my paintings.” He said it as he drove toward town, Alex in the passenger seat. Oliver rode in the back, but he wasn’t paying attention.
“The guy who never let anyone know he painted is going to donate them now? For...?” Alex fiddled with the window.
Marcus locked the windows because Alex had to be about ten years old when it came to pushing buttons. Literally and figuratively.
“I’m going to put them in the church auction for the flood fund.”
“I would say that’s a big step toward adulthood.”
“Thanks, bro,” he said. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Alex glanced in the back seat before he spoke. “You’re also an idiot.”
Marcus shot him a surprised look.
Alex didn’t laugh. He didn’t crack a smile. “I mean it. You’re messing up.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Marcus ground out.
“Well, too bad. Because you’re going to have it with me.”
“Are you two fighting?” Oliver asked from the back.
“Yes.”
“No.” Both brothers answered. And then they glared at each other again.
“Is Maria getting married?” Oliver asked. “I told her I’d be her ring bearer.”
“Married?” This time they answered in unison.
Marcus glanced back and then returned his attention to the road. “Why do you think that?”
“Because Jake came back yesterday. He was at Aunt Essie’s talking to Maria.” Oliver stopped talking.
“What?” the two brothers asked.
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
Marcus stared into the rearview mirror. “So you’re not going to tell us how you know they’re getting married?”
Oliver shook his head.
Alex laughed a little. “Maria said that guy only planned to stay a few days, but then all of a sudden she wanted to introduce him to the family. It sure looks like he’s settled in. Lucy said he’s staying with them through the summer.”
“He’s too old for her,” Marcus insisted.
“He’s six years older than she is. That isn’t too old. She’s almost twenty.”
They let the conversation go. Oliver wasn’t talking.
Marcus drove them through Bluebonnet Springs and to the work area where men from the church planned to meet up for the day. Spring Street in Bluebonnet Springs, aptly named because it ran parallel to the spring, had suffered the most damage in the flood. Several homes had significant flood damage.
“Now, you’re going to be good and stay with me. Right, Oliver?” Marcus asked as he got his son out of the booster seat. “Lissa gave us all the rules for being safe. Gloves. No stepping on boards that might have nails.”
Oliver nodded and the two of them hurried to catch up to Alex. They had to step around debris as they made their way. Amazing that one little creek could do so much damage.
There were several men congregated at the front of a house that had been built a hundred years ago and had probably been through its share of floods. The siding of the house had never been updated, so it was still wood. The paint, in part due to age and in part due to the flooding, had been chipped away, leaving big sections of bare wood slats. Marcus walked up to the group of men who were surveying the property. Pastor Matthews, Alex, Lucy’s husband, Dane Scott, and others. Jake, the boyfriend of Maria, was there, too. Marcus made sure to give him a glare that would remind him she had two brothers who ought to be asked before he went proposing marriage.
Oliver slid in next to him, his hand in Marcus’s.
“What are we looking at?” he asked.
“A mess,” Pastor Matthews responded. “But not one we can’t handle. The floodwaters soaked the old plaster walls in the Moore house. The linoleum on the kitchen floor peeled up and the carpet
in the bedrooms will have to be taken up. The biggest problem is the mold and the plaster walls. That about sums up every house on this block.”
“My dad is going to auction off his paintings to help.” Oliver yanked on Marcus’s hand as he made the announcement. Obviously he had been listening to their conversation in the truck. “Aren’t you, Dad? You paint all kinds of pictures.”
Marcus choked a little. Oliver stared up at him, eyes all innocent and sweet. Marcus didn’t know what emotion to process first. His son had just called him dad for the first time. Dad. The word meant a lot. It meant responsibility, never giving up on a kid, being there for him.
And he’d just had his paintings outed to a group of men he wouldn’t have considered telling.
Dane gave him a curious look. Alex just laughed. Pastor Matthews appeared to be trying to hide a smile.
But all that mattered right now was that Oliver had called him dad. He wanted to shout it to the world. He wanted to call Lissa. That thought stopped him in his tracks. She’d become a habit. Maybe more of a temptation than his old habits. She was the first thing he thought of when something happened, good or bad.
“Maybe we should get some work done.” Marcus glanced around the lawn of the house. Trash from the flood littered the yards and even the sidewalks. “I have big trash bags and extra pairs of gloves if anyone wants to help me start getting some of this cleaned up. I’ve got the trailer hooked to my truck so I can go from here to the Dumpsters set up at the school.”
Oliver yanked on his hand again. “But, Dad, tell them about your art. Especially that bull painting. It looks like crayons, but it isn’t. Tell them about that one.”
“We probably need to get some work done, son,” he said. But he managed to smile because Oliver had about the happiest look on his face. “You have to be careful. There could be nails and sharp metal. Don’t pick up anything unless you ask.”
“I could pick up sticks,” Oliver offered.
“Okay, you can pick up sticks. We’ll make one pile for those.” Marcus handed Oliver a pair of gloves. “I found these at the feed store. They’re your size.”
The gloves looked just like the ones Marcus wore. They looked like father and son, and now that Oliver had called him dad, it truly felt like it, as well.
They walked down the block, picking up trash as they went. There were boards, tree limbs, even parts of buildings scattered where the flood had deposited debris it brought downstream.
Alex joined them, bringing extra of the large, heavy-duty trash bags. “I thought you might like company.”
“I’m pretty happy with the company I have.” Marcus nodded in Oliver’s direction. He stopped to look around. “Some of this we could pile up and burn.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
All of a sudden, Marcus paused. “Hey, Alex, do you hear that?”
“What am I listening for?”
Marcus put a finger up. “Listen.”
Oliver ran to his side, dropping small branches as he went.
“I hear it, too. I hear it whining.” The little boy, his arms holding the few sticks that hadn’t been dropped, stopped and tilted his head to listen.
“I think it might be in the ditch,” Alex offered.
The boy dropped the remaining sticks and raced for the ditch as fast as his little legs could pump.
Marcus hurried to catch up with him. “Oliver, be careful. We don’t know what all is down there.”
Water still stood, even after nearly a week. Marcus stepped carefully and pulled away some of the branches and trash that had built up near a culvert.
“A puppy?” Oliver asked. “Can I see?”
Marcus squatted to look in the culvert. Dark and filled with debris, it didn’t look like anything that an animal could live in. His son got close to his side.
Alex leaned in behind them with the flashlight from his phone. “Let me help.”
Bright eyes glowed from the narrow confines of the culvert. Marcus reached in, letting the puppy sniff his hand before he managed to get hold of the animal, hauling him out by the scruff of his neck. The puppy yelped and cried, but they got him out in the light, where they had a better look at him.
“Puppy, you are in poor shape,” Marcus whispered to the tiny animal. “And no bigger than a minute.”
“Looks like a Labrador, although it’s hard to tell with all of that mud. And he’s all skin and bones.” Alex ran a hand down the puppy’s back. “I think you should take him to Doc Parker.”
“I’m sure Doc would appreciate a four-legged patient.”
“Better manners than some of his two-legged patients.” Alex stood back up, grinning down at him.
Marcus stared for a moment, as if he was looking at himself in the mirror. Except for one big difference. Alex had found something that had changed his life. He’d found Marissa. He was happy, with himself, his life, his faith.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
Marcus stood, cradling the puppy against him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He looked around, missing Oliver, who had been glued to his side. “Oliver?”
The little boy was on his hands and knees, crawling into the round drainpipe. Marcus shoved the puppy at Alex.
“Hey, get out of there!” He reached for him, but it was too late. Oliver screamed and jumped back.
His son raised a hand, gashed across his palm. Blood and debris mixed and ran down his arm. Marcus prayed it looked worse than it was. He picked up the boy and took the handkerchief Alex had ready for him.
“Hang on, buddy, let me take a look.” Marcus dabbed at the cut with the handkerchief and sucked in a breath at what he saw. The cut was deep and bleeding profusely.
“I want Lissa,” Oliver cried against his shoulder. “I want Lissa.”
“We’ll get Lissa.” Marcus trudged up the hill and headed for his truck. “Alex, can you call Lissa and Doc Parker? Tell them I’m heading to Doc’s clinic.”
“Want me to ride with you?”
Marcus shook his head. “We’re good. Can you unhook the trailer off my truck? I’ll get Marcus into the seat. There’s a towel in the back seat that will work better than this handkerchief.”
Marcus gently settled Oliver in the seat and buckled the seat belt. The little boy was sobbing, tears dripping down a face that was dirty from working in the yard.
“I unhooked the trailer. Do you need anything else?” Alex appeared at Marcus’s side. The other men were behind him. “I don’t mind going with you.”
“I’ll head over, but I’ll call you after Doc has a look.”
It took less than five minutes to get to Doc’s clinic.
“Here we are,” he told Oliver. The little boy didn’t look good. His face was pale and the tears had dried up. “Hey, you’re okay, little man. I promise, you’re fine.”
“I don’t like blood.” Oliver shuddered.
“I don’t blame you, but in a few minutes Doc will have you all cleaned up. I’m sorry, Oliver. I shouldn’t have had you down there.”
“I thought there might be another puppy. Like a brother.”
He unbuckled his son and pulled him into his arms. As they headed for the door of the clinic, Lissa hurried out to meet them.
“Lissa is here,” Marcus said as he reached for the door, trying to be careful not to jostle Oliver. He didn’t know what to do when the little boy started to cry again. “Did I hurt you?”
Oliver shook his head. “I just want Lissa.”
Of course. Marcus understood that. He wasn’t much of a comforter. Lissa was. He could vouch for that. She took Oliver from him and held him close.
“What in the world did you do, wrestle with glass?” She whispered close to his ear as she cuddled him against her.
“I had to save the puppy and see if it had a brother,” he explained
. He glanced over her shoulder and looked at Marcus. “Where’s the puppy?”
“The puppy is in the truck. I’ll get him in a minute. We want Lissa and Doc to check you out first.”
Oliver sniffled and wiped his face with his good hand. “Maybe Doc could help him, too?”
As if on cue, Doc Parker appeared in the doorway. “What’s all this ruckus? Oliver, are you having a bad day?”
Oliver nodded. “And we found a hurt puppy. Marcus needs to get him so you can fix him.”
Doc laughed at that. “I’m not much of a veterinarian, but I can take a look after we’ve taken care of you. Let’s get you to an exam room.”
Marcus stepped back. Lissa handed Oliver over to Doc and remained in the waiting room, her blue eyes bright, focused on him.
“I’ll get the puppy.” He couldn’t help that his voice was gruff with emotion. He’d never felt this helpless in his life. He’d never needed to be away from a place as much as he wanted out of that clinic.
“Marcus.”
“He called me dad. I didn’t know it would feel like this, to go from Marcus to dad.” It had all become real in the last hour or so. The word dad had changed things in a way that Oliver showing up in his life hadn’t.
“Don’t you leave,” Lissa said with meaning, as if she knew what he was thinking.
“I’m not leaving. I won’t leave.”
She disappeared through the door and he sat down, needing a minute to get his head on straight. On his watch, Oliver had gotten hurt. Marcus knew that kids got hurt. But he couldn’t shake the image of Oliver, pale and hurting and wanting Lissa. Not him. Lissa.
* * *
Lissa found Marcus sitting on the tailgate of his truck holding something in a horse blanket. She sat down next to him and reached for the puppy. The animal squirmed in her lap but then turned to lick her hand.
“Is he okay?” Marcus asked as they sat there.
“Yes, he is. He needed ten stitches. It was deep and it needed to be cleaned out. Doc gave us antibiotics, just because of the floodwater and not knowing what all could have been in that muck he reached through.
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