Texas Dad (Fatherhood)

by Roz Denny Fox

  “It took a while, but I finally got that, Jill. If you don’t mind going to town early, could you help me pick out a pair? I want to surprise her.”

  “Sure. Just let me grab my purse and we can go. How are all the infirm today?”

  “Huh?”

  “Erma, Ginger and Jiggs.”

  “Erma’s feisty as ever. Jiggs isn’t limping as much. And when Benny and I checked Ginger at dawn, the swelling in her leg was down and she ate all her oats.”

  “That’s a relief. Okay. Do you want to take your truck? Or we can use my rental if we don’t really need the pickup for anything today.”

  He dangled his keys. “If you’re going to be a ranch wife, you’ll have to get comfortable using a pickup for everything.”

  Jill skidded to a stop at the edge of the patio. “Ranch wife?” she squeaked.

  Mack froze, puzzled. “What did you think last night was all about? What did it mean to you? I was serious when I said we’ve already wasted too much time. I want you in my life permanently. Don’t you want the same?”

  “Uh... I do. I just... Well, it all happened so fast.”

  “I don’t call a thirteen-year gap fast.”

  “You have a point,” she said slowly. They’d stopped at her room so she could collect her purse and notebook.

  “Jill, what I’m trying to say is, will you be my wife?”

  She couldn’t identify why she felt troubled. She was finally exactly where she’d always wanted to be—with Mack at Turkey Creek Ranch. But...and there was a but. Before she could voice her concerns—over the speed with which this came about, and thoughts about the old indiscretion with Faith that he wasn’t willing to discuss—she found herself saying, “Yes.”

  Thirty minutes later, after celebratory kisses, they stopped at the only jewelry store in town, where they selected a pair of gold stud earrings for Zoey. J.J. asked to have Mack’s purchase put in a black velvet jewelry bag. He had leaned toward buying Zoey her birthstone, but JJ said, “Come back and buy the topaz earrings in November for her birthday. Gold is best for new piercings.”

  Before leaving the store, Mack lingered over a case of wedding sets. “Is there a ring you like here? I still have your engagement ring, but I can afford a bigger diamond now, Jilly.”

  Caught off guard, she tugged him toward the door. “Let’s not discuss rings yet, Mack. I still live and work in New York.”

  “How much time do you need to quit and get back here?”

  She stumbled. “Uh...a two weeks’ notice at least. But, Mack, we have a lot of stuff to work out. You have your steak-fry in July, and your contest win has to play out, per your contract with the magazine. That’s August 20th.”

  Mack grumbled something indecipherable as he opened the door to the restaurant where he had booked a back room for the luncheon meeting.

  They entered the back room where the committee was to meet and Mack was instantly mobbed. Mostly, J.J. noticed, by women. She tried to step away, but he tightened his hold on her waist, effectively molding her to his hip. A sultry, dark-haired woman in a tight red sheath dress nonetheless attached herself to his left arm. Talk swirled around him. Some of the people asked Mack about the fire, some about Erma’s health. Others chatted about the steak-fry.

  A woman with graying hair, whom J.J. didn’t recognize, wanted to know if Mack had heard that Delaney Blair’s son was in the hospital again, and that she needed monetary help. “I think we should start a fund at the bank to help her,” the woman said.

  “I’ll kick it off with a thousand,” Mack immediately said. The woman typed a note in her smartphone, then left to corral someone else.

  The persistent woman in the red dress clung to Mack tenaciously. “Mackenzie, is this your new housekeeper?” she cooed. “Amanda Evers said Benny’s cousin came to fill in for Erma.”

  Mack pulled away. “This is my fian—”

  J.J. leaned forward, cutting Mack off. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m J. J. Walker, a houseguest at Mack’s ranch.”

  Some people seemed to have heard she was a magazine photographer from New York and began plying her with questions.

  “Hey,” Mack said, raising his voice. “We’re supposed to be here to gear up for the steak-fry. Trudy, everyone, take your seats. Committee chairs can start giving reports while Buddy and his staff serve our food.”

  The room quieted. Mack pulled out a chair for J.J. and sat beside her, leaving Trudy Thorne to alternately pout and glare at them.

  Mack took a notepad out of his shirt pocket and called on his first chairperson.

  “Ticket sales are going well,” a silver-haired matronly woman seated behind Trudy said. “We’re already up by ten percent over this time last year. Your decision to advertise in neighboring towns has bolstered program ad sales. This being our fourth year, it’s all running smoothly.”

  Two waitresses served iced tea and sandwiches. Reports continued and Mack jotted notes. “This is good,” he praised everyone after the last chairwoman spoke. “We’ve got this down to a science. Moving our event to Labor Day weekend is a great idea, Freda.” Mack smiled at a woman in big glasses. “I’m impressed with the entertainment you’ve booked. I think we can skip meeting again until after the Fourth of July. Call me if you hit any snags.”

  No one objected so Mack adjourned the meeting. He and J.J. went straight to the cashier, where he got the bill for all of the food. Trudy barged in as he handed over his debit card.

  “Mack, what’s your rush?” She muscled her way between him and J.J. As soon as he had his card back and had signed the receipt, he reached right around her, clasped J.J.’s wrist and led her out the door.

  “Wait,” Trudy called, following him down the sidewalk. “I want to invite you to go with me to the Fourth of July rodeo dance. I’ll call you next week to get it on your calendar.”

  “Trudy, I don’t...” But she was already crossing the street. Mack grimaced and climbed into the pickup.

  “Is she someone you’ve been dating?” J.J. broke the dead silence.

  “No. Never. Since her last divorce she’s been hitting on me.”

  “I can see that.”

  “If you’re jealous there’s no need to be.”

  “I’m not.” J.J. punched his arm. “I just know Zoey’s not fond of her.”

  “Me, neither. She doesn’t seem to get the message. And there are folks in town who’ve tried to set us up. Folks who think every single person should be part of a couple.”

  “I’d forgotten that about really small towns. It’s so much harder to find someone in a city.”

  “You never did?”

  “No.” J.J. shook her head. “I think my heart always belonged to you, Mack,” she said lightly, then changed the subject. “Is Zoey going to be home when we get there? I promised to print the pictures I took of her.”

  “She said for you to go ahead. She’s picking strawberries with Brandy to earn some money for half the cost of her earrings. Out of curiosity why doesn’t she want me to see the pictures? They aren’t way out, are they?”

  “No,” she laughed. “But if I told you it would ruin her surprise.”

  “Okay, but remember, the printer is in my bedroom.”

  “You still can’t peek. Don’t you have things to do around the ranch?”

  “Of course. But it’ll be more fun to watch you fuss with your photos.”

  He slowed at the turn onto his ranch road, leaned over and kissed her. “I could get used to this.”

  “Me, too.” She tasted his kiss on her lips and thought she really could get used to this togetherness. At one time, they’d been totally compatible, and trust was slowly returning. Finally she was beginning to believe they could make being together work. Turning her head, she smiled as she watched his hands on the stee
ring wheel. She loved looking at them and loved feeling them caress her skin. A shiver went up her backbone.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Something X-rated,” she said.

  His eyes widened. He slammed on the brakes in front of the house, stopping in a cloud of dust. Letting the motor idle he took Jill’s upper arms and pulled her partway across the console and first nipped her lower lip, then kissed it better. “Want to go inside and tumble across my bed?”

  “Um, that sounds promising.” She ran a finger over his damp lips. “Can you hang on to that thought until later? I really want to crop and print Zoey’s photos.”

  Mack pretended to give her option serious thought before he nodded, set her back in her seat and pulled the key from the ignition. “I’ll try to behave while I watch you work.”

  “You can be in the room with me, but you can’t peek at the pictures, okay? I gave Zoey my word.”

  “Fine. Shall I get us a lemonade?”

  “Good idea. We both need to cool off. I’ll drop my purse in my room, collect the photo paper and meet you in your office.” She laid heavy accent on that word.

  He hurried around the cab and opened her door. They parted with a lingering touch of the barest of fingertips.

  From her room, she crossed the patio, entering Mack’s bedroom from the poolside. She beat him there. In the alcove that doubled as his office, she booted up her laptop, accessed her photography software and turned on Mack’s printer. Waiting for him to arrive, she wandered around his bedroom, studying things she’d not taken time to observe before. Other than the crocheted bedspread hanging again on the quilt rack, the room was wholly masculine with dark walls and dark wood furniture. Two eight-by-ten glossy photographs hung on the wall behind his nightstand. On taking a closer look, J.J. saw they were two of her early photographs. The sunset at South Padre Island brought back warm memories, as did the print below, which she recalled taking of their group of college friends their senior year. Everyone was so young and happy then, she thought, studying each face. She wondered why none of them had kept in touch.

  Mack came in carrying two glasses of lemonade. Bending, he kissed the back of her neck before handing her one of the glasses. “I can give you nicer photos to hang on your wall. All centered better. I took these so early in my career I’m ashamed of how rough they are.”

  “I like them, so hands off,” he said, flopping down on his bed.

  Smiling, J.J. carried her drink to the alcove. “No peeking over my shoulder, now,” she reminded him, and soon immersed herself in work. “Zoey is so photogenic,” she said, half to herself. “It’s not easy choosing between these shots.” She printed the one of Zoey and her horse and slipped it into a folder to keep Mack from seeing it. She passed over the next two, but chose the following one, a photo of Zoey in the gold jacket, head slightly tilted, laughing as sun flooded the patio. Her hair appeared redder, her hazel eyes greener, and her mouth uptilted on one side. J.J. blinked as she was starkly reminded of someone else—a face she’d just viewed in the group photo hanging on Mack’s wall. But not Faith’s. Her stomach tensed. Forcing her legs to support her, J.J. got up, snatched the picture off the wall and sat heavily beside Mack on the bed. She grabbed his hand.

  He bolted up off the pillow. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have,” she said, licking her lips. “Mack, I don’t know a delicate way to put this, but I have to ask. What if...what if Zoey’s not your daughter?” she blurted.

  Mack stiffened.

  “I’m sorry. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I took a picture of Zoey that’s a younger version of Tom Corbin.” She drew Mack’s attention to a laughing man in the college print. “During Zoey’s and my photo shoot I had an odd sense of déjà vu when I was centering her in my viewfinder. It’s blatantly obvious now, why. God, I’m so sorry, but look for yourself!”

  Mack clapped his hand over her mouth. “Shh. No one knows. Not Erma, not Benny, not Tom’s family, or Faith’s. I promised her I’d keep her secret. She seemed to know I’d have to fight her folks in court to keep them from raising Zoey. See, their religion is a cult. Faith grew up under fear and abuse. Her parents did try to take Zoey. The land I told you I sold... The money went to pay legal fees. No matter what,” he said fiercely, “Zoey is my daughter.” He thumped his chest. “I walked the floor with her many nights. I tended her boo-boos. I took her to her first day of kindergarten. My name’s on her birth certificate.”

  J.J. blanched. “I don’t understand. I heard Faith crying, telling you she was pregnant, and you said you’d handle everything. I...I... You acted like you’d gotten her pregnant.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The night I left! I came by to tell you about the scholarship to the Sorbonne. I wanted us to move up our wedding date and then I wouldn’t go to Paris. I saw you and Faith in the kitchen. I...heard...it all. It hurt me so much, I ran away.”

  Mack gripped her arms. “I loved you. I thought you loved me. How could you think I’d sleep with anyone else? All this time...” His eyes blazed and he squeezed her arms. “You believed so ill of me?”

  “Stop, you’re hurting me, Mack.”

  He released her at once, but she stood, dropped the college photo on his bed and rubbed her arms. “I did love you, Mack. How could I stay after what I overheard? You never tried to get in touch after I sent back your ring.”

  “I had no idea why you sent it back. I was frantic. I called your mom. She said you had a better opportunity and took it. She said you left because your main goal was to advance your career.”

  “Yes, well, we both know my mother glories in status. But, Mack, you have to tell Zoey the truth. She’s old enough to understand. Tom has parents and a sister who deserve to know. Zoey may have cousins near her age. No good can come from hiding the truth.”

  Mack sliced a hand through the air. “Telling her is out of the question. Reverend Adams would reopen their custody suit. Faith and Tom had planned to elope. When he was killed she was scared to death to tell her folks she was pregnant. I volunteered to let her stay here until she could decide what to do. And then you took off, so don’t lecture me, okay? Anyway, what makes a parent if not love?”

  “Trust! How can you ask me that? You saw me fall apart when I found out my mother let me live a lie. No matter the kind of man my real dad was, she stole my choice to meet him. Is that what you want for Zoey?”

  “Not an issue. She’s never going to find out about Tom. If you’d stuck around, Faith would have let us adopt her baby. That’s what she hoped—that you and I would take her baby, rather than let her be raised in a cult. She didn’t have the strength to fight her folks alone. They’d always intimidated her.”

  “I’m sorry, Mack. I knew Faith had a difficult home life. But...compounding wrongs doesn’t make a right.”

  “It’s for me to decide, Jill. You left me. I protected Faith the only way I could. Her doctors said she was risking her life to have Tom’s baby. When she went into premature labor, I swore to keep her secret. It’s my name on Zoey’s birth certificate. I am her father. If you can’t accept that, then you and I have no chance, Jill.”

  Pain ripped through her. She saw that Mack meant what he said. The love she thought they’d rekindled snuffed out like a candle. It was all she could do to walk back to the printer and print the telltale photo of Zoey. She added it to the folder. “Give these to Zoey, please,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I’ll pack and be gone from here before Amanda Evers brings Zoey home.” Head held high, she left Mack. In the tile hallway her boot heels clicked ominously. Every step rang out, Finished, finished, finished.

  She packed swiftly. Her heart hurt too badly for her to find Erma to say goodbye. J.J. wrote her a note that simply said something had come up in New York. She addressed it to Erma, but l
eft it on her pillow. J.J. had never expected to fall in love with Mack again, but she had, and the pain of leaving this second time threatened to be even worse than the first. She didn’t want to cry on the drive back to Lubbock, but she did.

  Chapter Twelve

  Because she’d switched her plane ticket, J.J. had to make several stops and arrived at her apartment midmorning a day after she left Texas. The only positive thing about the long trip was that it gave her ample opportunity to write and send in the article on Mack. It was a load off her mind. And yet, in the aftermath of the joyous camaraderie at the ranch, her home felt empty—like her heart.

  Off and on she checked her cell phone, hoping Mack would call to say he had thought things over and saw her point about not letting Zoey live a lie. Mack had his family history that made him proud. Tom Corbin probably had a proud family history, too. And yet, there were no missed calls on her phone.

  Exhausted as she was, she couldn’t stand the silence, but neither did she feel like getting together with friends. She settled on going to Sunday brunch at a favorite café, hoping to reacclimate to her life—to city life. She ate a calorie-laden cinnamon roll while fashioning a mental list of everything she already missed about Texas—the ranch, yes. Zoey, Benny, Erma and Sonja, but above all, Mack. This was not helping her.

  She paid her bill and went to a movie, a sad one where no one cared if she cried. Walking home afterward, J.J. decided she’d wallowed in self-pity long enough. She unpacked and prepared to go to work on Monday. She had laundry to keep her occupied until then. Laundry and nagging thoughts that she might have been too hasty, too harsh in her judgment. She’d done that once and had been terribly wrong. She’d misjudged Mack and Faith.

  Poor Faith. J.J. dug clothes out of the dryer and imagined what she might have done in Faith’s place. While her own mom had been difficult at times, J.J. had never been browbeaten, or worse, abused.

  And Mack, heavens, he had really done an honorable thing, marrying a woman he knew to be in trouble and in ill health—when there was every reason to believe he would be left to raise a baby alone. Anybody with eyes could see he adored Zoey as if she were his own. He and Erma had given Zoey love and solid values.