Texas Dad (Fatherhood)

by Roz Denny Fox

  JJ looked around. Her clothes were done and now what? She still had too many hours to wrestle with her conscience.

  * * *

  AT TURKEY CREEK Ranch, Mack acted like a grouchy bear. He didn’t join the family for supper the evening Jill left. During breakfast the next day he ignored questions about her precipitous departure.

  “I need to call J.J., Dad, and thank her for printing my pictures. I didn’t think she’d leave before we had a chance to say goodbye. I have to email her.”

  “You don’t,” Mack said, glowering at everyone who watched him with interest. Zoey’s lips quivered as she fought unhappiness.

  Mack poured ketchup on his scrambled eggs instead of salsa, something he never did. “Zoey, just forget that Jill Walker came here and disrupted our lives.”

  She stared openmouthed at her dad. Benny, too, reared his head. “What happened to you and Jilly patching things—”

  Mack cut Benny off with a dark scowl. He abruptly bolted up, grabbed his hat off the rack and stomped out the back door, leaving everyone in the room staring from his blood-red eggs to the still-vibrating screen door.

  “Eat up, y’all,” Erma gestured with her fork. “Can’t let good food go to waste all because Mackenzie’s ham-headed.”

  * * *

  J.J.’S BOSS POKED her head around the corner of the break room where J.J. stood alone, doctoring her coffee. “Here you are,” Donna said. “The article and photos you sent in for our hot August cowboy are sensational. We replaced the original pictures on our website with your new ones. We’d already received dozens of entries. Everyone wants to be the lucky lady to deliver the check for that hottie’s charity.”

  J.J. poured yet another heaping spoonful of sugar into her already sweet coffee. “Donna, I’d like to help pick the winner.”

  Donna leaned against the counter. “Why? Up to now you’ve avoided that chore like the plague.”

  Selfish reasons cycled through J.J.’s head, but she only said, “Mack’s daughter is so sweet. And as you know, she wants a mom, a woman her dad can fall instantly in love wi-with.” J.J. stumbled over her last word.

  Donna stared at J.J. “Why don’t I think you’ll find anyone suitable?”

  J.J. had to turn away from her boss’s all-seeing gaze. “Please. At least let me double-check the background reports.”

  “Okay. Frankly I had no idea about the popularity of cowboys. I’m considering extending the campaign for another year and doing twelve months of nothing but cowboys and ranchers.”

  Donna’s secretary buzzed the room to say she had a phone call, so she ducked out.

  J.J. followed, going to her own cubicle to do nothing but stare at the wall. Next year didn’t matter. She told herself Mack would be old news by then. He could well be old-married-news by then.

  For the most part, the rest of her week was crappy. She felt confined and depressed. June 1st, Mack’s birthday, passed. JJ found herself wanting to call Zoey to see what her dad thought of the birthday photographs. But she resisted.

  June dragged on. JJ gagged on every contest entry Donna sent over for her to read. She grew restless and yet she didn’t ask for an international assignment even though New York’s streets felt too crowded, her apartment, hollow. Friends invited her to a Fourth of July party, but she declined. Moping about at home, she wondered if Mack had capitulated and gone to the holiday dance with Trudy Thorne. Her jealousy flared as red as the dress she remembered the brazen woman wearing.

  Knowing this wasn’t good for her, she went shopping on the weekend. She only bought items for Zoey. A cute gray wool jacket, natural makeup designed for teens, a polka-dot cardigan and shampoo with an orange scent. Lastly, a book on braid styles—since the ranch had sporadic internet access at best, JJ thought the book would come in handy if Zoey wanted to try some new looks. She carefully packed everything and shipped the box before talking herself out of it. Mack wouldn’t like her resurfacing in his life—or Zoey’s. Actually, a hope lingered that he might be so angry with her that he’d phone. And wasn’t that pathetic—her wanting to hear his voice at any cost? So many times she’d started to call him. But darn-it-all, she wanted him to make the first move.

  She capitulated to Donna’s request that she go to London and shoot winter fashions. It should have taken her mind off Mack, but didn’t. Before leaving New York, she reviewed the finalists to win the date with Mack. All of the women had been background-checked and approved. Donna had been right—J.J. found fatal flaws in all of the women.

  While she was in London, J.J.’s mom phoned, sounding young and excited, announcing her plans to marry Arne Biddle. J.J. no longer needed to subsidize her mother’s apartment. Mercy, that meant she could finally think about leaving her day job. It should have made her ecstatic but only underscored the fact that her mom was on husband number three while J.J. had spent years loving one man who didn’t love her enough in return. Oh, but was that fair?

  Home August 1st, J.J. wearily unpacked and tried to figure out if she could afford to quit Her Own Woman in order to freelance. She was so deep in thought that her cell phone startled her when it rang. Her heart seized as she recognized the La Mesa prefix. “He...llo,” she managed, in spite of barely breathing.

  “Jill? It’s Erma.”

  J.J.’s heart plunged. “Erma, are you all right? Is something wrong at the ranch?”

  The housekeeper tsked. “I’m up and walking. Not running any footraces yet. Sonja’s leaving us next week.”

  “That’s...nice,” J.J. said.

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Zoey got your gifts and you’re all she can talk about. Not about the gifts, but about how much she misses you.”

  “Um, I’m glad she likes what I sent.”

  “Well, the more she mentions you, the more sullen Mack is. Mind if I ask what went on between you two? Benny and I want to know if either of us can help heal the rift, whatever happened.”

  “Oh, Erma.” J.J. started to cry, finally allowing herself to explain what happened the night she’d come across Mack consoling the newly pregnant Faith. She didn’t mention the cause of their last argument.

  Erma listened without interruption until J.J. wound down, then she said, “Jill, Mack’s marriage was never right. I saw that. Faith’s bad heart was a result of rheumatic fever not treated when she was young. She knew pregnancy was a risk. One day when I drove her to the doctor, she flat out told me she loved another man—a college friend of Mack’s who was killed in a motorcycle wreck. Guy by the name of Tom. Faith said she’d do anything to keep Reverend Adams from getting his hooks in her baby. I shouldn’t share this, but...Faith didn’t sleep in Mack’s room. And yet, after she passed, he had her buried in the Bannerman family plot.”

  “That’s a good thing for Zoey,” J.J put in.

  “Right, but it incensed Faith’s daddy. Mack shelled out a fortune to keep custody of Zoey. Faith’s folks sued to raise her, but the judge ruled for Mack.” At J.J.’s silence, Erma added, “I probably should’ve kept all of that to myself, but something I know is families don’t have to be blood. Zoey, me, Benny, Mack, we’d all be in hog heaven if you’d come back. You love him, don’t you?”

  J.J. sighed. “I can’t deny it. I always have. But sometimes love isn’t enough, Erma.”

  “Of course it is. Love trumps everything that happens in life. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Suppertime. Come back, please. If you can’t, at least call Zoey.”

  Throughout the night J.J. wrestled with her addled brain and her weighty heart. In the morning she was bleary eyed as she watched a smoldering August sun try to cut through Manhattan’s haze. She’d come to several realizations. First, she knew now that her love for Mack was strong. Second, despite how heartbroken she’d been over her mother and Rex’s deception, she forgave them. They only did what they thought was best for her. W
asn’t that where Mack stood? In his eyes Zoey was his child. And truthfully, Zoey might be happier to not have to deal with the truth until she was grown up.

  J.J. showered, dressed and took a cab to work. They’d hit the wire to pick the reader to send to meet Mack on August 20th.

  At noon, J.J. walked into Donna’s office and shut the door. “I have a confession and a request,” she said without preamble. “I’ve loved Mackenzie Bannerman since we were in college. I broke up with him and we went our separate ways due to a stupid misunderstanding. But I never stopped loving him. You sent me back there and I’ve walked away from him again. I’ve been miserable ever since.”

  Donna rolled a pen between her hands. “I’ve seen that, J.J. We all have. You’re a fine photographer. I’d hate to lose you. I have to choose a reader today to go meet him. Plane tickets and other arrangements need to be settled. What can I do to help you?”

  “I can’t resolve things with Mack from here. I want you to send me with his check. I believe I’m the only reader who can fulfill Zoey Bannerman’s wish for a mother.” J.J. handed her boss a letter she’d composed that morning, her entry to the contest. It made Donna a bit weepy.

  “I’m fully aware that I can’t work for the magazine and be considered,” J.J. said. “For a long time I’ve dreamed of freelancing. So I’m also tendering my resignation.” She set a shorter note on top of the tearstained letter.

  Donna cleared her throat. “This is actually a timely request, J.J. As much as I hate to, I need to cut some corners for the budget, and I’d save a fair amount on the benefits package if you and Joaquin went freelance.” Standing, Donna offered her hand. “Consider both of your requests done. I wish you luck with freelancing. Keep in touch. I’ll still send work your way,” she said, ushering J.J. to the door where they stopped and hugged.

  “Go see Pam in HR. She’ll have the packet you need as our August winner,” Donna finished, smiling as she stepped back into her office and shut the door.

  * * *

  THAT AFTERNOON J.J. boarded a flight to Texas. The butterflies that began in her stomach when the plane lifted off after a brief stopover in Dallas flapped harder once she’d landed in Lubbock. They grew worse after she rented a vehicle and drove toward La Mesa. Time dragged. She dallied, driving far too slowly.

  Still, the minute she turned onto Mack’s private road she slowed the car to a veritable crawl. Afraid she might be physically ill, J.J. parked behind his pickup and sat, trying to settle her nerves. It startled her to see Mack and Zoey emerge from the house, each pulling a suitcase.

  They were going on a trip. She should have called before coming. But she assumed he’d be here for the magazine’s event. Maybe he’d called it off. Heaven knew he’d never welcomed the whole notion.

  Expecting to be rebuffed, J.J. decided to tell Mack she’d come solely to deliver the magazine’s check for his charity and save him from going out with a perfect stranger. She put on a brave face, got out of the car and hesitated.

  Zoey saw her first. She dropped the handle of her bag and launched herself at J.J. “You’re here. You’re really here! Daddy and me were going to go see you in New York.” Zoey practically squeezed the breath out of J.J. even as her gaze lit on Mack for confirmation.

  He bent and righted Zoey’s suitcase, but J.J. saw his expression burgeon with hope. “I should have given you a call,” he said. “We could have passed each other on the highway. Why are you here, Jill?”

  “Uh, I...brought the check from the magazine for your charity. I’m, uh, we’re supposed to go out on the town when I present it...so...I can take follow-up photos for the magazine. Why were you going to New York?” she asked belatedly.

  Mack nudged Zoey aside and he rested his hands on J.J.’s waist. “I told Zoey...about Tom,” he said with feeling. “I fought with you over something I’ve always known I needed to face. You were right to leave. But...the truth is...I don’t want to live without you.”

  J.J. clutched his shirtfront, too overwhelmed to speak.

  Zoey hovered, anxiously biting her lip. “The same goes for me.”

  Glancing at Zoey, J.J. saw that she wore her hair in a neat French braid, and had on the cute polka-dot cardigan J.J. had sent her. The little girl she’d been in May was gone, and in her place—a young woman. J.J. reached out and touched Zoey’s cheek.

  “It’s okay, J.J. Dad explained a lot of stuff about him and my mom. He showed me a picture you took in college. Tom Corbin looks nice. I should be sad he’s dead, but I never met him. I said it’ll be okay to meet his mom and dad if they want, but my home is here,” she added fiercely.

  “Definitely,” J.J. agreed. “I’m sorry if I butted in and caused you distress. I had no right to judge your father. He is your dad in every way that counts, Zoey.”

  “I know. I think maybe I always wondered because of stuff my mom’s folks said. But they aren’t nice, so I never believed what they said about my dad.” Charging ahead, Zoey said, “We saw Dad’s lawyer.” She looked at Mack as if asking permission to proceed, and he smiled. “The lawyer said I can choose who I want to live with. I told him I want to stay here, but I also said I really, really want you to be part of our family, J.J. I love my dad, but a dad’s not a mom. When I sent the essay to your magazine any woman would do as a mom.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, not Trudy Thorne. But...you came to town and I knew I only wanted you.”

  “Provided you agree to marry me,” Mack said. “Zoey’s putting the cart before the horse.” He drew J.J. tighter. “Zoey and I wrote a letter to Tom’s parents and enclosed a copy of one of the photos you took. They called, but they’re proceeding slowly, too. It was a shock to them, as you can imagine.”

  Rising on tiptoes, J.J. brushed her lips across his. “It just so happens that the check from Her Own Woman is just my excuse. The real reason I’ve come is to propose. I even brought matching wedding bands.” She reached into the purse that had fallen off her shoulder and dug out a jeweler’s box. Nestled inside were two gold bands, each with a trio of diamonds embedded along the top. “I guessed at your ring size, Mack.”

  Zoey peered in the box. “Cool rings. I can’t wait for you and Dad to get married so we can be a family—a real family.”

  J.J. slid her gaze to Mack. “That’s all I want, too,” she murmured. “A wise woman named Erma Fairweather phoned to bug me. She said love trumps everything in life. I hope she’s right, because I quit my job to come here.”

  Mack held her tenderly. “You beat me to proposing, Jill, but I want to do it properly this time, too.” He sank down on one knee and took her hand. “Jilly, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Wiping away a tear she managed a husky, “I will.”

  Rising to face her, Mack slid his hands along her arms. Their kiss was far more than a mere brush of the lips. It was filled with love and a dollop of lust. When they broke apart they saw Zoey had dashed off and had returned with Erma, Benny and Jiggs, who barked and happily jumped around, licking J.J.’s hand.

  “So...I accept your proposal, too,” Mack said, lightly dusting his thumbs over her damp cheeks.

  Her tears quickly turned to laughter when Zoey and the others all declared they accepted, too. “I’m home at last,” she murmured.

  Mack joined their hands. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I suggest we all go inside and plan a long overdue wedding.”

  It was Erma who said in a booming voice, “Sooner rather than later, you two. None of us are getting any younger.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A COWBOY’S ANGEL by Pamela Britton.

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  Chapter One

  “So you’re just going to kill the horse?”

  Zach Johnson groaned.

  “Couldn’t you at least try to rehab him or something?”

  Could this day get any worse?

  He glanced at Doc Miller and his groom, Pat, their own faces frozen in what could only be called consternation. Nearby, horses stabled along the backstretch of Golden Downs raceway watched, too, with ears pricked forward as if curious what he would do.

  Go ahead. Turn around, they seemed to say.

  He didn’t want to. He really didn’t, but he knew if he ignored Mariah Stewart, she’d just come right around the front of him and start yammering in his face.

  He slowly turned. “What makes you think I’m going to put him down?” he asked, wishing for the umpteenth time that she weren’t so damn pretty. It irritated the hell out of him that someone so insufferable could be so attractive. Today her red hair glittered as brightly as her eyes beneath the blazing-hot Southern California sun. He found himself wondering where she’d gotten that cute little snub nose and tiny chin of hers...and the freckles. He’d always been a sucker for freckles.

  “Don’t you always?” She lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Your type likes to toss away anything that doesn’t make you money.”

  He resisted the urge to raise his eyes toward the clear blue sky. God wasn’t going to help him on this one; he had better things to do.