“Hello, Chance.”
“What’s going on?”
She could feel the tension radiating from him all the way over here. “It’s time.” The simple statement made him jerk back as if slapped.
“No.” Shock filled his voice.
She nodded numbly. “Afraid so.”
He grabbed the doorknob, for support, she supposed. “So, you’re going back to her.”
“Nope.”
At that, he blinked several times, and then made his way slowly across the great expanse of the room. He joined her on the floor, resting an arm on one raised knee. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”
Avoiding his eyes at all costs, she tipped her chin at the folder that separated them. “I found that at granny’s today.” She drew in a shaky breath. “She’s lied to me for years. And, Chance, I’ve lied to you, too.”
Glancing at him briefly, she saw the dark frown that marred his handsome features. “How so?”
Tessa licked her dry lips and swallowed hard. “Remember when we made love and you said it was like your dream?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“It wasn’t a dream. We made love once years ago.” When he went to deny it, she held up a hand, saying, “Wait, let me finish. You were drunk. Fall on your butt drunk. You said you’d had some kind of fight with your granddad by disappointing him once again and gotten ahold of some good stuff to drown your sorrows in. I’d heard you storm out of your house and snuck out to follow you. I found you at the Greenville house, already wasted.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Ah, Christ,” he muttered.
“The small radio we kept there was on and you asked me to dance for you.” Heat bathed her cheeks. “I did and then some. You were my first and, as it turns out, my only lover. That night you seemed so hurt, so forlorn that I tried to make you feel better.”
“By my sketchy memory you certainly did that.” His voice came out husky. “All this time and I thought it was just a dream.” Stunned wonder filled his voice.
She shrugged uneasily. “Well, it wasn’t. You forgot, of course, and I became practically invisible again.”
“Oh no, sunshine, you were never invisible.” The fierceness of his protest sent warmth rushing through her.
“But…it was later, a few weeks that I found out-” she stopped in mid-sentence to suck in another painful breath. “I was expecting your baby.”
There, she’d said it. Carefully, she looked at him to gauge his reaction. Shocked would be too mild to describe him. Devastated might apply to his ashen appearance.
“Chance?”
“The baby you said you lost, it was…I mean…” He couldn’t quite get it out.
Nodding, she gave him his answer. She pointed to the folder. “But that’s where granny’s lies come in.” Tears gathered in her eyes and she tried blinking them away. “He lived,” she choked out.
“What?” He grabbed for the file, flipping through it. He shifted through the papers, scowling darkly. “Tessa, what is this, an adoption certificate?”
Clamping her lips together, she fought back a cry. Then, once she gathered her composure again, she said hoarsely, “Yes, granny told me he died, but she really gave our baby away. Look at the bottom of it, she forged both our signatures. She knew you were the father. Can you believe she hated you so much that she’d sell our baby?”
Slack-jawed, he gazed at her, shaking his head. “Dear God, what kind of woman would do that to her own flesh and blood?”
“A hateful, bitter, selfish one.” Tessa sniffed and swiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. “She didn’t want to share me, either, so it just wasn’t you. I bucked her once, when I told her I was keeping the baby. She pretended for a time, making baby things. But, deep down, she didn’t like it one bit and I paid dearly for that streak of independence, didn’t I?”
“Sweet Jesus.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t tell me?” It wasn’t exactly an accusation, but it still stung.
“How?” she asked. “Oh, by the way, Chance, we had a one night stand that you can’t even recall and now we have a little bundle of joy on the way?” She shook her head, saying, “I don’t think so. Especially in the midst of our families feuding. Can you imagine what that would have done?”
He waved a hand. “You couldn’t have just come to me for help? I thought we had something special.”
Smiling at him sadly, she said, “No, we never really had anything, did we? There was always a wedge between us and there still is. I’m sorry about the baby. I’ve talked to Gil and we agreed that we’d inform the private agency that if our son wants to get in touch with us when he comes of age we’d be here for him. I hope you’ll do the same for him and not disrupt his life right now. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“Fair? What the hell is fair anymore?” Chance asked harshly. He let out a deep breath. “You’re right, of course. I just need time to adjust to it all.”
She rose gingerly, aching all over, but mostly deep down in her soul. “Well, that’s about all.”
He jerked to attention and stood in front of her. “Where are you going?”
She waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve discussed the arrangements with Gil and he’s sure your granddad’s will didn’t mention we had to actually live together, just be married for the whole six months.” She shrugged, saying, “I guess we just assumed all along. So, you’re off the hook.”
When she went to leave, he grasped her arm. His warm fingers made her skin tingle. “No, you can’t.”
Staring into his gray eyes for long, heart-stopping moments, she said softly, “Yes, I am. If you need me I’ll be staying with Jewel and her family until I can find a place.”
“This is your home, Tessa.”
Shaking off his hand, she said, “No, Chance, I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t think I ever did.”
Chapter 25
The next morning, Chance sat at the bar with his head bowed and a hand wrapped around a beer. In his other hand, he held a well-worn picture of a teenaged Tessa. The stolen photo had been a soothing balm for him over the years. He stroked the surface as if he caressed her lovely face, something he’d done hundreds of times in the past, only then he had some sort of lingering hope. Now he had nothing. Tessa’s gone.
Emptiness echoed around him, throbbing in their little home over the bar. He even missed the damn dog. She’d taken Max.
He couldn’t be certain how long he’d been sitting there. He only knew the pain had crept into his heart and wouldn’t leave. The once cold bottle had even grown warm in his grip. As much as he longed to swallow his problems, something held him back thus far.
But the temptation nagged at him. Just lift it your lips and take a sip. He thought his mouth even watered at the prospect. Sweat broke out on his forehead at his inner battle.
Years of being on the wagon pressured him to stay the course while the devastating news of his past with Tessa jabbed at his thoughts at every turn.
A baby, with Tessa. Our son.
He shook his head and blinked away the moisture gathering in the backs of his eyes. A son!
But, as much as that knowledge hurt, he ached down to his very soul at Tessa leaving him. She’s gone.
For ages he’d blamed the feud for keeping them apart, in fact, a part of him felt relief because of it, so the distance would keep her from seeing the real him. For if she had known him, she’d end up disappointed just like he’d always done to the people closest to him.
A thought rushed through him. She never seemed to think he’d let her down. It wasn’t him. It was her granny.
“But she left,” he muttered under his breath. “Left me.”
Then he realized that as long as she remained with him or her granny she’d never have a chance at working things out in her head and heart. The battle would rage on around her, with her granny and him taking swipes through Tessa and making her their tug-of-war prize.
> “God, why didn’t I see it sooner?” His grasp tightened around the glass. “I was just as bad, in a way, trying to force her to choose between us. But, the only choice is for her to make her own choice…”
“Hey, boy,” Walter said as he stood behind the bar across from him. He nodded to the beer. “You decide yet? Whether you’re going to drink it or throw it?”
For long moments Chance stared at the beer, contemplating what he had to do. Even just thinking about it was daunting, never mind going through with the plan slowly forming in his mind. It would be so much easier just to drown his sorrows. With great care he lifted the bottle. As he looked at Walter, he handed it over. “Here, you’d better take this.”
A wide grin stretched across the older man’s face. Chance swore it was the first he’d ever seen coming from Walter.
“You’re a good kid with a good heart, Chance, don’t let anyone ever tell you different. Your grandfather knew that long before you ever imagined."
“What did you say?” Chance blinked as if coming out of a heavy fog.
“Gabe. He bragged about you all the time, just not to you. Even called you a genius at fixing things.”
He shook his head, wondering if he heard right. “Are you sure you’re talking about me and not someone else?”
Walter chuckled. “Sure, it’s you. Oh, he didn’t have no scrapbook or anything, but I’ve been here plenty of nights when he’d go on and on about you to his customers.”
“Nah.” He couldn’t help thinking Walter was completely wrong.
“Yeah.” The bartender waved his arm. “Just ask anybody who walks through that door. They’ll tell you. He used to keep your picture right there.” He pointed a beefy thumb over his shoulder. “The one where you were leaning up against old Belle. Man, he loved that one. He was so damn proud of you for rebuilding that sucker from practically nothing. Every time he talked about it he’d bust a couple more buttons off his shirt.”
Recalling that photo, he opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Time fell away and he remembered being sixteen and the long hours of working on the beloved truck. His granddad knew so little about fixing things, but he’d spent that time handing Chance tools and shooting the breeze. They’d talk about girls, dreams, life, heartache, and everything else that came up. He’d learned so much that summer. It was some of the fondest memories he held dear.
Frowning, he choked out, “I never knew.” In the back of his mind he wondered how much else he didn’t know. Seeing the empty space at the edge of the mirror, he asked, “So where’s the picture now?”
“Buried with him.” Walter cleared his throat. “When he…had the chest pains that day he grabbed for that picture and never let it go all the way to the hospital. Hell, we couldn’t have pried it from his fingers if we wanted to. Your gran said it was the last thing he looked at before he died.” The older man shrugged uncomfortably. “It was only fitting it stay with him, she thought.”
A mixture of disbelief and love welled inside him. All this time he’d thought he had to make something of himself to show his granddad he was special. Wonder rushed through him as he realized he’d never had to prove anything; granddad was always proud of him and had been until the day he died. The heavy burden that had weighed him down his whole life lifted and he felt twenty pounds lighter and inches taller.
Chance had assumed the face down picture in granddad’s hands had been of his grandmother. He must have spoken his thoughts aloud.
“No, son. She knew her place—” he stopped short.
Curious, Chance asked, “What do you mean, her place?”
“Never you mind, just stop wallowing in self-pity, that’s all.” He turned his back and busied himself with dumping out the beer.
Getting up and marching around the bar, Chance confronted Walter. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting away with it that easily. For once, tell me straight out.”
“Ain’t my place.”
“Sure the hell is if you were granddad’s friend.” He emphasized the last word.
“That’s why I should shut my trap now and keep it shut.”
Blowing out a breath, he asked, “Does this have anything to do with him and Mrs. Warfield being married once?”
Walter dropped the mug he held. The shattering glass rent the air, shards spraying in the wash sink. Walter’s face went pale and slack as he looked into Chance’s reflection. His mouth opened and closed twice before he got out, “How did you…”
Chance nodded over his shoulder. “Tessa and I found the papers in the safe.”
“She knows?”
He nodded grimly. “Is that what this feud is all about?”
Wiping his hands on his apron, Walter said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He went to leave.
Sticking out his hand, Chance forestalled his exit. “No way, old man. Come on, fess up.”
He must have seen the determination in Chance’s face; he stopped trying to move. “Oh all right, but it ain’t pretty and you’re not going to like it.”
“I figured that much.”
Five minutes later, sitting at a back table with no one else in the bar, Walter took a great gulp of beer, and then licked the froth from his lips. Chance’s middle was in a knot and the longer he waited the worse it got. He sipped his cola, hoping what he was about to hear wouldn’t make him sick to his stomach.
He looked intently at the older man, noting the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “Go on,” he coaxed, trying to hold back his impatience.
“Well…I don’t know everything ’cause I wasn’t there, mind you. I just know what Gabe told me over the years whenever he got drunk and spilled his guts.” He swallowed another mouthful of brew. “Back then he was a lot like you were, cocky and wild, and he charmed all the girls. But there was one girl who wouldn’t fall for it.”
“Granny Warfield.”
“You got that right. Apparently, he pursued her and did the unexpected, he fell in love with her.”
It felt like a mule kicked Chance in the gut. That must have been what Father Tom meant that night about his granddad letting someone go. “And?”
“They were as different as night and day. She was so serious and bookish while he was a hell raiser. He didn’t let that stop him, though. He wanted her bad, so it seems. And she wouldn’t hop in bed with him or anyone else unless she was married. So, he proposed and they eloped.” He shrugged it off. “Your gran even stood up for them being Warfield’s best friend and all. Hell, there were pictures of the three of them all chummy and smiling, but your gran tore them up.”
Chance nearly groaned at that. “The pictures.” He remembered the day he and Tessa had found them and the time he tried to ask his grandmother about them. Getting back to Walter, he asked, “He realized the error of his ways, right?”
“Yep. It wasn’t too long after that the differences really came out and she grew less understanding.”
Grabbing for his cola, Chance took a long drink.
“But once she found out she was expecting—”
Chance slammed down his drink and nearly choked. He coughed as the bubbles went down the wrong way. “Expecting?” he gasped. “God, Walter, you can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. He freaked out, as your generation would say, and left her. He couldn’t handle the responsibility at the time. That’s when he took up with your gran.”
Sitting up straight, he asked, “What?”
“She was there for him when Warfield tuned him out. She’d listen to him and basically let him run around as much as he wanted. He needed that then and she waited patiently, knowing he’d come back to her since she knew all his secrets yet still loved him.”
“Whereas Granny Warfield never let him forget.” Chance seemed to sum it all up as Walter nodded. He held his breath, but he had to ask the question. “The baby?”
“Died. She miscarried.”
A knife-like pain sliced through Chance’s heart at that. H
e’d only found out about his son, yet somehow felt a certain connection to the pain she must have suffered. He shouldn’t feel anything for someone who ripped a child, his child, from his own mother. But he did. He felt empathy. The loss still hadn’t sunk all the way in yet, but he figured it would soon enough. And he couldn’t share that with Tessa.
Something probed at his mind, the memory of Granny Warfield balling her eyes out that first night he’d mentioned Tessa wanting a baby. She must have been crying for her own, right? Or, maybe, she did have a heart after all and cried for his and Tessa’s son and what she’d done.
He barely caught Walter’s next words for all the thoughts whirling around in his head.
“…when your dad started in with Tessa’s mom, well, all the old wounds came back ten-fold.”
“What did you say?” There was a buzz in his ears.
Walter slugged down the last of his beer, and then poured himself another from the pitcher near his hand. “I didn’t think you knew about that.” He heaved a great, big sigh. “Your daddy didn’t die the way they said.”
His blood ran cold. “What do you mean? He got drunk one night and froze on the railroad tracks.”
“Not exactly. Granny Warfield, as you call her, discovered her daughter-in-law, Tessa’s mother, having an affair with your daddy. She couldn’t stand it and told her son. He went berserk and hunted them down. He found them at that little cabin near the tracks, you know where it is.”
He nodded numbly.
“He killed her, shot your daddy in the chest, and then he turned the gun on himself. Your daddy stumbled out and eventually landed on the tracks. He’d been drinking, so it was a good story to stick to and try to cover up the scandal.”
Bile rose in his throat and Chance had all he could do to force it back down again. Shock reverberated through his body. “And my mom?”
“She was sick about it. She took off right after and left you with your grandparents, drinking herself to death, so they say.” He shrugged again.
Chance dragged a hand down his face, shaking from it all. He put the pieces in place and came up with the rest of what he knew. Tessa’s grandfather walked out because of granny’s part in it all and having a hand in killing their son. And poor, sweet Tessa paid dearly for all the sins of her elders.
Lies of the Heart (Heart Romance #3) Page 21
