But he couldn’t let these stand uncontested.
“My daughter will be breathtaking in her beauty, just like her mother,” he said in an unyielding voice. “And whatever size she is will be the exact size she’s meant to be. Also, for the record, though it’s none of your business, I quite like the looks of Anna’s hips.”
“I figured as much,” Zeke said in his typical bluntness. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be a baby in the making, now would there?”
The quiet chattering from the next room dipped in volume, causing Logan to flinch. He was sure that every word spoken in here had been heard out there. Standing, he closed the door and gave his grandfather an even, don’t-argue-with-me stare. Sitting back down, he said, “It’s Christmas Eve and we have a tree to trim, so let’s go do that instead of talking about my wife’s hips or the probable appearance of my daughter.”
His granddad’s brown, almost black eyes narrowed, and his lips flattened into an annoyed-verging-on-ticked-off grimace. What, precisely, had fueled Zeke’s temper, Logan couldn’t say, but it was plain that the old man was raring up to go on a tear.
“Wife? By legal terms, I suppose, but not by any other.” Scraping his callused, wrinkled and thick-fingered hands through his coal-black hair, Zeke frowned. “In my book, the word wife is sacred and is about what’s in the heart and has zip to do with legal mumbo jumbo.”
“My marriage is not up for discussion,” Logan said as calmly, as matter-of-factly, as possible. “I respect your opinion, but—”
“Well, then you just listen, because I have a few words you oughta hear,” Zeke said. “Going into a marriage with the divorce already decided upon is about the most cockamamy setup I’ve ever been witness to, but I stood in support. For the sake of family.”
“And I appreciate that, Granddad.”
“Now, though, you’ve brought your bride home for the holidays, you’re sharing a bed and holding hands, and the two of you are acting like newlyweds. So you can understand, based on what you told us this marriage is, why we’re all confused.”
Logan let out a long sigh. Yeah, it was easy to see why his grandfather was so up in arms, why he’d decided to delve into this particular topic.
“None of us know how to treat her,” his grandfather continued, “since you haven’t informed us if your arrangement has changed.” Zeke’s body tensed and his complexion reddened. “So, you tell me. Is she family? Or is that neat and tidy divorce still on the books?”
And Logan did not know how to answer these questions. At all. So he did the best he could, saying, “As the mother of your great-granddaughter, she’s family, regardless of the state of my marriage. Treat her with kindness and consideration, for that reason alone.”
“You’re avoiding the real question.” Scowling, Zeke reached into his desk drawer and, after some finagling, pulled out a cigar. Damn it. The old man was not supposed to smoke. “I don’t think you have a clue as to what you’re doing. But you better figure it out, son, real soon.”
“I’m trying. And put down that cigar before Grandma decides to come in here and sees you.”
“I’m a grown man and I’m allowed to smoke if I want to smoke,” Zeke said with another glower. “And don’t bother reminding me that my clock’s ticking down fast, as every member of this family is apt to do. When will you all learn that scare tactics don’t have any effect?”
“We’re not trying to scare you,” Logan said, doing his best to remain calm. “And you know darn well that we’re not counting down the days to your demise.”
“Seems to me that what a person says and what a person means don’t always align.” Zeke pushed stacks of files and papers around on his desk before finding the Zippo lighter he’d used for as long as Logan could remember. “Also seems that you’re saying a whole lot of nonsense about your marriage, but the way you’re acting is saying something entirely different.”
“It’s a complex situation.” Ignoring the lighter, Logan leaned forward and grabbed the cigar from his grandfather’s grasp, which he then snapped in half. He dropped the pieces in the trash. “But keeping you healthy shouldn’t be complex. You need to start taking care of yourself.”
“I know how damn old I am and that I’m... What’s that term your grandmother uses?” Zeke’s forehead creased in thought. “Twilight, that’s it! I am well aware that I’m in the twilight era of my life, so I figure that gives me the right to act however I please.”
“That’s a load of bullhockey.”
“It most certainly is not!”
“It is when it comes to your health.”
“Why bother trying now?” Zeke asked. “Anything I do or don’t do won’t change much of whatever time I have left. But Logan, you have time on your side and a pretty wife who is having your baby. If you ask me, you should give this marriage an honest go at being real.”
“I’m...considering doing just that, but again, my relationship is not up for discussion.”
“Fine. Be that way.” Zeke nodded toward the trash can. “You know, don’t you, that I got plenty more cigars where that came from, and that you can’t always be here to watchdog me?”
“Oh, I have no doubt that you have more cigars tucked away, and nope, I can’t watchdog you all the time,” Logan said with a sigh. “But I shouldn’t have to.”
“Then stop asking too much of me. Leave me to my own devices.”
“I can’t.” Mostly due to his own high level of aggravation, he bit the bullet and said, “Consider the gaping void you’ll leave behind when you die. And how maybe, just maybe, by putting a little care and attention toward yourself, you could extend that horrible reality by a year or two or ten. Stop planning your funeral, Granddad. It’s depressing as hell.”
“Didn’t say I was dying today, now did I? And even if I—”
“We count on you. You don’t even know how much.” Logan shook his head, trying to find the words to express a sentiment that lived in his heart but he’d never pulled apart to look at. “I’d like my daughter to know you. The man who raised me, protected me, guided me and taught me every important lesson I’ve ever learned. How is that too much to ask?”
Zeke blinked once, twice, and all of his fired-up energy fizzled into nothingness. “Why’d you have to do that?” he asked, his tone thick. “Why’d you have to go and say that?”
“Because I need you to be here, and there’s a little girl waiting to be born who needs to hear the stories that only you can tell, who needs to sit on your lap while you show her the stars and who needs to know—down to the marrow in her bones—what this land means to this family.” Logan shrugged. “I don’t know if anyone but you can really teach her that, Granddad.”
Silence, the deafening sort, swallowed the room like a big, hungry wolf. He might have said too much, but he did not regret his words. It was beyond time they’d had this conversation, though Logan had not realized all he’d bottled up until he popped off the cork.
This man, despite his unedited, brash remarks, growly attitude and insistence that the only right way to do anything—large or small—was his way, was the most important man in Logan’s life. And he couldn’t imagine a world that didn’t include Zeke Cordero.
Another type of quiet fell. One that resonated with...well, hope? Might have been.
“You about done with the sappy emotional speeches?” Zeke asked. “Or is there more you’re angling to get out before I have my say?”
“Nope. I’m done. But I thought you’d been having your say all along.”
“I was just fussing, really.” Zeke thrummed his fingers on the surface of his desk and lowered the volume of his voice a notch. “Now see, it’s like this. Giving up my cigars isn’t the real issue, though I’m not gonna lie and say I’m overly fond of that plan.”
“Oh, you’ve made that clear,” Logan said. “Abund
antly so. But if that isn’t the heart of the issue, how about sharing what is?”
“I’m trying, aren’t I?” Frustrated, Zeke swiveled in his chair and pointed to a framed photograph that had hung on the wall for years. It was of Zeke and Rosalie on their wedding day. “See that man? He was strong, had youth on his side and could go for days without sleep, if necessity demanded. And now my body tires earlier every night, my bones hurt if the wind blows too hard, and looking in the mirror and seeing an old, worn-out man looking back?”
“Granddad—”
“I’m not done. It’s shocking, is what it is, seeing my reflection, realizing how I look to everyone else, because inside—” Zeke pounded on his chest “—I’m still that man in the photo. Inside, I haven’t changed a lick. I’m still young and strong and bullheaded, ready to tackle life. And out of those three, there’s only one—one!—I can hold on to.”
Ah. Yeah, he got it. “Your bullheadedness.”
“That’s right, because youth and strength are not in my control. I can’t do a damn thing about my body changing, growing older and weaker. So I gotta hold on to something, Logan.”
“How about holding on to us, your family? Besides which, no one says you have to stop being a crotchety, cantankerous, old-style cowboy. Just... I don’t know...choose areas other than your health.” Logan grinned, realizing he’d just given his grandfather permission to complain about every last thing under the sun, supposing that thing wasn’t about ignoring his health. “You’ll live longer, be around longer to keep all of us in our places.”
Zeke’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Annoys me greatly how there are times you’re a whole lot smarter than I am. Sitting right next to that annoyance, though, is pride.”
“Well, you’re to blame for both.” Logan spoke lightly, but he was humbled by his grandfather’s words. “I wouldn’t be near as smart without you in my life. And in this area, it really boils down to having a different view. I can see the truth easier, is all.”
“I guess that makes some sense.” Then, with a short, quick nod, he opened his desk drawer and yanked out the small, antique humidor that had once belonged to his father. “I love a good cigar, but I reckon I’ll love my great-granddaughter a considerable amount more. So, here—” Zeke passed the beloved mahogany box to Logan “—take them.”
“You can’t get rid of the humidor,” Logan said, running his hands over the smooth grain of the wood. “It was your dad’s. Just dump the cigars and use this for something else.”
“I can’t keep it,” Zeke admitted. “I’ll just have this real deep need to fill it with more cigars. Maybe...maybe turn it into a jewelry box for your baby girl. With some type of engraving so she knows it came from me. Have it say something special.”
“Okay. I can do that. Thank you.” Logan blinked to eradicate the watery feeling in his eyes and swallowed to diffuse the thickness in his throat. “You... Ah, what about your meds?”
Rolling his eyes, which also appeared suspiciously damp, Zeke said, “There you go, moving on without a breath in between. Sure. I’ll take the meds, too.”
Huh. That had been easy. “That only leaves your diet. Mom said your cholesterol hasn’t dropped any, and that you’re ignoring the advice from your nutritionist, so maybe—”
“Don’t you start in on my diet!” In a snap, Zeke’s bluster returned, and for that, Logan was infinitely relieved. “I’m a beef man, through and through. Nope. No way. I’m not caving on this one, Logan. I refuse to start eating like a...a persnickety, floppy-eared, bug-eyed rabbit. Might as well wipe that thought clean from your head, because it is not happening.”
And there they were, back on solid, familiar ground. Grinning, Logan held up a hand in surrender. “We’ve made a lot of progress for one day, so we can save that topic for down the road some, once you’ve adjusted to these other lifestyle changes.”
“Sure,” Zeke said with a wider grin than Logan’s. “I’ll have that conversation with you, just as soon as you’re ready to admit that you’re falling in love with your wife!”
Chapter Nine
Christmas Eve afternoon passed in a blur of food, tree trimming and numerous introductions to the rest of Logan’s vast family. There were his uncles and their wives: Amos and Glory, who had three sons and one daughter; Micah and Tess, who had three sons; and Eli and Sunny, who had one daughter. Add in Logan, and that totaled nine grandchildren whom Zeke and Rosalie had been blessed with. But Anna’s daughter would be their first great-grandchild.
Astonishing, really, as none of the cousins seemed that spread apart in age. As the eldest, Logan was twenty-nine, and from what she could tell, the youngest was likely in her early twenties. Eight years—max—separated the first-born from the last-born, with the rest dotted in between. So, to think that all of them were still single sort of boggled the mind. Especially since not a one of them was hurting in the good-looks department.
Right now, the living room—or as Carla continually called it, the great room—was filled with bodies sitting, standing, talking and laughing, and oh, was Anna enjoying herself. The loud, rambunctious feeling of family surrounded her, offering her comfort in being one of the crowd.
Though the Cordero family made for a heck of a lot of names and faces to keep track of, she wanted to be able to recall what name belonged with what face. These people would represent a sizable portion of her daughter’s life and would offer a different experience from the one she’d have with Aunt Lola, who was Anna’s only close family member.
So Anna decided to play a mental game of sorts and see if she could, without any help from Carla—who was seated next to her on the long leather sofa—bring to mind the names of each of the many cousins Logan had introduced her to.
Three of the men were standing near the fireplace, involved in what appeared to be an intense discussion. Anna decided to start with them. The tallest of the trio, a man with blacker-than-midnight hair, was Reese, and she thought he was the oldest son of Micah and Tess. Right next to him stood his brother Avery. Rounding out the group was... Gideon?
Yes. Amos and Glory were his parents. So far, so good.
On the other side of the room, talking to Rosalie, were the two female cousins, Maisie and Saige. The problem she encountered here was deciding which name went with which woman. Was Maisie the brunette, who wore her hair in Laura Ingalls braids, or the strawberry blonde, who looked runway ready with her long, styled hair and glossy makeup?
Ugh. Anna didn’t know.
Moving on, she searched for the three remaining Cordero cowboys and found one of them roughhousing with the trio of dogs that lived in the house. As the solitary blond man in the room, he stood out, and she easily recalled his name was Paxton. He was Gideon’s brother, and...geez, one of the women’s, as well. Maybe the strawberry blonde’s? Maybe.
Finding the last two took zero effort, as they were with Logan and Zeke, and the four men’s combined voices, all robust and deep, carried easily through the room. Again, she knew the correct names. The problem was matching them to the correct man. She thought it was Blaze sitting directly next to Logan, while the other man—who greatly resembled Logan—was Zane.
And...that was the entire crew. Anna gave herself a virtual pat on the back, pleased she’d done as well as she had. Later, she’d ask Logan if it was Maisie or Saige who’d worn her hair in braids and if she’d guessed correctly in identifying Blaze and Zane.
Yawning, tired and drained, she considered calling it a night and heading upstairs, sure that no one would think less of her, but...well, she wasn’t entirely certain if she would ever return to this house, and she hated losing even a minute of this day to sleep.
“Tired?” Carla asked, apparently noticing Anna’s yawn. “Of course you are! You’ve been going since early this morning, and you’re six months pregnant. When I was carrying Logan, I couldn’t
get enough sleep. I napped constantly toward the end.”
Slowly, throughout the day, Carla’s behavior toward Anna had grown warmer, more welcoming, and she’d started dropping a few questions here and there, while offering something personal about herself, Logan or other members of the family. Anna had come to the conclusion that she liked Logan’s mother, and she hoped the woman liked her back.
“A little tired, yes, but I’m content. It’s good to have this opportunity to get to know Logan’s family,” Anna said. “It’s good to get to know you, Carla.”
“I agree. I meant to be at the wedding. I’m sorry I wasn’t.” Carla stole a glance across the room, where Zeke was sitting. “Dad was ill, and he can be a little hard to manage on the best of days. Mom was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle him. I felt I was needed here.”
“I understand, and honestly, I was a nervous wreck,” Anna admitted, surprising herself. She hadn’t meant to say the words, really. They just...sort of came out. “I think it all hit me then, how fast we reached the decision and moved forward.”
“Do you regret marrying my son?”
“I... No, I don’t. In my heart, I believe we made the right decision.”
“I’m beginning to believe that, too.” And then, before Anna could reply, Carla continued by saying, “My son watches you, Anna. I noticed right off. He...searches the room and locates you, and this relaxed smile touches his lips. It’s as if he needs the assurance that you’re nearby. That you’re safe and sound. I find that interesting. Are you aware he does this?”
“Um. No, I’m not,” Anna said, shocked and...well, pleased by this information. And her hope climbed another inch or two...or twenty. “Or I wasn’t, until just now.”
Rock-a-Bye Bride Page 13
