Whether he wanted her gratitude or not, he had it.
And a whole lot more.
* * *
Tyler leaned against the barn door, watching Lucy and his cousin Charley play with the kittens they'd rounded up. They sat on bales of hay pushed together, the soles of Lucy's sneakers pressed against Charley's bare feet, making a diamond-shaped corral for the kittens. The animals could have easily escaped, but they liked the attention too much to wander away.
"You don't have to watch over them. They're not going to get into trouble here."
He glanced at Rebecca as she sauntered toward him. "I know. But her mother gets antsy."
"She needs to realize she's not in Chicago anymore."
"I think she's probably figured it out," he said drily. "You abandon her to the old women's mercy?"
"Hey, you're the one who ran out first. I've never seen you leave a kitchen so fast."
He didn't comment but gazed toward the house. An assortment of tables and chairs were spread across the backyard, about half of them occupied by the male members of the Morris family. The women cooked while the men talked and made a stab at watching the kids, the women served while the men ate and the women cleaned up while the men talked. He would call them traditional. Jayne probably saw them as sexist.
"I was surprised you brought them," Rebecca remarked.
"Her folks left today. Lucy was crying and her mother looked like she was about to start, so…" He finished with a shrug.
"Aw, come on." She poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "Admit it. You wanted to bring them."
"Lucy had never been to a farm before—"
She poked him again, harder this time. "You wanted to bring them. You like spending time with them. There's nothing wrong with that, Bubba. Just admit it."
He bent to pluck a piece of straw from the nearest hay bale, then ran it between his fingers. What good was admitting it when he would also have to admit that nothing could come of it? Living alone was hard enough without wanting something he couldn't have.
"What happened with Angela—"
He stiffened and turned away, striding into the barn, but Rebecca followed him. "Damn it, Tyler, it was a long time ago! It was a freak thing—and I'll bet you money it was her fault. You can't—"
"Her fault? How can you say that?"
She folded her arms stubbornly across her middle. "Because I knew her. She was a whiny, selfish, demanding little bitch. I can't count how many times I wanted to snatch her bald and tell her to grow up." Then her voice softened. "And because I know you. You're not like him. You're not."
He leaned toward her and said stiffly, "Only because I work at it. Because I stay in control. Because I keep people at a distance. All people. I know how I have to live. What I have to do. What I can and can't have."
Rebecca glowered at him. "That's bull."
"Great. Now I'm getting advice from the queen of broken hearts." He glowered right back. "Your life is as much a wreck as mine, just in a different way. You want to fix somebody, fix yourself."
They were staring heatedly at each other when a small voice broke the silence. "T-Tyler?"
He turned to find Lucy standing just inside the door, looking confused. "Th-the bell's ringing."
Filtering through the angry hum in his brain came the sound of the old school bell, mounted on a post near the back door. Years ago it had routinely been used to call the men in from the fields. These days it rang only on Sundays, to summon the children from wherever they played.
He glanced back at Rebecca, still scowling at him. He wanted to say something—I'm sorry. Mind your own business. Leave me alone. But he walked away without a word for her. "Come on, Lucky girl. That means dinner is ready. Are you hungry?"
She fell into step with him. "Mom says I'm always hungry. After we eat, can you show me the creek? And can I sit on the tractor? Maybe we'll catch a fish and you can have it for dinner with us. Or maybe you'll let me drive the tractor. Do you think you'd let me do that? If I say please and I'm really, really good?"
He glanced back at the barn, where Rebecca was barely visible in the doorway. She thought because they'd grown up together, because they'd gone through the trauma of life with Del, that they had come through it the same. But she wasn't the one everyone had deemed a risk. She wasn't the one they'd watched, expecting the worst.
And Jayne didn't even know what "worst" to expect. Though she would find out the sorry truth about his family before long. If Rebecca didn't tell her, someone else would. Watch out for that neighbor of yours. Del Lewis used to beat his wife something fierce, until finally she stabbed him right in the heart. And that boy, Tyler, he's just like his daddy. Hot-tempered and angry. Never seen anyone angrier than him.
Fourteen years ago the angry part had been true. He'd been filled with rage against his father, his mother, the police, the courts, himself. He'd gone to bed every night, praying to wake up in a different world, in a different life, but nothing had ever changed.
Until Angela.
He'd been more inexperienced than any man of twenty-one should ever be. He hadn't dated in high school. Just getting through the day had required all his energy.
Angela had come to town for a teaching job. Just out of college, she hadn't known his story at first, and when she'd heard it, she hadn't cared. Other people hadn't cared—the Adamses, the Ryans—but she had been different. He'd been dazzled by her, had fallen for her, had even found himself thinking about marrying her—
He drew up abruptly, inches from Jayne as she turned from setting a dish of deviled eggs on a table. He stared at her and she looked back, her brown gaze warm and friendly. That quickly, he couldn't call Angela's face to mind. Her hair had been blond, her eyes blue, her smile practiced, but he couldn't turn those details into an image. For years she'd haunted him … and for that moment she was gone.
"Hi," Jayne greeted before dropping her gaze to her daughter. "Hey, sweetie, did you see the kittens and the goats?"
"Yeah. One of those goats tried to eat my shirt and it chewed on my hair. See?" Lucy gathered up a handful of it. "It's got goat slobber on it."
"Eww. Why don't you run inside and get washed up?" Jayne watched her go, then turned her attention back to Tyler. "Are we supposed to segregate to eat?"
He glanced around. Most of the men were seated together, though a few of his younger male cousins were settling in with their families. "We can sit wherever."
Hilda paused on her way past. "Oh, we saved you a table. Right over there."
They both looked to see a card table set for two in the shade of an old oak, the floral sheet serving as a cloth fluttering in the light breeze. It was far enough away from the others that their conversation would be private—provided they had any.
Jayne was grinning when she looked back at him. "Your family is so subtle. They did everything but check my teeth and look to see if I had childbearing hips."
Heat rushed into his face. "We don't have to…"
"And disappoint the old ladies?"
Would she be disappointed if he refused to sit alone with her? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. And truth was, he wouldn't be any more uncomfortable alone with her than he would be with his family and her. As she'd pointed out, they weren't exactly subtle.
"It's okay," he said with a shrug as his grandmother called for attention from the back steps.
"Everyone bow your heads. Bertrice, you want to do the honors?"
Tyler obediently ducked his head and closed his eyes. For a moment the silence was heavy, with nothing but birdsong in the distance. Then Bertrice's strong voice broke it. "Dear Heavenly Father…"
He'd been raised to pray before every meal, every night before bed and any other time there was a need, and he'd done it for years before he'd finally realized how few of his prayers were ever answered. He had no doubt there was a God; it just seemed that He, like so many others, thought it best to keep His distance from Tyler. Now he bowed his head and remained quiet, but he did
n't pray—didn't even listen to the others' prayers. There just wasn't any point to it.
Once Bertrice's Amen had been followed by a chorus from most of the adults, his grandfather clapped his hands. "Fill your plates and dig in!"
Tyler moved back out of the way and watched. The old men went first, followed by the children, the younger ones helped by mothers or aunts. Jayne walked along the table with Lucy, whose eyes were wide at the array of food displayed before her. Once her plate was full, she squeezed in at the picnic table scaled down to kid size with a half dozen of his cousins, looking as if she'd known them forever.
Jayne came back to stand beside him. "You have a nice family. Do they all live in Sweetwater?"
"No. My grandparents and my family are the only ones who live here, though the rest are still in the county."
"They're nice," she repeated. "And this is a nice tradition."
"Everything today is just nice, isn't it?"
She looked at him as if she didn't quite know how to respond, then settled for a subdued smile. "Including, no matter how you fight against it, you." Without waiting for a response, she joined Rebecca at the end of the line and picked up a foam plate, plastic utensils and napkins.
"How old is she?"
It took Tyler a moment to pull his gaze from Jayne and to look at his brother, Aaron, hands shoved in his hip pockets, definite interest in his eyes. "Too old for you."
"I don't know. I'm pretty open-minded. I figure I could go up to … oh, I don't know, ten years older. You're not even that."
"Sorry. You're not my type."
"No one is." Aaron spoke matter-of-factly, which gave his words an added punch. When his kid brother thought he was hopeless… "So how old is she?"
"You have to ask her."
"You don't know, huh? That's okay. I'll find out. How long has she been divorced?"
Several years longer emotionally than legally, Tyler thought. "What does it matter?"
Aaron's grin was cocky. "Well, if she's on the rebound, she won't be as picky about the guy she hooks up with."
She hadn't been picky enough in the first place or she never would have married Greg Miller. She wouldn't make that mistake again, especially with a daughter to think of.
"You going to introduce me or do I have to do it myself?"
"Do it yourself," Tyler said. "But don't bother her while she's eating." Thanks to his great-aunts' meddling, that was his job.
He was surprised to realize, as he moved into line behind Jayne, that he really did mean thanks to his great-aunts.
* * *
Jayne stretched out on a quilt in the dappled shade of a maple, her sandals kicked off, her head resting on one fist. She'd eaten her fill of wonderful home cooking, including a sampling of desserts she didn't need, and had offered her help with the cleanup, but the great-aunts had declined. Instead they'd rounded up all the teenagers, male and female alike, and were supervising their work in the kitchen. She'd been surprised by the departure from tradition.
"You look too comfortable."
She smiled up at Rebecca, carrying a sleeping baby. When she patted the quilt, the woman sat down, then settled the baby between them. "She's adorable," Jayne said, gently touching the bib of the baby's pink overalls.
"He, actually," Rebecca corrected. "Hand-me-downs. He's the only boy in a family with three girls. Fortunately by the time each girl turned about two, they started wearing pretty much unisex clothes, so he won't be scarred for life."
Jayne touched her fingertip to the baby's hand, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around hers. His mouth worked for a moment on an imaginary bottle, then he settled into a soft, whispery snore. "This must have been a great place to grow up."
"Greater for some than others," Rebecca replied with a hint of bitterness, then she shrugged. "It was okay. A little crowded but okay."
Jayne could see the house hadn't been built for three adults and five children. It didn't look as if it could possibly have more than two bedrooms, and small ones at that. "Did you have a hard time adjusting to small-town living?"
"No. But I had a real hard time adjusting to not having my mom." Rebecca's mouth tightened and she quickly went on. "What about you? Missing Starbucks and the mall and the big-city social life?"
Where was your mother? Jayne wanted to ask. Why didn't she move here with you? But she knew avoidance when she saw it, so she kept the questions inside. "I like plain coffee, I'm not a big shopper and I had no social life. But I do miss some of the conveniences—the all-night grocery stores. The bookstores. The variety of restaurants. I've enjoyed every meal I've had at your place," she continued hastily. "But sometimes I get a craving for Thai or sushi or Vietnamese."
Rebecca made a wry face. "If you'd said Mexican or Italian, I could probably help you out. But I'm pretty sure Thai, sushi and Vietnamese aren't in my cook's repertoire."
"I can always make an occasional eating trip into Nashville or Atlanta."
"So a week and a half here hasn't convinced you that you made a mistake?"
"No. Exactly the opposite, in fact."
Rebecca gave her a sidelong glance. "Does my brother have anything to do with that?"
Automatically Jayne's gaze shifted to Tyler, leaning against a board fence at the edge of the yard, listening to his mother. She hadn't been watching him. He'd left the table to push Lucy on the swing, and then had taken her to the barn to climb over the tractor. She'd been tracking her daughter's movements, not his.
Though at that moment she couldn't say where Lucy was, while she'd known exactly where Tyler was.
"Wow. When it takes that long to answer a question…"
Jayne blinked before focusing on Rebecca. "What? Oh—"
"Never mind," Rebecca said. "I think I figured out the answer."
Figuring a change of subject was in order, Jayne eased her finger free of the baby's grip, then gently stroked his chubby arm. "Do you want kids?"
"Sometimes. Other times I think I'd make a great aunt or godmother. What about you? Is Lucy enough or do you want more?"
"Yes," Jayne replied with a laugh. "She's a handful. But I'd like to have a couple more. I'm an only child and I always envied people like you."
"You can have all four of my brothers," Rebecca said, then drily added, "In one way or another."
Just the thought of all the ways she could "have" Tyler raised Jayne's temperature. "I just think it's kind of lonely for an only. I had cousins that I saw all the time, but it wasn't the same. I wanted a brother or sister to be part of my family and I want Lucy to have that, too."
"What if the next man you marry—"
"The last man," Jayne interrupted. This divorce might not have left her brokenhearted, but she was not going to be a two-time loser.
"—doesn't want children?"
Was she hinting that Tyler didn't? As Lucy ran over to climb the fence and grin up at him, Jayne thought she'd never known a man besides her dad to whom playing a paternal role came more naturally. Sure, it had taken Tyler a little time to warm up to Lucy, but no one watching them now would suspect that he might not like or want children.
After talking with Lucy for a moment, Tyler said something to his mother, then pushed away from the fence. Carrie smiled indulgently as Lucy jumped down and strode alongside him, coming across the lawn toward them.
Abruptly Jayne turned her gaze back to Rebecca. "I guess that's something we'd have to deal with. I'm great at compromise. It was the only way my marriage to Greg lasted as long as it did."
Tyler and Lucy stopped at the edge of the quilt. "He's a fat baby," Lucy announced.
"How do you know he's a boy?" Jayne asked. "He's wearing pink."
"He looks like a boy, Mom. Sheesh." After an exaggerated shake of her head, Lucy said, "Tyler an' me are going wading in the creek. Wanna come?"
She was debating it when Rebecca gave her a sly look. "You ever been wading, city girl?"
"Of course I have. There was a fountain in the park down
the street from my parents' house and—"
Rebecca snorted, and a faint look of amusement came into Tyler's gaze. "A fountain … that's not wading. That's only a step above getting into the bathtub barefoot. Wading has to be done in natural bodies of water—creeks, lakes, rivers, oceans—"
"Mud puddles," Lucy offered helpfully.
"And mud puddles," Rebecca repeated with a wink for her. "Fountains don't count. Go on. See what you've been missing."
Jayne got to her feet, stepped into the sandals she'd kicked off earlier and gave Rebecca a smug smile before following Lucy away. They walked along the fence, past the barn and a short distance along a barbed-wire fence. Stopping, Tyler lifted a wire loop from a fence post, then swung back what she'd thought was merely another section of fence. She walked through the gate, then stopped suddenly. "There are cows in this field."
"It's a pasture, and they won't hurt you."
"Are you sure? I'm wearing sandals."
Tyler gave first her leather shoes, then her an odd look. "Do you think they're going to recognize the hide of some distant relative and want revenge?"
She felt like mimicking Lucy's exaggerated head-shake. "I mean, they're not made for running."
"Why would you want to run?" He secured the gate once more before facing her. "If there was a bull in here, you'd have reason to worry. But I wouldn't take you in a pasture with a bull. As long as you don't bother the cows, they're not going to bother you."
"Just be careful not to step in cow poop, Mom," Lucy said as she set off across the pasture, her stride long and sure.
As Jayne followed her, Tyler fell into step with her. "Next time you go to a farm, wear real shoes."
"Thank you for that advice I could have used before we left the house."
SOMEBODY'S HERO Page 11
