by Amy Lillard
Yeah, smart guy. What are you going to do when she goes back to Georgia?
He was going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening. He pushed that thought away and sat on one of the patio couches, pulling Bryn down next to him.
“Are you okay?” Bryn asked.
“I’m fine.” His mother waved the question away with one flick of a hand. “Just tired.”
Jake’s attention jerked back to his mother once again. It seemed as though whenever Bryn was around, she was all he could think about. But his mother . . . she did look tired. But that wasn’t quite the point. She admitted the weakness and that was what surprised him.
“If you need to go lay down . . . ,” he started.
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. By the way,” his mother started, “I’m leaving for Houston tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Bryn asked. “You’ve been traveling a lot lately.”
“What’s in Houston? A horse show?” Jake asked.
“Of course.” His mother’s tone suggested that clearly nothing else would take her to Houston.
“I agree with Bryn. You sure you’re up for this?”
“I’ve already committed to going. I’ll sleep on the plane.”
“Not driving?” Jake asked. “What if you find something you want to buy? Don’t you want to have a trailer there?”
She gave a delicate shrug. “I’ll either rent one or come back and get it. So much easier and quicker to fly out there. That way I’ll be here for the rest of Bryn’s visit.”
If Jake had anything to say about it, Bryn’s visit would never end. But until he got her to commit to staying, he knew the possibility of her going back to Georgia was always in the air.
• • •
All through supper, Bryn watched Evelyn. Something was up. But she didn’t know what. There was something haunting in the look around her eyes. But Bryn couldn’t place why it looked so familiar.
“And then Denny Anderson sat down right next to him and wouldn’t let him get up until he apologized to Ruby,” Wesley said, relating the story of her bus riding adventures. “Can we make cookies?”
“Tater, I think Grandma Esther is tired. She’s not going to want to make cookies this late. Not after making all these tacos for you.”
“I’ll make cookies with you,” Bryn said.
Jake shook his head. “You’ve got to be tired too.”
“I feel wonderful actually. But thanks for asking.” She turned to Wesley. “What kind of cookies do you want to bake?”
“Chocolate chip is my favorite.”
“Mine too.”
“Only one problem though. We have to make sure we have chocolate chips.”
“I’ll go see.” Wesley pushed back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor.
“Stay right where you are, Miss Tater,” Jake said. “Finish your dinner before you go anywhere.”
“We can check in a bit,” Bryn said. “Now mind your daddy and eat supper.”
The words spilled from her mouth so naturally that Bryn almost didn’t recognize them for what they were. Motherly advice. She had fallen back into mothering so very easily. She had wondered how much of it was the twins and her hormone levels, but it seemed so natural to back up Jake’s statement with Wesley.
She shook her head at herself. She didn’t need to be mothering Wesley. As much as she cared for the child, loved her even, Bryn had to go home soon. She might come back from time to time to visit with the twins, especially when they were smaller, but there would come a time when Wesley would probably not be a part of her life. The thought made her so incredibly sad that tears sprang into her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Jake asked.
“I just got some pepper in my eye.” But it was a lie, and they both knew it.
• • •
Jake had no more than taken his last bite of supper when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket knowing it couldn’t be good news. Joe Dan had a problem in the south pasture. Something had gotten ahold of one of the cows. Most probably a coyote. They needed him to come down and take a look at it.
So Jake hopped on the four-wheeler and headed out to find Joe Dan and the injured calf.
It was completely dark by the time he got back to the house. He parked his four-wheeler in the equipment barn and started for the back porch. He could see them through the window as he approached the house. His daughter and this woman who had come to mean so much to him these last couple of weeks. Strange, but he could count the days since he couldn’t remember her name and now he wasn’t certain what he was going to do when she left.
He stopped and watched them. Someone had opened the big French doors, and the smell of peanut butter cookies wafted out to him. On the air with that delicious aroma was the sound of ’70s rock ’n’ roll from the oldies station. Aerosmith sang about sweet emotion as Bryn slid another batch of cookies into the oven.
“I want to eat one now,” Wesley said.
“They’re still too hot,” Bryn warned. “Let them cool a bit more and we can eat one in a minute with a big glass of milk, okay?”
“What do we do while they cool?” Wesley asked. Jake could hear the whine in her voice. “This part of baking cookies is no fun.”
“Au contraire,” Bryn said.
“What does that mean?” Wesley asked.
“It’s French,” Bryn explained. “It means ‘on the contrary.’”
“I don’t think I know what that means either,” Wesley said.
Bryn laughed and the sound carried to him and made him think of a spring breeze across the meadow. Maybe he was losing his mind. Or perhaps he should go to the doctor. He’d never had such thoughts about anything in his life.
“It means that it can be the most fun time while baking cookies if you make it that way.”
Wesley tilted her head at a thoughtful angle. “How?”
Bryn laughed again. And the sound was so infectious that Jake nearly laughed out loud along with her.
“By dancing.”
Wesley pressed her lips together, clearly not convinced. “What does dancing have to do with cookies?”
“Nothing,” Bryn said. “Except they are both things that I like.”
“I don’t think I know how to dance,” Wesley said.
“Then you’re in luck.” Bryn hoisted Wesley down from the chair. “I’m a great dancer.”
Jake watched mesmerized as Bryn clasped Wesley’s hands in her own and started moving to the beat. His heart clutched in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was from joy or trepidation. What was he going to do when she left? What were they going to do?
He shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. Not when the night was cool, his daughter was happy, and he could watch Bryn dance.
She should’ve been cumbersome, maybe a little awkward, but she was all grace. Being pregnant seemed to suit her. And it brought out every beautiful and womanly aspect of her body and soul.
She was the most incredible person he’d ever met. Sweet, loving, innovative. Who else could manage to get Wesley to change her mind from chocolate chip cookies to peanut butter? And all because they probably had no chocolate chips. But he had a feeling that tomorrow there would be some in the pantry for the next time Wesley wanted cookies. That was Bryn. Making the most out of life. Avoiding even the small disappointments because life was short. Something they both knew from experience.
He leaned against the porch post and watched them dance, these two important women in his life. He knew he could stand there and watch them forever.
Then the timer dinged. “The cookies are ready!” Wesley dropped Bryn’s hands and ran toward the oven. The moment of their dance was gone. But it would be in Jake’s memory forever.
• • •
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br /> One day turned into a week and a week into a month. Bryn had gone shopping in San Angelo with Esther and Jessie. Made chocolate chip cookies and danced with Wesley. Evelyn was off once again, and Bryn wondered how often she was at home. Of course, Evelyn had a very lucrative and prestigious horse business, but she needed to know for the babies. Would Evelyn be there to help care for them the times when they came to visit the Diamond? It was a valid question but one she hadn’t got up the gumption to ask.
On one of their shopping trips, Bryn had even bought a pair of cowboy boots and a straw hat with turned-up sides. She loved how the hat made her feel so very Texan. But she refused to buy maternity jeans. Refused. Instead she wore her boots and hat with dresses, even as the weather turned cooler.
“All I’m saying is if you’re coming home, you better do it quick. What are you now, twenty-five weeks?”
Bryn shifted on the bed and adjusted the screen so she could see Rick better. “Twenty-four.”
“Lord, girl! Look at that belly.”
Bryn rubbed her stomach affectionately. “It’s something, huh.”
“Can you even get in your car?”
The truth of the matter was she hadn’t tried. She hadn’t driven her car in weeks, preferring instead to ride with Jake to town in his big ol’ ranch truck. Everything she did was centered on him. Not that she was complaining.
“I’m not ready to come home yet.” There, she said it.
“Are you planning on staying there?”
“I don’t know, Rick. I just know that I’m not ready to leave.”
“Or live in your big empty house.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but it would do no good. They both knew it was the truth. “We’re still working things out here.”
It was the truth. Sort of. After the initial talk of finding attorneys to help them figure out what sort of visitation schedule they would have for the twins, the subject had just dropped. She wasn’t eager to go through such negotiations. She couldn’t imagine that they would be hateful or that Jake would turn derogatory, but the thought was stressful just the same. It was an uncomfortable situation, to carve up a year so each of them would have time with the babies. They still had to figure out what to do after they were born. She wasn’t shipping them to Texas when they were three weeks old. That was not happening.
“All I’m saying is you need to make up your mind. If you don’t get home soon, you’re not going to be able to travel. My sister—”
Bryn nodded politely as Rick launched into his story about his sister who, when she was pregnant, traveled to Europe, couldn’t get back, and was forced to have her baby in a foreign city. Bryn had heard the story too many times to count but she wasn’t in France. She was in Texas.
And then there was the decision of Christmas. Maybe it would be better if she stayed there. The doctor had said the babies could come early, maybe even before Christmas. And if that was the case . . .
She had come to like Dr. Gary, as everyone called him. The moniker kept him separate from his father Dr. Stephens in the way only small towns could differentiate. If she stayed and the babies were early, they could be there for Christmas with the Langstons, but she and Jake had done nothing to get a room ready for the new arrivals. They’d just been floating along, enjoying their time together, and forgetting the responsibilities that came with the morning. Perhaps it was time they worked a few things out.
“I don’t know,” Bryn said again. “I’ll talk to Jake about it.”
Rick raised one brow, the one without the piercing. “Tonight?”
Leave it to him to see through her ruse. “Tonight.”
• • •
Bryn was sitting in the chair in her room when the bathroom door creaked open just after ten. Jake eased the door closed behind him, turning around and frowning when he saw her out of bed. She hadn’t even changed into her pajamas yet.
“We need to talk.”
He shook his head as if those were the last words he wanted to hear. “That’s never a good thing to say.”
“You know it’s true.”
“Can I have a kiss first?”
He looked so boyishly cute, grinning at her that way as if a kiss was the only reason he came in tonight. Somehow she managed to shake her head. “We need to talk,” she repeated. A dumb thing to say twice, but she couldn’t think of anything else.
“Okay. What about?”
“About us.”
“What about us?”
Bryn hoisted herself to her feet. The action wasn’t nearly as dramatic as she would have hoped. “Jake, don’t be obtuse. You know what we need to talk about.”
“So marry me.”
She growled and threw her hands in the air. “I cannot marry you.”
“You don’t want to marry me.”
She hated the hurt that flashed through his eyes. He didn’t get it. He just didn’t understand. Want had nothing to do with this.
“I can’t marry you, Jake.” Not and manage to keep herself. She would lose herself in Jake and his beautiful family. And she wasn’t sure she could deal with that. Not when he still grieved for his wife.
“So you’re just going home. Is that what you’re saying?”
She hurt him, most likely his pride and not his feelings, but she still hated it all the same. “I . . . I thought I might stay for a while longer. You know . . . Thanksgiving is coming up.”
His head jerked up, his eyes locking with hers. “You want to stay here for Thanksgiving?”
“If that’s okay. If you’ll have me.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“I mean, look at me. I’m not even sure if I can fit into my car anymore.”
Jake laughed, a sound so genuine and true she felt the tension leave her body. “Most people worry about getting into their pants. You worry about getting into your car.”
Bryn chuckled along with him. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome but . . .” The rest of her words eluded her. But I like it here. But I love you. But I would stay if only I knew we could have a chance at a real relationship. None of those things she could say.
“Of course you can stay.” He shook his head. “You can stay as long as you want. Longer even.” He took a step toward her, clasped her arms at the elbows, and pulled her near. “Forever.” He lowered his head and kissed her. Bryn melted with the first brush of his lips. Forever. If only that were an option.
• • •
A Halloween carnival?” Bryn looked at the paper Wesley handed her. The orange missive was bordered with jack-o’-lanterns and black cats.
“They have it every year and this year I’m big enough to go!”
Bryn didn’t ask why they didn’t go in years past. From the list of events it seemed that almost any age could participate. Then again it was a school function.
“Please talk Daddy into it.”
“Why wouldn’t he want to go?”
Wesley shook her head sadly. “He’ll say you’re too tired. Or you need to rest. Or the babies wouldn’t like it.”
True enough, Jake fretted over her like no other. Being pregnant had energized her, given her a new drive, a new outlook on life. The babies were her second chance, her second wind, a new hope. But considering how he lost his first wife, she tried to be patient and understanding. “Of course we’ll go. And of course Daddy is coming with us.”
“Going with you where?” Jake sauntered into the kitchen, looking like a dream in dusty chaps and an equally dusty shirt. His hat had a dent on one side that wasn’t there yesterday. She could only assume that someone or something had stepped on it recently.
“To the Halloween carnival at the school.”
He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and turned back to face them. “I don’t know.” He opened the lid and drank deeply. “I don’t think
you should be on your feet a lot.”
Wesley bounced on her toes, her ponytail swinging from side to side. The purple had given way to orange tips to match the season for the spookiest night of the year.
“PleaseDaddypleaseDaddypleaseDaddy!”
Jake looked over and caught Bryn’s gaze. Wesley was so busy jumping up and down she wasn’t paying attention to the two of them.
“Please, Daddy,” Bryn mouthed over the top of Wesley’s head.
Jake laughed. “How can I say no to that?”
• • •
Does she even know what a zombie is?” Jake asked.
He set the alarm on the truck and grabbed Bryn’s hand, interlacing their fingers.
“She’s in school. She’ll be exposed to all kinds of things now. Get ready for it.”
Jake shook his head as Wesley ran ahead of them. Her costume for the Halloween carnival? A zombie cowgirl.
Thankfully, Bryn had toned down Wesley’s makeup requests. She wasn’t quite as scary looking as the picture, which was a plus as far as he was concerned. Bryn took an old T-shirt and ripped the sleeves and dirtied it with black face powder. She found a purple novelty cowboy hat to complete the outfit. She cut a hole in the crown and made it truly zombie worthy. It certainly wasn’t the ripped jeans. Those were in fashion. Or so he was told.
“Just think, you could’ve come as the zombie cowgirl’s daddy.”
“I thought that’s what I was.”
Bryn shook her head and laughed. “Sorry, I said that wrong. You could have come as the cowgirl’s zombie daddy.”
Jake looked down at his starched Western shirt and meticulously creased Wranglers. “Not on your life.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Like your costume is better.” She was wearing a flannel shirt and baggy jeans, exaggerated freckles painted on her cheeks. She looked like a rotund country bumpkin.
“Just wait.”
They handed their tickets to the man at the door. Just inside the building, Bryn tied the tails of her shirt under her breasts and pushed the waistband of her pants down under her belly. Sometime while he was getting ready, she had painted her stomach orange with curved vertical lines.
