Jackson turned the radio to the country music station. Two DJs were talking about bologna sandwiches. “You’ll never believe what they’re talking about,” he said when she crawled into the truck.
“So what do you think, folks? Do you like bologna better than ham or turkey sandwiches?” one DJ asked.
Loretta raised one eyebrow at Jackson. She should tell him right now, but she had to decide what she would do first.
“And do you like your bologna fried or cold?” the DJ asked.
“Bologna is good no matter how you serve it. Cold or fried, with white bread or on wheat, with mustard or mayonnaise,” Jackson answered.
“Speaking of bologna, we’ll have a contest. Tell us what year this next song came out and what album it was on and when it ends the seventh caller will get two tickets to the Alan Jackson concert nearest your hometown this fall,” the DJ said.
The first strains of a steel guitar started and before Alan sang the first words, Loretta said, “That would be Alan’s Good Time CD in, let’s see, 2009 . . . no, 2008, because that was the year Nona was fourteen and she was not into country music that year. The name of the song is ‘I Still Like Bologna.’”
Jackson kept time to the beat with his thumbs on the steering wheel. “We never had to worry about things having enough money to buy food or pay rent, did we?”
“No, Rosie made sure there was plenty of food and we didn’t have to pay your folks a dime to live at the ranch,” she said.
It took five callers before one got the name of the CD and the year right. The lady who won the two tickets was squealing when Jackson parked the truck in the backyard. “You should have called. You would have won on the first try.”
Half an hour later they were at the house, sitting in the kitchen on two lawn chairs that Jackson had brought along at the last minute. Their knees touched, making a table of their laps, and a bag of barbecue chips lay open between them. Loretta nibbled on a few chips but she couldn’t force anything else past the lump in her throat.
She loved the peace inside the house and wished to hell that she had the same peace inside her heart right then. She was jittery just thinking about what she had to say to Jackson and scared about what he would say.
He finally moved the chips to the floor, pushed back his chair, and kneeled on one knee in front of her. “I’ve been waiting and hoping and dreaming for this day, Loretta. Will you please marry me? We can wait however long you need to. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow or you can have the wedding you never got to have the first time. I’m willing for whatever makes you happy.”
She laid a hand on each shoulder. “You make me happy. Even more so now that we are wise enough to appreciate what we have in each other. Yes, I will marry you, but, darlin’, I don’t need a big wedding. We’ll be busy planning one for the kids, so I’d just as soon go on to the courthouse tomorrow morning. Besides . . .” She paused.
He picked her up and swung her around in circles until they were both breathless. “I’m the happiest man alive today.”
“You might not be when you hear my besides,” she said.
“I don’t care what it is. If you want to sell real estate, I’ll build you an office right here in the canyon. If you want to go to Claude or Silverton or Canyon or even Amarillo to work, that’s fine. Just come home to me every night.” He set her down and tipped her chin up for another kiss.
Her stomach drew up into knots even worse than when she smelled beer. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
She was afraid to look at his face, terrified that she’d see disappointment and entrapment there. So she shut her eyes and said, “I wasn’t careless, Jackson. I was on the pill but I must be that point-nine percent that fell between the cracks. And according to the test I took a few minutes ago, I probably got pregnant right after that stunt with the whiskey. I had my suspicious but I just couldn’t make myself find out for sure. I won’t trap you a second time, but I’m scared out of my mind to face this without you.”
“Look at me, Loretta,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I love you and I’ll love however many more children we are blessed with at our age. You didn’t trap me the first time and you’re damn sure not this time. We can add on to the house and make the yard bigger. I want to marry you. I want to share the rest of our lives with you. I want this child. And like I told you before, forty is the new thirty.”
It was more than words. His eyes said that he was telling the absolute truth.
“But you’re going to tell Nona,” he whispered.
She chuckled and then laughter filled the whole house.
“Think she’ll give Bossy to her baby sister or brother?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jackson said.
“I have a white dress to wear but I want to buy a brand-new pair of bright red boots, so we’ll need to make a stop at the western-wear store.”
Jackson kissed her on the nose and said, “I love you, Loretta, and you will be gorgeous in your white dress and red boots.”
Epilogue
Four Months Later
LORETTA SET THE VEIL ON NONA’S HEAD, being very careful not to mess up a single blonde curl in the upswept hairdo. “You are the most beautiful bride in the world,” she whispered.
“Mama, I’m scared,” Nona said.
“Of what?”
“What if Travis decides in five years that he got married too soon? What if I do?”
“We don’t get to look down the road five years or even five days. All we get is today and we have to work with what we’ve got this day,” Loretta answered.
“It’s a big house and you’ll be gone when I come home from the islands. That’s scary,” Nona said.
“Yes, I will, but the new housekeeper, Dotty, is there and I’ll be in and out. She’s been a good replacement for Rosie. And you’ll be busy with your last semester of classes and with the ranch. I’m so proud of you, Nona, for all you’ve taken on. You and Travis have proved to be two fine ranchers.”
“You’re going to make me cry yet.” Nona dabbed under her eyes with a tissue.
“Then let’s talk about something else.”
“When are you and Daddy going to spend the first night in your house?” Nona fluffed her white velvet wedding dress out over the hoopskirt.
“Tonight. It’s all ready and set up. The yard still looks like shit, but come spring we’ll have some sod laid and keep it watered.”
“It’ll be ready for my sisters to play on it by the time they can walk.” She smiled.
“I remember the first time you got to put your bare feet in soft green grass. The way you giggled, I should have known that you were going to love the land,” Loretta said. “Are you really going to be all right with this idea of twin sisters that are twenty-two years younger than you are?”
“I’m fine with it. Hell, Mama—oops, we’re in church, aren’t we? I’m just happy you and Daddy are together,” Nona said. “Now hug me one more time and get out of here before I really start bawling and mess up my makeup.”
Loretta opened the door to find Jackson waiting outside with Waylon and Cooper. Jackson crooked his arm and she slipped hers into it. “You are prettier than any woman in this place,” he whispered as he escorted her down the center aisle.
“You could have a biased opinion,” she said.
“No, ma’am. In that dress and with your hair all done up like that you look like a pregnant runway model.” He kissed her on the cheek when she took her place on the front pew.
She turned slightly in her seat so that she could watch him swagger back up the aisle. His next job would be to bring his daughter halfway down and stop, where Travis would come to claim her as his and walk the rest of the way with her. It wasn’t the traditional way, but Nona was a free spirit who wa
nted things done her way. And it was her wedding, after all.
Instead of the usual wedding music, six of Nona’s cousins, all wearing crimson velvet dresses, strolled to their places to the tinkling piano sounds of “The Rose” in true Floyd Cramer style. Then Bobby Lee made a motion with his hands and the whole congregation rose when the doors at the back of the church opened and there was Nona on Jackson’s arm. Immediately the recording of Randy Travis singing “Deeper Than the Holler” started.
That’s when Loretta reached for a tissue. She’d conceived that gorgeous child when that song was playing and now she was watching her come down the aisle toward her groom to the same music.
She was still dabbing away the tears when Jackson joined her.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m not so old that I won’t be able to walk the twins down the aisle.”
“You always could read my mind.” She smiled.
Acknowledgments
DEAR READER,
Welcome to the Palo Duro Canyon, with all its interesting formations and earthy colors. I hope that you’ve enjoyed meeting Loretta and Jackson and that you’ll come back and visit in the wintertime when the second book is published in a few months.
Husband and I made several trips to the canyon before this book was written. I wanted to see it in every season—with an icing of snow, with heat bearing down in the summer, with wildflowers blooming in the spring, and with a hint of cool air on an early-fall morning. It was a desolate area in every season, but it still called out to me, telling me that people who lived there had a story to tell.
As I stood inside a fenced area on a ledge and looked out over the canyon, I could see why Loretta didn’t want to come back, and at the same time why she didn’t want to leave once she was there. It was eerily peaceful with the wind blowing against my face and the distant sounds of cattle. It was then that I was sure that two people really could find a second chance at love in a place dotted with red dirt roads, wildflowers, and shallow streams.
Special thanks goes to the awesome Montlake staff for their dedication and work on this book. To all those behind-the-scenes folks, from editors to artists, whose names I don’t even know—thank you. To my awesome agent, Erin Niumata, and of course to my husband, Charles Brown, who is always ready to drop everything and go with me on research trips. It takes a special person to live with a writer who talks to the voices in her head.
To all of you who continue to read my books, tell your neighbors and friends about them, review them in your book clubs and pass your used copies on to your best friend, please know that you are appreciated.
Happy reading!
Carolyn Brown
About the Author
Photo © 2014 Charles Brown
Carolyn Brown is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author and a RITA finalist. Her books include historical, contemporary, cowboy, and country music mass-market paperbacks. She and her husband live in Davis, Oklahoma. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.
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