He entered Sam’s office, intending to snag a bottle from a credenza. The office wasn’t empty. Sam sat behind the enormous walnut desk. Jack said nothing and crossed to where Sam stocked the liquor. Sam had started all the lies, hadn’t he? This whole mess had begun with his lie. “I guess you should know.” He grabbed the bottle by the neck. “You’re a grandpa.”
“I’m...?” Shock crossed Sam’s face. Slowly he set the pencil in his hand down on the tally sheet before him. “A grandpa?”
With effort, Jack checked his temper. If he let it go, it would take control. “Abby told me that Austin is mine.”
“Yours? But—when did you learn this?” he asked with a look of incredulity.
“Minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t she tell you before this?”
“Good question. But you don’t want to hear the answer.”
Questions filled Sam’s pale eyes. “You’re not happy about the news?”
Did his father really expect him to sound joyful? “Eight years ago I might have been.”
Sam’s frown deepened. “You don’t want the boy?”
God, how could he even ask that? “Of course I want him. This isn’t about Austin. This is about her, about what Abby did.”
Sam came around to the front edge of the desk. “I’m at a loss to understand this. But I can’t believe she didn’t have a good reason.”
“Save it She had no right to keep him from me.”
Confusion colored Sam’s voice. “Did you ask her why she did? None of this makes sense. It’s clear she loves you.”
“Don’t!” Jack sliced a hand at the air. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“You don’t want to hear what? The truth?”
All that had passed between them before seemed a breath away. Jack set the bottle on the desk, hard. “Everyone is suddenly so willing to tell the truth. Why not before? Why is it that the truth is so long in coming from both of you?” he snapped, unable to quell the fury growing within him.
Having stepped near, Sam stopped himself from reaching out.
Jack knew he’d been about to offer a comforting touch, a sympathetic pat. He didn’t want either, especially from him. “Do you really want to know what her reason was?” Jack didn’t wait for an answer. “She said she didn’t tell me because of what I felt about a woman risking too much, risking her life to have a child.” Sam paled. Jack didn’t care. “Remember that? Remember that’s what I felt because I thought my mother died giving birth to me, because my father told me that for years? Do you remember all that, Sam?”
“That’s why she didn’t tell you?”
“Yeah. She knew I didn’t want kids. Of course I didn’t. I didn’t want to be responsible for another woman’s death. But then I learned that I never was, didn’t I?”
“This was all my fault then?”
“Damn straight it was,” Jack yelled. He’d thought the anger at his father had passed, but it exploded from him. “Yes, it’s your fault. How could it not be? You made me believe my birth was responsible for her dying. That influenced everything I did, what I felt about Abby, what I thought I could give her, have with her.”
“Jack, I’m sorry. I—I know that those words don’t undo the harm, but—”
“No, they don’t.” He’d spent eight years with a bomb ticking inside him, Jack realized. “You know what I don’t understand? Why did you think that it would be easier for me to accept a lie than the truth, than knowing she left for a career in dancing, for more excitement in her life? Or wasn’t that why she left? Maybe all of this was about you. Not her.”
Sam shrugged, started to turn away.
Jack had had it. “Tell me,” he said furiously, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and turning him to face him. “Was the lie to save your precious pride?”
Anger clenched his father’s jaw. As a child, Jack had seen the look once, the time that two men from some development company had been trying to intimidate ranchers into selling their land. His father had led the group of ranchers, looked the same way, and gone nose-to-nose with one of the developers before making it clear that no one was selling.
“Tell me,” Jack prodded, pushing Sam to his limit. In that instant, he realized he almost wished his father would get so angry he would throw a punch. “This was about your pride, wasn’t it?”
Sam’s jaw softened. A dullness clouded his blue eyes, a look of resignation slouched his shoulders. As if in pain, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “She left me for another man, not to pursue a dancing career.”
Jack had guessed as much years ago. So all the secrets were because his father had been humiliated, because he’d been rejected. If only Sam had been straight with him from the beginning, everything would be different now. He’d have told Abby how much he loved her. She’d have told him she was pregnant. They’d have shared the joy of that moment, been together. He’d have seen his son born, watched him take his first step, heard him say his first word. All that he’d lost was because of Sam
“I never meant—” Sam gave his head a shake as if trying to banish a thought. “I didn’t know I’d cause all of this with—”
“With your lie?” Jack expected no response. Too much fury filling him, he walked toward the door, needing to leave, to get away from Sam before he said more harsh words that could never be forgotten.
They’d been close, truly close, as much friends as father and son, especially after Jack had grown up. At least they had been before that fateful day when he’d found the divorce papers.
If he’d known the truth, his thoughts about his mother might have changed, but his feelings for Sam would have deepened with that knowledge. After all, his father had stayed, his father had been faithful to his marriage vows.
Jack placed a hand on the doorknob. But he never opened the door. Like a slow-moving wave, a realization began to flow over his anger, his hurt. His father had raised and loved him; she hadn’t. Jack let go of the doorknob and turned around. She’d left Sam, but she’d also left him, hadn’t she? There was no other explanation. If that wasn’t true, he’d have been with her and not Sam.
His back to him, Sam stood by the window.
All this time, there had been one reason for Sam’s lie. The need for more than words consuming him, Jack moved behind his father, touched his shoulder. “Dad.”
Beneath the shadowed light in the room, when Sam faced him, Jack saw the sorrow that he’d inflicted. God, how wrong he’d been. “I’m not a kid. I don’t need protecting anymore.”
A pained look etched deeper lines in his father’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack forced out what he viewed as the final secret. “She never wanted me, did she? That’s what you didn’t want me to know. She hadn’t wanted me.”
Sam heaved a sigh and straightened his back as if he were lifting a burden he’d carried too long. “I didn’t want you to be hurt.” For a second, he closed his eyes as if anguishing. “And look how much hurt I’ve caused you.”
“We’ve hurt each other.” Jack placed an arm around his father’s shoulders. This man had been willing to take every angry word Jack had tossed at him, even now, just to protect him. “I’m sorry, Dad.” No words could erase all the wrong ones he’d said to him. “I’m really sorry.”
Chapter Eleven
Jack dealt with guilt after leaving his father. He’d always considered himself a reasonable man. What he’d been was a fool. He’d condemned Sam, had played jury and executioner, and during a few painful moments of realization with his father, all the love, the friendship, the devotion they’d shared for years had returned.
Unable to sleep, he took a ride at sunrise. As if as one with him, Roper reacted to his tenseness and pranced a bit with nervousness before obeying Jack’s touch on the reins.
With the sound of bawling cattle surrounding him, he slowed the horse and leaned forward in the saddle to rub his throbbing knee. Damp morning air always reminded him of the injury. I
t wouldn’t get better if he stayed in rodeo. A few more slams to the ground, a few more jolts against the wood of a chute by some rambunctious bull, and he’d be limping for the rest of his life.
Nearing the stables, he slowed Roper’s pace. He had nothing more to prove, not really. He possessed a world champion title several years in a row. He’d challenged most of the best animals in rodeo. He’d enjoyed the fruits of his fame and title, having had plenty of money and plenty of female company.
And the one reason for staying away from the ranch had disappeared.
He dismounted, then spent time caring for Roper. When he left the stable, he saw a florist and two catering vans parked in front of the lodge. A few guests were coming in from a morning ride. Shortly, wedding guests would begin drifting in and joining ranch guests, who’d also been invited to the ceremony.
Last night, his life, his way of thinking, everything, had changed.
He was a father.
Those four words scared him more than any one-on-one with an ornery bull.
In response to the whinny of a horse in the corral, he raised his head and nearly misstepped at the sight of Austin. He’d faced snorting bulls and mean-spirited horses, drunken cowboys and irritated women, and he’d never felt his stomach somersault until now.
He searched Austin’s small features. The boy’s high cheekbones were like his own. Though his eyes were Abby’s, the smile was his. It amazed him that he hadn’t noticed that before.
Slowly they came closer. Then, feet from each other, they stopped. As worry leaped into the boy’s eyes, Jack felt his stomach clench. He wanted to hug him. He’d held him before as a concerned adult, a caring friend. He wanted to hold him now as the boy’s father.
“You look mad,” Austin said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Did—” Lightly, Jack placed a hand on Austin’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He sat back on the edge of a water trough to be closer to the boy’s eye level.
“Mom said—”
The hesitation in his voice alerted Jack. “What did your mom say?”
“Mom said that you’re my dad.”
Jack quelled an urge to touch the top of Austin’s head. He could hear those words from a hundred other people, and they’d never mean the same as hearing Austin say them. “Guess you want to talk.”
“I—” Staring down, Austin kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shoe. Clearly he was struggling with a weighty thought.
Jack would do whatever he could to make this easier on him. “Go ahead. You can say anything.”
“Are you glad?” Head still bent, Austin spoke so quietly Jack had to strain to hear him.
He never expected such a heavy-duty question, but during the past two weeks, he’d noticed that the boy barreled without hesitation toward challenges. “Is that all you want to know?”
Head still bent, he raised his eyes to Jack. “Why didn’t you come before?”
There were no easy answers. “Come with me. We need to talk.” With a light touch on the boy’s shoulder, Jack urged him toward the porch steps. “Let’s sit up there.”
“I can’t get dirty.” His eyebrows veed. “Mom would be really mad.”
“I have an idea.” Jack went up to the porch and yanked a cushion from one of the chairs, then dropped it onto the step. “Here. Sit down now.” As they settled beside each other, Jack remembered other times with him, sitting on a step, staring at a star-filled sky. They’d become friends then. “About what you said.” Don’t put your foot in your mouth. He didn’t want to do anything that might change the way the boy was beginning to feel about him. “I didn’t come because I didn’t know about you. I didn’t know I had a son.”
“Mom didn’t tell you?”
The last thing Jack wanted to do was blame Abby. “I haven’t seen your mom in a long time.”
Austin nodded slowly as if confirming his words. “That’s what she said.”
Jack couldn’t lie, pretend Abby hadn’t known where he was. The boy was too sharp to accept that. “Austin, your mom didn’t know how much I would want you.”
The deep brown eyes locked with his. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jack assured him. “How do you feel about having me for your dad?”
In a deciphering manner, for the longest damn moment of Jack’s life, Austin studied him closely. “I like the idea,” he finally said. “I’m glad.”
Jack’s chest filled with emotion. “You are?”
“Uh-huh.” Shifting, Austin sat with his knees touching Jack’s leg. “I liked you a lot even before I knew you were my dad.”
Was there a better compliment from one’s child? A sense of relief flowed through him. How often had the sight of Austin’s smile roused him from a foul mood? How often had the boy’s childish laughter made him forget how many problems existed in his life? And then had come the real clincher, hadn’t it? When Austin had hugged him, he’d wished for a son like him. No, he’d wished Austin had been his.
“What about you?” A frown appeared on the boy’s young face. “Are you really glad?”
“Austin.” Jack put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “There isn’t anyone I’d rather have for my son. Yes, I’m glad,” he said, using the boy’s words. “I’m really glad.” He’s mine, Jack mused as Austin flung his arms around Jack’s midsection. He ran a gentle hand over the boy’s head. He couldn’t recapture the years lost, but he could give Austin a father for all the tomorrows to come.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Jack said as he drew back to look down at him. “We need to find Sam.” He spoke conspiratorially. “He’s nervous about getting married. If we were with him, that would help him a lot.” Unwilling to let go yet, he kept the boy’s small hand in his and pushed to his feet. “You know he’s your grandpa.”
Austin’s eyes went wide. “He is?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow! I got a grandpa, too?”
“You got one of them, too.” And this ranch, he mused. But there was plenty of time to explain all that to him. Plenty of time.
Abby finished dressing now that Austin had left. She prayed that he stayed clean before the wedding, but she’d decided to get him together first, then herself. She needed time alone.
Sitting on the chair, she closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered the look that had flashed across Austin’s face when she told him about Jack. Pure joy. He’d been so good, so incredible. It hadn’t really mattered to him why he hadn’t had Jack before. All that he’d cared about was that he had a father now. And that father was someone he really wanted in his life.
You’re lucky, Abby. He could have cried or shown a flare of temper, been angry the way his father was. Or he could have drilled her with more questions about why she hadn’t told him sooner.
Wandering to the window, she wondered where he’d gone. It didn’t take long for her to get an answer to her question.
She saw them, her son and the man she loved, walking, hands clasped. Her son’s face angled up toward his father’s, and they were both smiling. Abby gave thanks that they’d found each other.
But breathing suddenly hurt. She’d always thought of herself as an honest woman, until now. An omission of truth was as good as a lie. And achingly she wished for a replay button, a way to transcend time for one second, to be able to say to him eight years ago, “I’m having your baby.”
She squeezed her eyes tight and fought the threat of tears. Sadness, uncertainty, even relief that he finally knew the truth wove together within her. Tears wouldn’t change anything, she reminded herself while crossing to the closet for the blue dress with its lacy bodice.
Whatever they, as a family, could have had slipped from her grasp on the day she’d decided to keep her secret. Zipping up the dress, she knew now that she’d made a mistake. But it was too late to change anything.
After a quick glance in the mirror, she headed for the door. If no one looked too closely, they wouldn’t see the circles under h
er eyes from a lack of sleep last night. She wanted nothing to spoil this day for her aunt. Stepping out of the room, she geared herself mentally for seeing Jack. They had to be amiable.
Instead of heading for her aunt’s room, she went to the kitchen, hoping that time with Wendy would lighten her mood. Though dressed for attending the wedding, Wendy wore an apron that covered her pale pink dress from her chest to her knees.
All nervous energy this morning, her friend scurried around the kitchen, handling small details. “Count the silverware,” she instructed one worker. “That way we’ll know if any accidentally makes its way to the garbage can.” Spotting Abby, she waved a fork at her. “You look like a bride yourself.”
Abby returned the expected smile. “Thanks.” Behind Wendy, the caterer was barking instructions. “Why are you working? Aren’t you a guest today?”
Her friend shrugged a shoulder. “Yes, I am, but it’s hard to relinquish my kitchen to anyone,” she admitted while reaching back to untie her apron.
Abby crossed to the refrigerator. “I came for the bouquets.”
“I had to protect them,” Wendy whispered to Abby, and peered with her into the opened refrigerator. “That tall guy with the catering company almost smashed them with the tray of cheese puffs.”
Abby removed the bouquets and Austin’s boutonniere. Similar to her bouquet with its gardenia, lilies, baby’s breath and carnations, the bride’s also contained white tea roses. “They look lovely, don’t they?”
“I’ve always liked gardenias.”
“There you are.” Guy stood in the doorway, little Jodi in his arm. In a paler pink dress than her mother’s, Jodi looked adorable, as picture perfect with her soft brown curls and dimpled smile as a child model. “Out of the kitchen.” Guy moved near his wife, then swept his free arm toward the door.
The humorous moment helped. “I told her the same thing,” Abby said.
Forever Mine Page 14
