Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  “Me, too,” she sniffed, her chin quivering. “Especially my daughter.”

  Tom steeled himself against feeling sorry for her—and against falling into her trap. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be. And I’m sorry for that. You’re—” He included all three ladies now. “—all really nice, and I appreciate your friendship. But things just didn’t work out. And I need to go.” He looked from one woman to the other. They stared mutely, forlornly, back at him. Tom exhaled sharply, feeling like a heel. “We’re all agreed on that? No tricks, no tears, nothing like that? You’ll just let me go?” And not try to hogtie me? He wouldn’t put it past them.

  The three ladies exchanged glances and nods. Tom feared some silent form of communication had just taken place…one that didn’t bode well for him. Then, Margie said, brightly, “Well, goodbye, Tom. It was nice to have met you.” She stuck her bejeweled hand out for him to shake. He did. The other two ladies followed suit.

  This was too easy. Tom was highly suspicious…especially when they filed out, single-file. In sync, they turned right once they were out of his room. The direction of Darcy’s room, where she was with the baby.

  Oh, no. Oh, yes.

  “Come on,” he heard Margie whisper. “Let’s go work on Darcy.”

  12

  WEDNESDAY morning progressed like any other beautiful May day in sunny Phoenix. Birds sang. A soft breeze blew. The air smelled fresh and sweet with promise. But out in Buckeye it was anything but sunny.

  Last night, without a word, Tom had packed up and left for a hotel, exactly as he’d said he would. When she’d finally come out of her room after being assailed by her mother, Freda and Jeanette to get up and stop that man…he’d been gone.

  And now, as she relaxed in the shower, with instructions from her understanding mother to take her time and pamper herself while she watched Montana, Darcy quirked her mouth. Tom Elliott was a man of his word, she’d give him that much. But where was he now, she wondered. No doubt he was already on the road and headed in the direction of his Rocking E Ranch outside of Billings, Montana. Heigh-ho, Silver, was Darcy’s frustrated thought. Then something else struck her. That was pretty much all she knew about him. He had a ranch. And an older sister named Sam who had five kids. And a deceased grandfather who’d left him land outside of Phoenix.

  In one whole week of being with him nearly every minute, that was all she knew? Well, she recounted a few other things, like he’d gone to college on a rodeo scholarship, both of his parents were deceased, and he was fabulously wealthy. But there was something else—something much more important—she knew about him. Darcy stood still in the shower, allowing the warm water to rain down on her…so she could tell herself the wetness on her cheeks wasn’t from tears. Yes, she knew something else. He loved her. How much? Enough to leave if she couldn’t admit to having the same feelings for him.

  Well…darn him. Maybe he wasn’t the Lone Ranger, after all. Maybe he was just doggoned Dudley Do-Right. And wasn’t that just like a man? Once you have them pegged, off they go and do something wonderful. You couldn’t trust them. Darcy’d always known that.

  So, now she’d gotten her wish, Darcy admitted as she rinsed the lather off her body and turned off the water. Her life now consisted of her and her daughter against the world. Under those conditions, Darcy couldn’t exactly call her life loveless, now could she? She stepped out of the shower and began toweling off. No, she had a loving mother and a tiny daughter whom she loved very much…even if she remained convinced that Montana hated her.

  Still, taking care of Montana Skye—Great. Now I’ll think about Tom every time I say my daughter’s name—would stave off her sense of loss and her loneliness for a while. That was true. But it wasn’t fair to Montana, who would grow up and leave one day to pursue her own life. Just as Darcy now realized she’d done, leaving her mother here alone.

  That was quite the revelation. Staring into the fogged bathroom mirror, Darcy realized she’d never given much thought to how that had made her already-widowed mother feel. Not that Darcy had been callous back then, just young and wanting some adventure. But not once had her mother tried to hold her back. No, she’d given her daughter the gift of wings when it was time to go. And Darcy had to do the same thing for Montana.

  Wow. Only now, Darcy realized, could she see her mother for the wonderful person she was. Not just a parent, but a woman who had hopes and dreams and goals, like anyone else. What a moment. It was quite a surprise for Darcy to consciously realize that she wasn’t such a bad person and to acknowledge exactly who was responsible for the state of her wonderfulness. Her parents. Even more staggering was the realization that if they hadn’t been her parents but her neighbors, she’d still like them.

  So there it was. Life goes on. She needed to get her own life in order and be responsible for her own happiness. Because her daughter would one day…it being the natural order of the world…leave to find her own path in life. It was true then, wasn’t it, that saying about what goes around comes around?

  Having ordered the universe to her own satisfaction, Darcy toweled herself off and dressed. Leaving the steamy room, and feeling more like her old self than she had in months…even if her heart was broken over Tom’s leaving—all because she couldn’t open her stupid mouth and say I love you—she started down the hallway toward the living room.

  She just couldn’t wait, this being Montana’s one-week birthday, to tell her mother everything she was feeling. And to tell her how happy she was inside herself. Well, relatively happy, Darcy admitted, slowing her pace some. Yes, Tom was gone. Yes, she did love him but she’d blown it. But yes, she’d go on bravely and alone, her head held high, to forge a new life for herself, one that would allow her daughter to grow up to be the beautiful butterfly that she would one day be—

  Darcy stopped short…and stared. She put her hands to her waist, which was beginning somewhat to redefine itself. The living room. It looked like a baby-furniture and party-supply store had exploded and its merchandise had landed artfully in her mother’s living room. Colorful baby stuff littered the room. And speaking of the room…it was empty. “What is all this?” Darcy called out…to no one in particular.

  Margie Alcott came flying out of the kitchen. She all but skidded to a stop in front of Darcy and smiled…guiltily. “Oh, Darcy, you’re through already.” She looked her up and down. “You look great, sweetheart. I have always loved that blouse on you. But maybe with those shorts you ought to go shave your legs.”

  Darcy automatically looked down at her legs and then up at her mother. “I don’t need to shave my legs.”

  “All right, sweetie. You know best.” Then, smoothing her hands down an apron tied over her purple polyester pants, Darcy’s mother smiled and chirped, “What do you think? The room looks pretty, huh?”

  Darcy blinked. “Pretty? It looks like…a lot. Mother, what’s going on?”

  Margie beamed. “I just knew you’d be happy, honey.”

  “Happy? But there are balloons and streamers and flowers and punch and cake and presents and…stuff everywhere. I don’t get it. How did you do this? When did you do this?”

  “Well, obviously while you were in the shower, honey.”

  Darcy could only stare at her excited mother. “By yourself? While I was in the shower? The whole thing? When I went back to the bathroom, none of this stuff was—wait a minute. Where’s Montana?”

  Her mother threw her arms up as she shrieked, “Surprise!”

  Darcy jumped back a step, a hand to her chest. Her mother’d gone mad. She’d heard of this before. Desert fever. People just suddenly and for no discernible reason went nuts. They—

  About 400 people—or so it seemed—suddenly popped up from behind every piece of furniture and house plant, all whooping and yelling. “Surprise, Darcy! Ha-ha. Bet we fooled you, huh? Wow, we really got her. Look how shocked she is. She can’t even say anything. Hoo-boy, she doesn’t look like she just had a baby a week ago, does she? Surprise!”
>
  The suddenness of their cheerful attack had Darcy clutching at the nearest wall for support. It was too early…about 10:00 a.m. And it was a weekday. Why weren’t people at work? She turned to the obvious culprit, the one who should have known that Darcy wanted nothing more than…on this day especially, when one week ago she’d had her baby and had met Tom, who was now gone—to be alone. Her mother.

  Darcy found her amongst the happy, milling throng comprised of her neighbors, Darcy’s own high school friends, her mother’s friends, a few local politicians, and about half the general population of Buckeye, Arizona. She grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled her aside. “What is going on?”

  “Why, baby, can’t you tell? A party.”

  “I know that, Mother. But…why? Why today?” Her mother smoothed a lock of Darcy’s hair back and inspected her face. “Look at you. You have on makeup, and you’ve fixed your hair. You look so pretty.”

  “Thank you. Now—” Darcy waved her hand around to indicate the crowd. “—explain, please.”

  Margie exhaled, lending exasperation to the sound. “Darcy Jean Alcott, I thought that was obvious. It’s a baby shower-slash-birthday party for Montana Skye. She’s a week old today.”

  Darcy nodded. “She is. And where is she, Mother?”

  With growing horror, Darcy watched the look of confusion come over Margie’s face as she looked everywhere but at her daughter. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said airily, “she’s here somewhere.”

  “She’s—” The words wouldn’t come out on the first try. Darcy put a hand to her throat. “She’s here somewhere, Mother?”

  “Shhh, honey. You’ll upset our guests.”

  Darcy forced herself to remain calm. “I’m going to do more than upset them if you don’t tell me right now where I can find my child. Mother, what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I should be asking you the same thing. Here Jeanette and Freda and Barb and I went to the trouble of pulling this party together on the spur of the moment—”

  “I know. While I was in the shower.”

  “Well, not the whole thing, silly. We worked on it last night, too. Made all the phone calls. And here you are, not the least bit grateful—”

  “Mom, I’d be the most grateful daughter in the world, if you’d just tell me where I can find mine. Please. Call it new-mother panic, if you want, but just produce her, okay?”

  Margie Alcott pulled back…and looked offended. “Will you listen to you? You act like I’ve lost her or something. I’ve been a parent a lot longer than you have, young lady, and did I ever lose you?”

  “At the Grand Canyon. When I was four.”

  Margie pursed her lips together. “And I found you, didn’t I?”

  “No. Dad did.”

  “Well…see? It turned out fine.”

  “Uh-huh. Where’s Montana? I’m just not thrilled with all these people handling her, Mother. She’ll be like a little bruised banana. And she’s only a week old.”

  Margie instantly softened, squeezing Darcy’s arm affectionately. “Oh, baby, you’re right. I’ll take care of things in here. You go on out back and see her.”

  Darcy froze. “Out back?” she croaked.

  Margie became the very embodiment of insulted parent. “I swear, Darcy Jean, you must think I’m senile. Yes, she’s outside. But, not by herself. Why, some Gila monster could bite her on the head on that soft spot and drag her off under a rock. Or a scorpion with its ugly old tail could sting her. Or a rattlesnake could—”

  Darcy didn’t hear anymore because, in a full-fledged panic, she forced her way through the crowd of folks who seemed demonically bent on getting in her way, congratulating her and hugging her and telling her how pretty she was and how pretty her baby was. Pure evil, they were. But finally, she got to the door off the dining room that led to the backyard, ripped it open, and flung herself outside. Behind her, the door slammed closed. Panicked, her heart thumping, she looked around.

  And spotted her daughter, who, as her mother had said…wasn’t alone.

  Not by a long shot. No, she was in the shade, in the swing…in Tom Elliott’s arms. In profile to Darcy, his face shaded by his white Stetson, Tom was chuckling at the baby who had a hold of his pinkie. He didn’t even look up, or give any indication that he’d heard Darcy’s door-slamming entrance. Darcy stood there, her heart racing with too many emotions to sort out.

  “You may as well come on over, Darcy.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. Still, he didn’t look up at her. Darcy eyed him, then eyed him with her daughter. Then looking back toward the house and the crowd inside…she gave up. Feeling suddenly deflated, with her adrenaline rush subsiding, Darcy dragged herself over to the swing.

  Tom glanced up at her. Darn, but his eyes were as blue and as compelling as she remembered them…from yesterday. Now that was dumb. Of course they would be. Darcy swallowed, willing her thoughts to order themselves into something coherent and helpful.

  “You look nice,” Tom said, stopping the swing’s gentle motion with his foot. “Here. Sit down with us.”

  “Thanks,” Darcy heard herself say. Tom didn’t say anything else or look at her again. Darcy remained quiet, too, just staring out into the desert…and feeling a welcome calm settle over her. “It’s nice out here,” she said without thinking.

  Next to her, Tom nodded. And chuckled at Montana. Darcy looked over at the baby and saw she was trying to stuff his fingertip in her mouth. Darcy smiled. “She must be getting hungry.”

  “Yep.” Tom shifted his weight on the swing. “I expect she’ll want her mama here in a minute.”

  Darcy made a self-deprecating noise. “That’s the only time she wants me. She hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” He met Darcy’s gaze. “She loves you. Very much. Even a week’s long enough to know that about a person.”

  Darcy swallowed around the growing lump of emotion in her throat. She looked away from Tom and held on to the swing’s chain. “So. Tom. I thought you’d be on your way home this morning.”

  “I did, too. But that was before the law paid a visit to my hotel room.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. “The law? What happened?”

  “Bachelor Number Three.”

  Darcy frowned. “Are you serious? Johnny Smith?”

  “Serious as a rodeo clown. The old hound dog just showed up at The Ranch Hotel and said he wasn’t allowed back home unless I showed up here with him this morning at a party.”

  Embarrassed, Darcy put a hand to her forehead. “You poor man.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. I’m as surprised as you are.”

  “I expect so. But neither one of us is half as surprised as the folks down in the lobby were when they saw me being escorted by a sheriff out of the hotel. Yep, that was fun.”

  “I think you should sue my mother.”

  Tom chuckled. “No good ever comes of suing family.”

  Darcy started to remind him that her mother wasn’t family to him, then realized to what he must have been alluding. Darcy clamped her lips together. She told herself it was just a Freudian slip on his part—and a line of thought she wasn’t touching. Instead, she stood up and turned to face Tom, holding her hands out for her daughter. “Look, you were a good sport to go along with all this. But you did your part. So if you want to go, I’ll take Montana and you can slip out by the gate over there—”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  Darcy turned away, highly agitated. “Oh, for God’s sake, Tom, this is where I came in. I’ve already seen this movie.”

  “Then tell me how it ends.”

  She turned to face him. He hadn’t moved from the swing. And Montana still had a proprietary hold on his finger. Symbolic, no doubt. “I can’t. I don’t know how it ends.”

  “Maybe that’s because the true ending hasn’t been written yet.” His blue eyes radiated sincerity…and warmth…and something else equally tender.
>
  Tears threatened to gather in Darcy’s eyes. And she didn’t like that one bit. No more than she liked him being here now, just when she’d adjusted to the idea that she’d never see him again. To her, it seemed as if she was being given a chance to see again what she’d lost. “All right, how do you think it ends? Pretend you’re writing this romance.”

  He nodded, ever calm, ever capable. “Okay. I say the female love interest comes to her senses and realizes that the male love interest is, after all, the right man for her. And they kiss and declare their undying love for each other. And then the male love interest helps the female love interest pack her things, as well as the requisite baby’s things. And then they tell everyone at the hastily arranged party meant to bring the two love interests together that they’re going to live in some Western state—”

  “Like, say, Montana?” Darcy crossed her arms and fought a grin.

  Tom nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. It’s as good as any.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What happens next?”

  Tom put Montana to his shoulder, snuggling her securely, and then continued. “Well, the way I see it, they leave amidst a hail of cheering and laughter, with everyone happy for them—”

  “In a white pickup, no doubt.”

  “Well, not all of them. Just the three main characters. And a trailer for all the presents they got at the party.”

  “I see. And what about the female love interest’s career back East? She’s invested a lot of effort in that, you know.”

  Tom nodded. “Good point. That, she has. But the male love interest points out to her that the universities in Montana are just as good and probably need teachers like her. And none of them has her former love interest on campus.”

  “Oh, excellent point. That should help sway her.”

  “I’d think so.”

  “What else? Is that it?”

  “No. I’m afraid the male love interest has something he needs to confess to the female love interest.”