But she couldn't. Dear Lord, she couldn't.
Refusing to give in to that tiny voice, Jenna got up, grabbed her purse and walked outside. Dispiritedly she walked the few blocks to the town's business district. There was more to the town than she had originally thought; she noticed at least three drugstores, a steakhouse and several more small cafes, one small but complete department store, one clothing shop, even a movie theater and a playhouse. All the amenities of a city, Jenna thought to herself halfheartedly, but without quite the variety to choose from.
Her steps eventually took her back to the motel, and Jenna found herself driving toward the Garrison place. The directions she'd been given earlier unconsciously guided her. Before she knew it, her car was parked in the gravel drive and her feet were carrying her toward the front door. Her footsteps echoed emptily as she mounted the steps, and for a fraction of a second, she stopped before lifting her hand to the brass knocker.
Silence greeted her.
After a long moment of almost fearful waiting, she turned and trudged slowly down the steps, her emotions so tangled that she felt unable to sort through them.
Taking a deep breath, Jenna forced her attention back to her surroundings. Beyond the cross-fenced boundaries of the small acreage the plains stretched for miles, rolling and clipping endlessly, glinting yellow in the bright September sunlight. In the distance she could see the sun-baked, gently rolling hills to the west. Settling herself under a towering cottonwood tree, she turned her eyes once again to the two-story farmhouse.
The yard was well kept, and the white clapboard exterior of the house looked newly painted. Although it was quiet outside, there was a warm, homey look to the house itself. A wide swing hung from the porch rafters near the front window. Jenna could almost visualize the inside, cheerful and cozy, a comfortable sofa laden with pillows in the living room, thick braided rugs covering the floor and knickknacks and treasures strewn throughout. The urge to scramble to the window and peer through the sheer curtains was so strong that she almost succumbed. Only the feeling that she would be spying, intruding where she had no business, prevented her from doing exactly that.
The thought sent a chill through her. Why had she come here? She agonized silently. Despite what Eileen Swenson had told her—that Megan was dead and Ward was gone—had she really believed it? Had she really expected the door to be thrown open and to be welcomed with open arms? She shivered. No. She could never expect that from Ward. She didn't know how she knew, but she did.
What if he said no? What would she do then? Could she deal with it, or would she handle it the way she had handled h all this time, sweeping her feelings under the rug once more? Denying the hopeless longing to see her child, to hold him, to know him? All these months—years!—she hadn't let herself think of him, but no matter how hard she tried, the memory was always there, lurking in some distant corner of her mind. Denied but never forgotten. For the first time, she realized how desperately afraid she was that Ward would refuse to let her see Robbie.
But her need outweighed her fear by far.
"Oh, Robbie," she murmured faintly, fervently. "I'm so close." Slowly she closed her eyes, unable to stop a wave of despair from sweeping through her. She heard words spinning through her brain—words she couldn't speak. So near and yet so far.
Her entire body trembled as she stumbled to the car and started the engine. She drove back to the motel in the same trancelike state she had left it. Outside, the small town went about its business while Jenna shut herself away in her room. Neil...Megan...Robbie... Faces whirled through her imagination, the features obscure and blurred. The squall of a newborn infant resounded in her subconscious and she flinched.
Finally she stumbled over to the bed and lay down, her body curled in a tight ball. She knew she desperately needed an outlet for all the pent-up emotion inside her, but as always, the tears refused to come. All the pain was tightly locked up inside her, and her heart was an unbearable weight in her chest.
***
It was nearly dark when the wheels of the small Cessna touched down in a perfect landing on the small airstrip just outside Plains City. Skimming across the smooth surface, the plane gently glided to a stop in front of the metal barn that served as a hangar. Moments later, a lean figure emerged from the building and strode toward the house. Though the man was rapidly approaching forty, a rangy, muscled hardness to the six-foot-three-inch frame had not yet been softened by the years.
Though Ward Garrison was tired and weary to the bone, a kind of hurried impatience marked his long- legged stride as he took the porch steps two at a time, heading with intent toward the den.
The room was paneled in knotty pine, and sparsely but comfortably furnished. Bookshelves lined nearly every available wall space. The only decoration was a pair of old flintlock rifles mounted above the stone fireplace. Near the window stood a worn leather armchair that had seen many years of use. A massive desk dominated the room, and Ward directed his steps toward it.
The chair behind the desk creaked a protest as he sat down. He made no move to reach for the phone; instead his hazel eyes rested on the framed photograph that occupied a place of honor on the desktop. A shuttered look came over his face as he picked up the oak frame, studying the fragile features in the photo as if to memorize them. But there was little need. Even without the reminder of those laughing blue eyes and silky blond hair, the image was printed indelibly on his brain. She looked so happy and carefree.... And it seemed like a lifetime ago that he had felt that way.
"Megan," he said aloud. And then he wished he hadn't, as the familiar tightening began to build in his chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath, but long minutes passed before he set aside the photograph and leaned back in his chair.
"Oh, Meg," he murmured faintly. "Sometimes it's still so hard to believe you're gone—" She had been a part of his life for so long... forever. And then a quirk of fate, a moment in time... and she was no more.
His eyes flitted to a smaller picture, but one no less dear to his heart. He felt a surge of pride and possessiveness. His son. His own flesh and blood, the one bright spot left in his life. The son Megan wanted so badly but wasn't able to have. Despite the brief time allotted to them, no one could have been a better mother to Robbie than Megan. She was1 his mother, the only mother he had ever known.
Ward's eyes grew unusually soft as he reached out a finger and traced the outline of the miniature features so like his own. Robbie had his bold nose, the same square jaw line. But his eyes... those vivid green eyes could belong to only one person.
The reminder was one he had learned to live with. Not that he was ungrateful... but there were times when he was strangely resentful of the woman who had given him his son, as well as of the fact that his own wife could never hope to conceive...while it had been so simple for her. And there were also times when Robbie would look up at him, his eyes unusually serious and urgent, yet so full of life and expression, and he felt a brief surge of anger jolt through his body, because he looked so damned much like her.
Ward reached for the phone and punched out a number. "Eileen?" He swiveled around in the chair to stare out the window. "It's me."
"Ward!" Mild surprise was registered in his sister's tone. "Are you home already?"
One side of his mouth quirked upward. "I pushed the crew as hard as I pushed myself so we could finish ahead of schedule."
"Well, thank heaven you don't do near as much traveling as you did five years ago." There was a brief pause. "It's hard on Robbie with you gone, as young as he is. He tries not to let it show, but I can tell."
"I know." There was a bitter edge to his smile. "You wouldn't believe how much I miss him. But with Tyler breaking his leg and laid up in the hospital, I had no choice but to fill in for him." He lifted a hand to smooth his rumpled dark hair. "Is Robbie still up?"
"No. I put him to bed right after dinner." Eileen's voice was full of apology.
Ward's smile was halfhearted at best, but h
e disguised his disappointment. "Well, don't bother waking him. I'll be over tomorrow to pick him up."
"Don't hurry on my account." Eileen laughed. "You know Robbie—always where the action is. And if there's nothing going on, he creates a little excitement of his own. But he keeps me busy and I love haying him around. The house is so empty with Tim and Katie away at college." She stopped for a second. "But I'm really glad you came back early. Frank's going to a cattle auction in Amarillo on Monday, so maybe I'll go along and do some shopping."
He nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, then—"
"Ward, wait! There's something you should know—"
The sudden urgency in Eileen's voice stopped him from hanging up. Frowning, he spoke into the mouthpiece again. "Yes?"
"Ward..." Her voice dropped, and she seemed unsure of something. "I was at the house today to pick up the mail, and... someone called."
Something in her tone brought his tired senses fully alert. He leaned forward in his chair and asked in a clipped voice, "Who?"
It was a full minute before Eileen spoke. He could scarcely make out her muted tones. "Jenna Bradford."
"Jenna Bradford!" Ward sat back disbelievingly, his fingers tensing around the phone. "What did she want?"
Eileen was silent, hesitating just a moment too long, but somehow he already knew. "Robbie."
His insides were suddenly tied up in knots. Why now, after all this time... ? "What else did she say?"
"Nothing really." Eileen sounded just as confused as he felt. "She just said she didn't want to cause any
trouble—but wants to see Robbie. And she's staying until she talks to you about it."
"Staying? You mean she's here?" He felt as if he'd been struck.
"Yes. She's at the Sundowner Motel in Plains City." An empty silence hung in the air as their thoughts veered in the same direction. "Ward, do you think...?" Eileen swallowed, almost afraid to say the words aloud. "Do you think she wants him back?"
"If that's the case, she won't be long in discovering she'll have one hell of a fight on her hands," he said grimly, "because I'm not about to let anyone take my son away from me. And the sooner she finds that out, the better." On that unrelenting note, Ward slammed down the phone and walked out the door.
There was no point in putting it off—he intended to find out exactly why Jenna Bradford was visiting.
***
The evening stretched out emptily after Jenna finally roused herself. She must have fallen asleep, she thought vaguely, switching on the bedside lamp. Sitting up, she glanced at her watch. It was just after nine. A dull ache throbbed in her temples, and she stumbled to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. As she dried her hands, she studied her reflection. She looked strained and rather drawn, her eyes the only splash of color in an otherwise pale face.
The lateness of the hour rather than hunger reminded her that she hadn't eaten since lunch. Rummaging through a small bag from a convenience store where she'd stopped on the long drive yesterday, she found a half-eaten package of tiny sugared donuts. She nibbled on one, but the sweet taste was unexpectedly cloying. The few bites she took sat like a heavy stone in her stomach, and she pushed aside the package distastefully. Suddenly she felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and she knew she couldn't remain in the stark motel room any longer. After running a brush through her long dark hair, she grabbed her purse and a light denim blazer and went outside, intent on getting a breath of fresh air.
Darkness had already settled over Plains City, but the parking area of the motel was lighted by the bright glare of the sign near the office. Jenna was in the process of closing the door behind her when she noticed a dark maroon Blazer pull to a halt in one of the stalls. As a man got out, something in his lean, muscular bearing caught her eye. He was tall and broad shouldered, and a faint breeze ruffled his thick dark hair as he dropped his keys in his pocket. The sharp blade of his nose bespoke arrogance, the thrust of his chin determination. She registered the deeply chiseled features with a prickly sense of unease as she watched him slam the car door shut with almost vicious intent. Hazy spears of light shone down from the streetlamp, falling full on his face for a moment, as he moved away from the car.
Jenna froze.
Dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and boots, the man could have passed for just another cowboy, one of the many who seemed to populate the town. As if he were caught in the same current of awareness as she, the man slowly turned to face her. Jenna couldn't tear her eyes away from his as a flicker of recognition passed between them.
Ward Garrison didn't bother to smile; he didn't bother to tip his hand in greeting. He just stared at her for what she suspected was the longest moment in her life. Then he began to move toward her.
Jenna's breathing grew almost painfully shallow as those hazel eyes stared unwaveringly into hers. Her heart thumped as she watched his face grow colder with each step that brought him nearer.
She had the feeling that the battle for Robbie was over before it had even begun.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Synopsis
Letter to My Readers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
More from Samantha James
The Unsung Hero Page 20
