Daddy Mine

by Shanna Handel

  After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, Carrie shyly walked back into the guest room.

  Wes stood by the bed. “Lie down.” He had folded the covers back on the small bed.

  Carrie climbed into the bed. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?”

  Tucking the blankets tightly around her, he smoothed a beautiful patchwork quilt over her. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Wes replied, “When I stay with you, it’s for life.” He kissed her cheek gently. “I have a proposal for you.”

  Carrie sat up in the bed. “What is it?”

  “Stay for a week. Give me seven days to show you what it means to me mine.”

  A blush rose to Carrie’s cheeks, and a light shone in her eyes.

  “At the end of the week, you can make a decision.”

  Smiling, Carrie offered her hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Wes took her hand in his, placed a gentle kiss on it. “Now lie down.”

  Carrie obediently cozied up in the bed.

  Wes tucked the covers tightly around her. “No getting up before seven. Understand?”

  Carrie nodded. “Good night, Wes.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Carrie girl.”

  “Oh my, homecooked breakfast. It smells amazing.”

  “Did you sleep well?” Wes looked up from the pancake he was flipping. Before Carrie could reply, he said, “What,” gesturing at her disdainfully with the metal spatula he held, “are you wearing?”

  Carrie did a little twirl. “They are called jeggings.”

  “What is a jegging?”

  She laughed. “It’s a denim legging. You know what leggings are, don’t you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Leggings are like tights.”

  “Tights go under skirts.”

  “But these aren’t tights, they are jeggings.”

  “You just told me that jeggings are leggings, and leggings are tights, so those are in fact, tights, and need a skirt over them.”

  “No, you wear them by themselves. It’s called fashion.”

  Wes moved from his place behind the kitchen counter and sidled up to Carrie. “I call them immodest.” He traced the outline of her bottom with the tip of the spatula. “I can see everything, which means so can everyone else.”

  Carrie squirmed under Wes’ touch. “They’re cute.”

  Wes took his hand and trailed it over her hip to her bottom. He squeezed hard. “When you are my girl, there are certain things that are for my eyes only.”

  Carrie gasped with pain, but she felt delighted at his possessiveness of her.

  “You can peel these off, and go put on an outfit more becoming of a young lady who was raised properly, or you can peel them off, and lay over my lap, and then go put on an outfit more becoming of a young lady.”

  “I think I’ll change.” Carrie quickly slipped out of his grasp and went back to the bedroom. She dug through her clothing looking for something more modest to wear. Unfortunately, she had packed her tightest, shortest clothing. When the last day of school had come, Carrie knew it was time to go to Wes. She had hurriedly filled the two suitcases with clothing that she thought one should wear when trying to attract a man. She hadn’t thought about the unique man she was trying to draw. Finally, she came upon an outfit she hoped would work and pulled it on quickly.

  Wes smiled when he saw her. He had returned to cooking breakfast.

  Carrie returned wearing a white tee shirt and the same flowy skirt that she had worn the first day she had come to the ranch. She had pulled her hair tight into two long braids. A wholesome innocence radiated from her. She made her way to the table, Wes’ eyes on her made her face feel flush.

  Wes tugged on one of her braids after she sat down at the table. “I like.”

  “I love braids, but I could never wear them in the city. I would have been laughed out of New York.

  “They’re beautiful.” He gently placed a full plate of breakfast in front of her, then set a matching plate down next to her and sat down to eat. “So, what would you like to do today? Kevin has things under control, so I’m free for the whole day.”

  “Who’s Kevin?”

  “My new ranch hand.”

  “When did you get a new hand?” she asked, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Jessica’s brother helped out when I came to South Carolina.”

  Carrie dropped her fork; it clanged as it hit the plate. “Jessica’s brother?”

  “He did such great work; I kept him on. Going away for a few days made me realize I can’t do it all. I need someone besides me, to be able to handle the everyday operations.”

  “Well, I just hope his character is better than his two-bit whore of a—”

  Wes put his hand over hers. “Language.” Wes’ pressure on her hand and warning tone stopped Carrie mid-sentence.

  She looked away, feeling embarrassed. “Well, it’s true.”

  Wes leaned in towards her, applying more pressure to her hand. “Calling people names like that, no matter the circumstances, will earn you a sore bottom.”

  His threat made a tingle run down her spine, but she still felt anger. Carrie pushed her plate away.

  Wes slid the plate back to her. “Eat.”

  Carrie thought about challenging him, but the set of his jaw made her think better of it. “You sure are bossy.” Carrie sighed and picked her fork back up.

  “You like it.”

  Carrie would not return his gaze but felt a small smile creep across her lips.

  “Eat.” Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest.

  She looked up at him in a teasing way. “Yes, Daddy.” She picked up her fork and began working on the pancakes. “Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, in between bites, dabbing at her mouth delicately with the blue cloth napkin she had placed in her lap.

  “Mama taught me. She said she wasn’t raising men who didn’t know their way around the kitchen.”

  “It’s delicious. Where is your mama, now?

  “I have a feeling she’s making herself scarce.”

  “Oh.” Carrie looked down, unsure of her place here. It had felt awkward coming in last night and greeting the woman who was supposed to be her mother-in-law. Wes and Garrett’s ma was one of the sweetest women Carrie had ever met, and she was completely comfortable in her presence during her last visit, as well as this one. They had spent quite a few hours in the kitchen together, swapping recipes as well as last night’s quiet evening rocking together on the porch, waiting for Wes.

  Carrie was terrified Ma would look at her as a hussy, jumping from one brother to the next. Instead, Ma had an amused but not surprised gleam in her eye when she had opened the door to reveal Carrie, last night. First thing when she walked in, she had slipped Mama’s mother's engagement ring in her hand, returning it to her. Mama had just said, “Thank you, Carrie,” quietly and slipped the ring in her apron pocket. She had not said another word about the sordid situation, and for that, Carrie was grateful.

  Wes felt Carrie’s unease. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, he said, “She loves you, you know. She was devastated when the wedding was called off, less to do with Garrett getting married and more to do with losing you, I think. I would have loved to see her face when you materialized out of nowhere, last night.”

  “I guess she did look pretty happy.” Carrie took her last bite. She then stood, gathered her dishes and headed into the kitchen. “You wash, I’ll dry,” she called over her shoulder.

  Wes told Carrie about how Ma was never one to trust a dishwasher to clean her dishes; the family was well practiced in clearing up by hand after meals. They had spent many hours together in the kitchen laughing and sharing chores through the years. Whenever someone was acting out of sorts, Ma had them wash some dishes. She said it was good for the soul and the first few weeks that Wes was out of contact with Carrie, he had washed a lot of dishes.

  Wes washed the dishes and Carrie dried them
by his side. Working quietly together on such a mundane everyday task, gave Carrie a warm sense of peace.

  Carrie hummed softly to herself as she worked.

  “What is that song?” Wes rinsed the last glass and handed it to Carrie.

  “Oh, just one of my favorite songs.”

  Wes studied Carrie. She focused on drying the glass in her hands, a pink rising to her cheeks.

  “It sounds familiar. What’s it called?”

  “I don’t know.” The pink was turning to crimson. Still not meeting his gaze, she replied, “I heard it here, one night.”

  “I believe the song you are humming is Amarillo by Morning, and it just happens to be the best country song ever written.”

  Giggling, Carrie finally looked up. “Well now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but it is a pretty little tune.” Reaching up on her tippy toes to put the glass back on the high shelf, she murmured, “It reminds me of you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I hummed it to myself quite a bit these last few weeks.”

  “Is that so?” Wes wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and pulled her close. Running a hand down one of her long braids and giving the end a tug, he said, “Well, it sounds good on you.”

  He released her and put the rest of the clean towels away. “The day is yours. What would you like to do?”

  “Hmm, go back to bed—with you?” Carrie wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “That won’t be happening any time before you’ve made your final decision.” Wes untangled her arms from him. “The next county over is hosting their annual County Fair. I know how you like your fairs, naughty girl.” Wes winked at her. “Just try not to shoot anyone this time.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even come close to killing him. But I’d rather see the bustling town of Poke. I’ve never been. Let’s go.” Tugging his hand, she dragged him to the truck, her skirt swishing, and her braids swinging back and forth.

  He helped her into the truck, then buckled her seatbelt and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. He walked over to his side, whistling, Amarillo by Morning.

  Wes shut his door and started the ignition. “Don’t get your lovely skirt dirty.” He raised an eyebrow up at her. “I have a very fond memory of that particular garment, and I would hate to see anything happen to it.” He turned down the dusty dirt drive and left the ranch.

  “When have you ever seen this skirt?”

  “You were wearing it the first time I met you.”

  “Oh.” Her voice sounded surprised and pleased. “Oh,” she repeated. She smiled shyly and turned away.

  The long drive to ‘the bustling town’ of Poke, gave the couple ample time to talk. Wes wanted to know everything there was to know about Carrie. It turned out she loves the color rose- not pink, but rose- a soft mix of coral and red. Birthday cake was her favorite food, but it had to be from a birthday, not just any random cake. Her favorite horse at home was named Sugar, a soft gray dapple and her favorite horse here was, of course, Mabel. She had broken her arm when she was eight. She had fallen from a peach tree trying to pick a fresh South Carolina peach. Peaches were her second favorite food. Also, a source of one of her two pet peeves—the fact that people thought peaches came from Georgia, when, in fact, South Carolina produced almost three times as many every year for the good people of America. And her other pet peeve was when people had pet peeves. She couldn’t tolerate grumpy people, rude people, or people that didn’t treat their mamas with respect. She loved babies, animals, and singing old country songs. She felt like she was born in the wrong century and even daydreamed of teaching in a one-room school house.

  Carrie learned that Wes had been in the top of his class in college, only to drop out and return to the ranch after his father’s death. Ranch life suited him. Wes had found the other college kids to be immature and pretentious. He had spent almost every weekend and break at home on the ranch anyway. Wes loved to watch the sun rise and set every day. His favorite color was the orange that burned around the sun at the end of the day. Carrie already knew from her first visit that his favorite food was his mama’s brisket, his second favorite being Ma’s apple pie. Carrie assured him that was only because he hadn’t had a slice of her summer blueberry pie yet.

  The conversation drifted to Garrett. His brother was a huge part of his life, and Wes’ story couldn’t be told without Garrett. Carrie learned that Wes had once saved Garrett from drowning. It was the same creek that Carrie and he had laid by that day. The one at the back of the property. Wes was eleven, Garrett nine. It was summer and one of the hottest days on record. Garrett had finally convinced Wes to knock off before the chores were done and cool off in the creek. They had stripped down and dived in one after the other. Garrett’s leg got stuck and Wes had to get him free before he ran out of air.

  Carrie shyly asked what his relationship with Jessica had been. Wes admitted that he had loved her at one time, but now loved her only as a sister. As gently as he could, he tried to tell her as much good about Jessica as she would hear. Wes told of Jessica’s care for the aging in their community, the free haircuts and babysitting she gave to the Gatlin boys because their mama was a single woman with five strapping boys to feed. Wes hoped to soften Carrie's feelings for Jess. It was his hope that one day they could all be friends at least. Wes knew his relationship with his brother was now rocky but there was an eternal bond that would not be broken. He hoped to keep Jessica’s friendship, and in time have Carrie at least be civil with her—if there was a future for them.

  Eventually, they reached Poke. Wes pulled up in front of the five and dime. “Well, this is it. Poke Town.”

  “It’s quaint.”

  “It’s not much to look at, but we have a store to feed people, a store to feed the animals, a burger barn, a hardware shop, a post office and a bar.”

  “Anyplace to get coffee?”

  “Jessica was the only one in town who could make coffee. If you want real coffee, I’d be happy to take you to Clinton.”

  Carrie’s nose wrinkled at the mention of Jessica. “Let’s go.” She turned to Wes. “If you don’t mind, that is. I haven’t ever enjoyed a drive, quite this much. I’d enjoy riding a little farther with you.”

  “Of course, Carrie girl.” Wes backed out of his parking spot. Postmaster Glenn looked out his window curiously, noticing Wes’ short visit. He knew he’d be facing an inquisition the next time he stopped by to send off the ranch’s monthly bill payments.

  They drove down the road in silence for a piece. Wes had a lot on his mind with the presence of this little girl by his side. He still had questions for her.

  Carrie was the first one to break the silence. She was fiddling with the material of her skirt, looking out the windshield, eyes squinting in the sun. Looking down at her skirt, she continued to worry the fabric; the soft, colorful patches moved back and forth in her hands. “I always thought I was strange, you know?”

  “Strange how?”

  “What I wanted. What I need. I dated men. Nice guys, sweet guys. I just always felt like something was missing. It was a little better with Garrett, maybe because he was a few years older than me, but just never quite right. You know?”

  Wes held his tongue hoping his silence would buy him a few more moments of her thoughts.

  Carrie gazed out of her window, watching the Texas landscape. The bluebonnets were in bloom, and they covered the sides of the roads like afghans.

  “Like I said, they were nice. But I was looking for something more. Protection? Guidance? I’m not sure what exactly, but I could feel it the second you grabbed my arm in the barn.”

  Her eyes locked on his for a moment. In that instant, he knew that the meaning of his life had forever shifted from the care of the ranch to the care of Carrie. There was no ranch without his little girl by his side, there was no life for him without her.

  His further silence was rewarded with another question, the answer to which he knew may be a critical m
oment for their maturing bond. Carrie quietly asked, “What does being the daddy of a grown woman mean to you?”

  He was at a loss for words. The question had caught Wes by surprise. Maybe because he had thought this woman didn’t exist, but here she was alive and well, in his truck no less. He drove in silence for several moments, letting all the unmet desires from his past wash over him.

  Finally, when he was sure his voice and mind were clear, he answered her from his heart. “A daddy’s love is unconditional and selfless. A daddy is always there for you and takes the weight of the world off of your shoulders. He’s your rock, making you feel safe, protected. A soulmate, a best friend, but also an authority figure. It means spoiling her when she’s good,” he placed a firm hand on her upper thigh, “and disciplining her when she's bad.”

  Carrie let the words settle over her, melting the sadness and disappointment of her past failed relationships. What did they matter now? She had found the man she had been searching for, the one she thought did not exist. Wes pulled the truck down a dirt road, into a field of the star-flowered bluebonnets, killed the engine and turned to her. What he said next, moved her even further and made her want this man to be hers for life.

  “Most of all it means letting her be a strong woman in the world and a good little girl in your arms.”

  After letting his words settle over her, he asked quietly, “What does being a daddy’s girl mean to you?”

  “Being his one and only girl in the whole world.”

  “I want that.”

  Carrie flung herself into Wes’ arms as best she could in the confines of the truck cab. “Oh Wes, that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered.

  “If you were my girl.”

  “Prove it.” She broke the embrace and flew out of the truck, running towards the woods laughing. He followed her into the dense forest, through the thick branches. He stopped when she did, in the midst of a small clearing of soft grass, the sun shining down through the break in the trees. The meadow looked much like the one they had laid together in on that heartbreaking day in South Carolina.