Rodeo Dad

by Carla Cassidy

  Johnny.

  His presence filled the shop, seeming to make the interior shrink. He brought the smell of the outdoors with him, the scent of sunshine and fresh spring air coupled with the subtle evocative scent of maleness.

  Odd that she would smell him when she never noticed any scent other than the greenery and floral odors that pervaded the store.

  Panic clawed up her throat, clogged her pores. What was he doing here? In her shop? She was vaguely aware of the sounds of Benjamin working in the backroom... the whisper of stiff broom against the tiled floor, the clang of the metal dustpan against the trash bin.

  Please stay in the back, Benjamin. She hoped...prayed her son would remain where he was until Johnny left.

  “Hello, Johnny,” she said, grateful that her voice didn’t reveal her utter panic. “What are you doing here?”

  He walked around the confines of the shop, not speaking for a moment. He wore a pair of jeans that looked new, and a short-sleeved navy T-shirt that emphasized his biceps and the broadness of his shoulders.

  She remembered how those shoulders felt, how his muscles moved and bunched beneath his sun-bronzed skin. Heat swept through her, heat ignited by unwanted memories. How was it possible that her body could remember so vividly what her mind wanted to forget?

  Anxiety once again reared up inside her as he walked around, touching vases, smelling flowers, acting as if he had all the time in the world.

  Maybe every man who got out of prison acted as if he had all the time in the world, but Marissa didn’t want this man in her shop. Benjamin might come out of the backroom at any moment and Marissa wasn’t ready to face the consequences of opening that particular Pandora’s box.

  “Flowers By Marissa. So you actually achieved your dream of owning a flower shop.” He finally spoke, his voice low and deep. “What happened to old Mrs. Grady?” he asked, referring to the previous owner of the flower shop.

  “She passed away four years ago. I bought the store from her son.” Marissa heard the sound of water running in the sink in the backroom. She knew Benjamin would be cleaning the sink, and when he finished he’d come out. “What can I do for you, Johnny?” she asked, desperate to get him out of the shop.

  “I want a wreath.”

  “A wreath?”

  His eyes flickered darkly. “For my mother’s grave.”

  Of course. His mother had died four months ago. He’d been in prison and hadn’t had a chance to grieve for her, to say any kind of a goodbye. She nodded. “What kind of flowers would you like?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you have in stock.”

  “If you’d like to leave and come back in about a half an hour, I’ll have it ready for you then.” Marissa forced a smile and stepped out from the counter, eager to walk him to the door.

  “I’ll wait. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “Hey, Mom, I’m all done. Can I go to Billy’s now?” Benjamin asked as he walked out of the backroom. He smiled a polite hello to Johnny.

  “That’s fine, Benjy,” Marissa said, resignation taking the place of anxiety. She studiously kept her gaze away from Johnny and instead focused solely on her son. “Be home by six and don’t go anyplace else.”

  As Benjamin flew out the door, Marissa turned to look at Johnny. He stood unmoving...as still as a statue. And in the stillness Marissa sensed the storm to come.

  He knew

  It had taken only a single look at Benjamin’s face, and he knew that the dark-haired, blue-eyed boy was his son.

  “Johnny...” she began, unsure exactly what she intended to say.

  He held up a hand, as if to warn her to be quiet. And for the space of an endless eternity, he said nothing. He drew in a deep breath and expelled it.

  Once. Twice. As if in marshalling his breathing rhythm he was getting control of his anger.

  And he was angry. She could see it in the flames of his eyes, feel it radiating out from him with the force of a giant palm pressing harshly against her chest.

  “He’s mine.” He said the words with challenge, as if expecting her to deny it.

  She hesitated and averted her gaze from him. She didn’t want to answer, wished she could lie. She wished she could give him a logical reason that Benjamin was his spitting image, a reason that had nothing to do with paternity.

  “Tell me,” Johnny thundered.

  Marissa looked at him once again, then nodded, knowing there was no point in any kind of denial. “Yes.” The secret she had guarded from everyone in Mustang, even from her own family, was now in his hands.

  He turned away from her and stared out the front window. His back was stiff. His shoulders appeared to grow broader, muscles more pronounced as moments of silence stretched endlessly. “Damn you.” He whirled around to face her once again.

  She flinched beneath the venom of his curse, but didn’t avert her gaze from his. She wasn’t ashamed of her choices, she’d made them with the instincts of a mother bear. She’d done what she needed to do in order to assure Benjamin a childhood without scorn, without ridicule.

  “How could you keep this from me? My God, how could you not tell me about him through all these years?” He raked a hand through his hair, obviously stunned. Again he drew in a series of deep breaths, releasing them with studied control. “What does he know about me?”

  “Nothing ”

  One of Johnny’s dark eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Nothing? Mustang’s always been a town where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Surely things haven’t changed around here that much. Somebody had to have told him something about me.”

  Marissa shook her head. “Nobody knows that you’re Benjamin’s father.”

  “What did you do? Tell everyone it was an immaculate conception?”

  She flushed beneath his derisive tone. “Everyone believes Benjamin is Brian Theron’s son, and I’ve never contradicted that belief.”

  Brian was the young man she’d been dating just before she started seeing Johnny. Brian and his family had moved from Mustang before Benjamin’s birth and the rumor had circulated that he’d run away from his paternal responsibilities.

  “All Benjamin knows is that his father went away and never came back,” she added.

  “That’s about to change. You have to tell him the truth.” Again challenge lit his eyes, a challenge Marissa met.

  “Johnny, you can’t just show up here and start making demands,” she said, pleading with him.

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t honestly expect me to just leave things as they are,” he said. “I’m home now, and I want to be a father to my son.” He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “How could you keep this from me for all these years?” he repeated.

  “I did what I thought I had to do,” she answered softly.

  “Well, now you can undo it. Tell him the truth about me. He should hear it from you, but if you don’t tell him, I will.”

  Marissa’s heart beat frantically. “Okay...I’ll tell him, but give me a little time...a few days.”

  His eyes glittered darkly. “You’ve had plenty of time. Ten years to be exact. I’ve lost ten years that you’ve had with him. I don’t intend to lose another day of Benjamin’s life.”

  He walked to the front door of the shop, then turned back to her once again. “I’ll be back later for the wreath, and tonight I’ll drop by your place to get acquainted with my son.” With these final words, he slammed the door of the shop behind him.

  Marissa opened her mouth, wanting to protest.

  Things were spinning too fast, flying out of control. But her protests refused to be voiced. She knew there was little she could do to halt the changes that were about to occur in her life.

  She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, wondering how on earth she would tell Benjy that the man who was his father had just returned home after spending ten years in prison for murder.

  On the first day of Johnny’s incarceration, he’d been attacke
d by four fellow inmates who intended to show him the social structure of prison life.

  As a young, new inmate, Johnny knew the attack was a test that would determine how he lived the rest of his time. He’d suffered a broken rib and nose, and bruises and contusions. The four men had also gone to the hospital with a variety of injuries that marked Johnny as a man to avoid.

  The beating he’d taken that day had hurt like hell, but it didn’t even come close to the utter gut-wrenching he’d felt the moment he’d seen Benjamin. Marissa’s son.

  His son.

  He got behind the wheel of his pickup and slammed the door, anger still burning and twisting inside him.

  Marissa had lied to everyone. No wonder she’d shown up at the prison three weeks earlier to talk him out of returning here. She’d been guarding her secrets

  Marissa hadn’t wanted anyone to know that the boy was his. She was ashamed. Ashamed of him. Ashamed of the love they had once shared.

  She’d never really believed in his innocence, she’d never really believed in him.

  Damn her. Perhaps the knowledge of his son’s existence might have made the ten years he’d served different .better. At least he would have had something to keep him going, something to look forward to when he got out of prison.

  Marissa had betrayed him by believing he’d committed the crime, by refusing to stand beside him, and turning her back on him when hours before his arrest she had professed undying love for him.

  Marissa.

  When she’d shown up at the prison, he’d been shocked by how little time had changed her. She was still tall and slender and carried herself with the stride of self-confidence. Her eyes were the same color of rich caramels, her hair a frothy fall of variegated blond strands. She still looked like a golden girl, the mayor’s daughter, unattainable to the likes of Johnny. And yet, she’d been his girl for a little while...before life decided to kick the hell out of him.

  During the first few months in prison, Marissa had haunted him with memories of the silken softness of her skin, the sweet honey of her mouth, her whispered sighs of passion that warmed his neck as he possessed her.

  The moment he’d seen her again, that old desire had flared hot and needy. He hated her for making him remember. He hated her for making him want her once again.

  But, more than anything, he hated her for the hes and deceptions that had kept his son a secret.

  He slammed the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb. Maybe he was a fool. After all, what did he have to offer a son? A ten-year-old pickup, a ranch that had fallen apart, and a father who’d lost his ability to dream.

  Maybe the best thing he could do for Benjamin was stay out of his life. The boy had survived just fine without him so far. Maybe having no father at all was better than having a father who was an ex-con...a man who was believed to have killed a seventeen-year-old young woman, the daughter of one of the most prominent families in town.

  “No.” The protest bubbled out of him and he slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. No, he could be a good addition to Benjamin’s life. Johnny knew all about the void having no father could leave in a boy’s life.

  The pickup, despite being ten years old, was like new, and with hard work and sweat the ranch could become a prosperous home. He’d gone to jail for a crime he hadn’t committed and he would teach his son that sometimes injustice prevailed.

  And what did it matter that he had no dreams for himself? From this day forward his dreams would be for his son.

  Chapter 2

  Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous. He pulled his truck against the curb in front of the attractive white two-story house. Three-twenty-two Oak. Marissa’s home.

  He turned off the engine but remained in the car, summoning the courage to go inside and talk to his nine-year-old son.

  He’d faced many killers and crazies in prison and still, his stomach hadn’t clenched like it did now; his nerves hadn’t felt frayed and ragged as they did at this moment.

  What if Benjamin hated him? What if he and his son never managed to bridge the gap of Johnny’s absence in the important growing years of his son’s life? How deep the heartache if Benjamin wouldn’t allow his father to love him, if he didn’t love Johnny?

  Johnny stared at the house. It was attractive, with spring flowers bordering the sidewalk. Brick planters of flowers sat on each side of the porch, as if welcoming visitors with colorful bouquets.

  From all the houses on the block, he would have been able to pick this one as Marissa’s. She’d always loved flowers. He found it oddly comforting that at least that one thing hadn’t changed.

  He thought of all he’d missed already in Benjamin’s life. His first step, his first tooth, the first time he said a word. He’d missed his first day of school, and a hundred other firsts. So many special moments that would never be repeated.

  He opened his truck door and stepped out, suddenly eager not to waste another moment, afraid of missing another minute of his son’s life.

  Marissa answered his knock, opening the door but not smiling a welcome. A worried frown etched across the center of her forehead, and Johnny felt an instantaneous desire to reach out and smooth it away. And that desire summoned anew the anger he’d fought all day to control.

  “Come in,” she said with all the warmth of a woman inviting in a dreadful disease.

  He stepped into the living room and looked around curiously. After his years of gray existence in a jail cell, he had become more aware of colors and details, soaking them in like an arid sponge.

  The room radiated with her personality. A floral pattern sofa filled the room with bursts of color. The rich burgundy tones were deepened by accent pillows and matching draperies. Greenery was everywhere, trailing vines on shelves and potted plants by the windows, giving the appearance of a living room in the middle of a flower garden.

  It was also obvious that in this garden was a child. A baseball mitt sat on the top of the television, ready for Benjamin to grab whenever he headed out the door. A pair of small athletic shoes, socks stuffed inside, rested by the end of the sofa, and an array of baseball cards was fanned out on top of the coffee table.

  “You didn’t come back this afternoon for the wreath,” Marissa said, taking his attention away from the room. “If you still want it, I brought it home from the shop this evening. You can take it with you when you go.”

  Johnny nodded absently. “Where is he?”

  “I sent him next door for a little while. His friend Billy lives there and they were going to work on homework together. I’ll call him home in just a minute.” She motioned him toward the sofa.

  “Did you tell him? About me?” Johnny eased down on the couch, surprised to find it not only attractive, but comfortable as well.

  She nodded and perched on the edge of the nearby chair. Again the wrinkle was back, deepening as she frowned. “I told him.”

  “And?” Johnny sat forward, trying not to notice how great she looked in the deep blue blouse and tight-fitting jeans.

  “And he’s confused, and happy and upset and a hundred different emotions all at once,” she said. “He doesn’t understand why, if you were innocent, you went to prison.”

  “Yeah, that’s confused me, too,” he said dryly.

  Marissa sighed and settled deeper into the high-back chair, looking smaller and tired, and achingly vulnerable.

  “And he doesn’t understand why I didn’t tell him about you a long time ago.”

  He nodded, a knot of anger expanding into a ball in his stomach. “That question crossed my mind as well.”

  “Johnny, I didn’t keep this secret to hurt you.” She paused a moment to draw a deep breath, then continued. “I did it to protect Benjamin. As his father, for the last ten years what could you have offered him? Weekend visits in that hellhole? Is that what you would have wanted for your son?”

  She leaned forward, her eyes ablaze with the conviction of the rightnes
s of her choices. “You know the people in this town, Johnny. You know how judgmental and small-minded they can be at times. I could live with the stigma of being single and pregnant, but I didn’t want him to live with the stigma of a convicted killer for a father. Whether you were innocent or not, the jury found you guilty, and people don’t forget that. You of all people know how cruel kids can be.”

  Although logically, Johnny knew she was right, emotionally it hurt like hell. And beyond the fact that she’d kept Benjamin’s paternity a secret was the fact that she’d so effectively turned her back on him

  Had it been because of her pregnancy or simply because her professed love had been nothing but a shallow, empty emotion?

  Maybe he’d simply been some sort of teenage rebellion for her? The poor cowboy least likely to date the mayor’s gorgeous daughter. Maybe she’d been trying to prove something to herself, to her parents. It didn’t matter. None of it did.

  “There’s no going back in time to make things different,” he said. “We’re stuck with the way things are here and now. I can’t stop people from talking about me, but I can help Benjamin deal with it. I’m not going away, Marissa. I’m going to be here for a long time, and I intend to be a real father to that boy.”

  With a weary nod, Marissa stood. “I’ll call him home.” She picked up the phone on the end table and punched a speed-dial number. “Hi, Alice, it’s me. Can you tell Benjy to come home? Thanks.” She hung up the phone and turned to Johnny. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  Her words once again stirred his anger What did she think he intended to do? Before he could reply, the front door burst open and Benjamin ran in. He stopped short at the sight of Johnny, his expression instantly wary.

  “Hi, Benjamin,” Johnny said, as he drank in the boy’s features. So like his own. The dark hair, the blue eyes... the cleft in his chin. A swell of deep, rich love welled up inside Johnny...love as he’d never known it before.

  “Hi,” Benjamin replied and sat in the chair Marissa had vacated moments earlier.

  “You know who I am?”