Wild Cat and the Marine

by Jade Taylor

  “You’re a good friend, Cat. Hey, Joey, remind me to tell you about the deer I saw on my way over this evening.”

  Joey snagged a dish cloth from the sink and paused at the refrigerator. “Cool! Were there any babies?”

  “One, I think. They were moving so fast, I didn’t see much.”

  Joey nodded, then opened the refrigerator and asked, without turning around, “Mom, can I have a can of Coke?”

  “Make it milk, Joey. You know I don’t like you to drink pop this close to bedtime.”

  “Aw, Mom! I had milk at dinner. How about Sprite?”

  “Well, there’s no caffeine in it. Just this once, then,” she warned. “It’s not going to become a habit, young lady.”

  “Sure, sure.” Joey came from behind the refrigerator door, soda in hand, a broad smile dimpling her cheeks, and sauntered toward the living room.

  Jackson whispered, his voice low so Joey couldn’t hear him. “Sounds like she has you pegged as a soft touch.”

  Cat grunted, then the beginnings of a frown shaped her mouth. “She might think so, but never for long.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up in a mocking question. “Are you sure you don’t beat her?”

  Cat twisted away from the casual smile that gripped her like a pair of handcuffs. She reached for glasses from the cabinet and then looked over her shoulder at Jackson. The moment became suddenly tense and still. The rest of the world disappeared. Heat enveloped her in one shattering, electric instant. Hastily, she turned back to the cabinet shelf and pretended great interest in the array of mismatched glasses. “Never on Thursdays! Joey’s perfectly safe one day a week.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Cat put the glasses on the table. Carefully.

  His devilish smile broke out full force as he moved closer. His voice got lower. “If you knew what I dreamed last night…”

  “What?” She straightened and faced him.

  The smile faded and his cheeks took on a characteristic ruddy blush. “Oh, I couldn’t tell.”

  The blush, against cheeks stubbled with the day’s beard growth, intrigued her. She fumbled ice cubes into the glasses and poured tea over them. She forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice. “Why not? You have my full attention now!”

  “As Cassidy said, you have to have a little respect for mothers. I don’t want to embarrass you.” Jackson ducked as Cat tossed a towel in his direction.

  She grimaced. “I don’t think you can embarrass mothers.”

  “Been through too much?”

  “You might say that.” Memories surged over her. The fear, the embarrassment, the long months of wishing she wasn’t alone. Loneliness bothered her most. Being alone, when she ached to have this man beside her.

  Jackson’s voice came low and soft and edged with anger. “Who was he? Who was the jerk who left you in the lurch?”

  Cat went pale. How could she tell him what he’d left behind? This man hated being in any place long enough to watch a crop mature, never mind the time it took to raise a child. She took refuge in annoyance, spitting back her reply. “That, Marine, is none of your business! Come on, you have your iced tea. Let’s join Joey on the front porch.”

  Jackson came closer to her, his bulk overshadowing her own slender frame. “Wild Cat, you know I’m not just curious, don’t you? It isn’t like that with me.”

  Jackson’s voice came as soft as a whisper, enticing her to confide. For his sake, and her own, she had to keep her secret. “Joey’s waiting,” she replied, her voice quiet and cold.

  After that, she kept the conversation away from the personal. She was also careful to keep Joey by her side. With her child listening intently to his every word, Jackson couldn’t pursue his interest.

  At nine-thirty, he stood up. “Time to go home. There’s always another stall needing to be shoveled at Gray’s Way.”

  She relaxed. The danger of her secret being spilled no longer threatened. “And I’ll bet you do a heck of a good job, too.”

  “I can shovel, uh, manure with the best of them. Ladies, I bid you a good night.”

  Joey giggled.

  Jackson swooped on her and held her high over his head. She shrieked in delight. “And you, my fair princess,” he said, “you have to go to bed, too. How about a good-night kiss for Uncle Jackson?”

  Joey shook her head in denial. “You’re not my uncle!”

  “No,” Jackson teased, “I’m not. I’m your handsome prince come to carry you away from the dragon lady over there. Would you like that?”

  “Mommy’s not a dragon!” Joey screamed, wiggling with glee.

  “No! Did I say she was a dragon? No, no! I meant she was a dragonfly!” Jackson proceeded to tickle Joey so industriously that she hardly breathed as the giggles pealed out of her.

  Cat watched them together. Why hadn’t he guessed? Except for the hair color, they were so alike. Both full of scheming mischievousness. Both of them so dear to her. For a second, Cat wondered what it would be like if this scene was the norm. If every night Jackson picked his daughter up and hugged her, tickled her and kissed her, tucked her into bed and then turned that charming smile on her, what dreams could they weave together?

  At that moment, he put Joey down and turned to her and Cat wondered if he’d guessed her thoughts.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll give me a good-night kiss either, huh?”

  Oh, she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. Just this once, she thought. Just this once! “You haven’t asked yet.”

  “I usually take.” He came over to her and touched her cheek gently, his action belying his words.

  Cat tipped her head up to look into his eyes. The brilliant blue dazzled her, framed as they were in rich, dark lashes. She got lost in their depths.

  Jackson leaned down and touched his lips briefly to hers, then stepped back hurriedly, as if her touch burned him. He turned to Joey and said teasingly, “See, Joey, even your mother can be nice when she tries.”

  Joey giggled, but retreated toward the door, as if afraid Jackson would try to kiss her, too. He didn’t. He waved over his shoulder as he jumped off the edge of the porch, not bothering with the steps only a few feet away.

  “I’ll see you ladies in a day or two. Good night.” He loped toward the road, then broke into a sprint.

  Running, Cat thought. Running away. Joey came over to stand next to her and the two of them watched as Jackson disappeared into gathering night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WILL PEERED OUT the kitchen window as his tall son left the gravel road and started walking across the field toward Catherine Darnell’s place. He shook his head and went over to the coffeepot and filled two cups, then carried them back into the living room with the awkward limping gait the knee injury forced on him.

  He handed one to Bertie and sat down next to her on the sofa. But not too close. Carefully easing his injured leg onto the patchwork ottoman, he shook his head again. “Looks like Jackson is going over to see Catherine.”

  “I wondered when he might. Jackson’s been working so hard he hasn’t had time to visit his old friends.”

  “He’s a good boy, mostly.”

  “Now, Will Gray, why can’t you say one nice thing about your son without watering it down?”

  “I love him right enough. It’s just that he worries me no end. I’m afraid he’s fixing to mess up his life.”

  “I can’t see how visiting an old school friend could do that.” She lifted her coffee cup and eyed Will over the steaming brew.

  Will looked back at her and for a moment forgot what he’d intended to answer. He set his coffee cup down on the end table. It gave him time to think. Then he turned back to her. “Don’t you?”

  “Catherine Darnell is the finest woman in Engerville. There’s any number of things she could have done after she had her girl, but what she did was settle down and raise her the right way. I admire that. A woman isn’t a mother because she has a baby. She’s a mother when she t
akes care of it. Same thing I’ve always said about men.”

  “I agree. One hundred percent.”

  “Then why are you worried about him seeing Catherine?”

  “Just seeing her won’t hurt anything, I guess.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I don’t have to ask you not to repeat this. I know you won’t. I’ve always wondered if that little girl is my granddaughter.”

  “Wasn’t Jackson going with Rebeka back then?”

  “He took Catherine to the prom. Both of them busted up with their steadies about two weeks before the prom. The opportunity was there, but I can’t see Jackson not owning up to it. If Joey was his, he would take care of her, at least. I raised him not to lie, cheat or steal, and if he’s guilty here, then he’s done all three.”

  “‘If’ is a big word. Opportunity doesn’t mean he’s the culprit.”

  A sudden rush of emotion choked Will. He took another sip of coffee and the hot liquid helped him speak. “Believe it or not, but I’d give anything if that child was my granddaughter. I fell in love with her when she was a baby and first started going to church with me and Helen. She’s the cutest little thing and she reminds me of Helen in some ways.”

  Bertie smiled, reached over and patted Will’s hand. “You still miss her, don’t you?”

  Will nodded.

  JACKSON HEARD VOICES as he approached Gray’s Way. Stepping off the road, he moved to the shadows underneath a tall tree. Will stood in the yard, his walnut cane beneath his hand as he said good-night to Bertie Gillis.

  “Awfully good of you to come by again,” he said.

  Despite the heat of the day, the night air chilled bare arms. Bertie tugged her shawl closer about her shoulders, and tilted her blond head toward the older man. “I please myself, you know. I bear some of the responsibility for your injuries, and besides, if I didn’t enjoy cooking for you and Jackson, I certainly wouldn’t do it.”

  “You bear no blame for giving me the chance to buy a young bull at a good price. I should have been more careful. I appreciate your coming by, though. More than the cooking, even, is the talk.”

  “Now that is one thing I know how to do.”

  Will laughed.

  Bertie smiled and looked toward the tree that sheltered Jackson.

  Jackson knew she couldn’t see him. The night obscured his presence too well, so why did uneasiness crawl up his spine as if he leaned against an ant’s nest, instead of a sturdy maple tree?

  Bertie turned back to face Will. “Well, I’d better be leaving. Tomorrow’s my sewing circle night, but I’ll come by the day after. If you’d like?”

  “I haven’t enjoyed such wonderful cooking since Helen died. Not to mention the company. With Cassidy gone and Jackson just here for a little while, I get lonely.”

  Bertie nodded shortly and turned away from her companion. “Well, then. ’Bye, Will.”

  From behind the tree, Jackson watched and listened. There was no mistaking the hungry look on his father’s face. His stomach went hollow, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His father and Bertie? Surely not.

  Jackson watched his father hold the car door for Bertie, then stand there alone, frowning as he watched the taillights until they curved around a bend in the road and vanished. He turned to go back into the house.

  Pine needles rustled under Jackson’s feet. The sound from the shadows startled his father.

  “Who’s there?”

  Jackson winced. Pop’s hearing was as good as ever. “Just me, Pop.”

  “Jackson?”

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  “Why are you lurking in the dark? Trying to scare a man to death?”

  “Aw, Pop, I was just giving you a chance to kiss your girlfriend good-night.”

  Pop’s voice rose. “Mind your manners, boy! I can still tan your hide.”

  “So what’s wrong with a good-night kiss?”

  Will looked sharply at him. “How long were you standing there?”

  Jackson countered his look with a long, cool stare of his own. “Long enough.”

  “You still planning on leaving?”

  “After you’re better.”

  “If that’s the case, then maybe you ought to stay away from the Darnell place.”

  Jackson knew what Pop hinted at. He couldn’t admit it to his father. “Cat’s a friend, that’s all.”

  His father snapped, “Then act like a friend and stay away from her. She’s already been hurt once.”

  Jackson stiffened. “Don’t you think I’m a little old to be giving orders to?”

  “It’s not orders, son. It’s advice. Do Cat a favor and take it.”

  Will climbed the porch steps slowly. He paused on the third riser and looked down at Jackson, his angular features hard. “She’s been hurt before. I don’t want my blood to be a part of hurting her again.”

  Jackson’s quick temper edged his voice with anger. “Maybe you should practice what you preach, old man!”

  “Who’re you calling an old man? I’ve got half a mind to see if a little North Dakota dust on your backside would teach you some manners!”

  For a long moment Jackson stared up at his father coldly. He didn’t look fragile, and the hard set to his jaw announced his feelings in no uncertain tones, but his hand clutched the walnut cane. Jackson shook his head as if to clear it, and shot a weak smile in Pop’s direction. “If you think it might, I’d be willing to roll around a bit and see how much dust I can gather.”

  His father’s keen gaze relaxed and a thin smile tipped his lips. He nodded. “You probably would. Forget it. What did you mean by telling me to practice what I preach?”

  “It doesn’t take a farmer to see you and Bertie are two peas in the same pod.”

  “Nonsense! She’s being a good neighbor.” He turned, climbed the last step and limped across the porch to the door.

  Jackson called out to the stiff back, “Well, you try kissing her good-night next time she’s over and see how neighborly she gets!”

  His father looked back, indignation pulling down his rusty brows and making his face go all angles and planes. “You think because you’ve been away in the Marines you can come home and try to tell your old man the facts of life? I’ve known Bertie since the day she was born.”

  “I suppose you’d remember?”

  “Sweetest woman in the county, despite the village idiots who named her ‘Crabby,’ and one of the nicest, too.” He paused. “I was almost ten years old. Of course, I remember. Now you get yourself in bed, and leave me to tend my own chickens. You’ll need to be up by four-thirty to meet the Greyhound bus carrying the new fuel pump for that tractor you broke this morning.”

  “I broke? You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “Not more than a smidgen. Come on, now. Let’s go in.”

  “Might as well. You’re as good at changing the subject as anyone I’ve ever met. If a guy is going to get a stepmother, then I think he ought to be told about it.”

  His father’s anger faded as he stared over Jackson’s head into the shadowed farmyard. A vagrant breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, so they rustled softly. “It’s not been four years since your mother died. Even if I wanted to, and Bertie was willing, it wouldn’t seem right.”

  Jackson quit his teasing. It wasn’t funny anymore. He offered a token of peace. “I wouldn’t mind. Cassidy would be okay with it, too.”

  “Go to bed, boy, and quit trying to marry off your father.”

  Jackson laughed and climbed the steps two at a time. Before he went inside, he looked toward Cat’s place. He couldn’t see any lights. She might have gone to bed. The instant image the thought provoked made him uneasy. He had no business picturing Cat in bed and himself beside her. Maybe the danger was real.

  “OH, MOMMY! They’re beautiful!”

  “Pick one to keep, Joey. You worked as hard as I did.”

  Joey pondered the gleaming necklaces they had made after Jackson left. Outside, the wind rose and
Cat heard it keening against the pine siding of the house. The weather always seemed just on the verge of breaking in.

  Joey’s small hand hovered over the neatly laid rows of rhodinium, crystal, jade and jasper. She reached for a necklace of fire-cut crystal as boldly red as rubies, yet its value only a few dollars. Picking it up, she held it to her neck and bent forward to use the table mirror to check its effect, her shoulder-length hair swinging forward as she did so. Then she laid it back down.

  “Pick one, Teddy Bear.”

  Joey took the crystal necklace and slipped it over her head. It lay in a blaze of red against her yellow T-shirt.

  “Not exactly a match,” Cat said.

  “What’s a match?” Joey asked.

  “When things go together. You know, like bees and flowers, like you and your best buddy, Tommy Karl.” Like me and a certain redhead.

  “Like me and you. Right, Mom?”

  “Yes, honey, like you and me.” Cat hugged Joey and kissed her cheek. Joey smelled like the strawberry ice cream she’d had for dessert and something else. Cat sniffed again. Horse. The faint odor of horse clung to her daughter despite her shower before dinner and the fresh jeans and T-shirt. Cat laughed. “Exactly like you and me.” She rubbed her cheek against Joey’s hair. In full sun, her daughter’s walnut hair would show a bit of auburn. A tiny bit, but enough to remind Cat of fire.

  After shoving the bead box against the wall near the lamp, Cat picked up her high school yearbook. The book fell open, as it always did, at the picture of a boy holding a strip of newspaper covered with dripping flour glue. He stood in a threatening posture over a teenage girl up to her elbows in a tub of the same glue.

  “That’s you, Mom,” Joey announced.

  “Yes, darling, that’s me.”

  Joey read the caption, “Wild Cat Darnell tries to avoid becoming a perm—what’s that word, Mom?”

  “Permanent, honey.”

  “’Perm-a-munt part of the snowman project the senior art class is making for the Christmas dance,’” she finished triumphantly, then looked up at her mother. “Mom, are you crying?”