A Family Man

by Mindy Neff

  “How did he feel about you moving away?”

  “Rayville’s only up the road a piece, sugar. I’ll probably see more of him now than I did when I lived in the same town.”

  Josie decided she’d like Chase’s father. It must be nice to have such complete, nonjudgmental acceptance, especially from a parent. “So, have you forgiven Leroy?”

  Chase was silent for so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer. She felt the tightening of his muscles, the deep, agitated thud of his heart.

  “I don’t think so.” He absently toyed with her hair. “Leroy had the means to make Mom’s life easier, but he didn’t. She didn’t have money for luxuries like medical tests or specialists. If she had, she probably would have been able to give Jim that passel of kids she wanted to bear for him. A guy like my dad should have had at least a dozen.”

  “Then you are looking for revenge.”

  Chase let out a long breath and dropped his head back against the couch. “Yeah. I guess you could say that was my plan in the beginning. Now, I’m not so sure. Revenge takes a lot of time and energy. It’s unproductive.

  “I bought the airstrip because it was a sound financial move,” he said with a touch of defensiveness. “The area and location hold a great deal of potential for growth for my dusters. If it turns out that the Fowlers end up with more clout than the Alexanders, so be it. I won’t sit here and tell you that it wouldn’t feel damned good to be richer and more powerful that Leroy Alexander.”

  Josie wondered if that was possible. Alexander had been founded back in 1887 by Bobby’s great-great-grandfather. The man was also Chase’s relative, Josie realized. She supposed Chase had just as much right to power as anyone else in the family.

  But his legal name wasn’t Alexander.

  “Leroy had no idea I’d sold our land to you,” Josie said. “He seemed agitated when I filled him in on the details. I think he knows about you, Chase.”

  “I know he does.”

  Josie leaned sideways, wanting to see his expression. “A lot of time has passed. Maybe he’d like to make amends.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up in a sneer. “It’s way too late for amends. Now it’s more a case of the strong surviving.”

  “But he’s not strong anymore.”

  “That’s not my doing.”

  She detected the bitterness, though he tried to suppress it. She also saw a hint of regret in his blue eyes. Chase wasn’t a callous man, even though his words might not always convey that impression.

  “Did you know the Alexanders are in financial trouble?” She wasn’t sure why she revealed what the family had tried to guard so closely.

  “I suspected as much when the property came up for sale. Buying into this town has been next to impossible for a long time. Why did you, by the way?”

  “What?”

  “Sell the land.”

  “It was the only way I could see to pay for Bobby and Leroy’s medical bills.”

  “Then I’m glad I could help.”

  “Are you?”

  “For Bobby, yes.” And he meant it. He wished he’d known his brother. Helping out, even after his death, made him feel closer to Bobby somehow. But Leroy was a different matter. It was sort of ironic. Leroy—a rich man who’d had the means to do so at the time—had never contributed to his or his mother’s expenses. Now here Chase was, a grown man, providing the funds that no doubt paid for the specialists and the wheelchair Leroy was sentenced to live out his life in.

  Rough justice, he liked to call it, because when you got right down to it, the Alexanders—specifically Leroy—were paying him to own their property. He’d given money for the sale, yet the Alexanders were giving him back that money each time they had him dust one of their many crops.

  Human nature made him long to confront the man who’d fathered him, just to say: See what you missed out on? Sometimes, he felt as if it were the driving motivation behind his single-minded determination to build his business, his bank account and his life into a force to be reckoned with.

  In his saner moments, he knew his drive actually came from James Fowler. The man had given him his name. Out of pride, respect and love, Chase intended to honor the Fowler name, making it a legend that would be remembered throughout time, a tribute to a man who deserved recognition. In this corner of the world, the Fowlers would be right up there next to John Deere and Eli Whitney.

  The next morning dawned clear and bright. The gentle breeze coming through the screened kitchen doorway smelled of fresh-mown grass and hay, a scent that strangely enough reminded Josie of watermelons. The rain from the night before had cleansed the air, making the world seem brand-new.

  As she flipped bacon in the skillet, she glanced at Chase, who was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and keeping a watchful, indulgent eye on a pajama-clad J.T.

  “J.T., honey, please get out of Mama’s cabinets,” she said absently, giving the painted wood door a nudge with her leg as she dodged spitting bacon grease.

  He minded her—somewhat—snatching a clear plastic container off the low shelf and racing over to Chase.

  “Go fishing, Chase?” J.T. asked, hopping up and down, holding the container out like a prize.

  “That’s the strangest looking fishin’ pole I’ve ever seen, sport.”

  J.T. giggled and climbed up on Chase’s knee.

  Josie placed strips of bacon on a paper towel to drain. “He likes to catch tadpoles in the ditch out front.”

  “Yuck,” Chase said, earning another giggle from the small boy in his lap. “Tell you what. I’ll help you corral some of them critters in the ditch if you’ll promise to come out on the boat with me some time. We’ll hunt us up a catfish or two. What do you say, buddy?”

  “Can Mama come too, Daddy?”

  Josie whirled around, splattering bacon grease on the linoleum floor. Stunned silence hung over the kitchen. She looked at Chase. He sat frozen in place for a moment. Then his hand came up, hesitant—trembling, she noticed—and stroked the dark hair on J.T.’s head. Emotions chased one after the other across his face and his Adam’s apple bobbed. When he spoke his voice was low and rough. “Yeah, Mama can come, too.”

  “Oh, boy!” J.T. hopped down, snatched up the plastic container and skipped out of the kitchen.

  Josie made a great show of not meeting Chase’s eyes. Ripping off several paper towels, she bent to wipe the grease off the floor. “He’s at that age,” she mumbled. “He thinks all men are daddies.”

  “He’s a smart kid, Josie. He was testing us for a reaction.”

  Josie shook her head.

  She didn’t hear him get up. Suddenly his boots appeared in her line of vision. He squatted down and placed a finger under her chin.

  “Look here, sugar.”

  Her hand stilled on the soggy paper towel. Unable to put it off, she met his gaze.

  “I am the boy’s daddy. Sooner or later you’re going to have to come to terms with that.”

  J.T. hugged his rabbit in one hand and the plastic bucket in the other as he peeked around the corner. His stomach gave a funny tickle when he saw Chase stoop down—probably to help Mama clean up the floor. That was good of him cuz Mama worked real hard and she liked it when people helped her do stuff.

  He did a little wiggly dance and almost giggled when Mr. Rabbit’s ears flopped against his face. He ’membered the storm that waked him up in the night. And he ’membered Chase coming just like he’d wanted him to. Mouse was right. He’d prayed for it and Chase was here. Just like Bud was in the mornings when Shane and Cory ate breakfast.

  And they were all gonna go fishin’. A mama. A daddy. And a little boy. Grinning, he raced off to his bedroom.

  Chapter Ten

  Josie finished clearing the breakfast dishes. The echo of J.T.’s voice calling Chase “Daddy” still reverberated in her mind. It made her both nervous and giddy. Giddy because it felt right somehow. Nervous because the whole fabric of her life could unravel if her secret was brough
t to light.

  She had to take full responsibility for this added turmoil. After all, she’d been the one to initiate the shift in their relationship by opening it up to intimacy. Had she really thought either one of them would be satisfied with just one more night?

  In ever-increasing ways, she’d seen the attachment growing between J.T. and Chase. And by his words and actions Chase had made it clear that he wanted a package deal. He wanted her in the bargain. He’d said as much after they’d made love the other night. Did you think you could sleep with me and not expect me to start dreaming? About my position in your life? In J.T.’s?

  What if she could never commit to that bargain? What if Chase got tired of waiting around and gave up on her? Or fell in love with someone else? Where would that leave J.T.?

  Josie felt that she’d been put in a terrible position. So much was riding on her secret. People wouldn’t understand why she’d deliberately committed an act of adultery. The Alexander men might be able to get away with that sort of behavior, but certainly not the Alexander women. And for that single, impulsive, selfless sin, J.T. would suffer.

  She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t take the chance. And if Chase couldn’t live with her decision to keep her silence, what then? Would he bow out of their lives? Because of her, would he abandon J.T., much the same as Leroy had abandoned him all those years ago?

  Her feelings for Chase ran so deep, that if it was just herself to consider, she would take the risk. But it wasn’t just her. There was J.T.’s well-being hanging in the balance. She could never, never take a chance when it came to her son.

  J.T.’s birth certificate listed Robert Troy Alexander as his father. Only she, God and Chase Fowler knew differently.

  Oh, God, she didn’t want to hurt Chase, but she could never let him dispute what was legally recorded in the state registry.

  Lordy, all the what-ifs and uncertainty were making her a wreck. Like an alcoholic’s creed, her only option was to take things one day at a time.

  The sound of J.T.’s high-pitched laughter preceded the little whirlwind by an instant. Josie felt love and pride and fear as he bounded into the room, with Chase following behind.

  She made the mistake of glancing at Chase. His gaze snared hers. In an instant, amusement faded from his blue eyes, replaced by a look that was far too intent, far too potent…so very male.

  Her hands trembled and her pulse raced. A memory, dark and thrilling, engulfed her, snatching her breath. As their gazes held, she imagined him recalling that same moment, that moment when he’d plunged into her, so sure, so powerful…so right. You’re mine.

  Oh, how she would like to be his. But life didn’t always allow you to have what you wanted. And that in itself was so very heartbreaking. To love so fiercely, so deeply, yet knowing that it could never really be.

  Because, as a mother, her first and foremost responsibility was for the future of her son. She could never allow anyone to place an ugly label on him—because of her.

  “Look, Mama! Fishies!”

  The murky liquid in the plastic container sloshed and dribbled on her clean linoleum as J.T. charged across the room, holding up his prize.

  Josie inhaled the stench of ditch water as she dutifully examined the tadpoles darting around in her Tupperware.

  “I believe we caught them all. Every last one,” Chase said, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Yeah! We catched all of ’em!” J.T. parroted. “See?”

  J.T.’s distraction allowed her to gain back a measure of control. She looked back at Chase, her brow raised. “That was very…uh, sporting of you.” What in the world was she supposed to do with twenty squiggling tadpoles?

  Chase grinned.

  She reached down and ruffled J.T.’s hair. “These are very handsome fish, sweetie. And so many.” Handing the container back to the little boy, Josie made an effort not to pinch her nose. The smell really was awful. “You’re a fine fisherman. Why don’t you take them outside now.”

  “But they live here, Mama.” J.T.’s lip pouted.

  “I know that, sweetie, but they’ll be much happier outside. You wouldn’t want them to be sad if they couldn’t see the sunshine, would you?”

  “Your mama’s right, sport,” Chase said, placing his hand on J.T.’s small shoulder. “Fish don’t like to stay in the kitchen.”

  “How come?”

  “Because they’re scared somebody might cook them.”

  J.T. giggled. “Naw. Mama won’t cook them.”

  “Better play it safe. Go on now, son. Haul that fine catch out on the porch.”

  Son. Josie reached for a coffee cup and nearly knocked it off the shelf.

  “’Kay, Daddy.”

  Daddy. Her hand jerked as she lifted the glass carafe from the warmer. Carefully, she poured fresh coffee into a mug and turned around, watching as J.T. comically tiptoed out of the kitchen, trying not to upset his precious cargo.

  She noticed that Chase, too, was watching him with an indulgent, proud look on his face. And why not? J.T. was special. You couldn’t help but love him. But this son and daddy business was getting a little too cozy. J.T. testing them was one thing, Chase encouraging it was quite another.

  “Chase…”

  He dragged his gaze away from J.T.’s retreating form, his eyes sharpening at the censure he could obviously hear in her voice.

  But Josie couldn’t back down. This was too important. “Kids are like little parrots. He could slip up in public.”

  “That wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know.”

  “Chase, you haven’t lived here all your life. You don’t know—” The phone rang, startling her. “Damn it!” The knots in her stomach twisted even tighter. “Don’t move,” she instructed. “We’re not finished with this.”

  Josie set down her mug and snatched up the receiver. When she heard the voice on the other end of the line, she sagged against the counter. The morning was going downhill fast. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Josephine, you told me you were making cherry pies for the Fourth holiday, not apple. I specifically asked you, then went ahead with my own baking based on your words.” There was a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line. “Since we both brought apple pies, I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice there was an overabundance of them.”

  And oh, how embarrassing to have to take home a full dish, Josie thought. She’d been wondering for the past week when this conversation would come up. Eleanor must be slipping or else she was really ticked. She usually called immediately when she felt there had been some inappropriate behavior that needed correcting.

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” Apologies were standard fare where Josie and her mother were concerned. “I’m sure Dad enjoyed what was left. You know he loves your apple pies.”

  Eleanor sniffed. “Well, there was only a small bit left,” she said, a note of triumph in her voice. “That Lindsey Wakefield carried home two full plates that weren’t even touched. Of course everyone knows Lindsey Wakefield can’t cook worth beans. What with her parading around like she does in those tight skirts and high heels.”

  “What do Lindsey’s clothes have to do with her apple pies?” Lindsey was in her thirties, twice divorced with three kids, all of whom—according to the town biddies—had different daddies. Josie genuinely liked Lindsey and hated it when vicious gossip passed hands like butter at the supper table.

  “Well, I’m not one to tell tales,” Eleanor replied, causing Josie to roll her eyes, “but just take a good look at her and anyone with a set of eyes can see the kitchen’s not her most productive room.”

  “Mother, that’s not very nice.”

  “I didn’t start any rumors, Josephine. Now this is just between you and me. Speaking on this subject, though, I left the church early, but word still got back to me about your behavior.”

  What now? Josie thought. She didn’t have long to wait.

  “Turning your son over to your friend and dancing with a
nother man,” she chastised. “Josephine, this is a small town. People talk.”

  Obviously. Josie moved aside as Chase came over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. Winding the telephone cord around her finger she turned her back on him. She felt as if he could hear every word her mother was saying.

  “I can tell you,” Eleanor continued, oblivious to Josie’s silence, “I don’t appreciate hearing these things from others. Why, it’s a wonder Gracie Jones didn’t write it up in the town paper.”

  With Chase sitting at the kitchen table, unabashedly listening, Josie didn’t comment on her mother’s rebuke. As to being written up in the town paper, well, Josie knew better than anyone that Gracie would never do that.

  “Is there something you need to talk about, Josephine?”

  God, yes, she needed to talk. But not to her mother. “No, ma’am.”

  Eleanor paused. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Yes.” Josie started to soften.

  “I can understand your loneliness. But you have a reputation to uphold.” The censure in Eleanor’s voice had Josie’s stomach twisting in knots. “The Alexanders have been good to you. If you need…that sort of thing, well, a little discretion would be in order.”

  Josie couldn’t believe this of her own mother. Then again, maybe she could. “It was only a dance,” she said tightly, hoping her voice wouldn’t carry.

  “Yes, but you must remember who you are. Of course, I’ll have to defend you against the talk. God knows, you’ve put me in a terrible position, but I think I can correct matters easily enough.”

  Josie had had enough. Her throat felt tight and her emotions threatened to explode any minute now. She didn’t care any more that Chase was listening. Words backed up in her mind that were long overdue to be aired.