A Family Man

by Mindy Neff

Since Leroy had asked for Chase, Josie felt it was her family duty to see that he showed up.

  “You can’t avoid him forever, you know. He’s dying, Chase. You need to face him.”

  “Well, aren’t you a fine one to preach about facing facts? Especially about fathers and their sons.”

  Both his tone and his words hurt, all the more so because he was right. Emotions backed up in her throat, fear, worry, desolation. She turned away, but he stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No need. You’re right.”

  “What I am is plain old scared, and I’m taking it out on you.”

  She turned back to him, searching his features. “Then you’ll go?”

  He bent and lifted J.T. in his arms. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chase parked his truck behind Josie’s Bronco in the circular driveway. He’d wanted the freedom of having his own vehicle there in case things didn’t go well.

  The sweet smell of roses from the profusion of bushes in the garden drifted on the breeze as he waited for Josie to untangle J.T. from his car seat. Now that he was here, Chase felt uneasy. He’d thought to have this meeting on his own terms, in his own time. But Leroy’s health had preempted him. Typical.

  All the way to the front door, Josie kept looking at him in concern, but he didn’t feel like breaking his silence. Too many emotions were swimming in his head and in his gut to trust himself with civil conversation.

  The massive door swung open before they’d even knocked.

  “Lord have mercy, child, there’s mighty big troubles in this here house.” Chase stood back as the maid—Mattie, he suspected—enveloped Josie with her hefty, flour-dusted arms. To his utter surprise, she treated him to the same show of affection, reaching for him before he could think to step back. “And you’d be Mister Chase. I’d a knowed you in a minute.”

  “Chase, this is Mattie,” Josie introduced. “She practically raised both Bobby and me.”

  “No need for fancy introductions.” Mattie’s voice fairly boomed. “Everybody knows Mattie. Come on in here. But mind now, ya’ll step quietlike ’cause Miz Alexander, she’s a hoppin’ mad and don’t care no hows who knows about it. Ain’t right, if ya ask me, all this fussin’ and fightin’, ’specially with Mr. Leroy in the sickbed.” She plucked J.T. out of Josie’s arms, shaking her head over the obvious uproar in the household.

  “Leroy and Inez are fighting?” Josie asked, clearly puzzled.

  “Miz Inez is.”

  “How is Leroy?”

  “That old fool’s ’bout stubborn as a jackass. Doc says he’s s’posed stay in bed and Mr. Alexander done throwed the biggest fit. Mighty glad I am that ya’ll finally got here.”

  Chase noticed fierce emotions in Mattie’s liquid brown eyes. She cared about the old man.

  “Go on up, Miss Josie. You too,” she said, giving Chase a motherly, no-nonsense shove in the direction of the stairs. “That attorney’s in the parlor out yonder. I’ll go fetch him. Then me and J.T. will see about them cookies I baked this mornin’.”

  “Stanley’s here?” Josie asked.

  “Leroy called for him soon as he found out you was comin’.”

  An attorney? Chase didn’t have a good feeling about this, but he went ahead and followed Josie up the stairs. In view of Mattie’s forceful personality, he didn’t figure he had much choice.

  When they reached the upstairs landing, there was more than a little commotion. Inez’s normally cold, controlled, Southern ladies do not get upset voice was raised and trembling. As if by prearrangement, Chase and Josie’s steps slowed. There was no way to politely get out of eavesdropping short of turning around and hightailing it back down the stairs.

  “What should we do?” Josie whispered.

  “Walk slow?” he suggested.

  Just then, Inez’s voice raised even louder. “I’ll not stand for this. Do you hear me? Your philandering thirty-something years ago was bad enough. I’ll not have it thrown in my face after you’re dead.”

  That bad feeling Chase had was growing by the second. Still, he couldn’t help but think that was a low blow. He could hear Leroy’s deeper voice, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. Inez’s, however, were quite clear.

  “I will not allow you to do this, Leroy.”

  “Seems to me you don’t got much choice.” Leroy’s voice was gaining strength. “You’ve had it your way for too long, madam. My attorneys know what to do now.”

  “Fine, then. I won’t be staying around to watch you die.” Another low blow, Chase thought. “I’m going home to Arkansas. My people are there and they certainly wouldn’t dream of treating me in such a manner as this. I will not stay around and be the laughingstock of Louisiana because you’ve got some twisted sense of duty to a dead woman and her bastard son.”

  Chase pursed his lips in a silent whistle. He saw Josie glance at him and knew she was affronted on his behalf. Josie was that kind of lady.

  “This house is yours,” Leroy was saying.

  “Do you think I want this dump? You haven’t put a cent of your money into it in years. It’s practically falling down around my feet!”

  The place looked pretty good to Chase—if a person went in for opulence and showy art. It had the musty smell of old money. Very old money if there was any truth to the rumor about the fortune being dangerously skimpy.

  “You have your own money, madam.”

  Did husbands really call their wives madam, Chase wondered. What a pity.

  “Daddy didn’t expect me to use my money for everyday living. And after what you’ve done to me, I wouldn’t spend a dime of it on you.”

  Cold. Really cold.

  “Then go home to Daddy.”

  They’d walked as slowly as they could. Now they were right upon the door to Leroy’s room. Inez suddenly came rushing out and nearly collided with Chase. When she got a good look at him, Chase had the amused impression that she was about to succumb to a very old-fashioned fit of vapors. Then she sniffed and stuck her nose in the air as if she’d come upon a skunk, smack in the middle of her prissy hallway. Chase didn’t figure anybody’s spine could remain that rigid without snapping.

  The hell of it was, not only did she snub him, she completely ignored Josie.

  “Nice family,” he muttered sarcastically.

  She was obviously used to Inez’s treatment, because she didn’t even pause on her way to Leroy’s side. Chase hung back, not sure what he was feeling now that the moment of confrontation was at hand.

  The room was large. Although the decor had a pricey look to it, it was definitely a unisex room. There were no frills or noticeable perfumes to pique a man’s imagination, to make him anticipate the joy of being invited in for pillow talk or erotic discoveries. Like his mother’s bedroom had been. Like Josie’s bedroom. Like his own.

  Chase wondered if Leroy was aware of what he’d missed out on all these years.

  Caught up in his own musings, he didn’t realize that Josie had stepped back from Leroy’s bedside, or that Leroy was studying him with narrow-eyed interest.

  “Come on in here where I can see you, son.”

  Son. Chase’s jaw clenched. It was an innocent enough term—he’d used it himself with J.T. Still, the name coming from Leroy’s lips made his gut twist. His brain shouted flight, but his feet moved to do Leroy’s bidding. Curiosity, he told himself.

  Even with this latest stroke, Chase could tell that Leroy’s mind was still sharp. Although his speech was slightly slurred and one side of his face drooped from partial paralysis, a keen sense of intelligence radiated from Leroy’s pale blue eyes. Age and ill health couldn’t disguise that he’d been a handsome man in his day. Had Sara Fowler been taken in by those good looks, Chase wondered.

  “I suppose you know I’m dying, boy.”

  Josie gasped. “Leroy—”

  Leroy’s good hand lifted off the bed. Where his voice
had been gruff, full of bluster at his rough announcement, it now softened. “Don’t be kickin’ up a fuss, sweet peach.”

  Sweet peach? The tender command in Leroy’s voice along with the soft caring and love in his pale blue eyes gave Chase a glimpse of a very different man. A man, he realized, that Sara Fowler could have fallen in love with.

  But where had that caring man been when Sara had needed him the most? The reminder set Chase back on track, hardening his features.

  “You’ve got the look of your mama about you,” Leroy said, turning his attention back to Chase.

  “Did you call me all the way over here just to comment on my looks? A phone call would’ve done the job.” Chase considered it a compliment that he looked like his mother. He despised the fact that he might have some of Leroy in him. He had little respect for the man who’d fathered him.

  “Don’t blame you none for being angry.” Chase gave him points for astuteness. “All the same, you’ve done a mighty fine job with yourself.”

  “And I need to be getting back to that job. Is there a point here?” He saw the surprised look on Josie’s face, heard her indrawn breath, and felt a twinge of guilt. He was acting little better than Inez had in the face of a dying man. But hell, what did she expect? For him to welcome his long-lost father with open arms? Thirty-two years of resentment could not vanish in a matter of minutes.

  Leroy nodded as if he admired Chase’s spunk. The little boy in him wanted that admiration. The man in him dismissed it.

  “There is a point. Ain’t no use kiddin’ nobody. It’s time I got my affairs in order. I’ve asked Stanley—my attorney—to explain the terms of my will.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?”

  Leroy seemed at a loss for just a moment. “I figured you’d know about—”

  “I do,” Chase interrupted. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, I know you’re my father.

  “Then you’re entitled to hear my instructions.”

  “You think I care about that?”

  “I’m bettin’ you do.”

  Chase felt everything within him tighten. He wanted to walk out, to tell Leroy exactly what he could do with his instructions, that he didn’t want any part of him, just like Leroy hadn’t wanted any part of Chase all those years ago. But Josie’s pleading expression kept him rooted to the spot.

  For her and her alone, he stayed, shifting to lean against the wall as Stanley Pinehurst came into the room. It was a dog and pony show as far as he was concerned.

  Chase did his best to distance himself from the group. He couldn’t make himself get too close to Leroy. Or to Josie. The look in her soft green eyes was bad enough. If she touched him in compassion, he’d probably give in to anything.

  The attorney adjusted a pair of glasses on his nose and began reading. “I, Leroy Robert Alexander, being of sound mind…”

  Chase couldn’t believe that he was actually standing here, half listening to his biological father’s wishes being spelled forth in legal terms. Did Leroy actually think he could buy Chase off? It just went to show that the man didn’t know him at all.

  No one bought Chase Fowler. If anything, he was the one who did the buying.

  He didn’t know whether it was morbid curiosity or the businessman in him that made him finally tune in to the attorney’s droning voice.

  “—half goes to Robert Troy Alexander or his issue,” Pinehurst was saying. “In the event that Robert is deceased and there is no issue, the estate’s assets, defined below, as aforementioned in section three, will become the legal property of Chase Lee Fowler, with the strict and unyielding stipulation that Chase Lee Fowler adopt and become legally known by his rightful surname of Alexander. In the event that these terms are not upheld, and there being no issue, the residual of the estate will resort in equal parts to assorted charities named hereafter…”

  Josie’s hand flew to her throat as Chase abruptly straightened from the wall. Leroy’s stipulation was like a bomb exploding in the room, yet Chase’s expression gave away nothing.

  She wished she knew what he was thinking. Good Lord, she hadn’t expected anything like this. Her stomach did a little flip when she realized what Leroy’s contingency could mean. In essence, it would solve a part of her dilemma. Chase’s name would be Alexander. Like hers. Like J.T.’s. No one would question the similarities in his and J.T.’s appearance.

  Because he would be accepted as family.

  She watched him carefully, trying not to hope too hard.

  “Are we through?” Chase asked, his voice quietly controlled.

  The attorney seemed a little caught off guard. “Basically…yes.”

  Chase nodded tersely, then to Josie’s surprise, he simply turned and walked out.

  Still stunned over Leroy’s terms and Chase’s lack of emotion, it was several seconds before Josie reacted. She gave Leroy’s arm a comforting squeeze, then rushed after Chase. He was halfway to his truck when she caught up with him.

  “Chase, wait.”

  He slowed, then turned. His blue eyes seemed to bore right through her. The look made her uneasy.

  “Why did you walk out like that?” she asked, feeling her way in what clearly could turn into a minefield.

  “Since I don’t have any intention of honoring the terms of Leroy’s will, I didn’t see any point in staying.”

  “Chase, he’s your father.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t ask for a blood test for proof positive.”

  Josie, too, found that interesting, especially because of who Leroy was, and for the number of years that had gone by. It made an odd sort of sense though, as she thought back on Inez and Leroy’s relationship over the years—and that horrible exchange of words she and Chase had overheard. “He must have loved your mother.”

  “Did he? Then where was he all those years ago when she needed him? Or when I needed him? It’s too late for reconciliations, Josie. I have a father. His name is James Fowler.”

  “But what about us?” she asked quietly.

  “Us?”

  “Me and J.T…. and you.”

  “I don’t see that anything’s changed.”

  “Stanley said that if there’s an heir—J.T.—that the inheritance will be split between the two of you.”

  “If my name becomes Alexander.”

  She didn’t quite know how to have this conversation with him. Even to her own ears it sounded as if she were a vulture, just waiting for a man to die because there was money to be had. But that wasn’t the case. She didn’t care about the money for herself. It was her son’s future and well-being that had her concerned.

  “Would it be so bad?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “To take your birth father’s name.”

  He frowned and pierced her with a steady gaze. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I, too, have a son who doesn’t bear my name.”

  That was the point. A point that could make a world of difference in their lives. “But he could.”

  “On yours and Leroy’s terms, you mean? I’m a Fowler, Josie, and I’m damned proud of it. After all James did for me and my mom, do you actually expect me to turn my back on him now? It would be like a slap in the face. James Fowler raised me as his own son. He loved me. He didn’t have to, but he did. He’s what a real father is all about.” He swept his dark hair back off his forehead with an impatient hand.

  “I’m proud of who I am,” he repeated. “And I won’t let Leroy or you or anyone else pressure me into being someone I’m not.”

  Josie admired his dedication to his father. Chase was an honorable man. But how long would it be before that innate honor caused him to push in a direction that would have far-reaching consequences? Because of his own birth circumstances, Chase had a strong belief in legitimacy and family ties—and honesty.

  Her heart felt as if it were sitting in the pit of her stomach and her voice shook. “What
about J.T.?”

  “What about him?”

  “Chase, he’s not Bobby’s biological son. If you don’t go along with things, then J.T. has no rights, either.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me, Josie? Are you saying that you’ll announce to the world that he’s my son, but only if I go along with what Leroy wants?”

  Josie instantly felt ashamed. She hung her head. “No.”

  “But you’re afraid that I might spill the beans, is that it?”

  She shook her head. The gesture could have been denial or uncertainty. At this point, she could barely think straight.

  “I thought we were building something here, Josie. Trust at the very least.”

  “It’s just that people would never understand.”

  “Does it really matter so much? Either way, J.T. is still Leroy’s grandson.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I think it could be,” he said quietly. “You set out to get pregnant four years ago and your motives were incredibly selfless. J.T. was your gift to Bobby. But Bobby’s gone, Josie, and I’m not. Take my hand. Stand by my side.”

  Tears she hadn’t been aware of welled up and spilled over her lashes. Yes, J.T. had been her gift to Bobby. The fact that Chase understood that so completely made her heart swell.

  But Chase’s acceptance could not stand up to or overcome the small-mindedness of an entire community. A community that might judge her son by an ignorant and unfair yardstick.

  Her gaze swept over Chase, the strength of his body in jeans and a tight T-shirt, the sensuality of his full lips, the compassion and pain in his intense blue eyes. He was everything she could hope for in a man, yet she couldn’t reach for and grasp the figurative hand he’d offered.

  The distance between them was only a step, but it could have been a mile. They were operating on separate emotional levels, both born from two different paths in life that had somehow become intertwined.

  They were bound together by destiny, yet torn apart by a secret.

  “I’m not made of steel, Josie,” he said when she didn’t answer. “I do bleed.”

  “I know.” She swallowed, trying to still the trembling in her voice. “I’m sorry.”