Jenna's Cowboy Hero

by Brenda Minton

  “I’m not sure what I wanted before.”

  “What do you want now?”

  She looked back, her hair brushing the back of the seat. “I want to raise my boys. I want to be a good mom. I want to survive this and be strong. That’s about it.”

  “I think you’re achieving your goals. You have great kids. You are strong.” He was staring at the back of her head and he could see her hands clasped together in her lap.

  The back door opened and Timmy pushed it wide, stepping out to hold it for them to enter. The kid didn’t even look worried. Her boys had accepted their lives, too.

  Adam respected that. He’d never been good at accepting. Sometimes it felt like he’d been fighting his entire life.

  Today wasn’t any different. Today he was fighting the urge to kiss a woman from Oklahoma. He was fighting the urge to promise her things would get better. Those weren’t his promises to make. The best he could do was provide a meal.

  He parked her at the table and left her to get the tea he’d already poured for them. The boys raced out of the room, obviously relieved from their punishment.

  Adam watched them go, shaking his head because they were all about life, playing and loving their mom. That probably wasn’t hard for them to do, the loving Jenna part.

  Jenna looked at her kitchen. The boys had already eaten. The takeout containers were open on the table, and mostly empty. The dog had run into the kitchen and was trying to nose his way onto the table, like he thought no one would notice.

  “Dog, get.” Jenna shooed him away, wheeling closer to the table and smelling fried chicken from The Mad Cow.

  “Do you want tea?”

  She turned. Adam had two glasses. One for him, one for her. Or that was her guess. He was staying? She felt weak inside, and he was staying.

  “You know, I can take it from here. If you have somewhere you need to go.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” He set two glasses on the table and opened a container.

  “No, I just know that you have a lot to get done in the next few days.”

  “The help I got today made a big dent in that.”

  “It’s all coming together.” She dug her fork into the chicken and took a bite. Adam was watching, his own meal in front of him.

  “Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, watching her, and she wasn’t hungry. “But then what? Let it run its course for the summer, and then put it up for sale?”

  “Or you could keep it going. You could be really good for the camp and the kids. Even if you ran it from Atlanta.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m not a role model or a camp director.”

  “You’re not so bad.”

  His brows went up. “Yes, I am.”

  She smiled, shaking her head in disagreement with him, because she thought he had a kind heart that he’d been keeping tucked away, protected.

  “Oh, what did Jess want?”

  “Same as before. He wanted to give me a second chance to back out on this camp. Pastor Todd tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said Pastor Todd has a history of bringing in strays, so why would Jess trust his judgment.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. Jess will give it up.”

  “He’s going to talk to the county planning and zoning committee.”

  “We’ll have to pray.”

  “Right.”

  Jenna pushed her plate away, because she wasn’t really hungry. “What happened to you?”

  He looked up, no smile, just a look in his eyes that was soft, a little wounded. “What does that mean?”

  “You know what I mean. What turned you against God?”

  “I don’t have anything against God. I attended church my entire childhood.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t think anything happened. I left home.” He shrugged and looked away. “I think I enjoyed the freedom of college a little too much. I was busy with football, busy with my social life.”

  “And no one to tell you to slow down.”

  “For the first time in my life. That kind of freedom can be a dangerous thing.” He grinned a little. “I can’t say that I’m proud of that, or how far I’ve gone from my roots.”

  “I guess I don’t know your roots.”

  “Pastor’s kid. And a dad who almost made the pros, but didn’t.”

  She had missed that part of his bio.

  But now she got it. She knew the secret to who he was, the look she’d seen in his eyes. “You thought you weren’t good enough.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you didn’t, but I’m right. You were a hero, from a good family, and you didn’t feel any better about yourself than I did as a kid.”

  “Maybe. Why does it matter so much to you?”

  Heat crawled up her neck and she looked down, at the napkin scrunched up in her hand. “I’ve watched you and I’ve wondered what your story was.”

  “Now you know.” He stood, and after standing next to her for a minute, he leaned and kissed her cheek, his beard brushing her skin and his scent lingering with her as he moved away. “You’re better than most people I know.”

  “You are, too.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Jenna, you’re not seeing things clearly. I’m going to run out and check on the pony. Do you think we should call a veterinarian?”

  “I can do it.” She stood and followed him to the door, fighting the urge to bite down on her lip, fighting past the pain that her own stubbornness had caused. She should have been more careful. The heat had caused her leg to sweat, irritating skin that was still tender. She knew better. Or at least she was learning.

  “I can. You stay here with the boys. I’ll come back and give you an update on his condition.” He stood at the door. He was Oklahoma again, in jeans and a button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hat was pulled low over his eyes. The neatly trimmed goatee framed his smile, making it soft, tender.

  “Thank you. Could you tell the boys to come inside?”

  Jenna watched the boys run across the lawn with the dog. They had water guns and were shooting each other, soaking their clothes. Water dripped from their hair.

  “Sure. You sit down and take it easy.” He smiled down at her, and then he touched her hand, his fingers resting against hers.

  Jenna nodded, because she couldn’t talk, because he was near and she hadn’t felt like someone who needed to be kissed in a long time. And he looked like a man about to kiss a woman, like he might be thinking about it, or even fighting it.

  “Adam?”

  He looked down, leaning a little with one hand on the door frame, and then he let out a sigh. His hand moved to the small of her back, holding her in a way that made her feel safe. He moved a little closer, his head dipping, closer to hers, closer, and then pausing. She thought he might move away. She wanted him to move away. She held her breath, waiting. And then their lips touched.

  The kiss was tender, but strong. His hand on her back kept her close. She held on to his arms, needing to be steady, needing to be near him. She needed to feel like a woman a man might want to kiss, even if it only lasted a few seconds.

  Thoughts played through her mind and she pushed them back, letting herself feel the moment in his arms, with his lips on hers and his hand on her back. And then she moved away, turning her head a little to break the connection.

  Her boys were playing in the yard. Adam Mackenzie was passing through. He wouldn’t stay in Dawson, or in her life. They were both temporary for him, this town and her. She made him feel strong. She knew that. And she didn’t want to be his strength, not that way, as if she was the weak woman that needed him.

  He had brought them dinner. She reminded herself of that fact and so she didn’t say something she might regret. There was enough to regret without adding to it.

  “I’ll go check on the pony.” And then he leaned again, kissing her one last time before he walked out the door.

  She sat down, watchin
g him go. He was checking on Charlie. And then he was walking back to the house, across the lawn where the boys were playing under one of the big trees that she had played under as a kid. He stopped to talk to them, to her boys. They stood up, showing him what they’d found.

  Temporary. He was temporary in their lives. She had to make sure the boys knew, that they understood he wouldn’t be in Dawson for long.

  “I’m heading out.” He stood outside the screen door.

  Jenna nodded, but remained in the wheelchair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? We’re not doing anything at the camp tomorrow.”

  “Church.” She moved closer to the door, not standing up. Standing was suddenly overrated.

  “Yes, okay. Do you need a ride?” He looked down. She wished he wouldn’t have done that. She wanted to remember the kiss, being held, and not that look.

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “Just asking.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’ll be fine.” The way she was always fine. She had said those same words to the father of her boys when he left. And she’d said them to Jeff when he left her in the hospital.

  “I’ll be fine,” she repeated with a smile that wavered as he walked away.

  At least Adam Mackenzie wasn’t making promises that he would break. He wasn’t making any promises at all, except one…that he would ultimately leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Church. Adam hadn’t gone in years, not for real. He attended the dedication of Will’s daughter. Kaitlin. Today he remembered her name. He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine of the truck. Jenna’s truck was already here. He had thought about her last night, and this morning. He had considered calling Clint, because someone should know that she needed help.

  He had a feeling she wouldn’t thank him for interfering. And then he smiled, because hadn’t she been interfering in his life since he showed up in Dawson? Hadn’t she given him advice, prodded and pushed him?

  She had made him smile more since his arrival than he’d smiled in years. Real smiles. That was the difference.

  He got out of the truck, pausing for a minute before walking across the parking lot to the old church with the tall steeple and narrow stained-glass windows. It reminded him of the church he’d grown up in. He didn’t want that reminder, of himself as a little boy in Sunday school, listening to Mrs. Pritchard tell him about Jesus. He didn’t want to remember bowing his head and praying with her as she introduced him to salvation.

  He didn’t need a reminder of where he’d come from and how far he’d gone, away from that kid, those roots.

  But he couldn’t stop remembering. He’d been remembering since he came back here, the memories almost like an open photo album, drawing him back into the images of that childhood, and faith.

  “Adam.” Clint Cameron walked across the parking lot, no longer the teenager that wanted the same high school girl that Adam had given his class ring to. He smiled at that memory, of the two of them squaring off after a game, and Clint walking away.

  Clint hadn’t taken football or winning as seriously as Adam. A tinge of envy shot through him, because in the end, Clint had been the winner.

  The tall blonde next to him, the baby in her arms. Those two meant more than a champion ring, more than trophies, more than anything he’d accumulated. His life had felt empty for a long time, now the emptiness burrowed deep inside him, pointing out the reasons why.

  “Clint. Beautiful morning.” But hot. The sun had eaten up the cool of early morning and June heat was already claiming the day. Adam locked his truck door and stepped closer to the couple walking toward him.

  “It’s supposed to rain later.” Careful conversation about weather. “I think you met Willow the other day.”

  Adam made eye contact with Willow. “Yes, we met.”

  Adam walked with them up the steps of the church, its tall steeple reaching up. He motioned the couple through the doors of the church ahead of him.

  No anonymity here. If he’d gone to church of his own volition, it would have been somewhere big, a place where he could walk in and hide in a back pew. Instead he was here, and people were smiling, waving. A few pointed.

  Jenna was sitting on the stage, a guitar in her hands. A country girl in a floral top and jeans, her hair in a ponytail.

  Cuter than a speckled pup. His grandfather had used that phrase. He doubted Jenna would appreciate it. But speckled pups were cute. They were easy to take home and keep.

  That thought took him by surprise, forcing him to look her way again, to wonder what it was about her that made him think about her at the oddest moments. He’d even thought about her that morning as he drank his coffee and tried to think of reasons not to go to church.

  He scooted into the pew next to Clint and he refused to look in the direction of Jenna, even when the music started and he could hear the guitar. She had a gift. She played classical guitar. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. She smiled when she caught him looking at her.

  By the time Pastor Todd got behind the pulpit, Adam had never been so ready to be preached at. He relaxed a little. But Jenna was walking toward him, leaning a little on the cane. She slid into the pew, into the space next to him. Her arm brushed his.

  He didn’t think church was the place to remember a kiss, or to think about how good she smelled. It was a good place to think about his life, and leaving Dawson.

  But the message was about leaving a person’s own ideas and plans behind, and finding the path God has for them. Adam pretended the message wasn’t for him. He tried not to think about what had brought him here, each incident or coincidence.

  Coincidence. It was all a fluke—this camp, Billy, her boys in the road. Her. It wasn’t about his life changing or a new direction. He was here to get a camp started. He had a job interview in a few weeks.

  His life wasn’t about Oklahoma.

  Jenna felt as if she had held her breath through the entire service. Of course she hadn’t, or she would have passed out. And then she thought about what a relief passing out would have been, if it had meant not being aware of Adam Mackenzie sitting next to her. He took up too much space.

  With the closing prayer, she stood, ready to escape. Willow stopped her retreat.

  “Lunch at our house?” Willow’s tone was soft, the baby she held cooing against her shoulder, wrapping tiny fingers through blond hair.

  Jenna had never been jealous of her brother and his wife, but at moments like this, she wanted what they had. She wanted to be a part of a couple that met their challenges together.

  The man next to her moved, trying to slide past her. She stepped back, but Willow spoke again.

  “Adam, why don’t you join us? The Mad Cow is closed on Sunday, and Clint is grilling burgers.”

  “I am?” Clint gathered the diaper bag, his wife’s purse, and Jenna thought she saw him gather his wits. “Of course I am.”

  “I shouldn’t. I have…” Adam looked like he was searching for a good excuse. Jenna knew, because she was busy trying to think of something she needed to be doing. Scrubbing toilets seemed preferable to this.

  “You should.” Willow patted his arm. “Come on, we can use help. Clint always burns burgers on the grill.”

  Adam looked from Jenna to Willow and then he accepted, that easily. And Jenna wanted him to find his own excuse, his own reason that he couldn’t go, because this should have been her safe time, in a safe place. She wanted to find a corner and hide.

  Instead she met her brother’s concerned gaze, his half smile, his wink. Clint understood. There were times when she wanted privacy, not curious stares and questions.

  But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The boys would be waiting for her to check them out of children’s church.

  “I need to get Timmy and David.” She walked away, leaving them to make their plans.

  “Mom.” Timmy ran out of the classroom to greet her as she walked down the hall to the room that was a dining
area part of the time, and a classroom the rest of the time.

  “Hey, sweetie. Get your brother, okay.” She leaned against the door, taking weight off her left leg. If this kept up, she wouldn’t be able to use her prosthesis until the sores healed. She had to give herself a break.

  She didn’t know how to take breaks. She didn’t want to stop living her life, or stop being a mom. She had so much to do.

  And now she had to face lunch with Adam invading her family.

  She picked up the pen and signed the boys out. One of the workers gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Doing okay, Jenna?”

  “I am, just tired.”

  “It’s a good day for a nap,” the woman encouraged. “Maybe the boys will take one, too.”

  “Look what we made!” David held up a scroll with the Ten Commandments written in his childish handwriting. He was bouncing and had a red juice drink mustache. She doubted the nap idea.

  “Wow, that is pretty neat.” She took it from him, and smiled. Thou Shalt Not Convict. She was sure he meant covet.

  “Isn’t it great? We learned the commandments.” Timmy handed her his scroll.

  “Very good, guys. Those are important rules to remember.”

  “We’re not going to kill or steal, Mom.” David took his scroll back. “But I don’t even understand all those other ones.”

  “You’ll understand them better as you get older. Some of them are about jealousy. Jealousy is when you want what someone else has. We’re supposed to be content with the good things we already have.”

  The good things.

  Hadn’t she just battled her own jealous feelings? Clint and Willow deserved their happiness. And even happiness had its moments of regret, failure or trials. Clint and Willow had battled to get where they were. They still had some battles to face as Willow’s hearing loss progressed.

  She knew that it was easy to look in from the outside and think that someone else had a perfect life. She knew no one had a perfect life.

  She followed along behind the boys. And at the door, Clint and Willow were waiting with Adam. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of the deep blue shirt he was wearing and pulled at his collar. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.