Dry Creek Daddy

by Janet Tronstad

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah said. She reached over to open a window to let the trail of smoke out. “I’m usually a pretty good cook, but—”

  “It’ll be fine,” Mark said. “Whatever it is, it will be wonderful.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Hargrove added.

  “It’s cheese and mackies,” Jeremy said as he stepped closer to Mark. “Do cowboys eat black mackies?”

  “Macaroni,” Hannah murmured.

  “All the time,” Mark assured the boy. “But these macaroni noodles are probably not burnt. They’re crispy. Just the way cowboys like them, cooked over a campfire when they’re out on a trail drive.”

  Her son was looking at Mark with a rapt attention. “Have you been on a trail drive?”

  Hannah was surprised at Jeremy’s ease with Mark. Her son didn’t usually warm up to men very readily. But perhaps he sensed Mark’s likeness to his father. His Nelson grandpa was one of Jeremy’s favorite people. It was that grandpa, too, who had regularly sent Hannah money over the years to help support her and Jeremy.

  “I’ve been some places with horses,” Mark said, taking Jeremy’s question seriously. “Rodeos and such. But I haven’t been on a real trail drive. Maybe someday.”

  “Me, too,” Jeremy said with confidence as gathered up his comics and walked over to the table. He set the comics on the table before crawling up into one of the chairs. Then he looked over at Mark and patted the seat next to him. “Sit here. Beside me.”

  Hannah watched Mark sit down in the chair next to Jeremy just as her father came into the kitchen. He’d been in his bedroom changing clothes since he’d gotten a few drops of blood on his harvesting shirt in the accident earlier. She knew that garment reminded him of her mother, so Hannah thought he might also want to spend a few minutes in quiet talking to her mother’s photo. He used to do that a lot and she hoped he still did.

  “I smelled something,” her father said as he stood beside the table.

  Jeremy was sitting in the chair Hannah’s mother always used. Her father never used to let anyone sit there and Hannah saw him hesitate. Finally, he must have decided it was all right because he walked over and sat at the head of the table where he generally sat. He didn’t even complain about the ragged comic books Jeremy had set by his plate.

  Hannah scraped the macaroni and cheese out of the pan and into the serving bowl Mrs. Hargrove had brought down from the cabinet. The food was a little more burnt than crispy, but Hannah had tasted it and it seemed edible. Besides, Mrs. Hargrove had made a large salad with lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers so they’d do fine.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Hannah said, suddenly remembering. “Lois sent us out a chiffon pie for dessert. Apparently one of her key lime ones was damaged and couldn’t be served.”

  She had checked the box when Mrs. Hargrove had first laid it on the counter. Hannah was prepared to pay Lois for the pie if it wasn’t a reject like she claimed, but Hannah agreed with the other woman’s assessment. The chiffon had a gash in it where a knife had fallen while Lois was apparently cutting something else.

  “I think we must be the chiffon pie capital of the world,” Mark said as he eyed the box. “I asked Lois once and she makes twenty of the pies each week. Some key lime. Some lemon. A few strawberry.”

  “They’re popular,” Hannah said as she pulled her chair up to the table. “Lois says she thinks she could sell twice as many.”

  Her father snorted. “Of course she could. All of the ranch hands around here are sweet on her. Half of them buy a whole pie just to keep the others from having a piece and talking to Lois while they eat it. One of these days that woman is going to have to pick one of those boys. A woman that age should be married.”

  Hannah tried to tamp down her irritation. “She’s only fifteen or so years older than I am. I don’t see any reason for a woman to rush into marriage.”

  Her father sobered up. “Having a young son is reason enough for any woman to marry. Who’s going to take the boy fishing?”

  Hannah glared at her father. “I can fish.”

  “You grew up in the city ’til you came here,” he said, scoffing. “You don’t know anything about fishing.”

  Hannah stared at her father. Surely he’d taken more note of her than that.

  “I taught her to fish,” Mark said. His voice was mild as though he was hoping to avoid conflict.

  Her father scowled. “When was this?”

  “We were probably ten years old,” Mark said. “Maybe eleven. Shortly after she moved here.”

  “Mom was still alive,” Hannah added. She knew where this was going. “She said it was okay. I had permission.”

  “It was a fool thing to be doing,” her father muttered, but he seemed chagrined. He stared down at his plate.

  “It would have been nice to have gone fishing with you, too,” Hannah said quietly.

  “I was busy,” he said curtly.

  “I know,” she said.

  Then she held out her hand to both her father, who sat on one side of her, and to Mrs. Hargrove, who sat on the other. “Dad, would you pray for us?”

  Hannah saw the shocked expression on her father’s face. He looked up and around as though he was searching for an escape. It suddenly occurred to her that prayers might not still be said in this house. He had said the blessing with every meal before.

  “Maybe Mrs. Hargrove can,” her father finally mumbled. “She’s a visitor and all. Good woman.”

  “It’s a privilege to pray,” Mrs. Hargrove said with a nod. Then she bowed her head.

  Hannah closed her eyes. She wondered if her father had always been out of his depth when dealing with her. Maybe he meant to be a more active parent. He must have initially agreed to welcome her into his family. The adoption agency wouldn’t have proceeded if he hadn’t. But then maybe God had intended for her to come to Dry Creek regardless of what her father thought. The Bible was full of stories like that.

  Hannah let the calming tones of Mrs. Hargrove’s words comfort her and she sat there. It was the first time she’d considered that God might have wanted her to come to Dry Creek for any other reason than to be a daughter for the Stellings. Maybe she did have a bigger place in His plan than she’d known. What that might be, she couldn’t imagine. Maybe He just wanted Jeremy settled here for a few months while he underwent treatment for his leukemia. She still wasn’t sure how to tell him that he was so very sick. Whatever she was going to say, though, she needed to get the words in hand soon.

  Chapter Five

  The temperature had fallen and it was dark by the time Mark reached the end of a row of wheat and shut down the machinery. He’d worked as long as it was safe. The headlights on this combine were weaker than those on later models and, when all traces of twilight had faded from the sky, there was not enough light to see much in the field. Hannah had flagged him down some hours ago to tell him she was driving back to Dry Creek with Mrs. Hargrove to get her car. Then she handed up a couple of sandwiches. He’d eaten, but he was weary.

  So tired, in fact, he almost stumbled as he took the final steps up to the house porch. A light shone in the kitchen and he knocked lightly on the door. It had to be past ten o’clock and he didn’t want to startle anyone. He waited a few minutes before trying again. He was beginning to think Hannah had left the kitchen light on by mistake when he heard soft footsteps in the living room.

  “You’re done,” Hannah said as she opened the door. Her hair had been loosened from her ponytail and the denim shirt that covered her T-shirt looked rumpled, like she had been sleeping in it. Relief was evident in her voice. “It’s completely dark out there.”

  Mark nodded as he stepped inside. “Not even any stars out, which means there’s still clouds. It might rain tomorrow. I wanted to get as much done as I could.”

  “My dad and I are grateful,” she said, looking a little shy.


  “I’m glad I can help.”

  Hannah smiled. “I’m happy you were here, too. I’ve had a hard time getting my dad quieted down enough to rest. He’s that worried. And then I have to wake him up every few hours and make sure he’s all right. That doesn’t help him relax.”

  “Does he seem okay, though?” Mark asked. He figured it would take more than a knock on the head to damage Mr. Stelling too much, but it didn’t pay to take chances.

  Hannah nodded. “I checked in with the doctor this afternoon and he said my dad should be well enough tomorrow to go over to Mrs. Hargrove’s with Jeremy while I work my shift at the café. She offered and I hate to leave my dad alone. He’ll complain about it, but—” She shrugged. “It’s for his own good.”

  Mark’s eyes were adjusting to the shadows in the living room and he noticed the pillows and blankets on the sofa. “And have you gotten any sleep?”

  The light from the kitchen was gradually outlining everything.

  “I didn’t want to miss thanking you,” she said with a yawn. “And I thought you might be hungry. I can make a grilled cheese sandwich for you and I found a couple of cans of vegetable soup in the cupboard. We ate most of it for dinner, but I saved a bowl back for you.”

  Mark had noted her tiredness and was going to decline the offer, but his stomach growled.

  Hannah grinned. “I guess that’s a yes.” She turned to walk toward the kitchen. “It’ll only take a minute to heat up the soup.”

  “That sounds good,” Mark said. “My throat will appreciate something hot after all the dust. But I can go into the kitchen myself and fix it.”

  Hannah had reached the doorway to the other room and she looked back. “After all you’ve done, you deserve to just sit there and rest for a few minutes.”

  Mark admitted the idea of leaning his head back on the sofa sounded tempting. The house was silent as only a place of sleep could be, and he was tired of the noise that old engine had made all afternoon. He wished he’d asked what room Jeremy was sleeping in so he could go peek in and see his son as he slumbered. It was probably Hannah’s old room, he decided. Mr. Stelling wouldn’t want a child sharing his space, and Hannah probably wouldn’t allow it, either, since that would mean Jeremy would wake up every time she went to check on her father.

  Mark’s breathing slowed as he felt the tension of the day leave him. He wasn’t aware of starting to doze, but it happened. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when he felt a soft breath coming down on his face. For a second, he wondered with joy if Hannah was planning to kiss him. But then he felt two things at the same time. Little fingers started to pry his eyelids open and a cat jumped on his lap.

  “Ah,” Mark gasped involuntarily.

  He opened his eye and saw Jeremy’s face a few inches away. He was peering at Mark’s left eyeball. “Can you wake up?”

  “I’m fine,” Mark whispered. He wasn’t sure why he kept his voice low, but he figured Jeremy was supposed to be in bed and Mark knew he’d like to have a few moments with his son before the boy needed to go back to sleep.

  “Really, I’m good,” Mark said softly when Jeremy didn’t move.

  Finally Jeremy settled down by the cat, both of them making themselves comfortable on Mark’s lap. The cat even started to purr.

  “I thought maybe you couldn’t wake up again,” Jeremy confided as he snuggled close to Mark.

  “Like when I was in the hospital?” Mark asked.

  The boy gave a slight nod.

  “You don’t have to worry,” Mark assured him. “I’m all better now.”

  Jeremy seemed satisfied and Mark congratulated himself on his parenting skills. He’d navigated those questions pretty well, he thought, for a brand-new father.

  Mark was content sitting in the semidarkness of the room when he heard Jeremy sigh.

  “Still worried?” Mark asked.

  “I have to go to the hospital, too,” the boy said, his voice heavy. “My mommy won’t tell me, but I know.”

  Every nerve in Mark’s body woke up. He wouldn’t make any sudden moves since he didn’t want to scare Jeremy, but he needed to know what his son was talking about. Maybe the boy didn’t really mean what it sounded like, though.

  “Are you going to visit someone?” Mark asked gently. “Like when you and your mommy came to see me that time?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I’ll be by myself. Mommy doesn’t know I heard her talking to the doctor.”

  The boy sounded desolate. “I think I can take my comics with me because they’re small,” he added as though it was the one bright note. Then his head dropped. “The doctor said Callie can’t come. Cats aren’t allowed in the hospital.”

  “That’s—” Mark cleared his throat, but his voice still didn’t make it through.

  “I wish I was a cat,” Jeremy said and rested his head against Mark’s chest. “Then I wouldn’t be allowed to go there, either.”

  Mark wrapped his arms around the boy. He had to include the cat in the hug, but he was willing to do that to hold the boy. The feline didn’t seem to view this indignity favorably, but maybe she was as worried about Jeremy as Mark was because, after one skeptical growl, the beast settled into the hug without too much fuss.

  “I’m glad you’re not a cat,” Mark whispered and then kissed the top of his son’s head. “I’ve never seen a cat ride a horse.”

  “Me, neither,” Jeremy said as he sat up straighter.

  The hug had fallen apart by that time, but Mark figured it had done what it needed to do. Jeremy was looking better. The cat stayed on Mark’s lap. The reason became clear when Jeremy’s hand reached over to bury itself in the animal’s fur.

  They were quiet then, just sitting together in the shadows and breathing. A few seconds later, Mark put his hand on his son’s back and rubbed. He remembered his mother doing the same thing to him when he was sleepless as a child.

  As he saw Jeremy’s eyes droop and then close, Mark realized he could sit here like this all night long. He was a father. He had a responsibility. Nothing had ever felt so good. Someday soon, his son would know who he was. All of the prizes that he’d ever won didn’t compare with the feeling inside his heart at this moment. He had two people to protect now—Hannah and their son. A man could not ask for more, he thought as he vowed to himself not to fall short on the task. He’d be there for them this time.

  * * *

  Hannah stood in the doorway and stared. Enough light came from the kitchen to show her what had happened. The sofa with its sagging cushions was along the wall next to her, and in the middle of it was a scene that would break any single mother’s heart. Jeremy had his elbow wedged into Mark’s chest, and her son’s head was pressed against his shoulder. The look of bliss on her son’s face was the same one he’d worn the day she’d given him permission to bring the cat home.

  She wished she could buy her son another pet instead of having him cozy up to Mark. She loved her son without reserve, but she did not know how to protect him. She had decided this afternoon that she needed to keep Jeremy distracted when Mark was around so that her son wouldn’t become attached to him. And now it looked like it was too late.

  His heart would be broken. Mark liked to win—at sports, in school, in everything. She feared that Jeremy’s leukemia would prevent him from scoring any victories when it came to those kinds of things. Mark might be polite to her son, but she doubted he would be there to push a boy in a wheelchair or console him if he stumbled when he tried to race and came in last.

  It was a pity, Hannah thought as she walked over to the sofa.

  “Jeremy,” she whispered as she reached out and touched her son. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  Jeremy looked up, his eyes unfocused, but still lit with joy.

  “Mommy,” he said and lifted his arms to her.

  She gave
him a hug as she scooped him up.

  “You’ll be a sleepyhead tomorrow if you don’t get to bed,” Hannah said as she cradled her son’s head with her hand.

  “I’m fine here,” Jeremy protested as his weight sagged against her. “I can stay on the sofa.”

  “You need to be in your own bed,” she said and then looked around and spotted the cat sitting at Mark’s feet. Hannah knew the feline couldn’t be comfortable. Of course, Callie would never leave Jeremy’s side when there was a stranger around and Hannah was glad for the animal’s watchfulness. “Callie won’t be able to sleep beside you unless you go lie down.”

  Jeremy wiggled so he could see his cat, but he made no further protest. Hannah let him settle in for a few minutes before she looked over Jeremy’s shoulder and met Mark’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re tired.”

  “I’m glad he woke me up,” Mark said.

  He sounded sincere, Hannah thought as she carried her son out of the room. Callie followed, but Mark sat there watching them all leave.

  She slipped Jeremy into his covers and then walked back to the living room. She was surprised to see that Mark hadn’t moved to the kitchen.

  “Your soup will get cold,” she said. “I set it on the table for you. The sandwich, too.”

  “I know you’ve had a long day, as well,” Mark said. “But I’d like to talk for a few minutes.”

  Hannah knew instinctively that something was wrong. Her mouth went dry. “Do I need an attorney?”

  She had dreaded this talk with Mark. She’s read dozens of accounts of divorce proceedings and talked to as many single mothers. Jeremy was her son, but she knew she didn’t have enough money to fight the Nelson family if they decided they wanted to take custody of him. She knew there was no reason for her fears. Neither Mark’s father nor his sister had ever indicated they would do something like that. And, in all fairness, the Mark she used to know wouldn’t take advantage like that. But she was afraid nonetheless. Anyone who looked at her history would find out she knew nothing about raising a child. She hadn’t even seen family life up close until she came to Dry Creek, and then she felt like she was outside looking at something through a window.