Chance McCall

by Sharon Sala

“You make a better lover than a fighter. You’re just the least bit undersized to be trying to whip the butts of everyone who bothers me.”

  Jenny wanted to argue, but she knew when she’d been bested. It was time to change the subject.

  “I only have one thing further to say,” she said.

  Chance caught the intent look on her face and knew a barb was coming. “What’s that, my little mighty mouse?”

  She glared, daring him to mention her and mice again in the same breath. “Either take me to bed, or feed me.”

  He burst into laughter, dumped her off his lap, and then pointed to the door. “Get yourself out the door, woman. I’ve got to feed myself before I take you to bed again. If I don’t you’ll kill us both.”

  Jenny had the grace to blush. “Well,” she shrugged, “we have to kill time somehow until Victoria comes tomorrow. I just thought—”

  “Get your purse, Jennifer Ann,” Chance said, laughter still evident in his voice. “You think entirely too much.”

  It was getting late. The sunset was as magnificent as usual, but Logan Henry didn’t see it. He was too busy searching for a gas station. The one he finally found was self-service, and he cursed to himself as he crawled out of his car, longing for the good old days when all you had to do was drive into a station and yell, “fill ’er up.” Nowadays he had to hunt for a station that still offered such services and pay more for the gas. Not that money was a problem, it was just the principle of the thing.

  He turned to survey the busy intersection, wondering where he ought to go for his evening meal. Ever since his wife had left him, he’d eaten out more than in. Cooking was not one of his skills. He had a housekeeper, but she didn’t like to cook and did so only when asked. Today he hadn’t thought to ask. He looked at his watch and sighed. It was too late to ask now. She was probably gone already.

  A car honked at the gas station across the street. He turned in reflex at the sound, and then stared in shock at the tall, broad-shouldered man who was putting gas in a red pickup truck. The face was more than familiar. It was like looking at a mirror image of himself…only thinner…and younger. The man turned and smiled, obviously talking to someone else inside the truck. Oh Jesus! Logan thought. It’s got to be him. I was right! And, he’s not alone! Where in hell is Victoria?

  His stomach churned. Sweat popped out and ran down the back of his shirt. Then a big eighteen-wheeler pulled up to the stoplight and stopped directly between the two stations, obstructing his view. Another pulled up behind it, and Logan cursed in fury.

  “Move, dammit,” he muttered aloud, and then winced at the frown he received from an elderly lady getting out of a BMW at the pumps just ahead of him. “Not you, ma’am,” he apologized, “I was talking about…” It didn’t matter. What in hell was he thinking? He didn’t have to apologize to a total stranger. But he did have to know the identity of that man…and who he was with.

  He started across the street. He didn’t think. He just ran. A car came to a screeching halt only inches away from him. The driver honked, and Logan shrugged and started again. The light changed, and the traffic began to move. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Either he got the hell out of the street or became the latest spot of roadkill on Highway 80.

  He jumped back onto the curb just in time, watching in frustration as the traffic began to move. The two big eighteen-wheelers ground their gears, jerked and screeched, and slowly moved across the intersection. Logan held his breath, waiting, staring intently across the street through the dusky evening.

  “Well, hell’s fire!” he yelled, as the space between the stations cleared. The red pickup was no longer anywhere in sight. The man and his companion had disappeared.

  The woman in the BMW turned and glared. “Listen, mister!” she said, “you’ll live a whole lot longer if you’ll just calm down and wait your turn. Take it from one who knows.”

  She set the nozzle neatly back into the pump, retrieved her purse from the front seat of her car, and went into the station office to pay.

  Logan didn’t know whether to laugh at the incongruity of their misguided conversation or curse in frustration. The answer to his sleepless nights had been right across the street, and he’d lost it.

  He didn’t know where the red pickup truck had gone, but he knew where he was going. Gas flowed, money changed hands, and Logan Henry headed out of town, racing nightfall.

  “Grandpa!” the twins yelled in delight as they opened the door.

  Logan grinned, caught the two blond-haired ruffians in mid-flight, and wrestled them both to the living room floor.

  “Where’s your momma?” he finally asked when they stopped squealing and laughing.

  “I’m right here,” Victoria said, as she walked into the room. “Kenny! Mark! Get off your grandpa right now! What have I told you two boys about wrestling in my house?”

  Logan grinned in apology for what he knew was an infraction of Victoria’s long-standing rule. “It was my fault,” he said.

  “It always is,” she answered. And then she changed the subject. “Have you had dinner? I just got home. I haven’t had time to fix anything. yet. It’ll be no trouble to add another steak to the grill.”

  “Where’ve you been?” he asked. Too sharply. He knew it the moment the words came out of his mouth. He tried to soften the implication, but it was too late.

  “Give it a rest, Dad,” Victoria said. Anger was thick around her.

  “I didn’t mean it the way…”

  “Yes you did. If you have any respect for me at all, at least don’t lie to me about that!”

  “Mom! What’s wrong?” Kenny asked. “You and Grandpa are always fighting. Why? Don’t you like each other?”

  Mark echoed his brother’s question by punching his grandfather’s leg, trying to start the game all over and break the tension.

  “Of course I do,” Victoria said. “Both of you, go wash. Now! Then you can help me with the grill.”

  “Yea!” they yelled in unison, and ran from the room, each in a desperate effort to be the first through washing up and the first back to the grill.

  Victoria rolled her eyes and headed back to the patio.

  “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, “you can start the charcoal. I always make a mess.”

  “Victoria?”

  “What?” She turned, surprised that her father was still standing where she’d left him.

  “Do you like me?”

  The question broke her heart. How long was this thing going to stand between them? Even when they both tried to ignore it…even when they each managed to forget it for a span of time…something kept reopening the old wounds…and reviving the old anger.

  Victoria felt guilt at concealing her knowledge of Chance’s return. For years, she’d yearned for a reconciliation among them all but feared that it was nothing more than a dream, because Chance’s whereabouts were unknown. She imagined a time when he would be welcomed as a brother, a beloved addition to their family. And now, when it was so close, it seemed as impossible as it had the day all their worlds had fallen apart.

  “Daddy!” Her voice broke, and she walked back into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing tears. “I didn’t mean to jump on you.”

  He hugged her tight. “And I didn’t mean to imply anything.” His conscience tugged. “Well hell, I did mean to imply, but I’m sorry, anyway.”

  Victoria laughed. He was impossible, as always. But when it mattered, he was honest. He might not have many scruples, but he had a conscience that wouldn’t let him be a total heel.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’m starving. Ken is coming home day after tomorrow, and I can hardly wait. He and the boys had to postpone their trip to Big Bend National Park. They’ve been driving me crazy. When he returns, I’m going to go to bed and sleep for a week.”

  Logan smiled, followed her onto the patio, and dutifully began building a fire in the grill. But the thought kept rol
ling around in his head that she never had answered him. He still didn’t know where she’d been. Or if she’d been there alone.

  17

  The phone rang. Victoria rolled over in the darkness and grabbed the receiver before a second ring woke the boys. It had taken forever to get them to bed. They were too wound up from their grandfather’s unexpected arrival at dinner time and the wild game of touch football that had followed.

  “Hello,” she said. Her voice was low, and relaxed. “No, I wasn’t asleep. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

  “I miss you, Vicky,” Ken Oslow said, listening to the sleepy tone in his wife’s voice.

  “I miss you, too, honey,” she said. “You being gone now couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

  “Are the boys giving you fits about the postponed trip…or is it more?”

  She sighed. “It’s more. I wish you were here. I need moral support. I feel so guilty about not telling Daddy that Chance is back. But, it’s as I told you last night, Chance really doesn’t remember us. Not anyone or…anything.”

  “Are you sure?” Ken couldn’t disguise the bit of jealousy that crept into his question. He’d spent too many years trying to get over the fact that his wife’s first love had been her half-brother. Innocent as their relationship had been, it had still been emotionally deep, and he knew it. Victoria had hidden nothing from him. That honesty was what had saved their own relationship, and ultimately, made their marriage last.

  Victoria heard the doubt in his voice. Her heart went out to the man who’d loved her past understanding. When most boys would have turned their backs on a girl who’d tried to commit suicide, he’d been the glue that had put her life back together. And when she’d finally healed, both in body and spirit, she had realized how deeply she’d learned to love the tall, sandy-haired young man with the gentle smile and soft brown eyes.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “In fact, I think I scared him to death when I first confronted him. He’s really been through a bad time from his injuries. And I never realized until now how much we all rely on bits and pieces of our pasts to make us who we are. Think about it! How can you focus on tomorrow when you have no anchor from yesterday? Know what I mean?”

  Ken listened, and in his mind he understood. It was just his heart that was having difficulties.

  He was quiet a bit too long for Victoria’s peace of mind.

  “Ken?”

  “What, honey?” he asked.

  “You would like him.”

  Another silence lingered and then she heard his sigh.

  “If he’s anything like you, I probably would.”

  Victoria laughed. The sound surprised him.

  “What’s so funny?” Ken asked.

  “Chance is the spitting image of Daddy.”

  “Good Lord! I hope that’s in looks only.”

  She laughed again. “It is,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t have…” She stopped herself.

  “You mean, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him in the first place if he’d been anything like Logan. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I started to say. He’s kind, and thoughtful. And full of fun. At least…he used to be, before my family ruined his life.”

  Ken sighed. “Now Victoria, don’t dredge up old guilt. You’re not responsible. I told you once, and I’ll say it again, the sins of the fathers may fall on children’s heads, but the children don’t cause the sins to occur in the first place.”

  “I know.” She hesitated, wanting him to change the subject. “It’s too late at night to get this serious.”

  Ken understood. As always, he knew exactly what to say to lighten the mood.

  “Logan’s gonna hate the fact that one of his wild seeds took root and grew up so much in his image that he couldn’t deny it.”

  Victoria smiled. “As usual, you’re right. And the sad fact is, that’s what Chance hated the most. When he found out the truth, denying it was impossible. He was younger, of course, but even then the resemblance was there. How do you deny your own face?”

  She thought back to that time, and wondered again, as she had so many times before, why she’d never seen it then. The only answer she’d ever been able to live with was that she hadn’t been looking for it.

  “He should be glad he doesn’t look like you, honey,” Ken said. “I don’t think a pretty face like yours would be becoming on a man.”

  She turned her face into the pillow and giggled, trying not to alert the boys to their father’s call. That would have them both up and out of bed, begging to talk.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow night, honey, just to find out how your day went,” Ken said.

  “Good. And then when you get back, I’m inviting Chance and Jenny out and you can meet…”

  “Who’s Jenny?”

  “Oh, that’s right! I forgot to tell you. She’s his girlfriend…or fiancée…whatever the case may be at this time. And…I like her…I think. We haven’t spent any time together, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  “He has a girl? Good! I’m liking him better already.”

  “Oh Kenny,” she whispered, “you’ll always make me feel special. You act as if you’re still jealous. After all these years, and our ages, and babies, I’m not as…”

  “You’re beautiful. You always have been. You always will be. You’re my girl, Vicky. Don’t ever doubt it. I love you.”

  The words of support were just what she needed to hear.

  “I won’t, darling,” she said. “And sleep tight. I love you too. I’ll look forward to your call.”

  They disconnected. Victoria could actually feel the last, lingering, little wish of “what if” slip out of her heart forever. If Chance hadn’t been her brother, she would still have regretted not knowing and loving Ken Oslow. He was one of a kind.

  Logan Henry did something he shouldn’t. He knew it the moment he left his daughter’s house and turned toward Odessa instead of his own home, but the need to know kept driving him crazy.

  Before he had time to change his mind, he was driving toward the old motel, almost certain that he’d find a red pickup truck parked in the lot. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he’d eaten too much and then played too hard with the twins. It was difficult to face the fact that he wasn’t so young anymore.

  The motel came into view. He slowed down, stared into the shadowy parking lot, and then cursed. There were several cars and two pickup trucks. But none of them were red.

  “Damn!” He slammed the steering wheel with his fist and gunned his car down the street.

  A police car cruising past flicked his lights at him, telling him in as nice a manner as possible, without pulling him over, that he’d better slow down or else. He eased up on the gas. What he didn’t need now was a ticket. But, he convinced himself, what he did need was a drink. He turned down another street, cruising the strip until he found the establishment he’d been looking for.

  The New Brewery was a popular watering hole. The parking lot was crowded, which meant the interior of the place would be the same. That was fine with him. Noise and booze were just what he needed to get his mind off the demons taunting him.

  “Hey, there,” he said, in answer to a woman’s wave of recognition. Tonight might prove fruitful in more ways than one. He grinned, ordered a drink from a girl who came sailing by with a tray full of glasses, and slipped some money in her hip pocket for good measure. He felt better already.

  Jenny leaned back in her chair, looked at her empty plate, and sighed. “I’ve never been so full in my life. This was too good. I ate as if I hadn’t seen food in a week. Did I embarrass you?”

  “Honey, the only way you’ll ever embarrass me is…” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, delighting in the flush of red that swept across her cheeks, obvious even in the dim lighting.

  “Well now,” she said, giving him back as good as he gave, “I think I can manage that.” She wagged her finger beneath his nose, �
��but I need to work off some of this food first. Let’s either go for a walk or…I know…Let’s go dancing! Do you know that I’ve never danced with you?”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, darlin’, you know damn good and well that I don’t know that. And, as usual, I’m at your mercy. What if I can’t dance? Did you ever think of that?”

  “I don’t believe it for a minute,” Jenny said. “You spent too many Saturday nights somewhere besides in my arms. Besides…”

  She grinned. He felt it coming.

  “…you’re too good in bed not to be good on your feet.”

  Chance leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. Several people turned and smiled. Jenny ignored them, waiting for Chance to deny what she’d just said. But he didn’t.

  “Where do we go?” she asked him.

  “Where do you want to go, miss?” the waiter asked, as he walked up and handed Chance the check.

  “Dancing.” Chance grinned. “The lady wants to go dancing.”

  “There’s a lot of good places available,” the waiter said. “There’s Cheers, and Chelsea’s Street Pub, and The New Brewery, and…”

  “The New Brewery. That sounds like a possibility,” Jenny said. “The New Brewery, for new beginnings.”

  “The Brewery it is. Now tell me how to get there. I’ve got to take a woman dancing.”

  “This is great!” Jenny said, as they walked into the dimly lit din. The music was blaring, the floor was packed, and the crowd was lively.

  “Yes, if we can find a table,” Chance yelled into her ear.

  “Need a table?” a waitress asked.

  “Ask and ye shall receive,” Jenny said.

  “I don’t think that refers to tables in bars, darlin’.”

  They followed the waitress to a corner of the room. She took their order and then disappeared.

  Jenny looked around, absorbing the ambiance. It was the same, world over. Where country music was playing, the couples were in each other’s arms. They were smart enough to realize that up close and personal was a whole lot better than dancing apart.