“What?” Marcus asked.
“The way he’s standing. He’s so much like you. Even down to the way he stands and the way he talks.”
Marcus glanced from her to his son and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, chip off the old block. Pretty cute kid.”
The tension of moments ago evaporated.
“If you do say so yourself,” she teased.
At that, a full grin spread across his face, revealing dimples she’d never noticed before. And that grin slayed her. She hadn’t expected the power behind his smile, the way it changed him. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the thought, the way that smile tugged at something deep inside her.
One minute he had her convinced he couldn’t possibly be responsible enough to be a father, and the next moment she wanted to help him achieve that goal.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” she assured him. “You should help him with his plate.”
He gave her a knowing look.
“I get that he’s everything to you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is a mess, you know. We can’t undo the past, but it shouldn’t have been like this. I didn’t want to be my father. I should have been there five years ago. I should have been there last year. You could have called me.”
When Sammy died. Lissa closed her eyes briefly, feeling guilty because she should have called him. She should have allowed him to be there for Sammy, for Oliver. Instead, she’d listened to her sister, granted her the last wish and promised to see this plan through to the end. Lissa should have known it would cause them all more pain in the end.
“I am sorry,” she told him. “I should have called you when she had the accident.”
“But you didn’t,” he said, and then seemed to become aware of their surroundings. The hurt, the anger, all of the emotions that had flitted across his face suddenly disappeared. From a distance, anyone would think he didn’t care, that he wasn’t affected.
However, she knew the truth. It was in the dark depths of his eyes. The pain of the past, the anger, the confusion.
“I’ll get him a plate. And you. Go sit down and I’ll bring you one, too.” He gave her a brief quirk of the lips, his version of a smile. “Step one in becoming a father. Kids have to eat.”
“No peas. Oliver doesn’t like peas.”
“Neither do I.”
Unwittingly, she had given them a connection. Of course, half the little boys, and maybe grown men, across the country would say the same about peas. She could have added that she didn’t like them, either.
But she didn’t.
Maria, the youngest of the Palermo siblings, waved at her from a table in the corner. She was seated with Lucy’s stepdaughter, Issy, and with the little girl Lucy and her husband, Dane, had adopted, Jewel. The child, eighteen months old, was Maria’s biological child whom she’d asked her older sister to raise. The Palermo kids had been through a lot, but what Lissa saw was a family that had begun the healing process and they had a lot of love for one another.
Her foster parents had given Lissa and Sammy that family bond. They were the grandparents of Oliver. They were the home they went to for holidays. They were the people Lissa counted on, even now.
She sat down at the table with Maria, who was busy cutting meat and helping Issy, blind since birth, with her food.
“Can I help?” Lissa offered.
Maria flashed her an amused look. “That’s very brave of you. But of course you can help. With these two, we always accept help. If you can make sure Jewel keeps her food on the tray of that high chair and not the floor, that would be great. Is Marcus bringing you a plate?”
“He is.” She looked away, uncomfortable with the questions she saw forming in Maria’s eyes. Questions about Marcus. About her relationship to him.
She was here because Sammy wasn’t. Sammy, who had gone to the store to pick up a few things while Lissa watched Oliver and had died in a car accident. She’d lived long enough to tell Lissa to give Marcus a chance to be a dad.
If Sammy had lived, would the two of them, Marcus and Sammy, have found each other again? Would they have been a family?
“That’s about the sweetest picture ever,” Maria spoke, catching her attention and thankfully distracting her.
She followed the younger woman’s gaze and had to agree. Marcus had a tray and was heading their way. Next to him, still wearing Marcus’s hat, Oliver carried his own tray. They were talking, with Marcus leaning down to catch what his son had to say.
“Yes, the sweetest.” Lissa could admit the cowboy made it easy to drop her guard. She had to keep things in check and remember that this man had a history of leaving broken hearts in his wake.
She hoped and prayed that Marcus Palermo could be the father Oliver deserved. And she also prayed that her heart wouldn’t be shattered beyond repair in the process.
Chapter Eight
One thing Marcus really disliked was being the center of attention. With Oliver tagging along next to him as they made their way to the table, they were getting plenty of attention. An arm bumped his and he sidestepped before realizing it was Lucy.
“Calm down, it’s just me. And get that cornered look off your face.” Trust his older sister to see right through him and not give him space.
“I don’t like crowds.” There, that ought to keep her out of his business.
Instead, she gave him a curious look that bordered on maternal. Oliver had left them. He was pulling out a chair and setting his tray on the table. Lissa leaned to listen to something he said.
Lucy cleared her throat to get his attention.
“Marcus, if you need anything...if you need to talk, I’m here.” Lucy, now the family therapist, stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He’d been right about that maternal look softening her expression.
“Who are you?” he mumbled, and she didn’t seem at all troubled by the question. Instead, she gave him a parting grin and headed for the table.
Of course, he wouldn’t escape her. Her daughters were at the table with Maria and Lissa.
He ought to ask if there was going to be another little one at the family table next spring. That would get her off his back. And then he realized he liked the idea of another baby at their holiday table.
He’d learned something about himself in the past six months or so. He did like babies. He liked kids. And with that thought, his gaze shifted to Oliver. His son. It got him in the solar plexus, whatever that was. It felt safer than saying it affected his heart.
“I got you a plate.” He set it down in front of Lissa, ignoring Lucy. “Oliver assured me you like lasagna. He also told me to get you a double helping of peas. I didn’t.”
She tickled Oliver and then kissed his cheek. “He would do that to me. Thank you for not listening to him.”
Across the table from them, Lucy made a choking sound. Marcus glanced at her, but she pretended to be helping Issy with her food. It was new, this teasing version of his sister.
Lucy had found some happiness. And peace. It was written all over her face, shone from her eyes.
He guessed that was what all the Palermo siblings wanted, for the others to be happy. And Lucy was happy. He searched the room for Alex, because Marcus’s twin had found the same for himself. Who could have known that picking up a bride on the side of the road would work out so well for a man?
“Can I have my chocolate cake now?” Oliver asked as he pushed green beans around his plate.
Marcus glanced at Lissa to see what she would say, but she arched a brow, returning the question to him. He looked at his son’s plate, still filled with chicken, vegetables and mashed potatoes.
“I think you have to eat at least part of the good food before you get dessert,” Marcus answered. “Now, I’m just guessing at that, but I know that I always eat my dinner before I
tackle dessert. You won’t get strong eating cake.”
“If I eat ten bites of each thing?” Oliver looked pretty hopeful, and ten bites of each thing would pretty much clean his plate.
“I think that’s a deal.” Marcus poured ketchup on his own mashed potatoes and ignored the look Lissa gave him, a pretty disgusted look if he was to guess.
He wasn’t going to explain to her about a real dislike for mashed potatoes. When he was a kid, they were required to eat everything on their plate. Ketchup, he’d discovered, made some foods go down a little easier.
He was finishing up when the outside door flew open and a first responder rushed in carrying a child. Throughout the fellowship hall, people froze, their gazes glued to the scene, the man in his yellow vest, the child, pale and unmoving. Next to Marcus, Lissa moved quickly to her feet and hurried toward the scene that everyone else suddenly seemed to understand. People rose. Many murmured. Marcus hoped they were praying, because the child, a little girl, didn’t look good.
“Watch Oliver,” he said to Maria as he pushed back from the table. She nodded, her eyes large as she watched Lissa hurrying through the room with the first responder.
Marcus followed them down the hall to Doc’s makeshift clinic. He stopped at the door and watched as Lissa leaned over the child, who appeared to be a year or two older than Oliver. It got him in the gut, watching that little girl and thinking about his own son.
Lissa had a stethoscope and she helped the child to sit as she listened to her heart, her breaths. Tears were streaming down the child’s face.
“My mommy?” She leaned into Lissa’s shoulder.
Marcus made eye contact with the first responder, who shook his head only slightly before answering. “We’re looking for her.”
No promise that she would be okay or that they would find her. Marcus knew what had happened. The wet clothes of the child, the search. The mom must have driven through water and she hadn’t gauged the depth or the power behind the swiftly moving force. He wanted to go help search. He should be helping.
“Marcus, could you find Doc? And if the two of you will leave, Pearl and I will find her some dry clothes to change into. We’ll need blankets, too. And a heating pad if you can find one. Her temp is low.”
“The water was cold.” Pearl shuddered as she spoke and then her teeth started to chatter.
Marcus grabbed a pile of blankets and handed them over to Lissa. “I’ll see what I can find.”
“I want my mommy.” The little girl was full-on crying now. And Marcus wasn’t good with tears. It brought back too many memories.
“I’ll be back.”
The first responder followed him from the room. “Doc is at the search site. In case they do find the mom.”
Marcus wanted to spew just about every curse word he’d ever been paddled for saying. And then some. Instead, he stopped and said a quick prayer that they’d find Pearl’s mommy.
“How’d they get the little girl out?”
“Her mom got her out the window. She told us she grabbed a branch, but the car went under. I don’t think we’ll find her mom alive.”
“Family?”
“Not from around here. They were on their way to Oklahoma, where the mom has family.”
Marcus went from wanting to say some strong words to wanting to hit something. “Okay, let’s see if we can find out the name of those relatives and give them a call.”
The dining room had cleared out except for the Palermo family and a few others. Pastor Matthews stood in the little group and he clearly didn’t have good news. His face paled and he shook his head.
“Did they find her?” the first responder asked.
“They’re still looking, Joe,” Pastor Matthews assured him. “They found the car and she wasn’t inside. So that gives us hope that she got out.”
“I pray she did. That little girl is about the age of my Sara.” Joe brushed at his eyes. “Okay, I have to get back to work.”
“Let’s pray before you go,” Pastor Matthews offered. Joe took off his hat and Marcus joined the two men. As the pastor prayed, a few others joined their circle.
After praying, Marcus searched for Oliver, who was a short distance away, tears swimming in his dark eyes.
“What’s up, buddy?” Marcus squatted to put himself at eye level with his son.
“That girl’s mom died?” Oliver was sobbing now, tears streaming down his cheeks. And Lissa wasn’t there. Lissa the comforter. It wasn’t what Marcus did. He was an action man. He wanted to solve the problem, not look it face on.
“No, kiddo, they’re still looking for her and we just prayed that they would find her.” Because he couldn’t lie to his son. “And the little girl is okay. Her mom saved her.”
“But her mom might not come back.”
“I think she will,” Marcus told his son. Then it hit him that Oliver was thinking about his own lost mommy.
He stood, and as he did, he picked Oliver up and held him close. Little arms wrapped around his neck.
“I’m sorry, Oliver.” Sorry he hadn’t been there for his son. Sorry that Sammy was gone. And sorry that he was a rotten excuse for a human being.
As much as Marcus didn’t believe he was fit to be anyone’s father, he realized he needed to be the man his son could count on.
“I miss her.” Oliver didn’t cry anymore; he just held on tight and let Marcus carry him from the room. His family didn’t stop them and didn’t ask questions.
Marcus didn’t know what else to do. He wanted to comfort his son. He wanted to make things right for him and for the little girl down the hall. Life wasn’t fair. Sometimes it took some real skill to get over the past, the hurts, the failures.
“I want Lissa,” Oliver said softly, his cheek against Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus had been thinking almost the same thing. Lissa had become his anchor, too.
He didn’t want to add her to the list of people he had failed.
“We’ll give her a few minutes and then we’ll see her.” He started to put Oliver down, but the boy held on tight to his neck.
“No.”
“Okay, little man, I’ll carry you.”
They stopped at the door to the clinic. He could hear Lissa’s soft voice. He heard a child sobbing and Pastor Matthews saying something gentle and comforting. He continued to hold Oliver as they stood outside the door.
The door opened and Lissa stepped out. She swiped at her eyes and then somehow managed a smile. “Hey, you two.”
“Did they find her mommy?” Oliver asked. “If she’s sad, I could let her play with my toy truck.”
Lissa leaned in to kiss Oliver. “That’s very sweet of you. We found her a teddy bear and she’s resting now. They’re still looking for her mom.”
“We prayed they would find her.” Oliver reached for Lissa. She took him, holding him tight.
Marcus knew that expression. She needed the hug as much as the little boy needed it. Sighing at the realization, he stepped close and wrapped them both in his arms. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. Especially when Lissa relaxed in his embrace, snuggling close.
He’d spent a lot of time chasing after fame on the bull-riding circuit, chasing wealth and even chasing women. However, he’d never experienced what that moment brought to him. Right here, right now, he felt like the person they needed.
“Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
Just like that, she undid his calm. She rocked his world a little. It was the simplest thing on the planet, a kiss on the cheek. But it wasn’t simple. Coffee was simple. A sunrise fell into that category. Maybe even a quiet evening on the porch. But a kiss from Lissa—that complicated things.
* * *
Lissa had needed his presence and the hug he had offered. His embrace had seemed something of a sacrifice. It wasn’t like him to give of hi
mself that way. That made it all the more special.
“You all should go. It will be getting late. Oliver needs a bath and clean clothes. He’ll need dinner and a bedtime story.”
The demands put them back on firm footing. She could see it in Marcus’s eyes.
“I think those are things you should do.”
She laughed a little. “You can manage. You run the water. Make sure it isn’t too hot or too cold. He can handle the washing and dressing parts. But then it’s story time. This is why I’m here...”
She didn’t finish because Oliver eyed her curiously. He didn’t know what to think of her turning his care over to someone who had been a stranger just a few days ago.
“Right. Okay, we can do this.” Marcus gave her a long look. “You’ll call if you hear something?”
“I’ll call.” If she heard something about Pearl’s mother. That was what he meant.
They left and it wasn’t easy, watching them walk away together. They were bonding. She told herself that was the way it should be. But her other self argued with that because she didn’t want to lose Oliver. She didn’t want to honor the letter Sammy had left.
It just wasn’t fair. Her foster sister had given birth to Oliver, but she had neglected him and left his care to Lissa. She should have a say in who would raise him. She leaned against the wall and took deep breaths to get past the anger and the hurt.
Several hours after Pearl had been brought to the clinic, Doc Parker returned.
“Lissa, I’m glad as anything to see you here. And how is our little patient?”
Pearl had fallen asleep. Her tearstained cheeks were pale, and she sometimes cried a little as if she dreamed of the accident that had pulled their car into the water. But she was otherwise unharmed. Lissa put a finger to her mouth and pointed to the child.
“Sleeping. They’re trying to get a state caseworker here, but with the roads...”
“Ah,” Doc whispered. “She’s a cute little thing. No idea where she is from or where they were heading?”
“None.”
He shook his head and eased closer to the bed to study the child. “We’ll keep praying.”
The Rancher's Secret Child Page 9