Next Door Daddy

by Debra Clopton

  “My parents,” she said, pushing the idea of remarrying out of her mind, “live in Brenham, Texas. You know, the home of Blue Bell ice cream.”

  “I just love that ice cream!” Esther Mae exclaimed. “You know that homemade vanilla can’t be beat. Of course, my Hank, he’s a Rocky Road fella. ’Course, I can’t eat too much of it since I’ve started my exercise program.”

  Norma Sue coughed. “I saw three cartons of the stuff in your freezer when I went to get ice for my tea yesterday. There was hardly any room in there for ice.”

  Esther Mae harrumphed. “It was on sale, three for ten dollars. I couldn’t pass up a deal like that.”

  Lacy paused from wiping drawers, her blue eyes sparkling. She caught Polly’s gaze, winked, then went back to work. Polly had realized soon after meeting the three older ladies that Norma Sue and Esther Mae played off of each other like a stand-up act. They bantered and bickered good naturedly almost constantly, while Adela threw in a comment every once in a while to gently steer them back in from chasing rabbits to the conversation at hand. A person couldn’t help smiling. Listening to them made her think of her grandparents, who also enjoyed a good argument.

  Esther Mae was handing Polly a bowl when Norma Sue came over and looked up at her.

  “So, what do you think about your neighbor?”

  The sudden change of subject brought Polly up short. Up until yesterday she’d only seen her neighbor coming and going in the distance that separated their driveways. Her home sat up on a hill, and though she couldn’t see his home because it was screened by a stand of oak trees, his long driveway was very visible. “Well, I only just met him yesterday.” She glanced around the room to find everyone watching her the way Gil eyed his birthday presents before he opened them.

  “You mean, he actually came over?” Esther Mae gasped.

  Polly wasn’t too excited about revealing her embarrassing moment, but she told them, anyway.

  When she finished telling the tale everyone looked shocked.

  “Our Nate did that?” Norma Sue asked.

  “Yes. Poor man probably wishes I’d never moved in beside him.”

  “Oh, no, dear,” Adela assured her. “This is a good thing.”

  Esther Mae was handing Pollyanna a gold vase, but she absentmindedly yanked her arm back, leaving Polly grasping at air. “It really is. I was beginning to worry about that boy. Why, I honestly didn’t think he would come over here and introduce himself to you. He’s become such a hermit.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Adela said. “He has to act in his own time. He hasn’t been one to offer help in the past three years because he needed the time to heal.”

  “That’s right,” Lacy agreed. “We’ve got to keep the faith that he’s coming around. He’s helped with a couple of festivals lately. That’s progress.”

  Norma Sue shook her wiry gray hair. “But only in the setting up of them. He didn’t come near town during the actual events. Not even the Christmas program.”

  “That’s right, but we’ve understood.” Adela looked about the room, her gaze coming to rest on Pollyanna. “He’s had to take his time, move at his own pace, and we’ve tried not to interfere or push. You and I understand that,” she explained. Her brilliant blue eyes were full of compassion. “No one can truly understand what it means to lose your soul mate like those who’ve experienced it.”

  A lump rose in Polly’s throat. Nate Talbert was a widower.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, knowing all too well the words were inadequate. Polly hated to think about it, but one half of every couple would someday have to face the loss of the other, it was a part of living. Still, she wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The knowledge that her neighbor had borne such a loss both saddened her and linked her to him as it did with Adela. It was like being members of a club you had no desire to be initiated into but couldn’t get out of.

  “God’s blessed me, dear. God has given us resilient hearts, and you may not see it yet, but you and Nate can have room in your hearts to love again.”

  A shadow fell over Polly’s heart. “I’m really happy for you, Adela, but I’m not looking for love again.”

  “Of course you are,” Esther Mae exclaimed. “You’re too young and you have that wonderful son who needs a daddy.”

  “Esther Mae,” Norma Sue barked, censure in her tone.

  “Don’t you ‘Esther Mae’ me,” the feisty redhead snapped, her gaze lifted to Polly. Her voiced gentled. “You can’t limit the Lord like that, Pollyanna.”

  Polly crouched down on the counter and patted Esther Mae’s hand. “It’s okay, it’s not like that. I’m okay, Gil’s okay. I came to Mule Hollow to open a business—not for one of your cowboys. I’ll leave them for someone else. Really. God’s blessed me with the love of an amazing man and for a little while I had more than I could ever hope or dream of…That kind of love couldn’t happen twice. And well, I don’t have any desire to mess up such a perfect memory. That’s the main reason I’ll never marry again.”

  “The main reason—you have more?” Esther Mae asked.

  Polly swallowed down the fear, the doubts that always rushed to the surface if she let her guard down. She nodded, not trusting her voice at first. “Oh, yes,” she managed to say after a moment. “I have more.”

  The afternoon after meeting his new neighbors, the boy and his dog showed up when Nate was unloading feed. He’d ridden his bike over, and Bogie was panting like a locomotive as they huffed around the bend and into the yard. “Hey, Nate!” Gil called, hopping from his bike while it was still moving, then pulling it to a stop. “What’s in the bags?”

  “Feed,” Nate grunted, hefting two at a time onto the palettes in the corner of the barn. It wasn’t as if he could ignore the boy, even though he had a bad feeling about the entire situation. Off and on all morning he’d rehashed the emotions he’d felt the day before, being around Gil and his mother. He felt a sense of connection to them in one sense but he also felt an overwhelming need to maintain his distance. He’d become almost accustomed to being disconnected from everything. Sure, he’d asked for intervention, but truthfully, the Lord was going to have to intervene with his attitude, too, or it wasn’t happening. Some bruises ran too deep.

  But none of that was the kid’s fault, and Nate was smart enough to know that the strain he felt around the boy had more to do with how much he’d wanted kids with Kayla than anything about Gil. He wouldn’t be much of a man if he took it out on the fresh-faced boy.

  “I can help,” Gil offered, kicking the stand to his bike down and leaving it in the door of the barn. Bogie, too tuckered out to be curious, dropped like a rock to his belly in the dust.

  Nate felt his gut twist but nodded as he hefted another load. “Tell you what. How ’bout you climb into the bed of the truck and push bags off the top there down to me.” Nate didn’t figure the slight boy could lift a fifty-pound bag, he’d seen him struggle to carry Bogie, but maybe he could shove one in his direction.

  Face set in determination, Gil scampered up into the truck and reached for the bag on the top of the stack. With a grunt he pulled. When nothing happened he climbed behind the bags and shoved. The bag rewarded him by sliding to the bed with a thud.

  “Good job,” Nate said, and meant it. He tugged it to him and tossed it to the stack. Gil already had his shoulder pressed to the next bag, his expression ripe with the effort. They worked for almost thirty minutes, and Nate couldn’t help admire the boy’s hard work. When the truck was empty, Gil hopped to the ground.

  “Got anything else to do?”

  Nate had been about to clean out some stalls, and though he figured Gil would run at the sound of that, he offered it up.

  “Woo-hoo! Gimme a shovel—I use a shovel, right?”

  Nate almost laughed. Almost.

  “Maybe you need to give your mother a call and let her know where you are first.” Pollyanna might get worried when Gil didn’t show up for so long.

  “Maybe I be
tter. You know how moms are.”

  Nate motioned to the phone hanging on the wall next to the tack room. “She wants to talk to you, Nate,” he called after only a moment on the line.

  Nate took the phone. “Yes?” he said, watching Gil hop around like he was prone to do.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind him helping? If he’s in the way, please just send him home.”

  Her voice was soft and he pictured her gentle green eyes looking pensive as she said the words. He was struck by the image and startled by how much he felt the need to reassure her. “He’s a good helper. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the help.”

  There was a long pause, as if she was weighing the validity of his assurance. He added, “A boy living in the country needs to know how to muck out a stall.” Her chuckle startled him a little, like another pinprick on a toughened callus.

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” she said. “If you’re sure, then I know he would love it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll send him home in a couple of hours.”

  “Nate, thank you,” she said, before he could hang up.

  “No need,” he said, more than a little uncomfortable as he pressed the disconnect button.

  Two hours later he sent Gil and Bogie home. He wondered if Pollyanna would thank him when her son walked into her clean house smelling worse than the stalls he’d cleaned. Nate found himself smiling as he watched the kid race his bike around the bend with the dog in hot pursuit, holding his head high in order to keep his feet on the ground.

  Something told Nate that as long as Gil came home smiling, Pollyanna McDonald wouldn’t care if her son stunk like a polecat.

  Chapter Four

  It was only seven in the morning but Polly had been up since five. Rubbing her tired neck, she walked from her office.

  In the two hours, she’d sent off approval of her Web site and accepted a couple of reservations for midsummer from an online booking directory she was listed with. She’d also finally decided on the bedding she wanted in the four guest rooms, and had ordered it quickly so she wouldn’t change her mind again. At least now she would be able to choose her paint colors. That was a relief. She had a lot on her mind and hadn’t been sleeping well. The B and B had to be a success for so many reasons. Besides making Marc proud and fulfilling their dream for Gil, she needed to feel in control of something in her life again. Each thing she marked off her list helped.

  She and Marc had had some savings, but they’d also had a good life-insurance policy. Marc hadn’t taken his responsibility lightly, especially with his love of extreme sports. However, Polly wanted to stand on her own two feet. She’d invested Marc’s money and kept enough back to use as seed money for the business, and she was trying to live off of their other savings until she had an income from the bed-and-breakfast.

  Marc’s insurance money was funding their dream and, invested wisely, it would always give her and Gil a cushion to fall back on. The bed-and-breakfast showed great promise. Of course, being a worrier, she still feared it could fail. But as far as she could tell it was a healthy fear that kept her aggressive.

  Coming around the corner, she spotted Bogie in his usual morning pose, sitting on the back of the couch, looking regally funny in his collar. She was convinced the dog thought he was a cat. Of course, his oddities weren’t exclusive to him. The shar-pei breed wasn’t fond of water, they batted balls around on the floor with paws cupped like a cat’s, and because of their huge protector instinct, they loved to climb to a high spot. It gave them a lookout advantage, she assumed. Bogie preferred the couch but climbed up on anything available. If chairs were left pulled away from anything he climbed onto it—the table, vanity or desk—and proudly kept watch. But climbing wasn’t his only extracurricular activity. Sometimes he took things. Before she caught him on top of her desk, she’d thought she was going crazy when things would go missing and turn up in weird places. Like her pocketbook behind the corner chair, or her hairbrush behind the toilet!

  The breed also had a natural instinct to bond with a family unit. It was this reason her parents had given them the wrinkled pup. They knew she worried about Gil’s emotional state since losing his daddy and they wanted to relieve her a little by giving him something with a huge capacity to love and protect.

  What they hadn’t realized was that shar-peis didn’t have tremendous life expectancies…eight, ten years maybe. Polly hated the thought of Gil bonding with something so strongly only to lose it. She knew the fear was also for herself.

  And yet with Bogie, Pepper and Gil’s two turtles they were on their way to raising a farm. Add in the goat Gil wanted and the cow she wanted, and she seriously was going to have more to worry about. If any one of those animals died, she was going to have to watch Gil suffer again.

  Death cut deeper than she could bear. Fear of it could be paralyzing…even for a woman with a strong faith in the Lord. If she could, she would protect Gil from ever having to experience it again.

  A flash of color caught her eye and she looked up just in time to see Gil whizzing down the banister. He let out a whoop and landed on his feet with a thud. Just the luck of a worrywart like her, her son was part mountain goat. And fearless like his father.

  “Gil, you keep sliding down that banister and you’re going to hurt yourself. You’ve got to stop that,” she admonished. Her heart was thudding.

  “Mom, it’s fun.”

  Fun. That was the name of the game when it came to Gil. Again, just like it had been for his father. Polly smiled despite herself, her heart swelling with love and fear at the same time. Marc would have slid down the banister with him…while she was telling him to stop. “We’ll talk about it later. You ready for breakfast before Rose picks you up for school?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m starrr-vin’Marrr-vin,” Gil drawled, using one of Marc’s favorite sayings. Hearing Gil, or Pepper, come out with one of Marc’s lines always made her smile. She took a deep breath and fought off the burn of tears. What was wrong with her this morning? Tired, she decided as she watched Gil play a game of tag with Bogie. The dog all but tripped over his collar trying to get to Gil and rolled off the couch, landing in a heap. The noise stirred Pepper to life, and from upstairs, safely ensconced in the large cage where he ended and began each day, Pepper began singing “Jesus Loves Pepper” to Gil’s turtles, his very own captive audience.

  The song was God’s perfect timing as Polly was reminded by the childlike voice drifting down to her that, despite her worries, all was well.

  She was convinced God used Pepper’s small voice to help calm her and remind her that she was not alone in raising her son.

  She blinked away the sting of tears and sent up a quick silent prayer of thanks for both the reassurance and for Gil’s continued safety.

  They were doing okay. They really, really were.

  She thought of Nate Talbert. The man had let Gil help him for the past couple of days and it had made Gil so happy. He’d come rushing in the first day looking like Pig Pen and smelling like one, too. But how happy he’d been. Country life suited him.

  And that was an answer to prayer. It was also something that demanded acknowledgment.

  Thanks to the girls, her kitchen was ready for business, and Nate Talbert looked like a man who could use a home-cooked meal.

  “So the trip was good?” Nate asked his mother the minute he answered the phone and heard it was her. He’d been expecting her to call the moment she and his dad arrived home from their cruise.

  “Alaska was as splendid as I thought it would be,” she said, then paused. Nate could hear his dad in the background telling her something. “Your father says you should go. And I agree.”

  Nate stared out his office window and shook his head. “Tell Dad I’ll let the two of you do all the traveling in this family.”

  His mother sighed. He didn’t have to see her face to know she was fighting a mixture of exasperation and sorrow. He hoped she’d let it go. “Nate, honey, you always wa
nted to travel.”

  Yeah, with Kayla. They’d planned to travel as soon as they had the time. Turned out they didn’t have any of that.

  “Your brother will go with you if you don’t want to travel alone.”

  “Mom, stop.” He didn’t want to hurt her, but she had to stop. She’d just this year started hinting that it was time for him to start dating. Start traveling. Start living. It was always something that began with start or try.

  By trying, she meant move forward, and her high hope was that he would meet a nice woman and remarry. Nate had a real problem with people wanting this for him. Still, she was his mother, and she wanted grandchildren. And since she’d given up on his brother ever settling down, Nate was still her best hope. Plus, she wanted Nate to be happy again.

  “I’ll be up to bring that load of cattle in two weeks,” he said, not answering her plea. There was no sense lying to her.

  She sighed into the phone. “Oh, all right. I’ll tell your brother.”

  “Thanks, Mom. That’ll save me calling him.” Nate’s brother, Tyler, ran the family ranch operation outside Fort Worth. Their dad had suffered a light heart attack a few months back and was trying to slow down and enjoy life a little bit. This cruise had been part of the plan. Nate’s mother thought grandchildren running around would help him adjust to not working so hard. Nate felt guilty for not being able to give her what she wanted. But life wasn’t fair, and people didn’t always get what they wanted. Still, he felt bad for his mother. She deserved grandchildren. He was going to have a heart-to-heart with his brother when he went home.

  He and his mother discussed the trip for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes. She always ended her phone conversations with “I’ll be praying for you, dear.”

  Nate figured his mother’s prayers had helped him through his worst times. Hanging up the phone, he bowed his head and prayed for her. She was the best woman Nate knew, and she deserved to have her heart’s desire.