by Marin Thomas
“While you and your dad do that, I’ll buy your mom a hot dog.” The innocent expression on Porter’s face didn’t fool Marsha. He was helping his older brother finagle time alone with his son.
“How does that sound, Ryan?” Marsha asked.
Another shrug.
“When and where shall we meet up?” she asked.
“How about right here in an hour?” Porter said. “Will and I have a second go-round this afternoon.”
“Sounds good.” Marsha turned away, but Will snagged her arm. She shivered at the feel of his calloused fingers against her skin and an image of the two of them tangled up in the backseat of his pickup flashed before her eyes. Good Lord, she was in big trouble if it only took a simple touch from Will to send her heart slamming into her rib cage. She waited for him to speak. Instead, he released her and said nothing.
Marsha walked off with Porter but after a few yards glanced over her shoulder. Ryan’s gaze was glued to his shoes while Will spoke.
“They’ll be fine,” Porter said as if he sensed Marsha’s urge to rescue her son.
She had no one to blame but herself for putting Ryan in this awkward position and she deserved to suffer right along with him.
* * *
“YOU EVER BEEN to a rodeo before?” Will asked, aware that Ryan had yet to make eye contact with him. Didn’t the kid realize he was nervous, too?
“When I was little, Grandpa and Grandma took me to one.”
Will stared at the top of his son’s head as a swell of emotion—guilt, anxiety, curiosity, wariness and hope—threatened to drown him. He broke out in a sweat at the memory of meeting his own father for the first time. The circumstances had been different—his father had known all along about Will and he hadn’t cared. In this case, Will hadn’t known Ryan existed, but that important detail probably didn’t matter to the teen.
God, he resented Marsha for putting him in this tight spot.
Yeah, right. That’s not what you felt a few moments ago when you touched her.
Ignoring the voice in his head he focused on Ryan, wishing he had a manual on fatherhood—a guide to tell him how to handle this meeting.
A burning sensation attacked Will’s eyes as he realized this might possibly be the most humbling moment of his existence—walking alongside the young man whose life he’d wanted ended before it had begun.
Too late for a do-over. The only path remaining for him and Ryan to travel was the one right in front of them. “C’mon, I’ll show you what goes on behind the chutes.” He changed directions, but Ryan didn’t follow, his gaze avoiding Will’s. Obviously the teen was uncomfortable in his presence.
“If you want, you can text your mom and tell her that you’re ready to leave.” Ryan’s head snapped up and father and son looked each other in the eye. The teen was only a couple of inches shorter than Will. He and his son might not have the same eye color but they shared the same dark eyebrows, hair color and strong jaw.
“I don’t like rodeos,” Ryan said.
The confession stung Will, but he tried not to take it personally. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault that he’d been raised by a single mother and probably hadn’t been exposed to a lot of guy activities growing up. “What do you like to do?” Will motioned for Ryan to move aside when a cowgirl walked a horse past them.
“I read a lot.”
Will didn’t read much because he got headaches from the letters in the words jumping in front of his eyes. In third grade, he’d been diagnosed with dyslexia and had read only enough to get by in his classes and graduate high school. College had never been on his radar. He motioned to a pair of chairs outside the restroom area. After they sat down, he asked, “What kinds of books do you read?”
Ryan’s expression lightened. “My favorite book is The Hobbit.”
Will had heard about the movie but hadn’t seen it. “Who’s your favorite character?”
“Bilbo Baggins. Do you like Tolkien’s writing?”
“Sure,” he lied.
“I read The Lord of the Rings.”
At least Will had seen that movie.
“Tolkien was a professor at Pembroke College in Oxford, England. I want to go to college there, too.”
The arena walls closed in on Will and he changed the subject. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“No.”
“Would you like to? Your uncle Mack works at a dude ranch and he can take us on a trail ride.”
“What’s a trail ride?”
“Natural paths in the desert that horses can easily navigate.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Do you like fishing? We’ve got a water hole on the farm that—”
“I don’t like fishing.”
“Have you ever fished before?”
“No, but I don’t think I’d like it.”
Will dragged a hand down his face. Finding a common interest with his son was proving difficult. “Do you have any big plans for this summer?”
“Not really. I got a Kindle for my birthday and downloaded a lot of books before we drove out here.”
Will didn’t even know when his son had been born. “When was your birthday?”
“February twelfth.”
“Three days before my birthday.” Ryan didn’t comment. “Besides reading, what other hobbies do you have?”
“I like to play chess with my grandpa.”
Swell. Will played checkers but not chess.
“What grade in school are you?”
“This fall I’ll be a freshman at the high school where Mom teaches.”
Once Marsha had gone off to college in California, Will had lost track of her—not that he’d tried to keep tabs on her whereabouts. He’d assumed she’d had an abortion so he’d moved on. If he’d asked around about her the first year she’d moved away, maybe he’d have learned she’d had a baby.
But you didn’t ask about her.
He could have spoken with Marsha’s parents or talked to her best friend Hillary Bancroft, who worked at the hair salon in town, but Will hadn’t—because he hadn’t wanted to know if Marsha had kept their baby. His worst nightmare would have been becoming a father and his eighteen-year-old mind insisted he was better off remaining in the dark.
“What subject does your mother teach?” He and Marsha hadn’t spoken more than ten sentences to each other the night of the prom, but he did remember her saying she’d wanted to earn a teaching degree.
“Chemistry.”
“That’s a tough subject.”
“Not really. I plan to take AP chemistry and physics before I graduate from high school.”
Will had no idea what AP meant, but he assumed that his son had inherited his mother’s IQ. If there was any blessing in this whole mess, it was that Will hadn’t passed on the gene for dyslexia to his son. “What are your plans after you graduate high school?”
“I’m going to apply to Stanford, Harvard and Yale.”
“Those are top-rated colleges. That’s pretty ambitious.”
“And don’t forget Oxford University. Mom says I have to go to the school that offers me the most financial aid and scholarships.”
Will’s heart raced. Now that he knew he had a son, he’d have to pay child support, which he intended to do, but how could he pay a hefty tuition bill on a small-town construction worker’s salary? “Do you know what you want to study?”
“Probably physics.”
“Great.” The more Will learned about Ryan the dumber he felt and the less confident he was that he and his son would ever become close.
Ryan fidgeted in his chair and Will sensed the kid was eager to end their discussion. “You hungry?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Let’s grab a hot
dog and find your mom.” This afternoon couldn’t end soon enough. Will hadn’t felt this insignificant since the day he’d confronted his biological father.
Fast forward twenty-two years and nothing had changed—he was still irrelevant.
* * *
“I’M DISAPPOINTED IN you, daughter.”
Marsha had walked in the door less than a minute ago after a stressful afternoon at the rodeo and now her father was ready to face off with her.
“Let’s take a walk.” He gave her no choice but to tag along.
Feet dragging, she strolled with him across the patio and alongside the house to the front yard. Not until she and Ryan were driving home from the rodeo had she realized the extent of her exhaustion. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she’d made the decision to tell Will about Ryan. She wished she’d had a chance to talk with Will in private before they’d left the rodeo, but he and Porter had to prepare for their event and Ryan hadn’t wanted to stay and watch.
When they reached the end of the sidewalk, her father continued along the path that led to the church—his silence made Marsha nervous. She’d asked her mother to break the news about Will while she and Ryan were at the rodeo, hoping her father would work through his anger before she returned. The stern look on his face convinced her that her plan had backfired.
Marsha had been a good daughter through the years but having a child out of wedlock had hurt and embarrassed the pastor in front of his parishioners and members of the community. Nonetheless, he was a loving man and had forgiven her and embraced his grandson—for that she’d always be grateful.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” The words sounded inadequate, but what else could she say?
“Why did you keep us in the dark about William Cash?”
This was tricky. Her father would bend over backward to help a person in need and his actions always demonstrated his faith. However, years ago she’d learned that the man she’d believed walked on water was human and possessed prejudices like everyone else. “I didn’t tell you, because I knew you disliked the Cash family.”
He stopped walking. “I’ve never said—”
“You called them heathens the night I told you I was going to the prom with Will.” Marsha had gotten a glimpse of her father’s humanness that evening. He’d spouted a fiery speech, insisting she was too good for the likes of a Cash boy. She’d never heard him talk that way before but that night he hadn’t been a pastor—he’d been a father, trying to protect his only child and he’d let nothing stand in his way. Not even God.
They cut across the parking lot to the reflection garden behind the church and sat in the shade on a stone bench.
“Did he refuse to marry you?” her father asked.
“I hardly knew Will.” But she would have married him in a heartbeat if he’d proposed to her.
“You told him about the baby?”
She wouldn’t lie to her father to protect Will. “Yes, I told him.”
“Doesn’t surprise me that he wanted nothing to do with Ryan.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the gravel. “Has Ryan been asking questions about his father?”
“No.”
“That’s odd. You asked all kinds of questions about your parents before you were in kindergarten.”
She’d asked questions because her parents had been open with her about her adoption. “I told Ryan years ago that if he was curious about his father, I’d be more than happy to talk about him.”
“Why do you think he hasn’t asked about William?”
“Because you’re like a father to him. You’ve always been there for Ryan. Given him advice, guidance and love. Honestly, I don’t believe Ryan feels as if he’s missing out on anything by not having a father.”
“I won’t always be here for my grandson.”
She squeezed his hand. They hadn’t talked about his cancer since she’d arrived for the summer and she wasn’t ready to now. “Give Will a chance, Dad. Please.”
“I’ll think about it.” He retreated to the far side of the garden where he bowed his head in front of the statue of Mary. Marsha left him in peace as the doubts in her head went to war with the hope in her heart.
Chapter Four
“What happened?”
Will stopped on his way to the bunkhouse when Conway crossed his path.
“Porter and I came in fourth.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Conway said.
“I’m not in the mood to talk.” Will continued walking and his brother fell into step beside him.
“Things didn’t go well?”
Will didn’t have a chance to answer before the farmhouse door opened and his nephews raced outside.
“Uncle Will! Uncle Will!”
Oh, hell. He could easily ignore his brother but not the twins. He waited for the boys and Bandit to catch up. When the trio skidded to a stop, the dog slammed into the boys’ legs, almost knocking them to the ground.
“Did you and Uncle Porter win a buckle?” Miguel asked.
“No, but we came close.”
“Dad, can we go with Uncle Will to his next rodeo?” Javier spoke.
“If your uncle says it’s okay.”
A sliver of jealousy worked its way beneath Will’s skin when he considered how fortunate Conway was that the twins idolized him. At least his nephews believed their uncle Will led an exciting life, because he went to rodeos and built things—unlike his son who’d rather stick his head in a book and read all day than watch his father rope a steer.
Will silently cursed himself for the uncharitable thought. A thirty-minute talk with Ryan had hardly made a dent in getting to know the young man. He ruffled the boys’ hair and pointed to the dog. “Looks like Bandit wants to play catch.”
The Lab understood the word catch and raced across the lawn, snatching the tennis ball from the ground in front of the porch. As soon as the boys ran after their four-legged pal, Conway spoke. “What happened with Ryan today?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Will went inside the bunkhouse where he hung his cowboy hat on the hook above his bed, then sat on the mattress and stared into space.
“You want me to call Johnny?” Conway hovered in the doorway.
Will was only a year younger than the eldest Cash brother but his siblings had elected Johnny head of the family after Grandpa Ely had died. “Johnny can’t fix this.” If his brother could, he wouldn’t have hesitated seeking his advice. The problem was that no matter what Will did or said, he’d fall short in Ryan’s eyes.
“When do the rest of us get to meet Ryan?” Conway asked.
“I don’t know.” He glared until his brother got the message and closed the door on his way out.
Will didn’t give a crap that he’d been rude. He felt like a bear with a thorn in his paw and he wasn’t fit for company. He stared at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do next? Was the ball in his court? Ryan’s? Or was Marsha calling the shots?
Marsha.
Man, had she changed—and all in good ways. This afternoon she’d worn a pair of slim-fitting jeans and boots. The pink western shirt with black trim accentuated her breasts and had drawn the eye of more than a few cowboys. She hardly looked old enough to be the mother of a teenager.
An image of her walking down the hall in high school, head bent over the stack of books in her arms, popped into his mind. Today, she’d stood before him confident she could handle any obstacle in her way. He sure in heck could have used some of her self-assurance when he’d been introduced to his son.
Why Marsha? Why had he gotten the daughter of a church pastor pregnant? Their date to the prom had only happened because Buck had suggested he take Marsha after Will’s first choice, Linda Snyder—the cheerleader he’d had a crush on—turned him down flat, claiming she’
d have to be desperate before she’d be seen with a Cash boy. Will had taken Marsha to show Linda that if a Cash boy was good enough for a pastor’s daughter...
The joke had been on him. In the end, the pastor’s daughter hadn’t believed Will good enough, otherwise she’d have told him she’d kept his baby instead of waiting until circumstances beyond her control had forced her to tell the truth.
The bunkhouse door opened and Will braced himself for an interrogation. “I told you to get lost, Conway.”
“I’m not Conway.”
Buck. This day couldn’t get much worse.
“I ran into Porter at the drive-in. He said you guys took fourth place.”
Will swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat up. There was no peace, living with three brothers. If he needed space to think, he was better off taking a drive or a walk in the desert.
“How’d your meeting with Ryan go?”
“I assumed you’d have heard by now.” Will stood and faced his brother.
“Why would you think that? I’ve been fixing cars at Troy’s garage all day.”
The frustration and anger Will had kept bottled up inside him threatened to explode if he didn’t have it out with Buck right now. “You knew for over a year that Ryan was my son and you didn’t tell me.”
“I made a promise to Marsha—”
“Forget Marsha! I’m your flesh and blood. You were supposed to have my back and you betrayed me. I don’t know how your conscience allowed you to sleep at night.”
Buck’s eyes widened.
“It should have never come to this.”
“What do you mean?” Buck watched him warily.
“You knew she’d had a baby years ago and although you didn’t see Ryan when you stopped by her place...couldn’t you put two and two together and solve the fatherhood puzzle?”
“I asked her who Ryan’s father was but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“And then there’s the big question...why you never mentioned to me or any of our brothers that Marsha had had a baby.” Will moved closer, getting right up in Buck’s grill. “None of us knew you’d seen her in California.”