"She left. Hours ago."
Rory stalked toward him. "You're lyin'. Macy's gone. Her trailer's gone. What have you done to her?"
"Nothin'. I told you. She left. I never laid a hand on her."
If the man was afraid of Rory, he gave no sign of his fear. He stood straight as a board and waited. Rory threw a punch that sent Spook staggering back two steps. While he was off balance, Rory dove into his chest, knocking him flat on his back. With Spook pinned beneath him, Rory closed a hand over the man's throat and lifted his fist that held the necklace. "Then tell me why I found this lying in the dirt."
"She left it there," Spook choked out.
"She wouldn't have left it there on purpose," Rory shouted. "She always wore it. She never took it off."
Spook closed his hands around the one Rory held at his neck and pulled, trying to break his hold. "Swear she did … mad … wouldn't admit to bein' her father."
Rory froze at the word father. "You're Macy's father?"
His face red, his eyes bulging, Spook nodded.
Rory slowly loosened his grip. "You're Macy's father," he repeated dully, trying to absorb the fact.
Gasping, Spook tried to sit up. "Yes."
Rory pushed off the man and to his feet. "You hurt her," he said, then clenched his hand more tightly around the necklace. "By refusing to claim her, you broke her heart. Dammit!" he swore and turned away. "She needs me. I know she does. And I don't have a clue where she is."
"I didn't mean to hurt her," Spook said from behind him.
Rory swung around to glare at him. "Well, that's exactly what you did. She wanted so badly to find her father. And when she finally did, you shunned her, just like you did her mother."
Spook shook his head. "I never shunned Darla Jean. I loved her. She was the one who shunned me. Left here and never came back."
"Did you know she was pregnant when she left?" Rory demanded.
Setting his jaw, Spook looked away. "I knew," he said after a minute. "But knowing didn't do me no good. Darla Jean didn't want me for a husband and she sure as hell didn't want me claiming our child."
The anger sagged from Rory at the misery in the man's voice.
"I've got to find her," he said and turned for his truck.
"Wait."
Rory turned.
"When you do," Spook said, then gestured at the necklace Rory held in his fist. "Give that back to her. Tell her I want her to keep it. It was her mother's. I know, 'cause I was the one who gave it to Darla Jean."
* * *
There were times in his life when Rory had wished he wasn't a Tanner. But at the moment, he was glad for the power associated with the name. The name Tanner pulled strings and got favors that other folks would never receive.
After explaining his situation to the sheriff, the sheriff not only promised Rory that he'd put out an all-points bulletin for Macy's Jeep and trailer, but he also loaned Rory a cell phone, so that the sheriff could call him once the Jeep was spotted.
It hadn't taken long for the call to come in. Macy's Jeep was spotted in a trailer park off of Highway 290, just south of Austin. With his path cleared for him by the highway patrol, Rory raced his way through towns and along highways, cutting the normal driving time to reach her location by at least half.
By the time he pulled his truck in behind her Jeep, darkness had settled over the landscape. With a tip of his hat to the highway patrolman who had led the way, Rory jogged for the trailer door.
He pounded a fist against it and yelled, "Macy! Open up. It's me. Rory."
He listened, waiting for her response. When he didn't hear one, he pounded again. Harder. "Macy!" he yelled. "Either you open up this door or I'm beating it down. The choice is yours."
The door pushed open, striking Rory on the head and knocking off his hat. Dazed by the blow, he swayed drunkenly on his feet.
"What do you want?"
He blinked her into focus, then set his jaw and grabbed hold of the door. "You," he said angrily, and pushed her back.
Once inside, he turned on her. "What the hell do you think you were doing by leaving town, without telling me where you were going?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "You aren't my guardian. I'm a grown woman and can come and go as I please."
"Well, I may not be your guardian, but I think I have a right to know your plans. For God's sake, Macy!" he cried. "Do you realize how scared I was when I found your trailer gone? The trouble I had to go to to finally track you down?" He tossed up his hands. "Hell, I could be in prison for murder right now, and it would be your damn fault if I was."
"Mine!" she cried. "I didn't do anything to you."
"You sure as hell didn't," he shot back. "You didn't even give me the courtesy of a call."
"I did call you! If you don't believe me, just ask your girlfriend."
"You damn sure—" Rory stopped, then dropped his face to his hands with a groan. "Andrea," he muttered. He inhaled a deep breath, then lifted his head. "Macy, I didn't have my phone. Andrea took it."
She shot a hand beneath her nose. "It isn't my fault you loan your phone to your girlfriends."
"Andrea's not my girlfriend. She's a neighbor in Houston. She was locked out of her apartment and stopped by to borrow my phone. The land line was dead, so I gave her my cell."
"That was awfully generous of you. Cell phones don't come cheap."
Frustrated, Rory drew in a deep breath. "I didn't give her the phone. I loaned it to her. She left while I was in the shower and took it with her."
"Shower?" she repeated, then clapped her hands over her ears. "No. I don't want to hear any more. Just leave."
He took a step toward her. "I'm not leaving, Macy. Not without you. I talked to Spook."
She bent double, her arms hugged around her middle, as if he'd punched her in the stomach.
He dropped down on a knee in front of her and reached to lay a hand on her cheek. "He told me he was your father." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. "He asked me to give you this. Told me to tell you that he had given it to your mother and that he wanted you to keep it."
Her face crumpled at the sight of the necklace, and she sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands. Rory wrapped his arms around her. "I think you need to give him a chance, Macy," he said softly. "It wasn't his decision not to claim you. It was your mother's."
"He lied," she cried and sobbed harder. "He told me he wasn't my father."
He tightened his arms around her and laid his head against hers. "I know how much that must have hurt. This isn't going to be easy. For either of you. It was a shock for him to see you. He made the connection long before you did. And it hurt. Opened up old wounds that I'm sure he thought had healed long ago."
She buried her face in the curve of his neck. "I don't know what to do. What to say."
"You don't have to say or do anything right now," he assured her. "Give yourself some time. You both need that." He drew back and tipped her face up to his. "And when you're ready to talk to him, you won't be alone. I'll be with you."
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "You?"
He nodded. "You're not ever going to have to face anything alone again. I'm going to be right by your side. I love you, Macy. I should have told you that before now. But the fact that I didn't doesn't change how I feel."
She drew her hands to her lips, her fingers trembling. "Oh, Rory," she whispered. "I didn't think you did. I thought I was just another woman in your life."
He heaved a weary sigh. "You know, I worked damn hard to earn my reputation, but it looks like I'm going to have to work a lot harder to live it down."
When she merely stared at him, he shook his head. "Just know this," he said and reached to thread a lock of hair behind her ear, "from this day forward, you're the only woman in my life." He drew his hand to her cheek and looked her square in the eye. "Understand?"
Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded. "I do."
He gathered his hands in hers and
squeezed. "I'd like to hear you say those two words again sometime soon. Say, about a week?"
Her eyes rounded. "Are you asking me to marry you?"
"Well, yeah," he said, then laughed. "You didn't think I expected you to live in sin with me, did you?"
"I just wanted to be sure."
He stood and drew her to her feet, then sank down on a knee, holding her hands between his. "Macy Keller, would you do me the honor of taking my name and becoming my wife?"
She bit her lip to stem the tears. "Oh, Rory. All my life, I wanted to be a Tanner." She sank to her knees in front of him. "But to be given the name by you is better. So much better."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
When they reached the front door of the farmhouse, Rory gave Macy's hand a squeeze. "Sure you don't want me to go in with you?" he asked in concern.
Though tempted to accept his offer of support, Macy shook her head. "No. I need to do this alone."
Nodding his head in understanding, he gave her hand another squeeze, then released it. "I'll be in the truck, if you need me. Take as long as you want."
"Thanks, Rory."
She watched until he reached his truck, then took a deep breath and turned to knock on the door. It opened almost immediately and she found herself looking up into eyes almost the exact shade of amber as her own. She stared in silence, unsure what to say, what to do.
Without a word, John stepped back, allowing her room to enter. Her knees a little unsteady, she stepped into the small living room and stopped to look around. The furnishings in the room were as simple and unassuming as the man who had selected them, yet she felt the warmth of each worn piece, its comfort, envelop her. This was her father's house, yet this was the first time she had ever seen it.
Tears welled in her eyes and she turned to John and lifted her hands helplessly. "I don't know what to say to you."
He dropped his chin to his chest. "Not much to be said," he said, then shook his head and frowned, as if knowing what a ridiculous statement that was to make. Years stood between them. Years in which they should have been building memories, a relationship. Yet, here they stood, virtual strangers.
"It wasn't that I didn't want you," he began slowly. "Darla Jean … she didn't want me."
"But she became pregnant with your child," Macy reminded him stubbornly. "Surely you must have had some kind of relationship with her."
Turning away, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared out the front window. "We did, of sorts. But I was nothin' but a dirt-poor farmer. Not the kind of man she wanted to be seen with or settle down with. She had a hankerin' for fine things. Things she knew I'd never be able to give her. I loved Darla Jean with all my heart, but she never loved me."
Macy heard the pain in his voice, the shame. But it was the regret that melted every ounce of resentment she harbored toward him for all the lost years. She wasn't the only one Darla Jean had hurt. John had suffered, too.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and fingered the locket. "I think she did," she said quietly.
He glanced over his shoulder to look at her.
Closing her fingers around the locket, she took a step toward him. "After Mother died, it was my job to dispose of all her possessions. I kept very few of her personal things, as we had totally different tastes. But there was one piece of her jewelry that I kept." She drew her hand from her pocket and held up the necklace, the locket dangling from its end. "This."
She watched his gaze slide to the locket, the slow bob of his Adam's apple as he stared, and knew now what she needed to say to John, what she needed to do.
"She loved you," she whispered. "She never wore the locket, but she kept it all these years. That tells me that she cared about it, as well as the man who gave it to her."
John lifted his head to look at her, and her tears welled higher at the hope that filled his eyes. Taking his hand, she placed the necklace on his palm and closed his fingers around it. "Keep it as a memory of Darla Jean. I think that would please her."
He opened his hand to stare at the locket. A fat tear rolled down his face and dropped onto the tarnished gold heart. Gulping, he shook his head. "Rory said that I hurt you when I refused to admit that I was your father." He lifted his head to meet Macy's gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Figured you'd be ashamed if you learned the truth. Figured you wouldn't want folks around town knowing I was the one who fathered you."
Choked by the emotion that filled her throat, Macy shook her head. "No, I'm not ashamed. I'd be proud for everyone to know that you're my father." She took a deep breath, desperately wanting to touch him, hold him as much as she needed to be held. "If it's all right, I'd like to hug you."
He blanched, obviously terrified at the thought then gulped and slowly nodded. Cautiously Macy stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. He stood stiff as a poker through three heartbeats, then slowly lifted his arms and draped them around her. She felt the tremble of his body, the hesitancy. But she felt the yearning, too, and knew that even though they had a long way to go in developing a relationship, she had finally found the father she had so desperately wanted.
"Is everything okay in here?"
At the sound of Rory's voice, Macy glanced over her shoulder to find Rory peering around the front door, his face creased with worry. Smiling, she stepped from John's arms and held out her hand to him. "Everything's fine," she assured him.
With a sigh of relief, he stepped inside and took her hand. "Well?" he said, looking back and forth between the two. "How have y'all decided to handle this?"
Macy looked hopefully at John. "I'm not sure that we have. But if John's willing, I think I've found the man I want to give me away at our wedding."
The blood drained from John's face. "Give you away?" he repeated hoarsely.
Rory slung an arm around Macy's shoulders. "Yep. Macy and I are getting married." He gave John a slow perusal. "And I have a western suit in my store that I think will be perfect for the father of the bride."
John's knees buckled and he sat down hard on the sofa. "Father of the bride," he repeated dully, staring up at the two. He puffed his cheeks and blew out a long breath. "Imagine that. Me, father of the bride."
"Better get used to the sound of it pretty darn quick," Rory warned him. He looked down at Macy and shot her a wink. "'Cause we plan to stick you with another title pretty soon. That of grandfather."
Macy gaped. "I'm not pregnant!" she cried.
His smile smug, Rory hugged her up against his side and turned for the door. "Maybe not now. But you will be before long, if I have anything to say about it."
* * * * *
The Last Good Man in Texas Page 14