That Josh remembered.
“So this isn’t about Austin at all.”
Val smiled, then slid across the booth’s faux leather seat, grabbing her mug as she stood. “You wanna take the leftovers? I’ll bring you a box.”
“Um...sure. Only...what’s Josh’s favorite thing on the menu?”
That got a funny look. “You really want to go there?”
“No. But anything’s better than this impasse between us.”
“Got it. Then same as you, pretty much. Except he likes onion rings on his burger. And he usually tacks on a piece of my peach pie at the end.”
“Then pack up an extra order to go,” she said, handing over her credit card. “With two pieces of pie. Oh, and whatever Austin might like, too.”
“Coming right up.”
A few minutes later, Val returned with a stuffed plastic bag, as well as a foam box for Deanna and the credit card slip.
“You know what’s crazy?” Val said as Deanna signed the slip, then packed her leftovers into the box. “That you and I were both raised right here in Whispering Pines, and yet we never knew each other.”
Slipping the box into the bag with the rest of the food, Deanna looked up. “You never came to any of the parties out at the ranch? The Fourth? Christmas?”
“Not until after I met Tommy, nope. And you were gone by that time.”
“Too bad.” Deanna gathered her purse and the bag, grunting a little as she heaved herself out of the booth and onto her feet. “I could’ve used a girlfriend back then.”
“Same here,” Val said, then gave her a hug, whispering, “Well, you got one now, honey,” before letting her go. “I love the Talbots, I really do, but they are definitely a force to be reckoned with.”
“I remember,” Deanna said, gathering the bag. “Thanks again. For everything.” Then she cocked her head. “So how’d you handle the situation with Levi and your daughter?”
A slow smile spread across Val’s mouth. “I married him,” she said, then crossed the restaurant to take care of a couple who’d just come in.
* * *
Josh almost jumped when he opened his door to a snow-flecked, grinning Dee, her cheeks flushed from the cold as she held up the diner’s take-out bag. Thor, naturally, swarmed her like she was carrying balloons and a check for five million dollars. Or hamburgers. Thor’s needs were simple.
“It’s...three thirty.” Because the time was the most remarkable thing about all of this.
“Which is exactly when we used to eat these after school, as I recall.”
On the odd occasion when Gus would pick Deanna up from the private school in Taos where she went after the sixth grade, then Josh and Levi from theirs in town, before dropping them all off at Annie’s. Not every day, no—Granville was more likely to chauffer his daughter himself—but often enough that memories now flooded back. Especially of those days when Levi would claim he had other/better things to do, leaving Josh and Dee sitting across from each other, Dee talking his ear off as they inhaled their burgers, oozing with gobs of melted cheese and piled high with green chili and onion rings. His lips twitched, remembering how even at twelve, thirteen, beanpole Deanna could pack it away as well as any cowboy.
How at that point he’d thought of her as a sister.
Josh caught a whiff of what was in the bag and his mouth watered; he caught another whiff of something sweeter, her perfume or hair stuff or whatever, and his hormones wept. Then he remembered how he’d treated her that night and he shut his eyes, listening to his son playing in his room down the hall.
“Josh—?”
Sighing, he opened his eyes again, almost cringing at the confusion in hers. “You shouldn’t’ve done this.”
“Because you really don’t want to hang out? Or because you were basically a jerk?”
He grimaced. “Do I have to answer that?”
“No. Although you do need to let me in before I freeze. And I promise,” she said as she came inside, shedding that blanketlike thing she wore, “I won’t speak to Austin, let alone touch him.”
“Dammit, Dee—”
“I’m serious.” She turned around, her eyes wide. Innocent. Except anything but. “I totally get why you wouldn’t want us to bond. Because it wouldn’t be fair to him, since I’m not staying. I can hardly be mad at you for wanting to protect your son, can I?”
And again, reality slammed into him, that once the house was sold she’d have no reason to return. Ever. Funny, how even though he’d only seen her a handful of times since she was fifteen, he now realized how he’d never really let go of that tiny flicker of possibility, way in the back of his brain, that they wouldn’t lose contact entirely.
And, yes, his knee-jerk reaction—also again—was to put distance between them. But for one thing, he was starving, middle of the afternoon or not. And for another, maybe it was time he grew up already, and stopped getting mad every time something didn’t go his way, or when life got bumpy. Because there would always be bumps, there would always be challenges and disappointments and aggravations, and what kind of father would he be if he didn’t show his son how to handle the crap with at least a little grace?
“I think we can work it out,” he said, going into the tiny kitchen where his mother had prepared countless meals for four growing boys and a husband, now basically reduced to the place where coffee, cold cereal and Hamburger Helper happened. “As long as he knows you’re only visiting, we’re good.”
“You sure?”
“No. Then again, he’s got his grandmother, and two new aunts now—”
“So plenty of maternal influences,” she said, awkwardly levering herself up onto one of the two stools in front of the peninsula dividing the kitchen from the living space. “So I won’t be missed. Got it.”
His stomach jolted. But Josh turned to see humor sparkling in her eyes, and he thought, Like hell, you won’t be missed, immediately followed by Dammit.
Because he remembered, how much he’d missed her when she’d left before. How he’d missed her dry humor and energy, even her excitement about her upcoming adventure. How her absence had left a huge, honking hole in his life he eventually realized he’d tried to fill in all the wrong ways, with all the wrong females.
Except even then he knew he had nothing to offer that could possibly compete with a world he couldn’t even begin to fathom, let alone understand. Because they’d texted, at first, her messages filled with details of her new life, about museums and art galleries and concerts, about seeing this ballet company or that opera. Eventually, though, the texts had stopped. When, exactly, he couldn’t remember. But he sure as hell knew why—because whatever they might have had in common before pretty quickly got whittled down to nothing. And now? After almost a dozen years?
He somehow doubted the chasm between them had shrunk.
“I guess,” he said, pulling plates down out of the cupboard, “we can look at things one of two ways.” He carried the dishes—survivors from his parents’ “old” set—over to the small dining table behind her, making her swivel on the stool. “Either from the standpoint of what we lost...” He set down the plates, then turned to her, sliding one hand into his front pocket. “Or what we’ve gained from that person being part of our lives.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Wow. Not what I would’ve expected, considering—”
“How I acted the other night? Me, either. And to be frank, that’s a fairly recent revelation.”
“How recent?”
“Thirty seconds ago?” he said, and she laughed, her smile softening a moment later.
“It’s a good philosophy. I like it. Seize the moment and all that.”
“I guess.” He sighed. “I apologize for being a punk, Dee. Really.”
Her gaze wrestled with his for a long moment. “And I
doubt anybody would blame you, considering everything that’s happened in the last little while. I sure as heck don’t. But I’m glad...” The smile came back, brighter. Steadier, maybe. “I’m glad we’re friends again.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
She gave him a thumbs-up, then finally seemed to really see the house, methodically rubbing her belly. Between her hair, the tunic-like thing stretched over the bulge and her cuffed boots, now she looked like a pregnant elf. Except her ears were a lot cuter. “Holy moly. And I thought the Big House was in a time warp.”
“The way I see it,” Josh said as he opened the bag of food, nearly passing out from the heavenly smells, “if it still works, why replace it? I swear the sofa’s upholstered in steel.” Thor whined, slurping his slobber back in when Josh glared at him. He pointed to the dog’s bed in the far corner of the living room; hanging his head, the dog trudged off, collapsing with a huge, dramatic sigh and giving Josh eyes to match.
“True,” Dee said. “But dude, the stove is poop-colored.”
He laughed, and for a moment it was like it used to be between them, before his voice lowered and Deanna grew breasts and he was suddenly very, very aware of said breasts. And even more aware that Granville noticed Josh’s awareness, no matter how hard he tried to pretend nothing had changed, that he and Dee were still just friends.
And the thing was, on the surface it was true. Josh had never tried anything—he wouldn’t have dared—and she’d never indicated she wanted him to. But if she’d stayed...
“Austin!” he called out. “Come see who’s here!”
“Who?” his son called as he ran down the bungalow’s short hall, actually gasping when he saw Dee, his entire little face lighting up. How on earth had she made that much of an impression on the boy, that quickly? And yet, when he ran into her arms—she’d somehow slid off the stool to squat in front of them, laughing when his enthusiasm and her shifted center of gravity collided—it was obvious she had.
That thing he’d said, about being cool with the moment?
Easier said than done.
* * *
Her puffy feet propped on the banged-up ottoman in front of the deeply cushioned chair from which she was probably going to have to be excavated, Deanna watched the flickering flames in Josh’s fireplace, smiling at the blended giggles and laughter floating down the hall from Austin’s bedroom. Although, despite a tummy blissfully crammed with the rest of her lunch and a huge piece of the best peach pie she’d ever eaten—as well as no small relief that she and Josh had apparently mended a few fences between them—neither could she deny the melancholy scratching at the door of her consciousness, whining for attention.
Because as gratifying as it was to see how much Josh clearly loved his son, watching and listening to their interaction only brought her own situation into even sharper focus. In a few weeks’ time she’d be a single parent herself, with all the complications that entailed, piled on top of a life that was already a tangled mess. Hell, she seriously doubted her father would have been nearly as disappointed in her as she was in herself.
Except—her mouth pulled flat, Deanna stroked her belly, only to smile when a little foot pushed against her hand—she could either see this as a failure, or an opportunity. So let’s hear it for Door #2, right? Somehow, she’d land on her feet, give her baby girl the life she deserved. And you know what? She’d be stronger for figuring it all out on her own. Maybe this wasn’t how she’d ever envisioned becoming a parent, but since this was the hand she’d been dealt, at least she could be the best damn possible example to her daughter she could.
So there, world.
Josh came back into the living room, chuckling and shaking his head at her before squatting in front of the fire to poke at the logs, sending a cheerful spray of sparks up the chimney.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, trying not to stare at the way all those muscles bunched and shifted underneath his flannel shirt. Because Skinny Dude had definitely left the building.
More muscles shifted—just kill her now—when he stood to set the poker back in its stand by the hearth. Swiping his palms across his bum, he turned, his grin warming her far more than the fire. “You look like you might not move until spring.”
“I feel like I might not move until spring.” Ripping her gaze away, she stroked the chair’s soft, worn arms. “Was this always so comfortable?”
Josh went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee from the old-school Mr. Coffee. “You don’t remember, then?” he said, taking a sip before setting down his mug on the peninsula, and she found herself considering that a pair of soft, kind eyes set into a hard-angled, beard-shadowed face was quite possibly the deadliest combination, ever.
“Remember what?”
He hesitated, then said, “It was right after your mama died, and Granville was...well, kind of a mess.”
Her eyes burned. “That, I do remember. Then again, so was I.”
“Exactly. So Mom brought you over here to give you a break. Dad made a fire, and you crawled up into that chair, all wrapped up in that very afghan...and you cried yourself to sleep. Nobody wanted to move you, so we didn’t.” His gaze lowered to the cup for a moment before lifting again to her. “For the next, I don’t know, several weeks, maybe? That was your chair. You’d come straight here when you got home from school, crawl up in it and pass out.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.” He picked up the mug and came into the living room, lowering himself into the middle of that godawful plaid sofa a few feet away. Thor immediately crawled up to curl into a ball on the cushion next to Josh, smashed up against his thigh, sighing when Josh’s hand absently went to his ruff. “Doesn’t even ring a bell?”
“Vaguely. Maybe.” Deanna blew out a breath to rival the dog’s, hiking the afghan higher on her chest. Not because she was cold, but because...oh, hell—who knew? “I guess I blotted a lot of that out.” Then she pulled a face. “That must’ve been when it started. Or ended, actually.”
“What?”
“My relationship with my dad.” Frowning, she looked away, picking at a piece of grass or straw or something on the afghan. “We never talked about my mother, really. And certainly not her death.” She expelled a harsh half laugh. “A family trait, obviously. In any case...” Her eyes went all tingly. “I used to wonder if Dad sent me away because he simply didn’t want to deal with me. Or couldn’t, anyway.” Another strangled sound erupted from her throat. “And I’ve never said that to another living soul.”
Deanna sensed more than saw Josh take another sip of his coffee before leaning sideways to set down his mug on the end table, his brows drawn. “You seemed happy enough to leave.”
“Shoot, Josh—I was fifteen and bored out of my skull here. Which you know. I’d only been back east a couple of times but compared with Whispering Pines? DC was like Oz. Full of wonder and possibilities.”
A small smile twitched at his mouth. “And this was Kansas.”
“Exactly. But now...well. I’m thinking maybe my problem with feeling isolated had more layers than I could have possibly realized, let alone understood, when I was a kid. I know I was only fourteen when Mom died, but I’d like to think I still could’ve helped Dad through our grief. Somehow. That we could’ve helped each other. I mean, I tried my best to be a good girl, to make him proud of me...” She shook her head. “But if he wouldn’t let me be there for him...”
“He was proud of you, Dee,” Josh said softly. “That I can promise you.”
“It would’ve been nice to hear it, though. At least sometimes. You know?” Her hand went to her cheek, swiping away a tear. “I just wish I could ask him what he was thinking. Why he pushed me away when we needed each other the most. We should have grown closer. Not even more apart than we had been.”
Josh shifted on the sofa to cross his ar
ms high on his chest, the move making the dog grunt, then sigh back to sleep. “I guess I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“That makes two of us. Don’t get me wrong, I never doubted Dad loved me. But why he seemed to have such a hard time showing me how he felt...” Her forehead pinched; she shook her head. “He was so generous to the community, to everyone else...” A tear escaped the corner of one eye; Deanna swiped it away. “I also don’t know why I never tried to break down whatever the barrier was between us. Because it wasn’t as if I didn’t have a great example, right under my nose, of what a normal family looked like.”
“And who was that?”
She barked out a laugh. “You guys, doofus. Yes, I know there were issues with Colin, with Levi. Later, anyway. But not for lack of your parents’ trying. Not for lack of them loving you guys. So why was I so afraid to claim that for myself?”
Josh’s eyes darkened. “You were a kid, Dee. It wasn’t up to you, it was up to your father. You—”
He surged to his feet, making the dog jerk. “God knows I loved your dad. He was very good to me. To all of us, like you said. But I’m gonna say something I’ve never said to anyone else, either, which is that...” Looking up at the ceiling, he sucked in a breath, then brought his gaze back to hers. “That when it came to you, he screwed up. Epically. And I’m sorry...”
His mouth thinned. “When you first got back...it wasn’t you I was mad at, it was him. Only I couldn’t tell him why I was mad, so I took it out on you. Because you’re right, I wasn’t raised to give up on the people I love. Or am supposed to love, anyway. And my parents drummed it into our heads that a person’s obligation to those people went way beyond making sure their physical needs were met. Which is why...”
He dropped back onto the couch, and Deanna’s heart turned over in her chest.
“Which is why it still hurts that Austin’s mom walked away?”
His eyes bored into hers. “How much do you know?”
“That your son’s here with you. And she’s obviously not.”
The Rancher's Expectant Christmas Page 8