Jacob should lower the black material to a decent, less tempting spot. He was afraid if he touched her he wouldn’t be able to stop just short of embarrassing her and his grandfather. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel and tried to keep his eyes on the road.
Listening in on Zan’s conversation he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, little girl.” His grandfather’s gruff voice filled the car. “The designated hitter has ruined baseball.”
“My brother got an extra three years on his career thanks to the designated hitter.”
“The hell you say.” Oscar Bowman didn’t like a challenge especially when it came to baseball.
“He still had a remarkable batting average, but his range in the field had gone down so much after his knee surgery. He led the team in RBIs the year before he retired. So would you take him out of service just because he can’t stand out in left field for every game?”
Jacob’s grandfather harrumphed. Jacob would have given anything to see the old man’s face, arguing baseball with a woman. And Zan knew her baseball.
To think, he worried Zan and his grandfather would have nothing to talk about.
“The owners are paying full price for half a player when they can’t stay in the field anymore,” Oscar said.
“You’re just mad because the old school baseball has changed. You’re a traditionalist.”
“There ain’t nothing wrong with tradition, little girl.”
“Except sometimes, things need to change.”
Oscar Bowman sat for a long moment without a comment. Then finally, Jacob heard him clear his throat and continue. “You’re just biased ’cause you’re talking about your brother.”
“I’m…I’m biased?” Jacob saw her thumping her chest. “Old man, you couldn’t be more biased if you owned a team and had to write out the paychecks yourself.” Laughter rang in Zan’s voice.
When the car turned into Bonnie’s driveway, Jacob’s grandfather murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “What does a little girl know.” If Zan heard, she didn’t comment on it.
Bonnie Walters’s house was nice. The small ranch-style tan house had an odd-shaped rock façade that made the house appear bigger, yet still inviting and homey. Someone had taken great care to keep the hedges lining the front wall of the house trimmed and neat. He couldn’t see the next house a half a mile away because of a row of ten eight-foot-high shrubs creating a wall. The intimacy of the property fascinated him. Several birch trees dotted the half-acre front yard. A particularly large one closest to the house looked lonely with a tire swing hanging from it.
The whole set up, Zan’s aunt’s property, looked like something he wouldn’t mind settling down with someday.
Someday?
When had he started thinking in terms of marriage and family? Had it been when he met Zan or had it been before? Naw, he knew. Zan brought out domestic thoughts that he had never before entertained. It didn’t scare him like it had in the past. He looked forward to the day when he could call a place his own and have a family of his own.
Someday.
Before Jacob could get out and to the other side of the car, Zan was already helping Oscar out. Despite their heated discussion, they looked at ease with one another. Oscar even patted Zan on the shoulder after she shut the door for him.
A smile broke across Jacob’s face. His two favorite people in the world were getting along. He couldn’t ask for more than that.
Carrying the pie Zan made, he caught up with the pair at the door. Zan knocked once on the thick wooden door, and then opened it and proceeded in.
“Back here, dear,” Bonnie Walters called. Even though he hadn’t known her well, Paintbrush was a small enough town that he could place her voice when he heard her.
The trio walked down a narrow hallway. Several photos of children lined the walls. Jacob found a picture of Zan in a baseball uniform and the smile again curved his lips. Long reddish blonde hair hung down her shoulder in a ponytail. His hand reached for the photo, but he stilled when he heard Zan hooting and hollering from the room at the end of the hall.
A large man had Zan in his arms and was twirling her around. Oscar Bowman stood off to the side with a curious eye to the pair. Bonnie and a man who Jacob assumed was Gene Twofeathers, stood side by side with matching grins. When she caught sight of Jacob, she waved him over.
“They haven’t seen each other since she left Fort Worth,” Bonnie said as if that explained it all. “He just showed up on our doorstep this morning. Sure surprised us. I knew Zan would be excited to see him.”
Who was he? A fierce stab of jealousy tore at his chest. He started to open his mouth to ask, but the twirling stopped and he set Zan back on her feet. Something whispered in the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite pull it forward.
“I can’t believe you’re here, Quint.” Zan’s flushed face looked up at the much taller man.
“I wanted to surprise you. So—surprise.”
Jacob listened to the pair go back and forth as they caught up on happenings in Fort Worth. He didn’t want to interrupt, but he couldn’t stop himself from clearing his throat.
Zan glanced over at him. “Jacob, I’m sorry.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to her side. “This is my nephew, Quint. He’s Jeffery’s son.”
Nephew? He was a grown man. But Zan’s brothers were quite a bit older. Finally, he could see the resemblance that had eluded him. He did look a little like Jeffery back when he played for the Texas Rangers. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him knowing he was related to Zan and not the longtime fiancé she’d left behind. He’d worried for a moment…
Shaking his head, he remembered his manners. “Hi. Jacob Bowman, nice to meet you.”
Quint stuck out his hand. “Quint Walters.” The two clasped hands for a quick handshake.
“You played ball too like your dad, didn’t you?” Jacob asked as the little niggle of familiarity broke through finally. “The Rangers double-A team, right?”
Quint ducked his head. “Yeah, briefly.”
“He only did it to make his daddy happy,” Zan said at her nephew’s side. She had a sympathetic look on her face.
“Hmm. So, what do you do now?” Jacob asked still holding the pie. “Hold that thought. Miss Bonnie,” he said sweetly in his best good ol’ boy tone. “Where would you like the sweets, ma’am?”
“I’ll take it for you,” Zan offered.
Her fingers brushed his as she took the pie from him. Electricity sparked even with a mundane task. Awareness crossed her face. Jacob had to pull himself together to keep from following her into the kitchen and sampling some of the sweets before dinner.
When he turned his gaze back to Quint, a guarded look hung in his eyes. He must have noticed the reaction between Jacob and his aunt. Judging by his scowl he didn’t approve. Not that Jacob cared one whit what Quint Walters thought of his relationship with Zan.
Zan came back into the living room and hugged Gene and then her aunt. When Bonnie pushed Zan back to arms’ length, she gave her a once over and her eyes stopped at the small, butterfly bandage just in Zan’s hairline.
“What happened to your head?”
“I, ah.” Zan looked at Jacob. Panic lit in her eyes and she fumbled for words. “I bumped it. It’s no big thing.”
Bonnie looked over her niece again as if checking to see if she had any other damage. Jacob was actually surprised Bonnie hadn’t heard about the wreck yet. Even though Sheriff Reese was trying to keep it low key until he had a handle on who was driving the mystery truck, small towns had a way of things getting out. “Did you have a doctor look at it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Dr. Hambert said I am fit as a fiddle.”
Her aunt didn’t look too sure but she let the issue drop. Instead she turned to her great-nephew. “Tell your aunt and her friend what you do now.” A wry, knowing smile curved the
older woman’s unadorned lips.
“I am currently between jobs at the moment. But I was a firefighter back in Dallas.”
“What? You don’t have a job? Since when?” Zan came back to stand beside Jacob.
“What is this, Zan? The Spanish Inquisition?” Quint asked, but Jacob detected humor in his voice.
“I’m just curious. No one tells me anything. When did this happen?”
“About a week ago.”
Bonnie motioned for everyone to take a seat. Jacob’s grandfather sat in a dark green recliner and the two couples paired off on matching love seats. Quint sat on the rock fireplace hearth and continued to speak. “The city was cutting back on jobs and I volunteered to leave. Several old timers were close to retirement. This way they can work a year or two longer and keep their pensions intact until then.”
“That’s great, Quint, but what about you? What’re you gonna do?” Zan persisted.
“I’m thinking about relocating.”
“Yeah? Where to?” Zan fidgeted on the sofa. Jacob had never seen her so antsy before.
“How big is your house?”
———
Zan sat for a moment and stared at her nephew. In all his twenty-six years, he had added many a gray hair to his father’s head, but this, this would send Jeffery over the edge. She shook her head. First in a slow, sweeping motion, and then to a much quicker jerky no.
“Nope. No way. Your dad would kill me if you moved out here.”
“Aunt Zan,” Quint whined. A grown man and he whined like he did when he was a child and he was trying to talk her into some scheme.
Unfortunately for her, it almost never failed. She couldn’t remember how many times she had gotten into trouble with her nephew. At one point Jeffery had sat her down and threatened not to let her see Quint anymore if she couldn’t keep him out of trouble. Never mind the fact that she was only fourteen and he was eight.
Zan and Amy, Quint’s older sister by two years, had dressed Quint, at his insistence, in Amy’s old Girl Scout uniform and sent him door-to-door hawking non-existent cookies. At the time, Zan laughed her butt off. Then several of her brother’s neighbors in the affluent neighborhood complained. Jeffery had called the three into his study for a lecture. Apparently, when Quint offered to cut Jeffery in with forty of the two-hundred dollars they had earned, he saw it as the last straw. It was the only time Zan had seen fury in her brother’s eyes when he looked at her. She swore then and there never to give him reason to do it again.
“Don’t Aunt Zan me. We’re practically the same age.” She reached for her braid. Her hand hit her bare neck. It was the first time she had done that in a long time. What had been her talisman for years, she hadn’t thought of once. Until now. Now that her nephew wanted to uproot his life and move to Wyoming—with her—her fingers ached for the soft rope of hair, but settled in her lap.
Zan took a deep breath and looked at Quint. “What does Jeffery think of all this.”
“What do you think he said? ‘Son, you can’t just quit’,” Quint lowered his voice a notch and sounded so much like his father it spooked her. “‘What are you going to do with your life? First, you quit baseball. Now, you’re quitting the fire department. Quitters don’t get anywhere in life.’”
That sounded like something Jeffery would say. Unfortunately, he was right, but hearing it sound so condemning, she wanted to be on Quint’s side. She loved her brother dearly, but he had always been too hard on his son.
“If you think that was bad,” he said as if her feelings were evident on her face. “You should have heard the shit hit the fan when I told him I was coming out here.”
“I can only imagine,” Zan mumbled.
She looked at her aunt, hoping the older woman would have some sage advice to give her niece. Bonnie’s bright eyes betrayed the stern look she had on her face. The older woman could barely contain her amusement.
Zan gave her a pleading look, raising her eyebrows and all but pouting.
“Jacob, is Willard still looking for extra hands?” Bonnie asked. “I know he was right before I moved.”
Zan looked at Jacob and his neck turned red as he hesitated. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well there you go. Quint you can work out at a ranch can’t you? You worked at Dad’s farm every summer,” Bonnie said, referring to her father’s ranch out in west Texas. “And you wouldn’t even have to stay with your Aunt Zan because they have bunks for the hired hands.”
A smile spread across Quint’s tanned face. His eyes danced with excitement.
“I can’t promise you anything. You’d have to talk with Willard,” Jacob said quickly.
Willard was shorthanded. How many times had he said it the last month? She herself had talked up how much they had all worked on her grandfather’s farm as children. Quint would be perfect for the job.
Oh, but Zan’s aunt didn’t stop there. “Paintbrush has a mostly volunteer fire department. They would love to have someone with experience come aboard.”
Zan excused herself from the conversation to go get a drink. She was going to ask Oscar if he needed anything, but he sat with his head slumped to the side, softly snoring.
Ah, to be so oblivious to the events in life. A girl could dream.
Getting a glass down from the kitchen cupboard, she stood at the sink looking out the tiny window at her aunt’s back yard. Or rather, her aunt’s acreage. The yellowed grass and trees decked in red and orange leaves went on for as far as the eye could see. Taking a deep breath, she let the calm, picturesque view relax her.
As she reached for the tap, two strong arms circled her waist. She jolted so hard she nearly dropped the glass in her hand.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Jacob whispered next to her ear.
Sinking back into his embrace she closed her eyes and just absorbed his warmth. “What am I going to do?”
“What do you mean?” His breath ruffled the hair on top of her head.
“About Quint.”
Jacob chuckled and his chest vibrated against her back.
Opening her eyes, she turned in his grip and looked up at him. “You think I’m making too much out of this?”
“Well, yeah, kinda. How old is he? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six last month.” She ducked her head, laying her forehead against his chest. She knew what he was going to say.
“Last time I checked, Zan, twenty-six made someone a bona-fide adult. If your brother has a problem letting Quint grow up that’s his problem. Don’t do the same thing by trying to ‘fix’ what you think might be wrong.”
Zan shook her head. Not because she disagreed with Jacob, but because he was right and she had to back off and let Quint do what he wanted. Even though he was her nephew, he seemed more like her younger brother and the urge to protect and shelter him hadn’t subsided since he’d grown into a man.
“You think I’m wrong?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “No, you’re right. He’s a grown man and can do whatever he wants with his life.” Now if her big brother would see it that way.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you coming with us or not?” Quint leaned forward on the front counter of the animal clinic, his elbows resting on the charts Zan was trying to organize.
“Move it.” She pushed Quint’s arm off the pile of folders and gathered the most recent appointments. Turning her back to him, she left him standing alone, the question unanswered. Shoving the charts into the case under the proper years, she thought over the proposition.
Quint, being the outgoing soul that he was, had met Missy and instantly struck up a friendship. He’d also met Cade Holstrom, Dale’s younger brother, of all people, and according to Quint, he was a really nice guy who was nothing like his two older brothers. Even his looks differed. True he was blond and blue eyed like the other two, but whereas they looked like GQ models, Cade looked the part of the mid-west cowboy—rugged and tanned. Looks and heredity aside, Zan would hold off
judgment until she met him for herself, but from what she had heard from several other people, he was the real deal.
In the two weeks since Quint had moved to Paintbrush, he had gotten the job with Willard Cates and settled into the bunkhouse. He and Jacob had formed a strong bond between working together and living in close proximity.
Unfortunately, Quint had spent more time with Jacob over the two weeks than Zan had. Jacob was training her nephew, showing him the ins and outs of Saddle Creek, which left him exhausted every night. Zan hoped to have time alone with Jacob that evening. Then Quint came in with his evening plans. He, Cade, Missy and a couple of others were all headed out to Dominique’s for dinner, and after, they planned on staying for the karaoke night that Moose held every other Friday.
The bell over the front door jingled, breaking into Zan’s thoughts.
“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Quint asked of whoever had just walked in.
“Not much. Just wanted to check on my girl.”
Jacob. He had called her his girl. Zan’s heart skipped a beat as a flutter rippled through her stomach.
“What are you doing up here,” Jacob asked. “I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I do. A bunch of us are headed over to Dominique’s. You heard of the place?”
Jacob chuckled. “Yeah.”
“I was trying to talk old Auntie Zan into going, too. Want to join us?”
Zan stifled a groan when Jacob said yes with far too much enthusiasm. She filed the last folder and turned to find Quint with a huge, triumphant grin on his face. Jacob removed his hat and stood in his “aw shucks” pose with his head bent low. Most times Zan found it endearing, but after he just agreed to go out on the town with a group of people instead of spending time alone with her, he looked guilty.
“Okay then. We’re all meeting around eight. See you there.” Quint saluted Zan and jogged out of the building leaving Zan and Jacob alone—finally.
Second Chances Page 11