by Anna Jeffrey
Back in the living room, he slid a Willie Nelson disk into the CD player—the cabin was the only place he found the opportunity to enjoy music—and kicked back in his recliner. He had just gotten comfortable when he heard light steps on the deck, then a soft tap on the front door. He set his whiskey on the side table, went to the door and saw Annabeth standing there without a coat and shivering. A halo of undisciplined russet curls showed in the light that spilled from the front doorway. “Hi, Daddy. Can I come in?”
He stepped back for her to enter. Her blue eyes watered from the nighttime cold. Her freckled nose and rosy cheeks were even redder than usual. She had a flat brown sack in her hand. “You walked down here without a coat?”
“I didn’t know it was so cold. I brought you this.” She handed him the sack. “We didn’t have school yesterday. Aunt Kat took Mary C and me shopping in Boise.”
“He pulled a CD out of the sack and looked at a picture of Alan Jackson on the cover. “Hey, thank you, honey.
“It’s Alan Jackson.”
“I see that. Let’s play it.” He dug out his pocket knife and sliced through the cellophane wrapper.
Playing with her fingers, she looked around. She seemed tentative and anxious.
He slid his pocket knife back into his pocket and dropped an arm around her bony shoulders “What’s bothering you, Annie?”
She shrugged away with a nervous laugh. “You smell like Mom.”
Something pinged in his chest. With what his kids experienced with their mother, he rarely let them see him drink hard liquor. Luke laid the CD and his knife on the table at the end of the sofa, and guided her toward a seat. “Let’s sit down and you tell me what’s on your mind.”He sank to a sofa cushion and pulled her down beside him. She sat on the edge of the cushion, her palms together between her knees, so he hunched forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “What’s is it, Annie?”
“We went by Mom’s house.”
Uh-oh. Luke felt a pinch in his mid-section. Anything could come of that visit and most of it not good. His eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”
“I know we weren’t supposed to, but Mary C talked Aunt Kat into it. Mom was real sick, Daddy.”
Hung over. “What was wrong with her?”
“She had the stomach flu. This really bad-looking guy was there, taking care of her. She told Aunt Kat she needed some money so she could go to the doctor. She said since the lawyers took away our child support, she doesn’t have enough to live on.”
A throb of anger began to pound in Luke’s temple. Why in hell did Janet unload crap like that on the kids? He couldn’t imagine how his children must feel being victims of a mother who used them as pawns. During his boyhood, his own mother had been a caring parent who put her kids first. And why did she expose them to the barflies with whom she associated?
“Why is Mom like she is, Daddy?”
All of Luke’s defenses went on alert. His chest felt as if a truck tire had rolled across it. Jesus. He avoided serious conversation with his daughters about their mother’s problems. “She’s got some weaknesses, Annie, as we all do. Hers have affected other people a little more than some.”
“She and Aunt Kat got into this big argument. Aunt Kat told her she had taken all the money away from you she was going to and if she wasn’t careful you’d stick her back in a hospital. Mom called Aunt Kat a smart aleck bitch. Aunt Kat said she was nothing but a trashy tramp and it was her fault Jimmy’s like he is.”
A tear seeped from the corner of his daughter’s eye, but she quickly swiped it away with her fingertips.
Suppressing his own emotions, Luke hooked an arm around her and pulled her close to him.
“I wasn’t gonna tell anybody about it,” she went on, “but I’ve been so worried. Mom said Jimmy’s your fault, Daddy. And Grandma’s. Mary C believes her, but I don’t.”
“What do you believe?”
“Aunt Kat said when women drink too much it makes their babies deformed.” She looked at him with troubled eyes. “Is that true, Daddy? Did Mom do that?”
Luke made another silent vow to muzzle his sister. At the same time, he chastised himself for not being more open with his girls sooner. “Maybe we should have talked about this already, honey, but it’s a hard thing to discuss. We can’t know for sure, but some suspect that’s the truth about Jimmy. They call it fetal alcohol syndrome. It can happen when mothers drink while they’re pr—er, expecting.”
Annabeth assumed a posture to match his, crossing her scuffed boot toes and staring at them. “Mom said you and Grandma made her so upset all the time she had to drink.”
Good, ol’ Janet. Blame her faults on somebody else. Yet, it wasn’t in him to denigrate her to the daughter they shared. “Your mom’s got serious problems. I know you’ve heard people call her an alcoholic. One thing alcoholics do is look for excuses to drink and keep drinking. Some folks think it’s a sickness, but some think it’s a weakness in character. Your grandmother happens to be one of the latter. Grandma’s never been sharp with you, but you’ve seen how tough she can be on other people. That’s how she was with Janet.”
Annabeth nodded which gave him the courage to go on. “But your grandma’s not the reason your mother drinks or the reason she drank while she was carrying Jimmy.”
His daughter looked up at him, took a deep breath and asked exactly what he feared she would. “Then what was it?”
A hundred excuses careened through his head. Should he try to explain that Janet came from alcoholic parents, that she had probably been well on her way to doomsday when he met her and that Annabeth herself and Mary Claire carried the same propensity in their genes? God knew he had worried enough about that fact.
How could he explain the depth of Janet’s resentment back in those first days of their marriage when she learned he didn’t have control of the DAM Ranches checkbook? “I guess Jimmy was partly my fault. After you came, your mom didn’t want any more kids. When she turned up pr—er, expecting with Jimmy, she was real upset.”
“Aunt Kathleen said Mom wanted Jimmy to be an abortion. Is that true, Daddy?”
Jesus! He couldn’t remember if, at Annabeth’s age, he knew or cared what an abortion was. Oh, sure, he had known what happened when a cow slipped a calf, and for that matter, Annie knew, too. Ranch kids just did. But that was different. Jesus. He felt as if he were trying to swim across the Snake with his boots full of water.
How could he tell his daughter the rotten state to which his and Janet’s marriage had deteriorated by the time she got pregnant with Jimmy? Should he reveal it was possible he wasn’t even Jimmy’s father? How could he explain to a teenager his own lapse in character and common sense that drove him to share a bed with Janet after he had learned she had slept with another man and he had sworn never to touch her again? And that after he had done that, he couldn’t deny Jimmy even if he had wanted to?
“Your granddad and I—well, mostly me, talked her out of it. She agreed to, uh, have Jimmy, but I didn’t make her promise anything about the drinking. It was a real bad thing. Besides what happened to Jimmy, she nearly killed herself.”
Annabeth’s expression remained as it was—inscrutable. A few beats passed. “She did it to get even, didn’t she, with you and Grandma?”
Luke sighed and shook his head. Without a doubt, revenge had been a factor in Janet’s screwed-up thinking. “I know it’s hard for you to understand. I have a hard time reasoning through it myself.”
His daughter’s eyes teared again, sending an ache all through him. Never had he wanted his actions to cause his children tears.
“I hate her,” Annabeth said with frightening fierceness.
“Don’t do that, Daughter. In her own blurry way, she loves you. She gave you life and that’s just about the best thing somebody can do for somebody else.”
Annabeth pushed back and looked up at him, her wet blue stare piercing his. “But you hate her, too, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.” For the fir
st time in longer than he could measure, Luke realized he had put the years of bitterness behind him. Knowing a woman as good as Dahlia had healed his wounds and given him the impetus. “I guess I’d have to say I don’t feel anything at all, Annie, but I promise you, I’m not mean to your mother and I never will be.”
“I didn’t think so.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I wish . . . I wish we were a real family. I mean, I love Grandma and Grandpa, but I wish we could live in the cabin and be a real family. . . . And I wish—I wish you had somebody to love, Daddy, and somebody to help you.”
No doubt, she had heard the “help” part from her grandmother. He had heard it a thousand times himself. For a moment, he was tempted to tell her he had found someone, but he couldn’t tell her about Dahlia without also discussing Joe. Telling his kids about Joe was something he wanted to ease into, when there was time to try to make them understand that besides being their father, he was also the father of—what had Mom and Dad called Joe?—a “catch-colt” son he wanted them to accept and love as their brother.
But right now, it was past eleven o’clock. “You don’t be worrying about me. I’ve got you and Mary Claire and Jimmy to love. And Grandma and Grandpa. And Aunt Kathleen and Aunt Brenna. I’m not suffering.”
She gave him a wet, rueful smile. “Did your girlfriend in Texas like the necklace we bought her?”
“She did.” Mixed emotions threaded through him—relief that Annabeth had gone to a different subject and how happy he had been over Dahlia’s jubilant reaction to the diamond pendant. “And I told her it was my youngest sweetheart who helped me buy it.”
“I didn’t even tell Mary C we got it. I was afraid she’d tell. Grandma would have a fit if she knew what we paid for it.”
He hid a laugh at the teenager’s assumption they were engaged in a conspiracy. “You worry too much, Annie.” He stood up and tugged her to her feet. “It’s past your bedtime, gal. You’ll doze and fall off that horse tomorrow. We’d better get you back up to the Big House so you can get some sleep.”
Luke found her a heavier jacket in the coat closet and they returned to the Big House together. He went to bed, determined to wring Kathleen’s neck. Christ, she must have caught foot-in-mouth disease from Dave.
He was more determined than ever to unite his family. His daughters had never seen the soft side of being a wife and mother. His mom had done her best, but she was tougher than a boiled owl, hadn’t worn a dress in more years than he could remember. The feminine gentleness that had been there once was buried in two deep holes—his older brother’s grave and the survival of the Double Deuce. His girls needed a positive female role model in their lives, an unselfish woman who had good instincts and a heart big enough to embrace him and his whole flawed family. A woman like Dahlia.
Chapter 31
The next morning, Luke drove Mary Claire and Annabeth to the gate to meet the school bus. Upon his return, he told his parents that in the coming evening, he would be revealing to his daughters his intention to marry Dahlia. He was still working on how to tell them about Joe.
Mom was quiet all day. After supper, she limped to her bedroom—to show her disapproval, he presumed. His dad put on a jacket and went outside to smoke his pipe. Luke led the two girls to the leather sofa in front of the rock fireplace, took a seat on the ottoman opposite them and made his announcement, wondering what he would do if Dahlia didn’t say yes.
Mary Claire bristled and gasped. “You lied! You said you went to visit an old friend. . . . Well I hope you don’t expect me to like her.”
Luke’s jaw twitched. He hated getting caught in his own trap. “If you don’t want to like her, I can’t make you, but I expect you to treat her with respect.”
Mary Claire crossed her arms over her chest and cinched her mouth into a bright red pout. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Annabeth’s eyes rounded with concern. “Gosh, Daddy. What if she doesn’t like us?”
“She’ll like us just fine.”
Annabeth moved to sit beside him on the ottoman and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you, Daddy. I knew you could find somebody. If you like her, I know I will. I’ll bet she’s pretty. What does she look like? Show us her picture.”
“Well I don’t have a picture, but she is pretty. She’s got long, black hair. Pretty green eyes. And she’s tall—tall as you, Annie.”
Annabeth looked at him with worried eyes. “Do you think she’ll like Jimmy?”
“She’s met Jimmy. She’ll be just fine with Jimmy. If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t marry her.”
Mary Claire remained wedged against the arm of the sofa, her mouth set in defiance. Though disappointed, Luke wasn’t surprised. Lately she seemed to blow up about everything.
She rose abrubtly and stalked toward the kitchen. Annabeth’s eyes grew even rounder. Luke reached across and squeezed her hand, then left her to follow his older daughter. Entering the kitchen, he found her taking a Coke from the refrigerator. She spun and left through the doorway on the large room’s opposite side.
Annabeth came behind him. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
Luke figured he might as well go the whole route. “Come over here and sit down, Annie.” He guided her toward the round oak table in the corner of the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her. “I want to tell you something.”
She dropped to the edge of the chair seat, her hands clasped between her knees, troubled eyes searching his.
“What would you think if I told you Dahlia and I have a son together?”
A range of expressions volleyed across her face. A few beats passed before she responded in a tenuous voice. “Is—is he very old?”
“He’s nearly four months old.”
A dummy Annabeth wasn’t. She blinked and a corner of her mouth twitched. “Dahlia’s that woman who—”
“No, honey, no.” Luke reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s not ‘that woman.’ She’s kind and gentle and loving. She’s somebody I care a lot about. I cared about her last summer, but things were hard then.”
“Daddy, Mom will just die—”
“Annie, your mother and I haven’t been married for over six years. Lord, she’s had another husband since me.”
“I know, but she didn’t really love him. Mary C says she loves you. That’s why she’s so mad at you all the time.”
“No, Annie. It isn’t love your mother feels for me. It’s need. She needs somebody to hold her together and be responsible. We talked about her problems just last night, remember? She’ll always be looked after. You and Mary don’t have to worry about that.”
“Does Dahlia know about Mom? Won’t she be mad if you’re taking care of our mom?”
Gratitude almost burst from Luke’s mouth. A huge sigh of relief began to gather within Luke. It appeared that Annabeth had accepted the idea of his taking another wife, although she hadn’t yet said much about having a half-brother.
But that couldn’t be said of the sixteen-year-old who now stood in the kitchen doorway roasting him with a fiery glare.
Luke reached out. “Mary Claire, come and sit down with us.”
“No. Mom told us all you really cared about was somebody who put out.” Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “What happened, Daddy? Did you get caught?”
He wanted to grab her and shake her for her insolence. She was so like her mother she sometimes scared him. Before he could speak, she ran from the kitchen. He closed his eyes, blew out a tense sigh and slumped back in his chair.
When he opened his eyes, Annabeth was staring at him. “I don’t think I can talk to her this time, Daddy.”
Luke heard the front door open and knew his dad had come back inside. “It’s not your place to talk to her. You go watch TV with Grandpa. I’ll see what I can do.”
He didn’t find Mary Claire in her bedroom upstairs, but when he descended the stairs, he met Annabeth waiting at the bottom.“She’s in Grandma’s room, Daddy.”
Sh
it! The hard part just got harder.
He stared down the hall toward his parents’ bedroom, debating if he should risk a confrontation with his mother in front of his children. “We’ll just let it ride ’til we all sleep on it, Annie. Things will look different in the daylight.”
Luke slept the peaceful sleep of a man relieved of a heavy burden. Brushing his teeth the next morning and mulling over his approach to his older daughter, he heard his mother’s cane thumping up the hall. He glanced up and saw her framed by the doorway, leaning on her cane. Wary, he caught her gaze in the mirror as he lathered up to shave. He couldn’t guess her reason for coming to his bathroom at daylight, but he knew she had one.
“Your daddy says you just have to have this Texas woman.”
“Morning, Mom.” Luke made a razor swipe down his jaw.
“I guess if you just have to have her, there’s nothing for it. Annie’s more excited than when you brought Chico home.”
Luke made another swipe, still watching his mother’s reflection in the mirror with one eye.
“Kathleen says she’s Chinese. I presume she’s a citizen.”
Luke ran his tongue over his teeth and concentrated on rinsing his razor. “She’s not Chinese. She’s half-Filipino. And yeah, she’s a citizen. Born and raised in Texas.”
“Humph. Might as well be from a foreign country.”
Luke arched an eyebrow, but she had looked away.
“I was thinking.” Her gaze appeared to be focused on something outside the bathroom. “I don’t know when your daddy went upstairs last. I haven’t been up there myself for over a year. Seems a waste, that nice, new house we built for Brenna and Morgan just sitting there empty. . . . It’s all on one floor.”
“Yeah.” Luke kept his tone bland and made a swipe down the opposite jaw.