Heart Of A Cowboy

by Margaret Daley

  “I know my son. You don’t. I can’t—”

  “The only reason I don’t know Nicholas is because you didn’t tell me I had a son. I want to change that. I’ve lost ten years with him. I’m not losing another day.” He thrust his face close.

  The scent of his peppermint toothpaste taunted her, sparking a vivid memory of the first time he’d kissed her. She slammed the lid quickly on that thought. She needed all her wits about her. Squaring her shoulders, she met his pinpoint gaze. “He’s also my son.”

  His lips pressed together. “I want to be with you when you tell him.”

  A constriction about her chest pulled tight. She grappled for something to say, but all she could think of was he was Nicholas’s father. She was no longer the only one in her son’s life. She would have to share him with Zachary. This was exactly what she’d been afraid would happen. “Fine.” She drew in a composing breath. “But I’m the one who tells him.”

  With a nod, he backed away several steps.

  Jordan took another deep breath, trying to fill her oxygen-deprived lungs. Pivoting away from Zachary, she fumbled for the handle then shoved the door open. As she crossed the foyer toward the stairs, she slung a look over her shoulder. He hung back for a few seconds, surveying her home.

  His harsh gaze returned to hers. “At least some things haven’t changed.” He strode toward her.

  This was the house she’d grown up in, and Zachary knew this house. He’d spent a lot of time here while they had been dating in high school. “If my mother has a say in it, they will. She wants to redo the whole place.”

  “Where are your mother and grandmother?”

  “They’re at church. They won’t be back for a few hours.” She mounted the steps, feeling Zachary’s eyes on her back.

  The walk down the hallway to Nicholas’s room took seconds, but all she could think about was the eternity she’d endured during her son’s heart operation while she waited to hear from the surgeon. The same empty feeling in her stomach. The same chill blanketing her. The same numbness as if what she was experiencing wasn’t real.

  At Nicholas’s door, she knocked then pushed it open. Her son sat at his desk in front of his computer.

  He twisted toward her, an excited smile on his face. “Mom, I figured out this problem.” He tapped the screen. His attention shifted to Zachary, who appeared behind Jordan. “Hi, Zachary. What are you doing here?”

  The very same question she’d demanded only ten minutes ago. “We have something to talk to you about,” she said, not wanting Zachary to answer.

  “Is it about the riding lessons?”

  “No, hon.” She moved into the room and sat on Nicholas’s bed before her legs gave out.

  “Oh. What’s wrong?” Nicholas scooted around to face her, but his gaze strayed to Zachary for a few seconds before returning to her.

  “Nothing is really wrong.” Who am I kidding? Everything is wrong. The words she needed to say stuck in her throat, burning a hole. She swallowed once. Twice.

  Zachary stepped toward Nicholas.

  “Mom?” His eyebrows slashed down.

  “Remember when I told you that your dad didn’t want to be involved in your life?” Nicholas nodded.

  “Well, I was wrong. He does.” A fortifying breath did little to fill her lungs. Zachary opened his mouth. Alarm dislodged her clogged words, and she blurted out, “Zachary is your father.”

  Nicholas’s jaw dropped. He peered at her for a brief moment, then fastened his stare on Zachary. “You are? Why didn’t you say something when I was at the ranch?”

  Zachary spread his arms wide, palms outward. “I—I didn’t—”

  “He didn’t know.” When Nicholas looked at her again, her stomach clenched into a hard ball.

  Nicholas’s confusion ripped her composure. She wanted to hug him. To hold him in her arms until everything was back to normal. To soothe his turmoil until the shadows faded from his eyes.

  She’d handled this all wrong. She should have told her son first by herself no matter what Zachary had in sisted. The minute he’d entered the picture all the carefully planned words she’d rehearsed evaporated like water in Death Valley. “I never told Zachary about you.”

  The furrows in her child’s forehead deepened. “Why not?”

  She threw a glance at Zachary, catching the same question in his eyes. “I tried. I called him several times to tell him, but he wasn’t there and he never returned my calls.” All of a sudden, even to her own ears, the reason wasn’t strong enough. “I was nineteen. Hurt he hadn’t called me back. I…” She couldn’t tell her son it was pride that had kept her from trying to get in touch with Zachary again. Pride and fear of rejection.

  “I never received the messages to call your mother. Through a series of unfortunate incidents, not your mom’s fault, I didn’t discover you were my son until today when she told me.”

  Surprise flitted through her. Not my fault? That wasn’t what he’d implied earlier.

  Zachary covered the few feet between him and his son. “That’s why I’m here tonight. We have a lot to catch up on. It looks like you’re working on algebra. I didn’t do algebra until I was fourteen.”

  Nicholas studied Zachary’s face for a long moment. “We look alike. I should have seen it.”

  “If you aren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice.” Zachary returned his son’s intense survey. “But you’re right. We have similar features.” He sat on the long chest at the end of the bed, his legs spread, his elbows on his thighs, his hands loosely clasped. “Tell me about what you’re doing on the computer.”

  With a narrowed gaze thrown her way, Nicholas scooted his chair over a few inches to give Zachary a better view of the screen. Then her son launched into his plan to have calculus mastered by the age of fourteen. She prayed that Nicholas would talk to her about what he was feeling after Zachary left, but if that glance was any indication she was in for a rough night with her son.

  After listening to the boy’s explanation of what he wanted to study, Zachary examined Nicholas’s—no, scratch that, his son’s—bedroom. It was nothing like his when he was growing up. On a wall was a detailed map of the solar system while on the opposite one was a map of the world with red and blue pins stuck in it—probably at least fifty. Another poster listed the periodic table. The full double bookcases next to his desk held volumes of books that an adult would have—not a child of ten. When he skimmed over the other titles, his gaze lighting upon War and Peace, questions flooded Zachary’s mind. How smart was his child? How was he gonna relate to him? The fact he’d missed the first ten years struck him like a punch to the gut. He was out of step with his son and didn’t know if they would ever have anything in common. His one chance to be a father.

  “So you really enjoy math?” He’d hated the subject in school.

  “Yes, sir. It comes easy to me.”

  Zachary heard the creak of the bed as Jordan stood. He slipped a look toward her, hoping she would leave him alone with Nicholas, but she remained nearby. The feel of her gaze on him made him clutch his hands together. “What don’t you like?”

  “Really not much. I guess writing. But I love to read, especially history and biographies. You can learn so much when you read about a famous person.”

  “What was the last book you read?” Zachary couldn’t remember the last one he’d read—had to be years ago.

  “A six-volume series by Winston Churchill concerning World War II. Next I want to read about Hitler to get a better sense of what happened at that time.”

  Zachary’s mouth hung open. Quickly he snapped it closed. I should have seen the resemblance. Figured it out. But I never thought Jordan would keep something like that from me. The anger, just below the surface, surged to the foreground along with self-doubt. I’m so not prepared to be a father.

  “I find it’s necessary to read both sides of an issue or topic. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. What about you, Jordan?” Zachary sw
ung his attention toward the woman who’d not readied him for this moment. He’d enjoyed history in school while Jordan hadn’t. Maybe he could find a common bond with his son after all. He could go to the bookstore, find some books on World War II.

  “Sure, both sides are important.”

  The uncomfortable look on her face didn’t vindicate him. For his son’s sake he would be tied to Jordan, and he needed to make this work, somehow.

  “Mom, what are we having for dinner?”

  “Dinner? Uh…” Her mouth twisted as she shot a glance toward the door. “I guess I can fix some sandwiches.”

  “Will you stay for dinner?” His son clicked off the computer.

  Zachary didn’t know if he could sit at a table with Jordan and act as if everything would be okay. It wouldn’t be. And yet the eagerness in Nicholas’s expression prompted him to say, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you come help me?” Jordan stared right at Zachary.

  “My idea of fixing a meal is opening a can of soup.”

  She blew a breath out, her gaze darting between Zachary and the doorway. “It shouldn’t take me five minutes. Nicholas, make sure you wash up.”

  After she hurried from the room, Nicholas checked his watch. “She’ll probably have it done in four.”

  “Why do you say that?” Zachary asked, amused for the first time that day.

  “She’s afraid to leave us alone.”

  “Very perceptive.”

  “Not really. She’s just very obvious. What happened with you and Mom?”

  It was his turn to squirm. “You don’t pull any punches. How old are you?” He knew, but the question just slipped out because the more he was around his son the older he seemed.

  “Ten but sometimes I feel a lot older. I was sick a lot when I was younger and I spent a lot of time reading books. At least with them I could go places, do things I couldn’t otherwise. That’s what those pins on the map represent. Blue are my first choices of where I want to go. Red are the back-up ones.”

  Suddenly Zachary looked hard at his son. He hadn’t had a chance to be a boy. Maybe that was what he could do for his son. Teach him to play, have fun. “Then maybe I can do something about that. You said something about being interested in the rodeo.”

  His face brightening, Nicholas straightened. “Yes. I’ve read some books about it.”

  “Books are good, but experiencing it firsthand is so much better. I started participating in rodeo events for kids when I was your age. Actually earlier.”

  “Then I could, too.”

  Zachary wanted to say yes—should have the right to since he was the child’s father—but caution made him murmur, “We’ll have to run it by your mother first.”

  His son frowned. “She’ll never let me. She gets scared that I’ll get sick or hurt myself.”

  “The first thing you need to do is learn to ride well. Then we’ll see after that.”

  “Nicholas, dinner is ready,” Jordan shouted as if she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Let’s go wash up, partner.” Zachary rose. “I hear your mom is gonna teach you at home.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow is my last day at school and I’m so glad. It takes Mom a while to make up her mind.” His son lowered his voice and bent closer. “She doesn’t like change.”

  He settled a hand on his son’s shoulder as they headed for the bathroom. “What’s been going on at school?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “Just the usual.”

  In the hallway Zachary faced the boy. “Are you being teased?”

  He hung his head. “Yes. I don’t fit in. I don’t understand them. Today I was the last one to be picked for a team. That happens all the time. Then another kid laughed in class when I had to write an answer on the board.”

  Nicholas’s injured tone magnified Zachary’s anger at Jordan. “Why?” He could have been there to help his son—if only he’d known about him.

  “My handwriting isn’t legible. I’ve tried to make it better, but my fine motor skills aren’t good.”

  Would he ever not be amazed what came out of his son’s mouth? Nicholas was nothing like his niece and nephews. Zachary lifted his son’s chin. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. You’re smart. You have a lot to offer a friend.” He started again toward the bathroom. “I can help you with that.”

  The dinner had been a disaster. Jordan carried the plates to the sink while Nicholas snagged Zachary and took him outside to show him his telescope. She’d wanted to follow, but after being excluded through most of the meal, it was obvious her son only wanted to spend time with his father.

  During the meal Zachary and Nicholas had talked horses and riding, leaving her out of the conversation. What if she hadn’t gone to the ranch that Saturday? Or come back to Tallgrass? Then she wouldn’t be facing this problem. But remembering Nicholas’s joy-filled expression and his laughter during the dinner made her realize telling Zachary had been for the best.

  She sank into a chair at the kitchen table, placed her elbow on its top and cupped her chin. Tapping her finger against her cheek, she visualized Nicholas on the back of a horse, racing across the meadow. The next image of him flying over the animal’s head and crashing into the hard ground sent alarm through her.

  She bolted to her feet and marched to the back door. She was joining them whether they liked it or not. He was her son, too. She’d been his parent for the past ten years and wasn’t going to turn the reins over to Zachary just because she’d made a mistake and hadn’t told him about Nicholas.

  Because now she realized she’d been totally wrong not to. Somehow she had to make sure that Zachary understood she regretted the decision she made all those years ago. That they should work together.

  She flung open the door and stepped out onto the deck. Both Zachary and Nicholas glanced toward her then her son returned to showing Zachary how to adjust the telescope—one she’d spent a bonus on to get her son two Christmases ago. At the time the telescope had been taller than Nicholas. He spent hours outside watching the sky at night. He was determined to discover something new, and if she knew her son, he probably would one day.

  “What are you all looking at?”

  Zachary peered at her. “The rings of Saturn. I can’t believe I’m actually seeing them.”

  She recalled the first time she’d seen them or the craters on the moon or Mars. “Yeah. They’re neat.” She watched father and son, and her heart expanded against her rib cage. She still needed to talk with Nicholas without Zachary around, but looking at them together firmed the rightness of her decision. “It’s getting close to your bedtime.”

  “Ah, Mom.”

  “You’ve got to get up early for school. I’m sure you and Zachary will spend a lot of time together in the future. You need to take your bath—”

  In the dim light from the kitchen, Nicholas pivoted, his arms straight at his sides, his hands balled. “I want to spend time with him now.”

  Stunned by the angrily spoken word, Jordan took a step back. “Nicholas.”

  “Partner, I need to leave, but why don’t you and your mother come out to the ranch tomorrow after school. I want to introduce you to my sister and her family. You’ve already met Ashley, but I have two nephews, too.” Zachary stood behind her son—their son—his face in the shadows.

  “But—but…” spluttered out of Nicholas’s mouth before he closed it and stalked toward the door. Its slamming vibrated through the clear night air.

  Jordan flinched, her eyes shutting as she scrubbed her hands down her face.

  “Do you blame him?”

  Zachary’s quiet question chipped away at what composure she had left. “I blame you for not letting me prepare him for the news.”

  “Oh, I see. I was supposed to wait some more time to get to know my son while you come up with a way to explain why you never told me or him about who I am. Let’s face it. There’s no easy way to tell him you kept the truth from him and me.”

>   Anger and guilt tangled together to form a knot in her throat. And now she had to deal with the consequences of that decision. How could she have thought that she could come home and continue merrily along with her life as she had for twenty-nine years? Because she hadn’t known Zachary was in Tallgrass.

  “I’m going, but I want my family to get to know Nicholas. He wants to come to the ranch tomorrow and meet them.”

  “If your family had given you my messages all those years ago, we wouldn’t be standing here like this.” She’d been wrong—but not the only one.

  He drilled a look through her. “Touché. I’ll give you that, but it still doesn’t excuse what you did.” Skirting her, he descended the steps to the deck and made his way around to the front of the house.

  Jordan sank against the lounge chair near her, clasping its back to keep upright. Zachary’s intenseness had sucked the energy from her, and she would need all she had to speak with Nicholas before he went to bed.

  She would love to postpone this conversation. Forever. But she couldn’t.

  Lord, I know I was wrong. Please help me to fix this with Nicholas. I need You more than ever.

  Shoving away from the chair, she headed for the door, then up the stairs toward her son’s bedroom. She and Nicholas had always been close. This wouldn’t change that. She hoped.

  She rapped on his door, then entered, expecting him to be at his computer since he hadn’t been in the bathroom. Instead the chair was empty. When she scanned the room, she discovered him already under the covers, his head barely peeking out. He always prolonged going to sleep, hating to miss anything.

  “Nicholas.”

  Nothing. Not a word. Not a movement, as though he had fallen asleep in that short amount of time. She knew better.

  “Nicholas, we need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  Chapter Six

  Nicholas’s words hurt, a pang piercing through Jordan’s heart. As much as she wanted to leave and never have this conversation with her son, she crossed the room to his bed and sat. “Hon, I know you’re angry at me, and I can’t blame you.”