by Naomi Horton
"Yeah. But what chance have I got to—"
"Twenty pages on the American Constitution? That's all?"
"The underlying principles, Miss Cameron said. Whatever that means."
"It means you're the luckiest kid in the country," Kathleen said with feeling. "I think what you want is a comparative study of the original premise behind the Constitution and how it's being interpreted on a day-to-day basis."
Jody looked dazed. "I … guess," he managed to whisper.
"I did a thesis on just that topic in college. Got a darn good grade, too." She laughed quietly. "I just might be able to help you out, Jody Kendrick."
"You … you mean you'd write it for me?"
"I most certainly will not! But I will help you research it. What would you say to a few days of tutoring on the Constitution, along with a look at our legal and judicial systems, the evolution of the law, rulings that have changed how we think about our rights and liberties … the whole nine yards?"
He was staring at her in awe. "You know all that stuff?"
"You'd be amazed at what a few years of law school can do for you. And what I don't know, my brother does. He loves this sort of thing."
"You're a lawyer?"
"Sure am."
"And you'd do this? For me?"
She grinned, feeling almost ebullient. "Darned right. It's not as though I've got anything better to do for the next couple of weeks." Except figure out the rest of her life, she reminded herself wryly. But that could wait. Heaven itself could wait if it meant getting a chance to make Jett eat crow. Plenty of crow. "Algebra's still a mystery to me, but my sister-in-law said something about being a math whiz. Maybe we can recruit her."
"But why would you do this? For me, I mean?"
"I'd just love to help you prove your dad wrong, that's all," she said, not even lying. "Besides, one of the best ways to work your way up to professional rodeo is through high school and college competition. It'll keep your dad off your back and give you a shot at your dream."
"Yeah." Brightening, he sat up, shoulders squaring. "He couldn't keep me from ridin' if my marks was good."
"Well, it would punch a good-size hole through the best part of his argument." She glanced at her watch. "It's almost two o'clock. Why don't I drive you to school and talk with the school nurse about giving you a medical absence slip for the day? It won't make up for the classes you missed, but at least it will keep them off your record."
"You mean it? You think she'll go for it?"
"I think one look at that face of yours should convince the most hard-nosed school nurse that you're not faking it."
He managed a sheepish smile.
"We can drop by my brother's office and see what reference books he's got lying around that you can borrow. Then I'll run you out to The Oaks, and we can spend the rest of the afternoon putting together a game plan for this paper. And maybe Sherry will have some ideas on how to get your algebra mark up."
He blinked. "The Oaks?"
"That big, redbrick monstrosity up on Deer Jump Road."
"B-but that's the Patterson place, ain't it?"
Kathleen gave him a rueful smile. "I guess I never did introduce myself properly yesterday. I'm Kathleen Patterson, and my brother's Gord Patterson—his law office is just up the street. He and his wife, Sherry, live out at The Oaks. I'm staying with them for a couple of weeks."
His eyes widened visibly behind the bruising. "You're related to old man Patter—I mean, Judge Patterson?"
"He was my father," she told him quietly.
"Oh, man." He glanced around nervously. "If my old man finds out I've even been talkin' to you, he'll tan my hide good."
"Your father told you about me?" Kathleen's voice was cool.
"He said you and him went out together a long time ago, but he never said you were Judge Patterson's daughter. I didn't even know Judge Patterson had a daughter." Jody was looking more apprehensive by the passing moment. "He told me I wasn't to have anything to do with the Pattersons—ever. I was seven when we moved back here to Burnt River from where we lived in Arizona. And I remember both Mom and my old man sayin' over and over—I wasn't to have nothing to do with no Patterson."
A jolt of raw anger went through her, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jody. Because—" And then, abruptly, she caught herself. Getting Jody embroiled in the feud between his father and the Pattersons wasn't going to accomplish anything; it was hardly his fault that his father was acting like a prize idiot.
"Your dad and I dated one summer," she said mildly. "And my father was anything but happy about it. He didn't like your dad and … well, the feeling was mutual. My father said some things that made your dad pretty mad, and I guess when you moved back here, he still had some strong feelings about it."
Jody nodded. Kathleen half expected him to say something, or at least to ask some questions, but he didn't say a word, just looked thoughtful.
"Under the circumstances, it's probably better if you don't come out to The Oaks. Or into Gord's law office. I can pick out some things I think will be helpful and drop them off here at Vic's, and you can pick them up when it's convenient. Your dad will never have to know you've even been talking to me."
"No." Jody sat up straight and looked at her evenly. "I ain't goin' to sneak around like I'm doin' somethin' wrong. My old man and your old man might have hated each other, but that's got nothin' to do with me. Besides, he's always on at me about gettin' my marks up. I don't guess he can complain much if that's what I'm tryin' to do."
Stubborn, Kathleen thought. Although heaven knew he came by it honestly. Those Kendrick bloodlines ran as deep as bedrock. "I don't want to get you into trouble with your father, Jody."
"Heck, I'm always in trouble one way or another." He flashed a cocky, devil-may-care grin that made him look so much like Jett that it made Kathleen's heart turn over. "You're still goin' to help me get outta school this afternoon, ain't you?"
Kathleen reached across and gave his hat brim a rap with her finger to knock it over his eyes. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm a pushover, hotshot. I'm going to make you work like you've never worked before."
He just grinned cheerily and pushed his hat back where it belonged. "Can't be worse 'n stringin' barbed wire. And if I was home right now, that's what I'd be doin'."
"Don't bet on it," Kathleen assured him with a laugh. "Barbed wire is my middle name."
* * *
Vic's Café hadn't changed much in sixteen years.
Which wasn't saying much, Jett thought as he pulled the old wooden screen door open and stepped inside.
He didn't come in here much anymore. The past seemed too close here, too real, as though at any moment the years might ripple and shimmer and fall away, and it would be that summer again. He'd been eighteen and fearless, and the whole world had been his.
And Kathleen. Oh, yeah, Kathleen had been his, too.
He gave his head a shake and looked around the café impatiently, tired of the way his mind kept tossing the memories at him. There were too many things back there he didn't want to relive. And Kathleen Patterson, damn her, was one of them.
The place was all but empty. A couple of farmers drinking coffee at the counter nodded to him companionably through wreaths of cigarette smoke, and two pretty young women at a table stopped talking when he walked by, then went back to their conversation in hushed undertones and giggles.
The waitress spotted him and came sashaying over, hips swinging. "Well, well. If it isn't the Mystery Man himself. I thought you were going to call me, Jett Kendrick. Or is that what you tell every woman you—"
"I've been busy, Gretchen," Jett muttered, feeling himself flush. "I, uh, I meant to call you. But—"
She gave a ladylike snort and started picking up empty coffee cups from the red Formica-topped table in one of the booths along the wall. "Don't embarrass yourself, Jett. We both know you stayed over that night because you'd had too much to drink. And we bo
th know that you had no intention of calling. So let's at least be grown up about it, all right?"
Jett winced. He'd almost have preferred it if she'd called him a few choice names or thrown things. "I, uh, I'm sorry, Gretch. I should have—"
"So, what brings you in here today?"
He bit back his unwanted apology. "Looking for Jody. The school principal called and told me he hasn't been in today."
"Doesn't surprise me. Poor kid looked like he had a head-on with a freight train. He should be home in bed, not sitting in school with his arm in a cast and his face swollen up like—"
"So he was in here?"
"Left about fifteen minutes ago." She smiled slightly, eyes cool. "With a woman."
Jett's heart tumbled to a stop. "A woman?"
"A pretty woman. Blond. Blue-eyed. Citified, by the looks of her. You can always tell, even when they wear jeans and cowboy boots. It's the fingernails, I think. City women always have nice nails." She held her own out to admire them. They were long and red and looked dangerous enough to require a carry permit.
Jett's chest felt so tight he was having trouble breathing. Kathleen. Kathleen had Jody. "Do you know where they went when they left here? A car … was she driving a car?" Gray, he thought dizzily. She'd been driving a dark gray four-door when she'd been out at the Kicking Horse yesterday. Fifteen minutes … she couldn't have gotten far in only fifteen minutes. He could call Sheriff Carmody and—
"I didn't notice." Gretchen pocketed a handful of change lying on the table. "I heard her say something about going by the office to pick up some books."
"What office?"
"How would I know what office?" she snapped. "And who died and made me your personal secretary, anyway?"
Jett gritted his teeth. "Gretch, I'm sorry. It's just important, that's all. Real important."
She looked at him impatiently, then sighed. "Jett, I don't know who she was or where they went. You might try Gord Patterson's law office, though—I heard her say something about him. And they were talking about the Constitution, if that's any help. Legal stuff, anyway. I didn't pay much attention."
Legal stuff. His heart careened to a stop, then started up again at twice its normal pace. The law office. Cliff Albright's old office. Everything was still there. All the files. The papers. Everything.
"If you want, I can call and—"
But Jett was already through the door and out on the sidewalk, Gretchen's voice lost in the bang of the screen door behind him. No way, he told Kathleen in his mind as he took off up the street. No damn way are you getting my boy away from me…
* * *
In the end, Kathleen didn't need to resort to any courtroom theatrics to convince the school nurse to give Jody an absence slip. She simply introduced herself, and the Patterson name did most of it. Then the nurse took one look at Jody's face and another at the cast on his arm, and the rest was history. The woman gave her head a weary shake and muttered something about rodeos and young fools as she wrote up the medical slip without so much as a quibble.
While they walked through the corridors back to the front door, Kathleen drank in the familiar sounds and sights and pungencies of a small-town high school and tried to remember what it had been like sixteen years ago.
But it was too long ago. She gave up finally, and as she walked back out into the sunshine and cool mountain air, she reminded herself that she was grown up now, and that part of her life and all it had held were long gone.
But even having told herself that, she couldn't keep from glancing toward the parking lot as she walked down the wide front steps. Once, in that other life, Jett's blue pickup truck would have been parked right there in front, waiting for her. And she could still remember that wonderful, magical warmth that used to flow through her at just the sight of him.
He would be slouched down in the seat, one arm draped across the top of the wheel, Stetson hat pulled low, staring out across the mob of students flowing around him with the sullen arrogance of a young lord surveying the peasantry.
Then he would spot her and give that slow, incendiary smile that made her heart do double cartwheels, and he'd reach down and start the truck, gunning the engine just a little for effect. She'd say goodbye to her friends and stroll across to the truck, knowing that every female eye was on her, that every female heart was breaking just a little as Jett leaned across and pushed the truck door open so she could slide in beside him…
She had to laugh at herself as she strode across to her car. What a little fool she'd been back then. Not quite sixteen and green as grass, sure he was in love with her. Telling herself what she wanted to hear. Telling herself it was real.
She glanced at Jody, and suddenly the past seemed very far away. This was reality, she reminded herself. This tall, good-looking young man was the truth of what had really gone on back then. Jett had loved Pam. Had married her. Had given her a son. And nothing else really mattered. Then, or now.
* * *
It was after three by the time Kathleen finally got back out to The Oaks, and as she ushered Jody through the front door, she was beginning to think this whole idea had been one huge mistake.
The kid was scared to death. He stepped through the open door like a deer walking into a den of wolves, and he kept looking over his shoulder as though expecting to see Judge Patterson himself—or, worse yet, his own father—bearing down on him like an avenging angel.
It would have been funny if it hadn't annoyed Kathleen so badly. Heaven knew there were plenty of people around who hated the Patterson name and everything it stood for, but Jett had carried it to an extreme.
And he didn't have that right, damn it. It wasn't as though his life had been turned upside down sixteen years ago!
"Sherry? Are you home?" Looking around for her sister-in-law, Kathleen escorted Jody into the kitchen, inhaling the perfume of freshly baked Toll-House cookies. "Looks like our timing was pretty good."
"Kathy, gosh, I'm glad you're here!" Sherry came dashing through from the dining room, looking frazzled. "Can you watch the kids for about an hour? I have to—" She stopped dead when she spotted Jody, her mouth still open.
"Jody, this is my sister-in-law, Sherry Patterson."
Jody snatched off his hat. "Ma'am."
"I—" Sherry gaped at him, then at Kathleen. Back to Jody.
"This is Jody Kendrick, Jett's son."
"I … guessed as much." Sherry seemed to collect her wits and smiled at Jody. "Sorry. I knew Jett had a son, I just never expected him to be so … tall."
"I'm helping Jody with a school project. And I'll be glad to watch the kids."
Sherry nodded, still staring at Jody. "Yeah." Then she gave herself a shake and laughed. "I mean, that's great. Thanks. The coffee's fresh. Help yourself to the cookies, and I'll be back as soon as I can. You're a sweetheart!"
Jody seemed to have relaxed slightly, and by the time Kathleen plied him with milk and oven-warm cookies, he was almost smiling. Then Shaun and Chelsea crowded around, asking solicitous questions about the cast on his arm and the rainbow of bruising across his face, and growing wide-eyed with awe when he explained what had happened.
Chelsea touched his arm gently and asked if it hurt, and Shaun wanted to learn how to ride saddle broncs right then and there, and by the time Kathleen sat the two kids down in the dining room with coloring books and crayons, the panic had left Jody's eyes and he was almost at ease.
"I think you've got yourself a couple of fans," Kathleen teased. "Though I bet you have a few of those already. Buckle bunnies—isn't that what rodeo groupies are called?"
Jody grinned and blushed. "Yeah. I guess."
"Not that you pay attention to things like that, right?"
The blush deepened, and he shrugged carelessly. "Well … sometimes, I guess."
Kathleen had to laugh. "Anyone special, or are you still playing the field?"
He squirmed, cheeks aflame, long legs wrapped awkwardly around the legs of the chair. "Still playin' the
field." He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "Though I guess there might be this one girl in my class…"
Kathleen poured herself a cup of coffee, then pulled one of the chairs out and sat down. "I'd say that's another good reason to stay in school."
"Yeah, I guess." Then he gnawed the inside of his cheek, the picture of a fifteen-year-old with something on his mind. "I, uh…" He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, head hung so low she couldn't even see his face, a handful of raven black hair dangling across his forehead. "I, um…" And then, taking a deep breath for courage, he lifted his head and looked at her, eyes filled with desperation. "Can you teach me to dance?"
Kathleen blinked. "Dance? What kind of dance?"
His bravado was starting to slip, desperation turning to misery. "Slow, mainly. I—I can do some of the other stuff."
The light finally dawned, and Kathleen mentally kicked herself for being so slow. A girl. In his class. Spring prom coming up. Get with the program, Kathy!
"Of course I can teach you to dance, Jody," she assured him gently. "I'm not up on all the modern stuff they're doing these days, but I can sure enough teach you some old-fashioned, romantic slow dancing."
He grinned, looking relieved and embarrassed at the same time, as endearingly awkward as a young colt, all feet and clumsy shyness and limbs that went every which way. His hair needed trimming, his shirt and jeans could do with a wash, and his boots gave off the faint but unmistakably pungent perfume of horse manure, and Kathleen felt her heart go out to him with sudden and unexpected poignancy.
He needed a mother. Someone to make sure those jeans and shirts got tossed in the laundry now and again, and the hair got cut and the boots scraped. Someone to keep an eye on his schoolwork and spend some time with him on algebra and civics. Someone to sympathize over the bruises and tell him he would do better next time, and listen to his dreams and recognize the first hesitant, shy blossomings of love. Someone to teach him to dance…
She shook herself out of it firmly. "Actually, your dad's a pretty good dancer. Or he used to be, anyway."
It clearly surprised Jody, as though the possibility that his father could dance—had danced—was too bizarre to be real. Then he frowned, expression darkening. "I can't ask him," he said with a hint of sullen anger. "He'd just start ragging on me. Tellin' me I don't need to know how to dance to fix fences."