Benjamin nodded, and looked at his mother for reassurance. “You’re Johnny Crockett, and Mom says you’re my father.”
“That’s right,” Johnny replied. “How do you feel about that?”
Benjamin shrugged and averted his gaze from Johnny’s once again. “I don’t know.”
It was a good answer. An honest one. It would take time for a connection to grow, time before the boy trusted Johnny. Johnny respected that. He knew he would have to prove himself to Benjamin. Saying he was a father and truly being one were two different things.
“I see you like baseball,” Johnny said, pointing to the sports cards scattered on the coffee table. “You play on a team?”
“Yeah. The Mustang Mavericks.” Benjamin’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward. “I’m the pitcher. Coach says I’ve got a real good arm.”
“How about I get us all something to drink?” Marissa asked. “Iced tea?”
Both Johnny and Benjamin nodded, and Marissa left the room. For a moment an awkward silence grew between father and son.
“You were in prison.” Benjamin looked at Johnny curiously. “Mom said it was ’cause a girl got killed.”
Johnny nodded, oddly satisfied that Marissa hadn’t told Benjamin that he’d killed a girl, but only that a girl got killed. Did that mean she believed his innocence?
He sighed and looked at Benjamin, knowing the conversation he was about to have would decide if Benjamin trusted him or not, liked him or not. “That’s right. Her name was Sydney Emery and somebody killed her.”
“How come they thought it was you?”
How many times had Johnny asked himself that same question? He thought about it a long moment before answering. “Sydney and I were good friends, but her family didn’t like me, so we were secret friends. We’d meet in an old shed between her house and my house. One night she had called me to meet her later that night, and when I got there she was dead.”
Johnny shoved away the memories of finding Sydney with the mottled ring of bruises around her neck, her eyes opened and forever staring in terror. He’d barely had time to take it all in before the sheriff had arrived. “Because we’d met so many times prior to that night, my finger-prints were all over the shed. The sheriff figured the two of us had a fight, and I killed her.”
“But it was somebody else, right?” There was a quiet intensity in Benjamin’s voice.
“Right.”
Benjamin held Johnny’s gaze with the candor of an adult. His nod was barely perceptible, but it spoke volumes to Johnny. It was a nod of acceptance, a gesture of belief.
“Did you love that Sydney girl?”
“Yes, I did. I loved her like she was my sister.”
“Did you love my mom?”
Just as Benjamin asked the question, Marissa appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of drinks and cookies. She froze and looked at Johnny, obviously having overheard her son.
Johnny hesitated a moment. “Yes. I loved your mother,” he said softly and saw the flush of color that swept over Marissa’s face. “But that was a long time ago.”
“And now things are different,” Benjamin said in a grownup voice.
“Yes. Now things are different,” Johnny agreed.
“Here we go...iced tea for everyone,” Marissa said as she walked over and set the tray on the coffee table.
Benjamin leaned forward and grabbed a cookie, then looked first at Johnny, than at his mother. “So, you guys don’t love each other anymore, right?”
She never loved me, Johnny wanted to say. She lied all the times she told me she did. She didn’t stand by her man, she ran and lied and was ashamed to admit there was ever anything between us.
“You know how Sammy Walters’s parents are divorced? They don’t live together, but they both love Sammy very much,” Marissa explained. “It’s kind of like that.”
Benjamin thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, so does this mean on the weekends you’ll play ball with me and stuff?” he asked Johnny.
Divorced parents. Weekend fathers. Shared custody. That was a reality in Benjamin’s generation.
“Yes, I’ll play catch and stuff with you whenever you want me to...not just on the weekends, but any day, any time of the week,” Johnny answered. He didn’t intend to be a weekend father. He was going to be an everyday father.
“Any time?” Benjamin repeated, with a shy smile. “You’d play catch with me right now?”
Johnny didn’t hesitate. “Right now...if it’s all right with your mom.”
“Ah, she won’t care. She tries to play catch with me, but she throws like a girl!” Benjamin exclaimed as he jumped off the chair. “We’ll share the glove, okay?”
“Okay,” Johnny said, warmth suffusing him. He knew the importance of a baseball glove, and Benjamin’s generous offer to share his with him touched him.
He looked at Marissa, wanting her to know it appeared she’d done a fine job raising Benjamin. He appeared to be a well-mannered, well-adjusted young man.
She nodded, as if she’d read his mind. “Go on, then...before it gets too late,” she said as she shooed them out the front door.
As Johnny stepped outside into the cool, evening twilight, Benjamin held his glove out to him.
A shy smile once again curved the boy’s mouth. “You can use the glove first...Dad.” Although the word fell rather awkwardly from Benjamin’s mouth, Johnny’s heart soared at the sound of it.
Dad.
For the first time in ten years, Johnny smiled, a smile that not only curved his lips, but warmed his heart as well.
Marissa stood at the window and watched the two males, bonding in the most traditional way men bonded, through sports. The late evening sun cast the front yard in hues of gold, painting father and son with the same warm tones.
The thing she’d most feared for the past ten years had just happened, and she knew it was much too soon to determine what changes would now occur in her life. One thing was certain, there would be changes and not all of them would be pleasant.
But, it was difficult to think about unpleasantness as she saw the utter joy on her son’s face as he tossed the ball back and forth with Johnny.
Benjamin had been starving for male companionship. Although Marissa’s own father, Jeffrey, tried to do what he could with the boy, between his duties as mayor and running the hardware store he owned, very little time was left for a needy grandson.
Marissa frowned, realizing she was going to have to talk to her parents. She was going to have to tell them that Johnny was Benjamin’s father before they heard it through town gossip.
She knew her parents wouldn’t be pleased with the news, but she felt confident they would support her and Benjamin no matter what. Their support had been one of the few things Marissa had been able to count on through the last ten years.
She watched Johnny as he caught a series of Benjy’s super-duper pitches. The tension that had lined his face was gone and without that tautness he looked just like he had during the month they had shared years ago.
The jeans he wore were worn, and fit him like they’d been tailor-made to hug his firm thighs, ride his slender hips and mold perfectly to his tight buttocks. His T-shirt. exposed biceps that bulged, and strong, tanned forearms.
The clothes must have been at his house, part of his past. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t changed much physically, so his clothes from years ago would still fit...except perhaps his shirts would be snug around his arm muscles... muscles that looked far more formidable than she remembered from the past.
She turned away from the window, uncomfortable with the heat that surged through her as she watched Johnny. She picked up the glasses from the coffee table and carried them into the kitchen.
Johnny had told Benjamin he’d loved her once, but she knew they had been words spoken to soothe a little boy, words that had little to do with truth.
Johnny had never loved her. He’d wanted her. She couldn’t deny his passion, his desire for he
r. But, even though she’d once believed differently, love had never entered into it.
If he’d loved her, he would have told her about Sydney. If he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have been leaving her arms to meet Sydney in the shed where she was ultimately murdered.
She shook her head and focused on rinsing the glasses and placing them in the dishwasher. It doesn’t matter anymore, she told herself firmly.
Her love for Johnny had died the day a jury convicted him for Sydney’s murder.
She wandered back into the living room, her gaze seeking the dainty bud vase that sat on one of the shelves in the built-in bookcases. The vase held a single flower, a dried pink bitterroot. Johnny had given it to her the night they’d first made love.
She wasn’t sure why she’d kept it all these years. Perhaps as a marker defining the leap from girlhood to womanhood. Maybe she’d kept it to remind herself of the unreliability of love professed in the middle of lovemaking.
Sighing heavily, she moved back to the window. She didn’t believe Johnny had murdered Sydney: if she did there was no way she’d allow him to have anything to do with Benjamin. No, she knew he wasn’t guilty of murder, but as far as she was concerned he was guilty of deceit, guilty of breaking her heart, and ten years in prison hadn’t absolved him of that particular crime.
Johnny and Benjamin played catch until the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness crept across the sky. It was Marissa who called them m, reminding Benjamin that it was a school night and he needed to take a bath and get ready for bed.
“Can Dad tuck me in?” Benjamin asked.
“Benjy, maybe Johnny has other things—”
“No, I’d like to stick around and tuck him in,” Johnny replied. The tension was back on his face, as if whatever peace he’d found playing ball with Benjy had shattered the moment he’d walked back into the front door and faced her once again.
Marissa nodded and turned to her son. “Bath time.”
“Okay,” Benjamin agreed. He smiled at Johnny. “I’ll be back down in just a minute.”
“Not a minute,” Marissa protested. “I want a full scrubbing and that takes longer than a minute ”
“Then two minutes.” Benjamin giggled as he raced up the stairs, leaving Marissa and Johnny alone in the living room.
“He’s a good kid,” Johnny said. “You’ve done a fine job of raising him.” He sank down on the sofa. “I know things are going to get tough as the news gets out that I’m home and taking an active role in Benjamin’s life. I know my presence here in Mustang is not only going to make things more difficult on Benjamin, but on you as well.”
“We’ll deal with it,” Marissa said tightly.
“And I have a feeling things are going to get much more difficult as I start turning over stones looking for the person who killed Sydney.”
“Oh Johnny, why don’t you just let it go? Get on with your life? The sheriff couldn’t find the real killer ten years ago, what makes you think you can solve it now?”
“Let it go?” He stared at her incredulously. “I spent ten years behind bars for a murder I didn’t commit and you just want me to get on with my life as though nothing happened?”
He rose from the chair, eyes flaming with the anger that she’d realized had become so much a part of him. “For ten years all I’ve thought about was getting back here to find out what really happened that night.”
“Johnny, nothing—and nobody—can ever give you back the time you’ve lost,” she said.
He stepped around the coffee table and moved directly in front of her. He stood so close she could feel his body heat, feel his breath fanning her face with evocative warmth. His eyes were dark, as if reflecting the darkness that now resided within him. “It wasn’t just time I lost, Marissa,” he said softly.
She wanted to move away, needed some distance from him. His nearness made it difficult for her to breathe, yet she couldn’t move away...felt hypnotized by the intensity of his gaze.
“It took me nearly half an hour to get dressed to come over here tonight. You know why? Because I couldn’t decide what to wear. For the last ten years I haven’t had to make a decision about anything. I was told what time to get up, what to wear, what to eat and when to sleep. Personal choice is only part of what I lost for the last ten years.”
“Johnny, I.. ” She started to take a step backward, but he stopped her by grabbing her forearm. Her response was instantaneous. Sparks of heat flowed from her arm and spread throughout her body.
“You know what was worse than the loss of all freedom?” Johnny asked softly, his voice a warm caress on her neck. He released her arm and instead touched her cheek gently with the pad of his index finger. “The loss of touching another person, of having somebody touching me. That was the worst of all. Ten years of no touching, no kisses, no making love. You can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“Yes, I can,” Marissa replied breathlessly. “I know exactly what it’s like.”
He stepped back in obvious surprise, his hand falling away from her face. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that in all this time, you haven’t been with anyone.”
“What’s so hard to believe about that?” For some reason, the disbelief in his voice stirred anger inside Marissa, as did her shocking response to his touch. “I know I can’t relate to your years in prison, but the last ten years of my life haven’t been particularly easy. Raising a child alone takes time and energy, so does running a business. Benjamin and the flower shop have been my priorities, and there’s been little time for anything else.”
“Hey, Dad, I’m ready to be tucked in.” Benjamin’s voice preceded him down the stairs. Clad in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of striped pajama bottoms, Benjamin said a quick good-night to his mom, then he and Johnny disappeared up the stairs.
While they were gone, Marissa paced the living-room floor, trying to forget the fact that her cheek still burned with the fever of Johnny’s touch. He’d always managed to stir her with a simple touch, a certain smile, by his mere nearness.
She’d been eighteen when they started seeing each other, and it hadn’t taken long for him to awaken a passion in her she’d never felt before...or since...until now.
She hadn’t been able to tell Johnny that one of the reasons there had been nobody else in her life was because he had been such a powerful, all-consuming lover. And when he was sentenced to prison, it had taken years for her heart to stop aching at the mention of his name or the fleeting memory that crossed her mind.
“He’s all tucked in,” Johnny said as he came back down the stairs. “Although he told me that he’s outgrown good-mght kisses.”
She forced a smile, still tense from her thoughts. “That happened about a month ago. All of a sudden he decided good-night kisses are for babies.”
Johnny moved to the window and gazed out into the darkness of the night. “I still can’t believe I have a son.” His voice was thick with emotion and when he turned to look at her, his eyes were glazed with a hint of moisture. “I’m going to be a good father, Marissa. I swear it.”
“I know that, Johnny,” she replied. “But things are going to be difficult, and you’re just going to make things worse by digging up Sydney’s murder.”
“Right now the only thing I have to give to my son is my word that I didn’t kill Sydney Emery. That’s not good enough. I have to find the real killer, absolve myself not only with Benjamin, but with everyone here in Mustang.”
“Johnny, it’s been so long...how would you even begin to investigate the murder after all this time? How in the world do you expect to find the real murderer—especially if he or she has left town?”
“I don’t know how this will shake down. All I do know is the first thing I’m going to do is get copies of all the reports, the medical and physical evidence. Everything that was used to convict me can also be used to bring me closer to the real killer.”
“The Emerys aren’t going to like you reopening this case,” she
said.
Johnny laughed, a bitter, harsh sound. “What are they going to do to me? Put me in jail? Ruin my ranch? They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done.” He sighed wearily and raked a hand through his hair. “I guess I’d better get home.”
“I’ll get the wreath for you.” Marissa hurried to the mudroom, where a spare refrigerator held various cut flowers. On the second shelf was the wreath she had prepared for Johnny, a stunning effusion of white carnations. She returned to the living room where she handed it to him.
Together they walked to the door and stepped out on the front porch. “I told Benjamin maybe he could come out to the ranch and spend some time with me on Saturday, if it’s all right with you?”
She nodded “I could bring him out on my way to work Saturday morning, then pick him up around lunchtime.”
“Whatever works best for you,” he agreed.
Once again Marissa realized he stood too close to her, invading her personal space with his heat, his overwhelming masculinity. “Ten years is a long time for a man to go without a woman or a woman to go without a man.” His voice was low and husky and created a swirl of heat in Marissa’s stomach.
His lips were so close to hers, achingly close, and she fought the desire to lean her head forward, press her mouth against his.
“It’s still there, isn’t it, Marissa?” he said softly.
“What?” she asked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
He touched her cheek, trailing a river of heat in the wake of his caressing fingers. The scent of the carnations was overpowering, adding to the sensual nature of the moment.
“Passion. Desire. Physical want,” he whispered, his lips still achingly close to hers. “Despite the time that has passed, despite all that has happened, it’s still there simmering between us.”
“It doesn’t matter if it is or not.” With enormous effort, she stepped back from him, her voice shaky with suppressed emotion. “There’s no going back, Johnny. At least not for us.”
“Not even once...for old time’s sake?” His eyes glittered darkly in the glow from her porch light. His gaze beckoned...promised. “We were good together, Marissa.” He touched her cheek gently, rolled a finger across her bottom lip. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Marissa. It didn’t before.”
Rodeo Dad Page 3