Instead she smiled and laughed a little. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“What?”
“Church?” She pulled her keys out of her pocket. Carrying a purse was sometimes too much. She had her driver’s license in her pocket, too.
“It was good. I didn’t realize you played guitar.”
“Classical lessons from a music teacher in school. She thought I had promise, but lacked direction.” She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked up at him.
“Really?”
She laughed. “Yes, really. I was a little on the wild side back then.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“You don’t need to. Just take my word for it. Come on, boys.” She herded them across the parking lot toward her truck. “See you at Clint’s.”
As they drove, she noticed a car pull in behind Adam’s truck. It followed them through town, turned when they turned and followed them to the drive that led to Clint’s. Jenna kept her eyes on the road in front of her, but occasionally flicked her attention to the rearview mirror and that car. She could see Adam’s face in her mirror, could see the way he watched his own mirror.
Jenna pulled into the drive next to the log home that had once been Janie’s, but was now Clint’s and Willow’s. A baby swing sat on the front porch next to the swing and rocking chairs. Life had changed a lot in one year.
A year. The boys climbed out of the truck, exiting through the passenger’s side door. They wanted to see Willow’s dog and the llama that Clint had bought at an auction. Now the boys were begging her to get one of the silly creatures.
One year. She had left the boys here one year ago, with Clint, Willow and Janie. She had returned six months later, her entire life and her future completely changed. She had returned to be a single mom, without an engagement ring on her finger, and with new challenges to face. This challenge would never go away.
She had returned with something new. She had returned with faith. She knew she could make it through anything. She’d already been tested, and she’d survived.
She eased out of the truck, always a reminder of how things had changed. There were new ways of doing everything. The things she’d always taken for granted were now appreciated. Walking wasn’t taken for granted.
There were days, like today, when she knew that she couldn’t do what she wanted to do. She couldn’t run after her boys. She couldn’t climb a fence or get on a horse. Not today, but tomorrow, if she took care of herself.
She made it to the front porch and sat down on the swing. Adam had gotten out of his truck and he was walking up to the car that had followed him. A woman got out. The woman, a brunette, stared at Adam, wiping her eyes as she took a few steps toward him.
Jenna got up and went inside.
“Elizabeth.” Adam approached his older sister. He hadn’t seen her in a few years. Seeing her now, he realized what a mistake that had been.
“Creep.” She had always called him that. Sometimes she had said it with a smile, and sometimes she had meant the word.
He smiled. “Good to see you, too.”
She wiped at her eyes. “No, I mean it this time. You could visit your family.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Adam leaned back against her car and pulled sunglasses out of his pocket because he’d left his hat in the truck. He slipped them on and Elizabeth moved to stand next to him. She hadn’t changed a lot. She still knew how to put him in his place. She had never been his biggest fan.
“You could have come to see us. Or invited us up to see you.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Really? You thought that?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re my brother.”
“Yes, I am.” He wondered if she had forgotten the rift that had grown between them, and how it had happened. “You made this rule, Elizabeth. I just honored it.”
“You took the easy way out.”
“‘I’m so sick of you being the star, Adam. I’m in this family, too, but when was the last time anyone noticed me?’” He repeated her words, because he’d never forgotten them, or the stark pain on her face when she said them.
Or how it had hurt him to hear that from her, to know how much she resented him. He had envied her, she had resented him. What a crazy way to grow up.
“I was eighteen, going away to college and Dad wasn’t going to drive me to Oklahoma City because you had a game.” She turned to look at him, and the pain was still there in her eyes.
“I know. But I didn’t ask him to be that way. I didn’t want it to be that way.”
“We let this happen, didn’t we?” She started walking toward the barn. Adam walked next to her, not sure what to say.
They crossed the road and she walked up to the metal pole fence that held Willow’s bulls. She stood close, finding a shady spot beneath an oak tree. He stopped next to her.
“We’re brother and sister. That should mean something. We should spend holidays together. You should call me when you’re in town. Those are the things families normally do.”
He had to agree because he knew from watching other people, from watching Clint and Jenna, that families should share their lives. They hadn’t learned to do that in their family. His family had been about football. Elizabeth had stayed at home, reading.
“You’re right.” He really didn’t know her. She sent pictures each year of the kids, and of their Christmas. They had an occasional holiday together. But he didn’t know her, or her family.
“Of course I’m right.” She touched his arm. “I’m also sorry. Really sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Whose place is this?” Elizabeth looked from the barn to the house.
“Clint Cameron’s.” He glanced back at the house. Jenna had gone inside. “I was jealous of you, too.”
“Why?”
“You had freedom.” Adam felt childish making that statement. The thoughts of a teenager weren’t easy on the lips of a man.
“I wasn’t the star of the family.”
“I would have given you that place. I didn’t ask to be the star of the show.”
She closed her eyes. “You know, I played the flute in band. Dad never came to a parade, a concert, not once did he acknowledge my achievements from the pulpit like he did yours. He was all about you.”
“I guess I didn’t see all of that.” He slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I didn’t have time to really look at what was going on in our family. I slept, ate and played football. If I wasn’t playing, I was practicing. Winning wasn’t enough for him.”
“He wanted to be you. He wanted to be the champion. You were the way for him to be that person.”
“But I didn’t want it as much as he wanted it. He could taste it.”
“Why did you keep playing?”
“I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
Adam Mackenzie hated football. Not the game, but what it had been in his home, his life. There were times that he loved to play. He loved victory. He loved that it had gotten him out of Oklahoma.
And now he was back. His sister was standing next to him, and the past had become the present.
Adam stared out at the bulls grazing in the pen, trying to decide if he was happy with the change of events. His sister in his life, not wanting something, just wanting his niece and nephews to know him. She shouldn’t have to ask him for that.
“It shouldn’t be a difficult thing for you, having a family,” she half teased, but the expression on her face questioned him.
“It isn’t difficult, just new territory.” He turned his back on the fence, and they started back toward the house, crossing the gravel drive and being greeted by a blue heeler. “You should bring your family to the camp while I’m here.”
“This camp, is this what Billy was doing?”
“It is.”
“Now you’re doing it?” She walked next to him.
“Not
really. I’m taking care of what was already started. This isn’t my thing, or where I want to be.”
They were almost at the house, a long, ranch-style home, the covered porch running its entire length. The front door opened and Jenna walked out. She had stars in her eyes, but she didn’t know him. Not really.
He wondered if he even knew himself.
“Clint has burgers on the grill.” Jenna focused on the woman standing next to Adam. She could see the resemblance between the two and knew that it was the sister she had spoken to. “You can eat with us, if you like.”
“I should go.”
“There’s plenty.” Jenna ignored the warning look in Adam’s eyes, telling her to stay out of his business.
“No, really, I have a family waiting for me.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Adam’s cheek. “Call me. I know you have my number in your phone.”
“I do.” He hugged her. “We’ll talk soon.”
“For real this time.” Elizabeth walked away.
Jenna walked down the steps and stood next to Adam. He needed a friend. She could be that for him. She wondered if he even knew what it was, to have a real friend.
“The boys found a football in the garage. They want to know if you’ll play with them.”
“There are better things to do with their time.” He turned and walked into the house, leaving her on the steps, watching his sister drive away.
“Okay, maybe we won’t play football,” she muttered to herself as she followed him into the house. He didn’t even know where he was going.
He was waiting in the kitchen.
“Through the dining room and out the French doors.” She pointed. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“What are you doing?” He didn’t leave.
She sat down at the kitchen table, not knowing what to say. And this was why she hadn’t wanted him here. “I have to rest.”
“You can’t do that outside?”
Of course he wasn’t making this easy for her. She looked down, avoiding his deep blue eyes.
“I have to take the prosthesis off. I’m still gaining strength in my muscles, but some days are difficult.” She said it with as matter-of-fact a tone as she could master, keeping emotion out of it, making it easier to look up, meeting his steady gaze. And then she saw tenderness in his eyes.
She felt heat work its way up her neck into her cheeks. This was not the way to feel beautiful, like someone a man would want to hold. She wasn’t whole. She would never be whole.
Adam was still standing in front of her.
“What can I do?” He kneeled in front of her, a big giant, suddenly at her level. She wanted to touch his cheek.
Worse, she wanted someone to hold her.
Man, she really thought she was past that. She had worked hard at convincing herself that she was good at being alone. She had the boys. She had her career. And now this guy had blown into her life to upset her plans about making it on her own.
It was something that would pass. Of course it would. At this point, any man probably would have caused this weak moment.
“Jenna?”
“Tell me what your sister wanted. You can take my mind off what must be pretty red cheeks and a lot of insecurity by sharing your family drama.” It was easier to laugh than to cry. It gave her a moment to remind herself that she was a whole person. “I’m really nosy, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“She wants to fix our relationship.” He shrugged. “It’s probably about time.”
“Oh.” Jenna hadn’t expected an answer, just a momentary distraction, maybe an argument or a “none of your business.”
“And she told me to visit my dad.”
“Why?”
“None of your business.” That was more like it, and it made her smile. “Come on, let’s get you back to the party, Cinderella.”
“What?”
“Do what you need to do, and I’ll carry you outside.”
“You can’t carry me around.” The heat that had vanished returned to her cheeks. “I have crutches, in the hall closet.”
“I really can carry you.” He stood and flexed his biceps.
“So, you’ll carry me outside and leave me?”
“No, I won’t do that.”
But he would. She knew that he wasn’t even with her at that moment. She could see in his eyes that he’d detached. Maybe to deal with her, maybe to deal with his own pain.
She pulled up her pant leg and removed the prosthesis. Adam watched. She pointed to the hall, distracting him, taking his careful gaze off her. “Closet, crutches.”
He nodded and obeyed. When he returned, he held them out to her and reached for her hand. She pulled up, situating herself and getting her balance.
“This is embarrassing,” she whispered as heat crawled up her neck into her cheeks.
“Don’t. You really don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m sure it isn’t the relationship you thought we’d have when you crashed into my ditch.”
“It isn’t. I thought I’d drive into town, square the camp away and be gone.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and it rested there. “I hadn’t expected to find a friend.”
“We should go outside.” She moved, turning to head out the back door. Adam whispered something about her being a chicken. She walked through the door pretending she hadn’t heard. She knew what she was. She also knew how to protect herself.
Chapter Ten
Adam watched as she settled herself in a lawn chair under an umbrella. Jenna Cameron, Clint’s little sister. He was glad when she seemed ready to be on her own, meaning conversation with him wasn’t necessary. That was fine, he would rather it be that way. He didn’t want to be the person that hurt Clint’s little sister.
Adam walked to the grill and Clint. Willow was watching the grill, a spray bottle of water in hand.
“Is that in case he starts a fire?” Adam smiled as he said the words and Willow nodded.
“He’s not a good grill man.”
“Could I help?”
Willow glanced past him. “No, that’s okay. You can relax. We’ve got it handled. Lunch will be ready in five minutes.”
“Are we going to eat out here?”
“We’ll eat on the deck. The fan keeps it a little cooler.” Clint turned, nodding to a covered area with a table.
Willow touched his arm when he glanced Jenna’s way again. “She’s fine.”
“Oh, I know she is.” But he wasn’t convinced.
“Adam, play with us.” Timmy ran across the yard, a football in his little hands. Adam shook his head. “Let’s play something else, guys. How about tag? I’ll be it.”
“No, football.” David had joined them. David, who never pushed.
“What if…”
“Guys, leave Adam alone. He’s on vacation from football.” Jenna gave the twins a warning look. They nodded and ran off, still carrying the football.
And dreaming of being him. He knew that’s what boys did. They wanted to be in the big leagues. He hadn’t known what else to be. He hadn’t been allowed to dream of anything else.
The boys tossed the football to one another, fumbling it, not getting it across the lawn. They didn’t have a dad to teach them the right way to pass. He looked back at Clint.
They had an uncle who could do that for them.
A scream stopped Adam from walking away. He turned and David was standing in the middle of the lawn, a hand on his cheek and the football bouncing across the ground in front of him.
Jenna scrambled to get up. “What happened?”
“Timmy threw it hard.” David rubbed at his face, the way a boy did when it hurt and he didn’t want to cry. Adam knew that trick.
He also knew that sinking feeling of needing to do something. Jenna started to get up. He raised his hand to stop her. And this wasn’t what he had planned, this much involvement in their lives.
“Here, buddy, let me see.” Adam crossed the yard and David met h
im halfway. Adam kneeled down, putting himself at the child’s level. “Take your hand down.”
David rubbed again and then moved his hand. He shot a gaze past Adam, to Jenna. He wanted his mom. Adam could imagine that he was a poor second to Jenna. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her perched on the edge of the chair.
“You’re going to have a shiner. That makes you a man. A real football player.” Adam touched the skin that was already starting to bruise. “You sit by your mom and I’ll get something to put on this.”
“Steak?” Timmy was standing behind Adam, looking over his shoulder at the brother he’d injured. And he was jealous, Adam could hear it in his tone, as if steak on a black eye was the best thing in the world.
“No, not steak.” Adam put a hand on David’s slim shoulder. “A bag of frozen peas.”
“They use steak in the movies,” Timmy offered.
“I know, but frozen peas work and they’re less messy.” Adam stood. “Come on, let’s go see your mom and I’ll see if Willow has a bag of frozen peas.”
David stuck a hand in his. The gesture shouldn’t have been more than a guy could take, like that hand in his meant something. He’d never felt stronger in his life.
Jenna looked at them, at their hands joined, and then her face tilted, and her eyes met his, questioning him. Or maybe warning him. Yes, definitely a warning. Because he would be leaving soon, and the boys wouldn’t understand. He led David to her and when her arms opened, the child flew into them, no longer the tough guy that rubbed away his tears.
Toughen up, be a man. Adam remembered his dad’s words when he’d gotten hurt on the football field. His mom had never been the soft touch. She had wanted the dream almost as much as his dad. She had cheered from the sidelines, yelling when she thought the ref was wrong about a play, yelling at him to do better.
His success had taken them places.
Toughen up. He shook off pain that hadn’t left a scar or a bruise on his body.
“Adam?”
He shook it off and smiled at the woman waiting for him to respond.
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