“I’ll get that bag of peas.” He touched David’s head, and the little boy looked up, his eye squinting. A little hand quickly rubbed away the tears. “Let me take a closer look. You know, David, it’s okay to cry.”
David nodded and a tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away. “I know.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Or maybe he should get in his truck and start driving, as far from this family as he could get. It might be safer to be with his parents than to be here with Jenna and her boys.
It would feel a lot safer back in Atlanta, in his world, his life. He knew what to expect from the people in that life and what to expect from himself when he was around them.
Jenna held David against her, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck. “You stink,” she whispered.
She snuggled against him and he snuggled back, a sweaty little boy who needed a bath. He climbed onto her lap, keeping his arms around her. Timmy climbed up next to her, not wanting to be left out, and biting his lip the way he did when he felt guilty.
“Be more careful next time, guys.” She slipped an arm around Timmy and pulled him to her side.
“Are you okay, David?” Willow squatted in front of them. She had the bag of peas that Adam had recommended and she placed them on David’s eye and cheek. “That’s quite a bruise.”
He smiled big. “I know. That’s pretty neat, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty neat.” Willow kissed the top of his head. “And you are really sweaty. Do you want them to wash their hands before we eat lunch?”
Jenna nodded. “And I need to get up and help you get the table set.”
“No, you don’t. Come on, Jenna, take a break. It really is okay. I bet Timmy can help me.” Willow stood and reached a hand for Timmy to take.
“I like to help,” Timmy assured Jenna, kissing her on the cheek. “Adam can take care of you and David. He’s pretty good at that.”
Jenna felt that heat again, and she realized it was becoming a pretty common event. And then another thought hit her, dispelling the warmth in her cheeks and leaving her cold. Was Timmy feeling the burden of taking care of his mom? The thought sunk to the pit of her stomach and rested there.
She watched Timmy and Willow walk away and then a shadow loomed, blocking the sun. She glanced up, into the darkened profile of Adam Mackenzie. She didn’t want to face him, especially if he’d heard her son’s proclamation that Adam was good at taking care of her.
Poor guy, he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for when he showed up in Dawson.
“Ready to eat?”
“I’m ready.” She pushed herself up and maneuvered across the yard to the table. One hop up and then she could sit. Adam stood nearby, watching. “You can relax, I’m not going to fall or break.”
“I know that.”
She sat down and David took the seat next to hers. The fan pushed the air, cooling it to bearable. At least there were clouds floating over, sometimes blocking the sun. And maybe later there would be rain. At times she thought she could smell it in the air, a promise of moisture and cooler air.
Clint walked across the yard with the plate of burgers and set them on the table. They were barely burned. She smiled up at him and his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t even say it.” He handed her two plates.
“I only wanted to say thank you, nothing else. Don’t be so touchy.”
He laughed, her cowboy brother, dressed for church. Willow had taught him how to match his clothes. “Right, you were going to say thank you.”
“I was.” She smiled up at him, loving him. He had always been there for her. “And I was going to follow that by saying you’re doing so much better. Remember when you asked me if cookies were a breakfast food?”
“I do remember, and for some reason you didn’t approve.”
“I thought there were better things for the boys. But you were there for them.”
“See, I did something right.”
She reached for his hand. “You did a lot of things right.”
The door slid open. Adam walked out carrying the salad bowl. Jenna released her brother’s hand and took the bowl from Adam. He didn’t look at her, didn’t seem to notice that their fingers touched, and the connection made breathing difficult. For her, not him. Okay, that was fine, she could play that game. When he walked back into the house, Clint sat down in the seat at the end of the table.
“Don’t take it personally.” He shrugged. “I don’t think he’s good at relationships.”
“Stop reading tabloids.” Jenna poured tea in her glass. “And his ability to handle relationships isn’t any of my business. But I do like it when people make eye contact with me, rather than acting like avoiding me will make it easier to avoid what happened.”
“Okay, you win.” Clint stood up. “I’m going to see if Willow needs anything, and then I’m going to get my baby girl.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, she is.”
The door opened again. Willow handed Clint the ketchup and mustard. He took them. “Do you want me to get Lindsey?”
She shook her head. “She’s still sleeping. I have the monitor on.”
Disappointment flashed across Clint’s features and Willow smiled. “Clint, she needs to sleep. You can’t keep waking her up.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He signed something and Willow turned pink.
“Not fair.” Jenna laughed, because she had started learning sign language, but Clint and Willow were speed talkers compared to Jenna’s weak attempts.
“Private conversation.” Clint winked and kissed his wife before walking back into the house, making room at the door for Adam.
“Adam, sit down.” Willow pointed to the seat that Clint had vacated. The one next to Jenna. He sat down and then he looked at Jenna.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, his attention focused past her, to David. Still no eye contact.
I need for you to look at me. She didn’t say it. She wouldn’t. He was being kind. He wanted to be helpful. “No, I don’t need anything. Do you?”
He grinned, that half smile touched with a boyish charm, and this time their eyes connected. “No, I think I’m fine.”
“Good, because you were starting to get on my nerves.”
“What?”
“Acting all sorry, and like I’m something breakable that needs to be kept on a shelf. Adam, I train horses for a living. I live on a farm. I’m having a rough couple of days, a setback, but I’m not broken.”
“I know.” His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “I do know that you’re strong. I’m sorry.”
“Good, as long as we have that settled, let’s get the two love birds out here so we can eat. I’m starving.”
The door opened and Timmy walked out of the house, shaking his head. He grinned. “Uncle Clint is kissing Aunt Willow. That’s gross.”
Jenna gave a fake shudder. “Ewww, gross.”
But she remembered what it felt like to be held in Adam Mackenzie’s arms. She remembered what it felt like to want to linger there, in a kiss.
She remembered feeling beautiful.
Adam left after lunch. He’d offered Jenna a ride home, but she had insisted that the afternoon rest would have her back on her feet by tomorrow and he didn’t have to stay. Willow had even refused his help with the dishes.
So he got into his truck and drove away, away from the farm, away from a ton of conflicting emotions. Because he hadn’t been ready to leave a Sunday afternoon with people he liked, and he had known it was time to go.
He drove past the entrance to Camp Hope, the sign now up and the driveway widened and the weeds mowed so it could be seen. Camp would start tomorrow. And then what?
He didn’t know, because this hadn’t been a part of his plan. He hadn’t expected to stay here. He sure couldn’t have guessed that Will would discover that the accounts had been cleaned out.
If he left, what would people say? Probably not much. Staying was more of a s
urprise to people than his leaving would be. The world probably expected him to bail on the camp, on the kids. He was Adam Mackenzie, he didn’t think about other people.
Wouldn’t they be surprised if they knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about Jenna Cameron? The reality of that surprised him more than a little.
He replaced thoughts of her with thoughts of his dad, and the home he’d grown up in. He kept driving. Thirty minutes later he was slowing down in front of that house, a white stucco, set back from the road and flanked by a barn. He drove past it, going the few miles to the church where his father had been the pastor.
Those people had loved his dad, really loved him.
What had Adam been missing? Or maybe it wasn’t what he was missing, but what he knew. His dad wasn’t perfect. His dad had pushed Adam, and then pushed him more, insisting that he be the best. Even at church Adam had been set apart, by his dad, by teachers. The pastor’s son, the football star, the charming kid who had gotten away with too much.
He slowed in front of the church and pulled in the driveway. His dad was still pastor here. Twenty-five years of being the pastor of the same church, the same group of people. Twenty-five years of preaching a message that Adam had accepted as a child, and then he’d walked away. Because he’d gotten tired of trying to be perfect.
And now, when he didn’t know what to do next, he was here, trying to find direction for his life. He parked his truck and got out, remembering a childhood in this building, being taught by ladies who had hugged him tight and fed him cookies.
Memories he shouldn’t have forgotten had returned. He remembered playing baseball in the field behind the church and his dad cheering him on.
A car pulled in the driveway. The automobile was familiar; Adam had seen pictures after he’d sent the check that purchased it from a dealer in Tulsa. He watched his dad pull into the designated parking space and get out, a little older, a little less hair.
“Son.”
Adam took a few steps to separate the distance between them.
“Dad, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“No, I guess you didn’t. I came down to make sure the air conditioner is on for this evening’s service. You going to stay?”
“No, I have to get back to Dawson.”
“Yes, I heard you’ve been there.” The older Mackenzie rubbed the bald area of his forehead. He pulled off wire-framed glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. “We thought you might come by the house.”
“I’ve been planning on it.” Which wasn’t a lie. He had planned on seeing them at least once before he left.
“Adam, life is too short to go on this way.” His dad looked away. “I’ve done funerals lately, burying people that were my friends. It makes a man think about what he’s missed out on.”
“Yeah, that does make a guy think.”
Adam pushed his hat back on his head and made eye contact with an older version of himself. Except the hair. His dad had started balding in his twenties. It was genetic, just like the two of them always believing they were right was genetic. That was the trait they shared.
They’d been butting heads since Adam learned to walk, his mom said. Adam had been the kid that if his dad said it was snowing, Adam would insist it was rain. And when it came to football, sometimes the teenaged Adam had stopped trying because he knew that no matter what, his dad would push him when they got home, push him to rethink, to replay, and to do better.
“Boy, it’s hot out here.”
“Yeah, it is.” Adam walked up the sidewalk and sat down on the steps that led to the front entrance of the church. His dad followed. The church sat on the edge of town, surrounded by farmland.
“How’s the camp going?” His dad sat down next to him.
“I hope it’s good. The first group of campers shows up tomorrow.”
“Are you going to stay and run this thing?”
“No, you know I’m not qualified for that. I’m just the lucky guy that inherited this mess.”
“It isn’t such a mess. Billy meant well.”
“I know he did.” A normal conversation. Adam sighed and tipped his hat a little lower. “It really is hot out here.”
“Yeah, you’re just not as tough as you used to be. You used to practice for hours in weather like this.”
“Not my best memories, Dad.”
“I know. Adam, I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. Your sister and I have talked about this. I don’t know why I didn’t see. She said we never took a family vacation. I guess I thought football was what our family did together.”
“Yeah, I know.” Adam glanced sideways, shrugging a little, trying to brush it off.
He had meant to come home, put the camp up for sale and leave. Instead it was turning into a bad episode of Dr. Phil, and everyone was feeling better but him.
Because he wondered how it would feel to leave, and at one time he could think of nothing but leaving.
“It wasn’t such a bad life, was it?” His dad stared out the parking lot, but he shot Adam a quick look. “I mean, look at where you got.”
“It got me where I am. But sometimes I wonder where I’d be if it had been my choice. If you hadn’t pushed, where would I have gone and what would I have been?”
“I pushed you because I knew you wouldn’t push yourself.”
“So what? What if I hadn’t pushed myself? What if I hadn’t succeeded in football? Maybe I could have made decisions about my life, my future.” Maybe he wouldn’t resent his father, if it had been about something more than success.
“What would you have picked, Adam?”
“I don’t know, Dad. Maybe I would have been…” A fireman? He smiled, because every boy probably wanted to be a fireman. “I don’t know what I would have done. But I don’t think I would have been a failure.”
“You can still make decisions for yourself. I pushed you and now you have opportunities you wouldn’t have had.”
“Yeah, I guess.” But he could only remember nights with floodlights on in the backyard, running drills as his dad yelled, coaching him to do better, to not give up.
And he remembered two little boys playing football in the backyard, thinking it was the greatest thing in the world. And he hadn’t tossed the football for them, hadn’t shown them a better way, because he didn’t want to take away the fun of just playing, of being boys.
He should have played with them. Next time—if there was a next time—he would.
“I need to go.” He stood and his dad pushed himself up, nearly Adam’s height, not quite. A long time ago Adam had thought his dad was a giant. “Tell Mom I’ll stop by the house in a few days.”
“She’d like to see you. We both would.”
“Maybe we can have a family dinner, with Elizabeth and her family.”
“That would be good.” His dad crossed the parking lot at his side. “Adam, I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”
Adam stopped walking. “It isn’t about forgiving you, Dad. I think it’s about trying to understand you. I’d like for us—would have liked for us—to have a relationship that included something other than football.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I would have liked to have gone fishing, or camping.”
“I get that.” His dad stepped back as Adam opened his truck door. “I’ll see you soon. Maybe I’ll come down and take a look at that camp.”
Adam nodded and shifted into Reverse. “That would be good.”
Chapter Eleven
Adam drove for hours after leaving his dad. The sun was setting when he drove back to Dawson and turned on the road that led to his temporary home. He slowed as he passed Jenna’s drive on the way back to Camp Hope. The little farmhouse, white siding and covered front porch, was aglow with lights. He could see the dog on the front porch and a shadow as one of the boys walked in front of the window.
He stopped and backed up to turn into her drive, rather than going on up the road to the drive that led to his new home, a single
-wide trailer at the edge of a field. What would his friends think of this new life, of Jenna?
When he stopped in the driveway next to her house, the dog got up and barked, but then his tail wagged and he ran down to greet Adam.
He hadn’t had a pet in years. Morgan’s son, Rob, had had a kitten that they picked up in a parking lot, a stray with greasy gray fur and big ears. Rob had loved that kitten. Adam had really cared about Rob. Too bad Morgan had only wanted invitations to certain parties, and then she’d dumped him.
He didn’t get out of his truck, because a single mom was inside that house and she had two boys who needed a dad. That was the talk around town. He’d overheard it in the grocery store, what a pair the two of them would be. How Jenna needed someone like him.
He’d had a lifetime of being used.
The front door opened and Jenna stepped out, still on crutches, looking smaller than ever, and fragile. But she wasn’t.
She moved to the edge of the porch but didn’t come down the ramp. He lowered his window. “I was driving by.”
“It looks to me like you stopped driving. Driving by would mean going on down the road, not stopping.”
He smiled. “Yeah, you got me there. Do you have iced tea?”
“I’m from Oklahoma, of course I have iced tea. The boys are getting into the tub. Do you want to come in, or are you going to stay in your truck?”
“I’ll get out.” The dog met him, tail wagging. He reached down to ruffle the thick fur around his neck and then the dog followed him to the house.
“Come in. Let me check on their bathwater, and you put ice in the glasses.”
As if he’d always been here, always been in her world.
He walked through the living room, aware of his boots on the hardwood floor that glowed like warm honey. The house was small but, man, it made him feel at home. It was the kind of place a guy didn’t want to leave.
This house had overstuffed furniture with throw pillows embroidered by hand, curtains that lifted in the early-evening breeze, and candles that scented the air with the aroma of baked apples. It also had two boys who needed a dad. And he wasn’t the best candidate for that job.
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