Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  She still wasn't sure her father had entirely forgiven for that, but he'd never brought the subject up again.

  She'd moved out of her father's house that summer right after she got her teaching degree from Oklahoma University, rented an efficiency apartment and started looking for work. She found out in no time the kind of grit it took to make it on your own. Six weeks later, Jack Walker came to apologize and beg her to return home at least until the baby was born. She refused.

  When Jackson was born, Jack managed to stay with her for twenty-four hours, because he'd brought Molly along for what he called moral support. When the last minutes arrived and it was time to push, Jack had reached his limit. Molly had stayed with her, holding her hand and rubbing her back, counting to ten for her with each contraction and crying when the baby was finally born.

  "Please, please come home," her father begged, just minutes after he lost his heart forever to the five-pound, six-ounce baby boy lying beside his daughter in a clear plastic bassinette.

  "No, I'm a big girl now. I've already got a day care center lined up because I'll be teaching at the high school. I promised the principal I would only take one week off after I had the baby. It might be tough but we'll make it. This is something I have to do, Daddy. You can be a part of our lives, but we've got to make it on our own. I'm naming him Jackson Nelson Walker, by the way. He doesn't have a crib if you want to buy him something, but that's all, and I really mean it. I don't want this baby spoiled with material things."

  "Jackson. I'm honored, Tracey, but where'd the Nelson come from?" he'd asked.

  "From a love story I read once," she told him.

  The next day he sent her a dozen long-stemmed red roses and had the finest crib available delivered to her tiny apartment.

  A week later she was back in class, a bit weepy, a lot sore and still amazed that she could be hopelessly in love with something so small. And that's the way it had been ever since. She taught school and loved Jackson. She accepted gifts from her father but only on birthdays and Christmas and on rare occasions she allowed him to buy something for Jackson if it wasn't expensive. She told her father that his grandson needed his time more than his money, and that's what Jack Walker provided. His devotion to the child was total and complete and sometimes Tracey had trouble keeping a bit of jealousy out of her heart.

  Today was Friday, and as soon as her last class was over at two o'clock she had to rush to the school for a play Jackson's class was presenting. He had practiced his songs for two weeks and could sing them without a hitch, and he'd been chosen to lead the class in a funny poem. He knew it so well he delivered it with a theatrical flair, using exaggerated gestures that made her laugh.

  She finished her paperwork, dropped her briefcase in her office, relieved that Austin was already gone. The kindergarten classes were large and there would be lots of parents, grandparents and friends. Maybe, just maybe, she could avoid him for the rest of the day. He would be there to see his daughter, she was sure, but if she sat at the back of the auditorium she could slip down the aisle, gather Jackson up and go out the back door.

  The auditorium was dark and cool when she found a seat at the back just minutes before the play was about to begin. She could see the back of Austin's head about three seats up from her and just to her left. She'd know him from any angle, anywhere, but unless he turned his handsome head all the way around like an owl, he couldn't see her. So far, so good.

  The curtains parted in the middle and Jackson stepped out at the front of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," he almost shouted. There were a few chuckles at such a big voice from such a little fellow. "Welcome to our play. We'll sing and say poems and you can clap and have a good time." Then he disappeared behind the curtains.

  They sang a song about a worm in an apple and another one about a playmate coming out to sing down a rain barrel and slide down a cellar door. Jackson hadn't even known what a rain barrel was or a cellar door, but he'd asked a million questions while he was learning the song. A little red-haired girl stood right beside him most of the time. Tracey figured she had to be Emily, Austin's daughter.

  The program lasted exactly thirty minutes, and then the curtains parted slightly for the second time. Jackson and Emily stepped out from behind them together. "Thank you for coming to our program," she said, loud and clear. "And now for the surprise," Jackson added. "We're having a tea party in our classroom for all you folks who clapped for us."

  Forget about sneaking out the back door. She knew Jackson would definitely want her to meet his new best friend so that meant Austin would be close at hand. Why, oh why, hadn't she planned her exit more carefully?

  She spotted Austin right away standing in the corner surrounded by women. Probably divorceés taking turns at trying out for his woman of the week, she thought crossly. Maybe they'd keep him busy until she could swallow a cup of lukewarm punch, eat a cookie and entice Jackson away by reminding him that they were going to see Poppa Jack.

  "Oh, Mrs. Miller!" A short lady looked right at her and yelled across the room. All the women around Austin stopped mid-sentence, their eyes scanning the room for his new wife. "Mrs. Miller, over here!" The woman waved at someone behind her. Tracey turned to see who she was talking to, but there wasn't anyone behind her. She was standing against the wall.

  Maybe Austin had remarried over the summer months and hadn't told anyone yet, and the woman just thought she was Mrs. Miller. Her cheeks burned when she thought of the way she had snuggled down into his broad chest not two weeks ago. Evidently his new wife was at the party, and he hadn't even had the good grace to tell her he was married when she had been crying over her encounter with that damned devil Damian. Strange, the lady acted as if she was talking to Tracey, even making eye contact as she crossed the room toward her.

  The lady waved again. Tracey continued to look on either side of her for a woman who was probably waving back with a big smile on her face. Tracey hoped everyone else in the room had already spotted the new wife and they weren't looking as intently at her as this crazy, mixed-up woman was.

  "Emily, come here, daring," the woman said. Emily's red curls bobbed up and down and the full skirt of the denim dress she wore flipped from one side to the other as the child hurried to keep up.

  "Mrs. Miller," the woman seemed oblivious to everyone's stares. "I'm Lori Baker, the teacher's aide. I'm so glad you came to the program. I would have known you were Emily's mother whether Austin introduced you or not. She has your gorgeous red hair. and I just wanted you to know that I think she's a sweetheart."

  "Me?" Tracey's eyes were wide.

  "This isn't my mother," Emily laughed. "That's my daddy over there, though." She pointed to Austin who had a grin on his face that Tracey felt like slapping off. All the women around him looked relieved and one of them put her hand on his arm and said something Tracey couldn't hear.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry." Lori flushed. "It's just that you have such lovely hair and Emily's is the same color . . . and . . . I'm just so sorry."

  "Quite all right," Tracey muttered and started for the door, hoping to corner Jackson and get out while everyone was chuckling about the mix-up.

  "She's not Emily's mommy," Jackson shouted from across the room. "She's mine," he said possessively. Tracey wished for a hole to crawl into, one just big enough so that she could curl up inside and pull the opening in behind her. "Mommy," he shouted again and ran through the crowd to her side. "This is Emily, my bestest friend in the whole world. She does look like you, doesn't she? Emily, this is my mommy." He grabbed his little friend's hand. "Let's go get another cookie, okay? Mommy, don't go away. You'll stay right here, won't you?"

  "Yes, Jackson, I'll be right here," she sighed. Tracey doubted if she could get out of the room without speaking to Austin. Those women surrounding him couldn't begin to know how much she would pay them to keep him hemmed in for ten minutes. She'd sell her Camaro and consider hocking her stereo if they'd hold him down five more minutes after that so she could g
et out of town for three days and collect her thoughts.

  He must have said his goodbyes to his fan club because he began to edge his way through several other small groups toward her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and proceeded to make her way to the door just at the same speed. If he moved past one group, she moved to another, introducing herself and making small talk about how cute the play had been.

  "Oh, Daddy," she finally heard Emily yell. "There you are. You've got to come and see Jackson. He's my new friend I told you about." She ran over to her father and grabbed his hand, taking him to the refreshment table where Jackson waited patiently for her.

  "This is my daddy, Austin Miller," Emily said, bringing him over to Jackson. "And this is Jackson, my new friend," she said.

  Jackson wiped his hand on his blue trousers and stuck it out. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir. Emily is my friend and she says you're the best daddy in the whole world. I don't have a daddy, but I've got a Poppa Jack and he's the best grandfather in the whole world. I sure do like those boots."

  "Pleased to meet you, too, son. So your mommy is Tracey Walker, is she? I used to know her a long time ago." Austin squatted down so he could look Jackson in the face. "I didn't know she had a fine son like you."

  "Yep. Say, where'd you get those boots, anyway? I'm going to see Poppa Jack today and I'm going to tell him I want some boots and a pair of jeans like yours. But don't tell Mommy because she gets real mad if I ask Poppa Jack for anything. He says she worries about money too much."

  "Well, I won't tell her," Austin whispered back seriously. "Emily, I think maybe it's time for us to be going. Granny will be wonderin' where we are and you know your pony hasn't been brushed all week." He took his daughter's hand.

  "Can Jackson come to Granny's with me, Daddy? I told him he could come and pet Maybelle. I bet he could help brush her, too," Emily asked.

  "Maybe another time," Austin said. He turned to speak to Jackson. "You'll have to ask your mom if she'll bring you to Tom Bean, Texas to see Maybelle. That's Emily's pony," he explained.

  "Wow! That would be awesome!" Jackson said. "But wait a minute. Where do I tell Poppa Jack to take me to get some boots like yours?" he whispered.

  "Try a western store, son." Austin patted him on the head.

  "Tracey," he nodded toward her as he and Emily passed.

  She knew that look from long ago. It meant this wasn't over yet and there would be a discussion later. He wouldn't say much in a public place but later the closed door between their two offices would swing open and there he would stand, all six feet of him, his eyebrows drawn down and his arms crossed over his chest. He would cross one boot over the other and he would demand answers.

  Well, he could demand until angels sold snow cones in hell. He could stand there filling out his jeans like they were sprayed on him out of a blue spray paint can, and she wouldn't pay any attention. Not one bit. She owed Austin Miller exactly nothing and that's exactly what he would get from her.

  "Nice to see you, Austin." Tracey smiled sweetly. "You have a lovely daughter. Does her mother have red hair?"

  He just gave her another one of those looks and went out the door, ignoring her remark about Emily's mother. So he hadn't come right out and told her about his daughter. She hadn't told him about her son. No wonder she didn't want to talk about anything, Austin thought. But come Tuesday, when classes were over, they were going to talk. She couldn't be married since she had kept her maiden name. Or had she gone back to it after a divorce?

  "Wasn't that party awesome? And you got to meet my friend Emily." Jackson was so antsy he could hardly sit still in the car seat while they drove.

  "It was a great party, and you were awesome on stage," she complimented him, using his favorite word these days. "Here's the big bridge you liked last time we went across it," she reminded him as they started across the long bridge over an arm of Lake Texoma. "We should come over here sometime and go fishing."

  "Can we bring Emily and her daddy?" he asked innocently.

  She sighed. "We'll have to see."

  "I liked her daddy a whole lot. He wears awesome boots." Jackson eyed her to see what her reaction would be.

  "I guess he does," she said.

  "Lots of the boys at school have boots, and they wear jeans just like his. They have to be long in the legs so they bunch up in little wrinkles around the boot tops, though," he added. Jackson looked out the window at the water below the bridge. "Hey, look at the fishermen out there in their boats. I wonder if Emily's daddy has a boat like that."

  She didn't answer him. Jackson picked out a Clint Black cassette tape from the holder in the back seat and put it in the player. He sang along for a while, but when they reached Ardmore he pulled his favorite pillow from the back seat, propped it against the door and in a few minutes his eyes were closed.

  Tracey caught Interstate 35 and turned north. Jackson could sleep for almost two hours and then he'd be raring to go when they got to her father's house. He hadn't seen his Poppa Jack in a month, and that was the longest he'd ever been away from him. The two of them would probably exclude her all weekend, but she didn't really mind. She needed some time to think about how she was going to handle this situation with Austin.

  He had a daughter and she had a son. The children were in the same class now but she wouldn't have to worry about that ever again, because she and her son would be gone after this year. She didn't care if she had to go back to teaching high school English in some little town way out here.

  She picked up a different tape and put it in the player, turning it down low so it wouldn't wake Jackson. She sang along, tapping out the rhythm on the steering wheel, and thinking about Austin.

  The man had made his choice five years and eight months ago. He had left her just like that, and made himself a baby with someone else. Tracey found herself wondering about the girl he had married. How old was she? Why did she leave him? And what kind of mother would walk off and leave her child?

  She wasn't about to ask Austin for any answers. Tracey drove two more miles north to her father's house, turning into the circular driveway with a sigh of relief. Molly had the door open before she killed the engine, and was on the porch by the time Jackson opened his sleepy eyes and realized where they were.

  "Get on in this house," Molly smiled. "I know you're both plumb tuckered out so I've got your favorite supper made and it's ready to put on the table. Your father's been watchin' out the window for an hour."

  Tracey hugged her and realized for the first time that Molly had more gray hair now than black. She walked a little slower and there were a whole new batch of wrinkles in her face. She thought of the wrinkles in Dr. Benson's face and wondered which one of them had the most.

  "Poppa! Poppa Jack, where are you?" Jackson broke away from Molly's hug and ran toward the double front doors of the two storey brick home.

  "Right here, son." Jack Walker stepped out on the porch. "Why did you take so long? Has your mother has started driving slow?" He caught Jackson as he jumped into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

  "Nope, Poppa Jack, she's still hell on wheels. Whoops! Sorry, Mommy," he clapped his hand over his mouth. "But I'm not supposed to say that word. She says I can't say that word just because you say it. Is supper ready? I'm hungry. I smell chicken. Molly, did you make biscuits and gravy, too? Mommy can't make gravy as good as yours."

  "Jackson, you ask more questions than a sane person can answer in a hundred years," Tracey said. "I'll wait 'til after supper to get my bags."

  "Bring any laundry?" Molly asked.

  "No, Molly, I don't bring dirty clothes home for you to do anymore." She slung her arm around the housekeeper's shoulders and the two of them went in the house together.

  Years ago, when Jackson was only two, he couldn't understand why Molly cooked the meals and didn't eat with them. He was so upset one evening that Jack insisted she sit with them and that's the way it had been ever since. Molly had worked for Jack Walker for lon
ger than Tracey could remember, and she'd always been like a mother to her. These past five years since Jackson had been born were the icing on the cake of life for Molly. She'd never married and had no children, but she loved Tracey's little boy as if he'd been her own grandson.

  The dining room was formal. The leaves had been taken out of the solid cherry table so only eight people fit around it now, but when they were put back at least twenty could sit comfortably. The table had seen lots of entertaining when Tracey's mother was alive. Every holiday had been an occasion for a party and for Jack to show off his gorgeous wife, but these days the most entertaining it saw was a weekend with Jackson and Tracey.

  "Can I have the leg, Molly?" Jackson sat on his grandfather's right side and Tracey on his left with Molly right beside her.

  "You sure can. This old chicken had six legs just in case you and your Poppa Jack didn't get full on just two each." she passed the china platter to Jack who filled his grandson's plate.

  "Oh, Molly, you know chickens only got two legs," Jackson giggled. "We had a party today at school, Poppa Jack. You should have come to see my play. I'll sing the songs and tell you and Molly the poem after supper." He put a spoonful of mashed potatoes covered with milk gravy in his mouth. "Did you make this or did God make it?" he asked Molly with a grin. "It's so good it must've been cooked in heaven!"

  "You're a little charmer, you are," Molly laughed with him.

  "I got a new friend, Poppa Jack. Her name is Emily and she's a girl. She's got a pony and today I met her daddy and I want—" He glanced over to see if his mother was frowning at him. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask for things, and he didn't want her to be mad, but he hated those silly slacks his mother made him wear. They had pleats in the front and cuffs on the bottom.