Mountain Man

by Jules Barnard

  “Is it so bad that I’m here?” Lewis whispers, pulling on jeans.

  More pounding on the door. “Gen, I’m getting worried. Open up.”

  “Coming!” I call and walk around the end of the bed, squeezing past Lewis, who’s pulling his arms through a T-shirt. He grabs my waist before I can pass, trailing his fingers along the exposed skin between my sweatshirt and boxers. I shiver.

  “Sorry.” He grins unabashedly, then shrugs. “Not really.”

  “You are much naughtier than you first let on.”

  He leans down and kisses my lips. “Only with you.”

  I run my palm over the bulge forming in his jeans. That’s right. Two can play this game.

  He growls low in his throat and jerks me close.

  I slap his hands away—“Not now, not now!”—and open the bedroom door.

  Cali is standing in her bikini top and flannel pajama pants, her gaze sliding from me to Lewis. Her eyes go comically wide, her lips pressing together as if she’s cutting off a vocal reaction. She blinks at me and walks toward the kitchen.

  Lewis grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “Think I’ll let you deal with this.” He looks down at his phone and frowns.

  I throw his earlier question at him. “Problem?”

  He rubs his chin roughly. “Maybe.”

  “What—”

  “Gen,” Cali singsongs from the vicinity of the kitchen. “You coming out?”

  Lewis pockets the phone. “Call me after you tell her.” He grins, but it’s shallow, as if the text message he glimpsed really bothered him. He wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me tight. “Let me know how badly she grills you.”

  “You could stay, you know.”

  He pecks me on the forehead and lets me go, striding out the front door. “Nope, this one’s on you.” He glances back on his way to the car. “Should have told her,” he says over his shoulder.

  Dammit. He’s right. “You’re no help,” I call, and he chuckles.

  I shut the front door and join Cali and Tyler at the dining table. Tyler’s eyes dart to the front window, his gaze curious.

  Cali sips from the Sexy Bitch mug she monopolizes. “So, you’re shacking up with Lewis?”

  Leave it to Cali to skip to the damning part. “Yeahhh, well, you know how I said Lewis and I were just friends? Things changed right before you landed in the hospital. I was going to tell you, but with everything going on, the news got lost in the shuffle.”

  Cali sets down her mug. “Gen, I don’t care about that. This week has been insane to say the least. I know I said I wouldn’t interfere, it’s just—that girl that hangs all over him; are you sure it’s not going to be a problem for you guys?”

  “I don’t know. But he’s pretty amazing, Cali.”

  She looks at Tyler, seeking an ally.

  Tyler shrugs. “You’re happy?”

  Tears well behind my eyes, because when asked that question, I don’t think about Lewis, I think about last night and the man I met. “I’ve never been this happy with a guy before.” And that’s the truth. If it weren’t for my baby-daddy issues.

  Cali’s eyes widen. “Then why are you crying?”

  I drop my head on the table and cover it with my arm, sensing the pressure of Cali’s hand on my shoulder a second later. “Lewis is great, Cali. He’s not why I’m upset.” I stare up. “I think I ran into my father last night.”

  Cali’s mouth parts. A second later, she stumbles out of her chair and returns with a tissue from the bathroom. “What do you mean? I thought you never talk to your dad?”

  I wipe my eyes. “I don’t.” I pause. “Cali, I don’t know my dad.”

  She squints. “You mean you haven’t seen him for years so you don’t know much about him?”

  The truth is so humiliating. “I mean I don’t know who he is. My mom doesn’t either. She never said that, but she’s always acted like his identity wasn’t important, so it’s what I’ve assumed. Like downplaying him was her way of saving face.”

  My mom acted like it didn’t matter who my dad was and I assumed she really didn’t know, but she made that weird comment the other day about athleticism running in the family. After meeting Jeb Kendrick and Lewis filling me in on his former profession… Did she know?

  It seems unimaginable that she would keep this from me, but so was running into a man I believe might be my father.

  When I look back, Tyler and Cali are staring. Tyler’s the first to say something. “That’s rough, man.” He nudges Cali, whose face is frozen and pale.

  She clears her throat. “So, what did this guy say?”

  “He wanted to talk to me. He knew my mom’s name. Her real name.” Cali knows all about my mom’s French proclivities.

  “What’d you do?”

  “I passed out.”

  Cali and Tyler exchange a look. I wish people would stop doing that.

  “I was over-exhausted. Anyway, once I regained consciousness, I mumbled something and ran away.” I shake my head. “It’s over. I told him I didn’t know the person he spoke of when he asked about my mom. Even if he didn’t believe me, he had to have figured out I want nothing to do with him. Chances are he won’t bother me again. It’s just—it upset me.” More tears spill down my cheeks. Shit.

  Cali grabs my hand. “Gen, you need to talk to your mom.”

  She’s right. But if my mom knew about my father, and it seems likely she did… The betrayal.

  My lack of trust didn’t originate with crappy boyfriends. My mother allowed creepy men into our lives. Her relationships with them never seemed to last long enough to warrant a frank discussion, and though the men crossed the line, they did so just barely, and never within my mother’s view. I was young and passive. My inability to speak up didn’t stop me from blaming her, though. I still blame her to some extent. She brought me up in a world without the security a decent father could provide, and if she did that willingly…

  I take a shower and sit outside on one of the lounge chairs relegated to the dirt, with Cali and Jaeger’s tent-home spilling over the patio. The legs of my lounge chair wobble on the uneven ground, but the clean pine scent of the trees reminds me of Lewis, and that helps calm the shitstorm raging in my head. I work tonight and I need to get a grip before then, which means clearing up the big fat question I have.

  Phone in hand, I click through recents and tap my mom’s contact. The shower didn’t help ease my nerves, but I’m not going to make the mistake I’ve made in the past and put off talking about something important.

  The phone rings. My pulse pounds in my ear, muffling the ringtone.

  “I can’t believe it,” my mom says by way of answering. “You’re up before noon?”

  “Who’s my father, Mom?”

  Silence on the other end, then, “It’s not impor—”

  “It’s fucking important. I met him last night. You never told me, and I met him. He found me.”

  “What?” Her voice is faint.

  “Jeb Kendrick. Ring a bell?”

  My mother’s sharp intake of air is the only answer I get.

  “Who is he, Mom? Is he my father?”

  “Oh my God. He promised…”

  “Mother, answer me.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes.”

  I’m crying again. Tears streaming down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice comes out high and quivery like a child’s. I hate that wobbly voice. I’ve worked hard to be strong.

  “Honey, I understand you’re upset, but I was protecting you.”

  “How does raising me a bastard protect me? Are you some kind of prostitute?” I’m beginning to think I was all wrong about that, but I want the truth and I’m not tiptoeing around to get it. The filters are off.

  “Genevieve,” she says, aghast.

  “Well, are you?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “A call girl? An upscale hooker?”

  “No, none of those things.”

>   “Then how do you support us? No one in our family has money and you don’t work.”

  “Your father. Your father has always provided for us. He insisted.”

  What?

  “Jeb Kendrick was my high school sweetheart.” Her voice is nasally, like she’s crying. “He left me for his career. It crushed me. My heart, he—I was never…” She pauses, and I hear her blowing her nose on the other end. “What’s done is done. I found out I was pregnant a month later, but Jeb had already moved on.

  “There were a string of women, Genevieve. I heard all about them in the tabloids. He was a rising star. Paparazzi, newscasters, they followed his every move. By the time you were born, there were too many women to count. I didn’t want any part of that.”

  She lets out a soft sigh. “I told him about you when you were a week old. He had a right to know, but I had every intention of raising you by myself. He asked me to take him back, but I didn’t trust him—the way he was living his life. I swore to be the best mom I could, and protecting you from all that was a part of it.” Her voice is unsteady, raw.

  I’ve never heard my mother like this. She is the beautiful, confident man-collector who dabbles in anything French. Not this small-town girl with a broken heart.

  “You could have taken him back, Mom. I could have had a father. It’s not like you didn’t parade your own string of lovers over the years. Why did you keep him away?”

  “There were other rumors about drugs and addictions. I didn’t want you mixed up with that. I asked him to stay away and he did, but he kept in touch through my lawyer and he always provided for us.”

  “He’s married.”

  “I know,” she says. “He told me he’d found someone a few years back. He said he’s clean and that he and his wife have a solid home environment. They want you in their lives. I asked him to wait a couple of years until you graduated from college. I worried that the truth would be too much with the stress of school.”

  Jesus. My own mother thinks I’m weak. Putting that aside—“I graduated, Mom!”

  “I know! I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but I was worried.”

  “About what?”

  “Partly that you’d be angry with us.”

  “You mean with you. That I’d be angry with you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were right; I’m fucking furious!” I sit up. “How could you keep this from me? He confronted me and I didn’t know who he was.”

  “That’s not how I wanted you to find out.”

  “Then you should have told me.” My voice catches. She lied to me all these years.

  My mother rattles on, unaware of the depth of my internal turmoil. “He’s provided for us comfortably. You only just graduated. I was getting ready to tell you. I wish he had talked to me before he went to you.”

  I used to believe my father abandoned me, but I also thought there was a chance he didn’t know I existed. That if he’d known, he would have wanted me.

  He let me grow up believing I didn’t have a father. My mother’s to blame too—maybe more so—I don’t know… I can’t think above the pounding in my head. I click off the phone without saying goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My mother tried calling a half a dozen times before I finally turned off my phone. I need to see Lewis, to feel his arms around me. I drive to his office.

  “Hiya, honey,” the receptionist at Sallee Construction says. “Want to hear your horoscope? Was just pulling up—”

  “Is Lewis around?”

  Her smile drops, her eyes taking in my tense shoulders—elbows pressed to my ribs. “No, sweetie, he’s not. Is there someone else I can get for you?”

  I shake my head and walk out the glass door, the bell chiming behind me. When I return to my car, I turn on my phone for the first time since this morning. There are thirty-four missed calls from my mother. I call Lewis, but he doesn’t answer. I leave a message, then text him.

  Gen: Please call. I spoke to my mother about Jeb. Need to see you.

  I shouldn’t rely on Lewis—he has so much responsibility already—but I can’t help it. Amidst the crazy, I want to be near him.

  I keep my head down at the casino that night and focus on serving and staying out of Amber’s way in the lounge. I just need to get through my shift.

  It’s nearly over and Lewis hasn’t returned my call, which isn’t like him, not even before we became something more.

  “Snow.” Amber’s voice is curt, agitated. “You’ve got ten minutes to have your little chat. I’m clocking. And I’m only doing this because the lady gave me a Benjamin. She’s waiting at table nineteen.”

  I glance up, confused, until I see Simone, Jeb’s wife, sitting at the rear of the bar.

  Simone is in an elegant sleeveless top and black pants, and she’s smiling kindly, her blond hair smoothed to the side and tucked behind her ear.

  I finish delivering my order and tentatively cross the room to her.

  “You’re wondering why I’m here,” She says as I sit, her voice gentle. “I came—well—because I’m a mother. Jeb and I have a daughter who’s three.” Simone drops her eyes to her folded hands, as if nervous.

  Where is she going with this? The news that my biological father moved on to produce more children without being a part of my life is not what I want to hear.

  She returns her gaze to me. “Your mom called Jeb. She explained the conversation she had with you. She’s very worried, and so is Jeb.”

  The fury from this morning rekindles in my chest. “My mother betrayed me and treated me without respect, withholding information I had a right to know.”

  Simone nods. “I understand. But I also see your mother’s point of view. Jeb was years younger than you are now when you were born. He made terrible choices back then. He was in no condition to raise a child, and he knew it. I’m married to him and I love him with all of my heart, but even I believe your mother made the right choice to keep you from him when you were young.”

  “Why would he show up now, after all these years?”

  “He’s slowly turned things around, but he hurt your mother deeply and he let you both down. He’s had a difficult time forgiving himself for that. Out of respect for your mother’s wishes, he stayed away until you finished school, but even before we married, your father expressed his desire to be a part of your life.”

  Simone reaches across the table and touches my hand gently. “Genevieve, I know this is a lot to take in, but please give your father a chance. He wants to be in your life. He’d like to tell you this himself, but I convinced him to let me give it a try. I thought you should hear it from someone who came into the situation late and who is able to see things from the outside—two parents who care deeply for their child, struggling to do what is best. They made mistakes. We made mistakes. Please try to forgive us.”

  I shake my head, not understanding any of this. “How do you leave your kid behind? How could he care and still do that?”

  “He should have found a way to be a part of your life. At the time, he didn’t believe himself worthy. He thought keeping a distance while providing for your care was for the best. It’s a decision he regrets every day and has made a great effort to change.”

  Now? Now he decides he wants in? “I’m a full-grown woman. What’s the point?”

  Her shoulders loosen, her hand slipping back into her lap. She smiles. “To know you, to love you, to be there for you. We both want that. Jeb has always wanted it in his heart, even when he didn’t feel he deserved it.”

  A tear escapes and I swipe it away. “I don’t trust him.”

  Her pretty lower lip disappears for a moment. “He wasn’t a—reliable—younger man. But he learned from his mistakes and he’s a wonderful husband. Jeb is also a great father. I hope you have the opportunity to know this about him.”

  She breathes in deeply. “He was extremely upset yesterday after he saw you. He’d fulfilled his promise to your mother to wait until you g
raduated, and for the first time in your life, he took a stand for his parental rights and sought you out. Things didn’t go exactly as he had planned. Your mother sent a few pictures over the years, but nothing recent. When he saw you, he recognized you immediately. He said you look exactly like his sister. It was a shock as well as a pleasure, and his communication skills were not at their best. He worried he had caused you pain by showing up abruptly and not explaining himself.”

  Simone nods at Amber, who is glaring daggers our way. She smiles and hands me a napkin with her and Jeb’s cell phone numbers written on it. “Thank you for hearing me out. We will be here for a couple of weeks if you want to talk.” She smiles. “My husband has a strong interest in extending our Lake Tahoe vacation.”

  I take the napkin and tuck it in my cash caddy, watching the elegant woman walk out of Mont Belle Lounge. My hands are shaking, my throat so dry I can barely swallow. I bypass an angry Amber and head to Maryanne. I have to get out of here, have to convince Maryanne to let me leave early.

  Maryanne shakes her head as I approach. She waves me off. “Go. Get out of here.”

  I don’t know why Maryanne is so nice. Maybe she understands what I’ve had to put up with from Drake. Maybe she’s been through her share of shit. Whatever it is, I’m grateful.

  I spend the next week working out and training. I even use the temporary gym membership Lewis got me and practice climbing the rope to build my upper body strength. I manage to scale it twice without falling to my death, and the training keeps my mind off other things.

  Lewis called the night Simone visited, but it was late and I didn’t get the message until the next morning. I’d gone home and immediately fallen asleep, emotionally exhausted. I spoke to him the next day and told him about the call with my mom and the visit from Jeb’s wife. He was supportive, but distant. We’ve communicated several times over the last few days, but we haven’t seen each other. My gut tells me something is off, and I’m freaking out about it.

  On the other hand, my mother hasn’t stopped pestering me. She has left messages threatening to show up on my doorstep. I can’t bring myself to care. If I didn’t have the mudder giving me direction, I’d be a crumbling mess. Training makes me feel strong physically, so I focus on that.