Chance McCall (28 page)

“Oh, honey!” Jenny hugged him. It was instinctive. Sympathy for Chance, and the man she had yet to meet, overwhelmed her.

“Come on,” Chance urged. “This time, the visit won’t be so bad.”

“Why not?” Jenny asked.

“Because I’ve got you with me,” he said.

The smile in her heart stayed with her all the way past the reception desk and the wheelchair bound residents who lined the walls of the room. The invasive odors of the home slipped into the back of her mind as she focused on the intensity with which Chance moved. If this man meant that much to him, he was going to mean the world to her, too.

As usual, the room was immaculate. The lights were on, the window shades up, the curtains tied back. But, this time, no little man came rocketing out from under the bed. He was sitting in a chair, staring blankly out a window.

Chance took one look and decided that this was not one of Charlie Rollins’s good days. He started to ask Jenny if she’d rather wait outside, when she walked past him and knelt in front of the old man.

“Hello, Charlie,” Jenny said. She brushed her fingers across the hands lying limply in his lap, and lightly traced the gnarled knuckles.

Before either of them knew it was happening, Charlie clasped Jenny’s hand and held on. He turned his watery eyes her way and blinked several times in succession. Jenny knew it was not to clear his vision. He was desperately trying to clear his mind.

“Chance came back to see you, Charlie. He told me I could come along and meet you, too. He says you’re very special.”

Chance walked around, pulled up a chair, sat down in front of Charlie, and patted his knee.

“How you been doing, Charlie? Did you get Mabel Geraldine’s car fixed?”

Charlie blinked. And then he smiled. Just a bit, but it was still there.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I think so. Is that you, Chance?”

Chance’s stomach churned.
My God! He knows my name
!

“I’m here, Charlie.”

He nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ll be wantin’ you to close for me tonight.”

“Sure thing,” Chance said. His voice thickened with emotion as it dawned on him that he must have worked for Charlie. Until this moment, their relationship had been a mystery. He knew that Charlie had paid for his mother’s funeral. This explained a lot.

“Oh, Chance,” Jenny whispered. Tears pooled.

“This your girl?” Charlie asked, and patted Jenny’s hair.

“It sure is, Charlie. What do you think?”

“I think she’s pretty,” Charlie said. “But she’s not like I remembered…. I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s all right,” Jenny said. “Would you like me to brush your hair? When I don’t feel good, I always like for someone to brush mine.”

Charlie thought a minute and then nodded and smiled. “That’d be just fine, missy.”

Chance held his breath, willing Charlie not to lose his tenuous hold on reality, praying that this visit would be one to remember. Chance had no intention of going back to Tyler and forgetting that Charlie was here. But he knew that each time he returned, Charlie Rollins would be farther and farther away. The thought overwhelmed him with sadness, knowing something precious had been lost.

Jenny picked up the brush from the dresser, walked around behind Charlie’s chair, and began to stroke the bristles through the short, snowy stubble. Slowly and methodically, she worked the brush all the way around his head, patting the hair back in place with her fingers after the brush passed through.

Chance watched, mesmerized by the gentleness of the woman who’d stolen his heart. As long as he lived, he knew he’d never forget the sight of Jenny lovingly grooming the old man’s hair.

“Does that feel good?” she asked, careful not to chatter or speak loudly, certain that the less Charlie had to decipher, the better off he would be.

He nodded, started to smile at Chance, then lost his grasp of reality in the blink of an eye.

Chance watched a tear roll down Charlie’s weathered face. Another followed. He wanted to haul the old fellow up from the chair and hold him like a baby. But something told him not to move. He nodded for Jenny to stop, and patted his knee, offering her a place to sit since he was occupying the only other chair.

Jenny put down the brush, complied with Chance’s silent request, and leaned back against his chest, relishing the feel of his arms as they enveloped her. She sensed that Chance was holding her because he couldn’t hold Charlie.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered quietly, as they watched the tears flowing unheeded down the old man’s face.

“Oh, God, Jenny. So am I. So am I.”

15

Logan Henry hadn’t
slept in days. Not since the call from Odessa. Not since an old girlfriend had asked him if he had a little brother. Not one dreamless hour since. Rationally, he knew there were any number of explanations for the case of mistaken identity. But instinct told him that rationality had nothing to do with secrets coming home to roost. He couldn’t get past the “what ifs.”

He’d made it to bed every night. And his eyes
would
close. But the minute the light was shut out of his world, the memories came flooding in, ghosts and all. He’d tried getting drunk. It had done nothing but add a sick hangover to his hell. He’d tried getting mad, but the anger never got past the guilt. All in all, Logan Henry was one pissed off good old boy.

Finally, it was getting pissed off that had motivated him.

He’d lost his home, his wife, and very nearly his daughter. He’d stood and watched a house burn, thinking the kid had burned with it. He’d spent the last twelve years of his life trying to forget the fact that he’d fucked up. He wouldn’t relive this again. Not by a damn sight!

He stormed out of his house, crawled into his car, slammed the door shut, shoved the key into the ignition, and left a cloud of dust and gravel as he rocketed out of his front yard. The low-slung ranch house faded from view as Logan pulled onto the highway and headed for Victoria’s house. He needed some answers. If what he feared was true, more than likely she would know.

“I’m sorry I had to change our plans,” Victoria said, and absently doodled on a note pad by the phone, tracing and retracing the numbers she’d just called as she talked. “Yes, Ken is going to be gone for several days. The Chuck Wagon Gang has a convention to feed in Vegas. It’ll take a lot of preparation plus traveling time. He’ll be gone several days.” She grinned. “He loves this so much, I never mind. The Gang is great. They do a lot of good for our community…and I think it does them just as much good. I know Ken comes back tired but exhilarated. So, I’ll have to rethink the baby-sitter situation and give you a call tomorrow.” She paused, smiled softly, and drew a heart around the set of numbers. “Thanks,” she said. “I knew you’d understand.” She smiled again, gently, openly. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”

“What the hell are you looking forward to if your husband is out of town?” Logan Henry barked, as he walked into the kitchen.

“Daddy! My God! Don’t
ever
do that to me again!” Victoria gasped, and dropped the phone receiver onto its cradle. “You scared me to death!” Then she glared. “Don’t you ever knock? This is not your house, it’s mine. You’re always welcome here, but I swear to God, if you do this again, I’ll ask for my key back. Then you’ll have to wait at the door like everyone else. You know Ken only gave that to you in case you had to pick up the twins unexpectedly. It does not give you the right to walk through my life without notice!”

Logan shrugged. “I asked you a question, Victoria. Who were you talking to?”

Her pulse quickened, but she’d long been accomplished at hiding her feelings. She arched her brows, stared him straight in the eye, and said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but it was just a friend. How would you like it if I used my key to your house and just walked in some morning early…or better yet, late some night. Should I ask who the woman in your bed is, or should I pretend I simply don’t notice?”

He flushed. “You don’t have any right to dictate to me, missy! Don’t you forget that I’m your father!”

Her anger matched his. “I’m not about to forget anything, Daddy. I hope you don’t either. I would hate to think that there may be more of us cropping up out there from time to time.”

“What the hell are you talking about? More of who?”

“More babies, Daddy! I hope you’re using birth control now. It can get so messy when unexpected
things
crop up.” Pain and sarcasm mingled in her accusation.

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” He stared blindly at the thin, nearly transparent scars on her wrists. But pride kept him indignant and upright.

She sighed, dropped the pen onto the cabinet, and hugged him. It was useless to be angry with a man who never saw anything but his side of a story.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what even made me bring it up. And yes, I’ll let you forget anything you want, Daddy, if you’ll promise not to walk into my house unannounced again.”

He muttered and returned her hug. He hated to admit it but, except for his twin grandsons, Victoria was the only person who still loved him. He was under no misconception about his son-in-law’s opinion of him. Ken Oslow was the one who’d had to pick up the pieces of Victoria’s life at a time when it had been touch and go if she’d ever had one. He knew all there was to know about Logan Henry and his past sins, and Logan hated him for it. Hated him, and at the same time, was thankful that the man had done what no one else could do. He’d given Victoria back to them.

“So! If you’d needed a baby-sitter, all you had to do was call me. You know I’m available. It’s not like the boys are trouble anymore. Except for being loud and messy as hell, being ten years old is a lot better than ten months old.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, and dropped the subject. There was no way she could bring herself to use her father like that when she was about to deceive him in the process. Victoria didn’t have it in her to be that devious. On the other hand, she had no intention of informing her father that Chance was back in town, not when Chance didn’t remember anything of the past. The only way she could protect him was to keep her father as far away as possible, at least until Chance was ready to face him.

Logan nodded, pretended to drop the subject, and stared long and hard at the number on the pad that she’d outlined with a heart. It seemed familiar. He made a mental note of it, hugged his daughter, kissed her good-bye, and made an exit as hasty as his entrance.

“See, Monroe! I told you it was Chance. Don’t ever tell me I don’t know someone whose diapers I used to change!”

Chance’s mouth dropped open. Jenny started to smile. The tiny little woman who’d been standing just outside the door of the retirement home enveloped him in a hug that ended almost before it began. She dropped her arms, stepped back, and shook her finger in his face.

She was a little bit of nothing dressed in green and white seersucker. The man at her side was wearing blue jeans with a shiny white crease, and a white, long-sleeved shirt. The buckle on his belt was almost as big as he was, and the straw cowboy hat on his head was broad enough to provide shade for the both of them.

“Where have you been all these years? When I saw you coming out of Charlie Rollins’s room, you could have knocked me over. We came to visit a friend, and I told Monroe, ‘that’s Chance McCall or I’m a monkey’s uncle.’ ’Course, in my case, it would be a monkey’s aunt.” She took a deep breath. “Why did you just disappear like that, boy? What’s it been, ten…fifteen years?”

She didn’t give him time to answer.

“You know we would have helped you out. Yes, we’d moved from the neighborhood. And I know that later, your momma took a…” she hesitated and blushed, but it did not deter her from finishing her statement, “…turn for the worse…with her drinking. But if you’d just let us know…” Tears came to her eyes. She crinkled up her little nose, dug a tissue from her handbag, and blew. “I didn’t even know about the funeral until it was over. We were so sorry.”

“Now, Susie,” the old man said, “set back and let the boy breathe. You always did smother him.” He smiled at Chance and Jenny, and hugged his wife by way of apology for the criticism.

The elderly couple stood side by side, obviously waiting for Chance to speak. He was dumbfounded by the fact that this old couple not only knew him, but liked him. And from the sound of it, they had known him for a long time.
Diapers! My God
!

Jenny took one look at the shock spreading on Chance’s face and decided it was time to intervene. She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and smiled.

“You’ll have to excuse Chance for being a little slow about recognizing you. He suffered an accident a few months ago and his memory hasn’t fully returned to normal. Sometimes people who should be recognized…just aren’t. You understand, I’m sure.”

“She’s right,” he said. “It’s daunting to meet someone who’s seen my bare backside and not remember their name.”

Monroe laughed and Susie blushed.

“Well, I’ll say!” Susie said. “Can’t remember a thing?” She frowned…and then her face lit up at the thought. “So, I guess I should start all over.”

Chance grinned. He sensed the beginnings of another monologue and held up his hand. “Why don’t we all go over to that bench under the shade tree there? It’ll give us a place to sit while I catch up with another piece of my past.”

The four of them sat down. For one long moment, they all stared silently at one another, and then, as one might have expected, Susie was the one who rejuvenated the conversation.

“Is this your wife?” she asked.

Jenny grinned and watched Chance squirm.

“No, ma’am, it’s not. At least…” he turned and gave her a look that made her heart race, “not yet. Her name is still Jenny Tyler. I’ll do what I can as soon as possible to fix that.”

Susie nodded. “Well, fine then. I’m Susie Belton, and this is my husband, Monroe. Although it seems strange to be introducing ourselves to someone we lived next door to for almost nine years. I used to baby-sit for your momma, Leticia. You were like a grandson to us. I made cinnamon rolls at least once a week.” She looked over at him and patted him on the knee. “You always liked my cinnamon rolls.”