Cowboy Daddy (22 page)

“Yes, Annie. I like you.”

“I hope it’s enough.” She scrambled to her knees, then turned to face him. The tears were gone, but the sadness in her eyes just about tore his heart in two. “I hope we can work this all out. Laurel and the baby. But it’s going to be hard. I have less than a month left here.”

He didn’t like being reminded about the temporary nature of her visit. He hadn’t minded before. In fact he’d been waiting for her to leave. But everything had changed since he found out she was pregnant.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, then wondered what the hell he was thinking of.

“Heather, my assistant, called me. The promotion is mine. I’ve worked hard for the job. It’s what I want for my life. You have your dreams, Jake, and I have mine. They don’t connect in any way. I don’t deny I want you, but does that mean anything?” She rose to her feet. “I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. Laurel already hates me. What’s going to happen when she finds out about this?” She placed her hand on her stomach. She swallowed. “I wish—” She drew in a deep breath. “No. I can’t wish I’d never met her or you. What I do wish is that someone, anyone, would tell me what on earth I’m supposed to do about all this.”

* * *

J
ake stayed in the kitchen long after Anne had left. He thought about all that she’d said, about her tears, and the way her kisses made him feel. He remembered how he’d hated and distrusted her when they’d first met. He remembered his fears about losing Laurel, and the way he’d resented the changes in his life. In a few short weeks, he’d come so far. Now he trusted Anne. He liked and admired her. And he agreed with her. He wanted someone to tell him what he was supposed to do, as well.

She was leaving. There was nothing he could say to stop her. The thought of her going back to Houston carrying his son was enough to rip his guts out. Yet he had no right to ask her to stay. God, but he wanted to. He wanted to see her growing big with his child. He wanted to hear the infant’s heartbeat and feel him

kicking. He rubbed the back of his neck, then slowly rose to his feet. First things first. As Anne had pointed out, the baby wasn’t going to be arriving for eight more months. However, Laurel was here and a part of their lives.

He walked up the stairs and to his daughter’s room. He knocked. Her muffled answer was unintelligible, so he opened the door.

Laurel lay huddled on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back to the door. Her long hair spread over shoulders that shook with her sobs. All the women in his house were crying today. How much of that was circumstances and how much of it was his doing? He didn’t want to know.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled Laurel close. She didn’t fight him as he’d feared; instead, she burrowed close, hanging on desperately.

“Oh, Da-addy.” She sobbed against him.

“Hush, baby. It’s going to be fine.” But was it? He didn’t have any answers. He wanted Laurel and Anne to work this out. They had to. There were even bigger problems to face.

As he held and comforted his daughter, he wondered if he were a worse bastard than he’d thought. Would he be willing to smooth things over if Anne weren’t carrying his child? If it weren’t for the promised trauma ahead, would he care that they weren’t getting along? How much of his desire to play peacemaker was purely selfish?

He didn’t have those answers, either. He would like to think that he would have done the right thing no matter what. Anne wasn’t the conniving, selfish bitch he’d thought her to be. Thirteen years ago she’d made a mistake. Now he knew how easily that could happen. He also understood her ambivalence about the adoption. There weren’t any easy choices anymore. She was sweet and loving, doing more than her part to make it all work. He owed her for that, regardless of what else happened between them.

Laurel’s sobbing slowed to an occasional hiccup. He rocked back and forth, smoothing her hair from her face, murmuring her name over and over. He searched for the right words, then realized all he had left was the truth.

“I miss your mother, too,” he said, for the first time in two years voicing the words aloud. “I think about her a lot. I think about the way it used to be.”

“I want Mommy back,” she said, clinging tighter. Her face pressed against his chest and her tears dampened his shirt.

“I know, sweetie. But I can’t make her come back. No one can. You must remember that Mommy loved you more than anything in the world.”

“I m-miss her.”

“I know. And she knows. She’ll always know how much you love her.”

Laurel raised her head and looked at him. “Does she?”

He nodded. “I promise.” Her bangs hung in her eyes. He smoothed them back and smiled. “She’s not the only one who cares about you. Anne cares.”

Laurel frowned. “No, she doesn’t. She’s never cared. She’s just pretending. I hate her.”

“All right. I’ll tell her to leave first thing in the morning. Then you’ll never have to see her again.”

As he’d suspected, Laurel’s anger gave way to more tears. “I don’t want her to

go.” “But if you hate her, why do you want her here?”

“Oh, Daddy.” She hugged him tight. Her slight frame shook with the agony of her sobs.

“Hush, baby.” He squeezed and rocked her. “I know you’re confused. I’m confused, too.” He drew in a deep breath. There was nothing left to lose. “When you first told me you wanted to meet your birth mother, I was very angry.” She stiffened in his arms, but he continued rocking her, occasionally smoothing her hair. She was so young, too damn young to deal with this. “I was afraid I’d lose you.”

She raised her head and looked at him. Her hazel eyes swam with tears. Hazel eyes. Anne’s mother’s eyes. It didn’t matter what set of traits had created them, he realized. They were his daughter’s eyes and they were beautiful. He kissed her cheek.

“How could you lose me, Daddy? I promised I wouldn’t run away again.”

He smiled. “Not that way, silly. I thought you’d love her more than me. You wanted to live with her in Houston, remember?”

“Yeah.” She wiped her face. “I like it here, now. I want to stay. I want Annie to stay. But I was so mad at her.” She glanced down. “If I don’t hate her, why did I say that?”

“I think you’re confused because you really like Anne. It’s okay to like her. It doesn’t mean you love your mother any less. There’s plenty of room in your heart to love both of them.”

“And you?” she asked, smiling.

“And me.” He touched her cheek. “Anne was only four years older than you are now when she got pregnant, Laurel. That’s not very old to make a big decision about what to do with an unexpected baby. I can’t be sorry she gave you up for adoption. I know that probably makes you feel funny inside, but it’s true.”

Her smile faded. “You’re glad she didn’t want me?”

“I think she wanted you very much. But if she’d kept you, your mother and I wouldn’t have been able to adopt you. I wouldn’t give you up for anything.”

Her smile almost blinded him. She flung herself at him, but this time there weren’t any tears. He held her close and realized he’d spoken the truth. Even with all he’d had to go through because of Michael’s lies, the one thing he couldn’t regret was Laurel. She was his daughter in every way; she made the heartache worthwhile.

He held her shoulders and eased her away. When their eyes met, he smiled. “You and Annie share something very special, something you could never have with your mother. You and Annie are blood relatives. That’s a bond that can never be broken.”

She cocked her head. “We
aren’t
blood relatives?”

He shook his head. “I could prick our fingers and mingle the blood if you’d like.”

“Oh, Daddy, gross.” She laughed and rolled away from him. Bracing her elbow on the mattress, she propped her head up on her hand. “Thanks for talking to me. I feel better.”

“Good.”

“Can I—?” She picked at the blanket. Her bedspread and matching curtains hadn’t arrived yet. “Can I still go to the party?”

He tried to frown, but he was too relieved to even fake it. “Sure, but only if I take you and then pick you up the next morning.”

She thought for a moment. “Okay.”

* * *

A
nne rolled dough into long strips. She brushed the entire length with egg white then loosely knotted it. With a spatula she placed the roll on the cookie sheet next to four others.

“I can’t believe I’m making bread by hand,” she muttered. “For a bunch of ingrates who won’t even notice.”

She felt her anger slipping, but she hung on to it. If she didn’t stay mad, she would start thinking about what had just happened with Laurel. Then she would cry, then she would want to leave. At this point, leaving wasn’t an option, so she couldn’t think about it or her daughter’s angry words. She’d already figured out the tears didn’t accomplish anything, but that didn’t stop her eyes from burning.

When had everything become so complicated? She wanted to say that it had all started when Jake had first walked into her life, but she suspected that wasn’t true. There had to be a reason she was so susceptible to his formidable masculine charms. It couldn’t just be the jeans. Maybe she’d spent too much time alone. Maybe her life was so out of balance with all her energy focused on work that when a good-looking man turned up in her office, she completely lost it.

She rolled out another piece of dough and wished it were that simple. Her reaction to Jake wasn’t just because he was good-looking. She knew lots of handsome men, had even dated some of them. But no one had tempted her the way he did. It had to be chemical. Or maybe it was the fierce way he’d protected his daughter from the very beginning. Maybe it was his willingness to admit he’d

made a mistake. Whatever the reason, Jake had gotten past her barriers and deep inside her heart. She wanted not to care about him, but it had been too late for that for days.

She was moving the roll to the cookie sheet when she heard a noise behind her. She recognized the light footsteps, but didn’t turn around.

“Annie?” Laurel said softly.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry I said those things to you. I don’t really hate you.”

Anne pulled off another length of dough and started to roll it. “Thank you for apologizing. I know you don’t hate me, honey”

Laurel moved close until she was standing next to the counter. Anne didn’t want to look at her, but she couldn’t resist a glance. Her daughter’s face was pale, her eyes wide and red from tears.

“You’re still mad, huh?” Laurel asked.

“I was never mad.” Anne hesitated, then decided she was tired of all the lies in this house. She was through with walking around on tiptoe so that no one was offended. The teenager was old enough to hear the truth. “I’m still hurt, Laurel. I appreciate the apology. I’m not going to punish you by pretending to be angry or not talking to you, but I can’t act as if nothing happened. Saying Tm sorry’ doesn’t take away the fact that you hurt me.”

“I’m sorry.” Laurel’s lower lip started to quiver.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel badly,” she said, putting the last roll on the cookie sheet then wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I’m pointing out a fact of life. If you say mean things to people, if you lash out without thinking, you’re going to hurt people. They have to live with what you said, and you have to learn to live with hurting them.” She placed her hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “I have to live with the fact I chose to give you up for adoption. It wasn’t a decision I made easily. I have regrets, but I’m not sure it wasn’t the right decision. We’ll never know. I was very young, but I did the best I could.”

“Daddy said that you were only four years older than me when you got pregnant.”

“That’s true,” she said, faintly surprised Jake had been defending her. “I had a college scholarship I didn’t want to lose. I talked about what to do with my mother. We decided that giving you up to a nice family would be best for everyone.” She squeezed Laurel’s shoulder, then lowered her hand to her side. “There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you, wondered where you were, what you were doing, what you looked like. Especially on your birthday.”

Laurel smiled. “You remember when it is?”

“Of course. It’s my birthday, too.”

“Really?”

Anne nodded. “You were born on my eighteenth birthday.” She remembered that it had been the first time in her life there hadn’t been a big family celebration with her mother and Becky Sue. She’d been in that small hospital labor room, fighting the pain in her body as she gave birth, and the pain in her heart as she realized she was going to have to give up her child.

“Did you cry when they took me away?” Laurel asked, staring at the floor.

Anne reached out and touched the girl’s chin, forcing her to look up. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t try to blink them away.

“They wouldn’t let me hold you,” Anne said softly. “I begged them to. They said it was for the best. Later, one of the nurses told me that you were already gone. I felt as if there were a hole inside of me so big I’d never fill it up. And I didn’t. Not until I met you.” She swallowed and brushed away the moisture on her cheek. “Ellen is your mother. She raised you, taught you, was there when you were hurt or sick. She’ll always be your mother. I’m your mother, too, in a different way I’ll always love you, no matter what you say or do. You can be mean to me, if that’s what you have to do to survive, Laurel. You can’t make me hate you.”