Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (22 page)

“Helping a person clean up china isn’t charity,” Jenna said. “It’s just being polite.”

“Well, go be polite with someone else, would ya?” Marcy got up and stomped from the room.

Jenna would’ve gone after her, if Minnie hadn’t stopped her. “Leave her be, Jenna. She’s like a feral cat. She’ll come around, but not by force.”

Beau snorted. “I’m afraid Jenna doesn’t know any other way. Besides, Marcy might need a little forcefulness. It seems she’s the reason that Pastor Robbins thinks the henhouse is back in the prostitution business.”

“You don’t say.” Minnie looked at the doorway. “Well, I’ll be sure to have a word with her about that.”

“And I’ll talk with Pastor Robbins,” Beau said, “and clear things up.”

“No.” Minnie rolled over to a closet and pulled out
a broom. “I think it would be best if we let Marcy do that. It will be a good lesson for her about cleaning up her own messes.” She handed the broom and dustpan to Jenna. “You’re stayin’ the night, aren’t you? I don’t like the thought of you driving back in the dark.”

“Thanks for the offer, ma’am, but I’m afraid I need to get back to Bramble.” Jenna hesitated. “But do you mind if I go down to The Jungle Room? I wanted to get another look at that painting by the artist in Houston, in case I want to buy one for myself.”

Minnie’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Help yourself. I’d go down with you, but I’m feeling a little tired. So I think I’ll call it a night.”

A concerned look settled over Beau’s features, and he pushed back from the table. “Before you go to bed, I’d like a few words with you, Min.”

Minnie didn’t look happy about it, but she didn’t argue as she rolled out of the kitchen with Beau right behind her.

After rinsing off her dishes, Jenna headed down to The Jungle Room. The photo albums weren’t dated, but it only took going through the first two on the top shelf to realize that they were organized chronologically. She skipped the first two shelves and started with the third. She went through hens dressed in poodle skirts, crop pants, and bell-bottoms before she got to the puffed bangs, ruffled skirts, and leg warmers of the eighties. She was almost through two complete eighties albums before she stumbled upon the woman in the picture.

Wanting to be sure it wasn’t just the poor lighting, Jenna carried the album over to the zebra couch and switched on the lamp. She pulled the picture out of her pocket and compared the two. Her hair was curlier in
the henhouse photo and her smile brighter, but it was the same woman.

She took out the picture and flipped it over. One word stared back at her. Olive. Jenna found more pictures of the woman, and in all of them, she was smiling brightly. No doubt happy that she’d gotten rid of her unwanted child.

Unwanted.

Jenna had always felt like the oddball, but she had never felt unwanted. The Scroggses had loved her and given her everything two parents could possibly give a child. It was funny, but now that her family wasn’t her family, she suddenly realized how much she appreciated her parents. Everything they had done for her had been out of love. Even their dislike of a man they didn’t think was good enough for their daughter.

Getting to her feet, Jenna walked over to the phone and dialed her mama’s cell number. It rang only twice before the voicemail picked up. Not knowing what to say, she placed the phone back in the cradle.

She hesitated for only a moment before she picked it back up and dialed Davy’s number. She needed to hear a familiar voice. Needed to know that her life hadn’t been completely changed with just one photograph and scribbled note. Unfortunately, the voice that came through the receiver wasn’t familiar.

“Hello,” a woman said.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said, “I must’ve dialed the wrong number.” Before she could hang up and try again, the woman stopped her.

“Are you calling for Davy? He’s in the shower, but if you hold on, I’ll get him.” There was a muffled sound, the creak of the door, then Davy’s muted voice.

“You coming in with me, babe?”

Jenna slammed the phone back in the cradle, then stood there trying to absorb the fact that Davy had found another “babe.” It should’ve hurt more than it did. Or maybe she was already so upset that she couldn’t distinguish between the pain of losing her family and the pain of losing her boyfriend.

The tear that dripped down her face took her by surprise. She had never been a crier. Crying was for weak girls who didn’t know how to fight for what they wanted. Jenna knew how to fight. She just wasn’t sure who, or what, she was fighting for anymore.

Maybe herself.

B
EAU HAD EXPECTED TO HAVE
his conversation with Minnie in the library. Instead, she went straight to her bedroom. It concerned him more than he cared to admit. She had just taken a nap that day, and now she was going to bed early? The Minnie that he remembered didn’t nap, nor did she go to bed before midnight.

“I’m calling Dr. Mathers,” he said when they reached her room.

“No, you’re not.” Minnie rolled toward the bathroom. “He’s already had to come out here way too much as it is. The pills he gave me for my arthritis are just makin’ me a little tired, is all.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Beau stared at the door. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get information out of Minnie. She had always been as tight-lipped about her personal affairs as Doc Mathers was about his patients. Still, Beau wasn’t going to leave there until he had some answers. Since the old woman would no doubt take her good sweet time in the
bathroom in hopes that he would give up and leave, he walked over to the bed and sat down.

He had been back a couple times since the house had been remodeled, but neither time had he been in Minnie’s room. He was glad to see that Brant had made provisions for her handicap. The room was big enough to maneuver her wheelchair around, the clothing bars had been lowered in the closet, and the bed was at just the right height so Minnie could easily get in and out of it from her chair.

His gaze wandered over to the nightstand. Three amber prescription bottles sat on the top, and Beau didn’t waste any time picking them up to examine them. Two he didn’t recognize, but the last one had his heart thumping in overtime. A wave of nausea washed over him just as the bathroom door opened and Minnie wheeled out. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes intent.

“By the look on your face, I’d say that you recognize that one.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s what I get for leavin’ my medicine out for snoopy folks to look at.”

His grip tightened on the bottle. “Cancer?”

“That’s what Doc Mathers thinks,” she rolled closer. “But I never put much store in doctors.” She pulled the bottle from his numb fingers and set it back on the nightstand.

“What kind?” he whispered.

“Breast,” she said, “which surprised the heck out of me, considerin’ I always thought my lungs would be the ones to succumb to the disease. Lie down, Beauregard, before you pass out.”

Since he felt like he was about to do exactly that, he listened. But even when he was completely stretched out and staring up at the ceiling, he didn’t feel any better. It
was strange, but it was like he was reliving the first time the doctors had told him he had cancer. It was like someone had set a five-hundred-pound barbell on his chest and said, “Okay, now figure out how to live with this.” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think.

A wrinkled hand reached out and took his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I figure you must be thinkin’ about your own cancer, which is exactly why I decided to keep mine a secret. You don’t need the worry, and neither does Brant. Not when he has just found happiness with my granddaughter, Elizabeth. They don’t need something like this taking it away.”

Beau wanted to jump up from the bed and yell and scream out his frustration. Instead, he took a couple deep, even breaths and sat up.

“It’s going to be okay, Minnie.” He squeezed her hand. “Breast cancer has a good success rate. Once you get the surgery—”

“I’m not sure I’m gettin’ the surgery.” She released his hand.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that I’m not sure I want to have my breasts removed. They may be old and wrinkled, but they’ve served me for over sixty-some-odd years. And I won’t just slice them off because some doctor tells me to.” She swatted at him. “Now move out of the way so I can lie down.”

“Damn it, Minnie!” He came to his feet. “You need to get this done now. The longer you wait, the less your chances of survival.”

“I’ve survived long enough.” She maneuvered the chair next to the bed, almost running over Beau’s toes, before she dropped down the arm of her chair. “The
henhouse is up and running, I’ve contacted the hens I’ve needed to, and my daughter and granddaughter are happy. What more can I ask for?” She pulled the covers back and scooted over onto the mattress. Regardless of his anger, Beau quickly moved the chair and helped position her legs under the sheet.

“This isn’t just about you, Minnie.” He lifted the sheet back over her. “It’s about the people who love you. The people who want to see you get better.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say.” She fluffed up the pillow behind her head before she lay down and adjusted the covers over her breasts. “Turn off the light when you leave, Beauregard.” She closed her eyes and dismissed him.

Beau just stood there, a thousand questions racing through his head. How large was the lump? Had it spread to her lymph nodes? And the most important question: How long did she have if she didn’t do the surgery?

A loud snore pulled him from his thoughts. It seemed while he was worrying, Minnie had gone to sleep. As much as he wanted to wake her up and continue the argument, he didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good. Minnie was as stubborn as the day was long.

He left the room, shutting off the light and closing the door behind him. He walked aimlessly through the house, his mind a mass confusion of thoughts and emotion. As much as he wanted to criticize Minnie for her actions, he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done exactly the same thing? Hadn’t he failed to tell his family about the mass in his lung that the x-ray had found?

Like Minnie, he hadn’t wanted to worry them. But now that he was on the other side of cancer, he realized
how hurt you felt when people you loved didn’t share life-threatening information with you. Beau might have thought that he was saving his family worry, but what he was actually doing was taking away their opportunity to grieve with him. Their opportunity to spend as much time with him as they could in case he died.

Suddenly, Beau realized that cancer wasn’t just about the victim. It was also about the people who loved you. The people who wanted you to stay on this earth for as long as you could. No matter how many surgeries it took. Or how many radiation or chemo treatments. Yes, it was your body and you should make the final decision. But that decision could not exclude the people who loved you. Their love gave them the right to weigh in.

Beau didn’t think he could feel any worse after hearing about Minnie’s cancer, but he did. He felt like a selfish idiot for not understanding what he was doing to his family sooner. And what he was doing to Brant. Minnie had talked about Brant being happy, but how happy could his brother be carrying around the secret that Beau had given him?

Hell, he’d just found out about Minnie and already felt like he had to tell someone or crumble beneath the weight of such a burden. Walking over to the elevator, he punched the down button. The Jungle Room looked unoccupied when he got there. He thought he had missed Jenna until he walked farther into the room and spotted her sitting on the floor with photo albums scattered around her. It was hard to summon up a smile, but he did it.

“I thought you had slipped out without saying good-bye, which isn’t very considerate of a girlfriend.” She glanced up at him, and his smile fizzled. Her pretty blue
eyes held a sadness that reflected the way he felt. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. “So I guess you found what you were looking for,” he said as he moved closer.

She nodded and held up a picture. “My mother was a hen.”

Beau took the picture and studied it. The woman had long blond hair like Jenna, but other than that, he didn’t see the resemblance.

He handed the picture back. “So what are you going to do?”

“Well, I’m going to find her, of course. If Minnie won’t tell me the truth, I’ll have to ask my mother—or my adoptive mother. It’s funny, I always knew I was different than my brother and sisters, but I never thought I was this different.” She swallowed hard, as if trying to fight back tears. It was so like Jenna to think that tears were a weakness.

He held out a hand. “Come here.” She hesitated for only a second before she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet and into his arms. Most upset women nestled against his chest like little lost kittens, allowing him to do all the holding, but Jenna gave as good as she got. Her arms encircled his waist, and she hugged him as tightly as he hugged her. The feel of her warm body pressed against his took away some of his fear about Minnie, and he released a sigh.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against the side of her head. “It doesn’t change who you are. You are still Jenna Jay Scroggs.” He stroked her back in soothing circles. “And you are still the most annoying woman I’ve ever met.”

A puff of laughter came out of her mouth. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones I really like.”

She pulled back and looked at him. “Do you really like me, Beau?”

He had been trying to tease a smile out of her, but looking into her blue eyes, he realized that he’d spoken the truth. He liked Jenna. He liked her dry wit and her sassy tone. He liked her soft heart and the way she refused to give up the fight—any fight. But mostly, he liked the way she fit in his arms.

“Much more than I want to,” he whispered right before he kissed her.

B
EAU’S KISS NOT ONLY EASED
the pain Jenna felt at finding out she was adopted. It made her feel something other than sorrow. It made her feel like she belonged. Like she belonged right here in this man’s arms.