Second Chance Ranch (4 page)

A scowl pulled her brows together. Jess Eklund had no right to offer the ranch to his best buddy, Zac Davidson.

Dragging her finger down the side of the glass, she drew through the condensation as a deep breath cleared her mind. No one was going to take her ranch from her. She had everything in place to get the loan. All she had to do was come up with a planting plan. How difficult could that be?

Across the old, scarred oak table mail lay scattered where she’d tossed it. Bills. Advertisements. The same old stuff. Her gaze snagged on the cream-colored envelope so similar to Trevor Hockett’s stationary. She pulled it out from between a bill from the local lumber company and an ad for the week’s specials at the grocery store. No green foil embossed logo in the corner, just the bold, black lettering of Stone & Stone, A Professional Corporation, Attorneys and Counselors.

Memories of receiving similar correspondence zipped through her brain along with other tidbits of her life better of forgotten.

Her father’s proud face when she was awarded her full-ride scholarship…freshman year college…a promising future.

Zac Davidson.

Dreams. Lies. Illusions.

Her mouth went dry even as the edge of the envelope pressed into her moist palm.

She’d received hoards of correspondences from Stone & Stone her freshman year at Denver University. Lisa Morrison, her roommate, had speculated all sorts of scenarios while Jen avoided confiding in her. They were both nursing students, attending on academic scholarships. Both viewed as the cream of the crop of that year’s incoming class. Both were expected to set an example. Jen swore not to do anything to dispel that honor and trust.

Until she couldn’t hide her pregnancy any longer.

The weekend before finals, Jen melted. She’d gripped the letter from the attorneys in one hand and pounded the dining room table with the other. For six long months she’d successfully avoided the reality of her situation. She’d categorized her pregnancy and slipped her condition into a slot. It helped her not think about it and instead concentrate on classes. On grades. On her future.

One day at a time.

But this letter, this letter was different. Instead of offering suggestions for her to consider when giving a child for adoption, it contained the name of a couple wanting to help her. Wanting her baby. Wanting to relieve her of her burden.

Despite the warm kitchen, an icy shiver raced down her back. A burden. She had viewed God’s gift as a burden. Jen squeezed her eyes shut refusing to give into the tears that always surfaced when she thought about her child. Her and Zac’s child. A child whom Zac was never to know. She’d handled the situation fine back then, and she’d take her secret to her grave.

Love doesn’t pay the bills.

His words from that very afternoon echoed through her mind confirming her decision to surrender their child. They’d been young; they had dreams; they had the rest of their lives before them.

And he never said he’d loved her.

Her eyes misted, but she wiped away the urge to wallow. She took a couple of deep breaths and looked around the kitchen she’d redecorated with a coat of fresh paint and whimsical curtains. It had been a hard decision, one knew she had to make…alone. Every day, the doubt nudged at her conscience; and every day, she refused to wonder if maybe there’d been another way. She closed her eyes as butterflies took flight in her stomach just as they always did when she thought about her daughter, remembering the small miracle of life she’d nurtured for nine months, reliving the time when Zac Davidson had been her whole life. The whispery flutter faded away as it always did, along with the heart gripping pain that used to wrench tears from her. She opened her lids, focusing on the cream envelope with the emerald logo. God had helped her through the most difficult decision of her life and she knew she’d done the right thing. Nothing could ever be worse than giving up her child.

Jen fingered the letter. She hadn’t heard from Stone & Stone since the final hearing. Tearing open the envelope with ultimate care, Jen withdrew a single piece of stationary the same cream color as the envelope.

Oh Lord, grant me strength to read this.

The letterhead hadn’t changed in twelve years, and neither had the bold signature of Montgomery Stone at the bottom of the page. Her gaze settled on
Dear Ms. O’Reilly
…

She skimmed the rather perfunctory introduction, and then reading word for word the reason for this heart-wrenching intrusion into her life. Air pressed from her lungs as her gaze locked on words. Jen wiped her eyes and focused on the impossible news.

…similar blood type…history of blood disorder…given birth to any other children…

Reading the words over again, and then again, a trail of acid burned from her stomach to her throat.

The paper slid to the floor as she fingered her collarbone. “My baby has cancer.”

The walls of the kitchen closed in on her.
Cancer, cancer, cancer.
Faded memories of her mother danced in the shadows of her mind. Her smile, her laugh, her touch. She’d been gone for almost twenty years. Few details remained other than childhood dreams where her mother had held her and promised nothing bad was going to happen.

We’ll beat this cancer.

Everything will be fine.

Jen swiped at her eyes and blew her nose into the paper towels she’d grabbed off the counter. She lunged from the table so fast, the chair fell over. She paced around the room, mauling the paper in her grip.

No, nothing had turned out fine. Her mother had died leaving Jen lost, unable to figure out the next step in her life. She swallowed the burning in her throat. She’d wanted to climb in her daddy’s lap and hear from him everything would be okay…they were a family…he wasn’t going anywhere…they’d always be together. But that wasn’t how it worked out. Her dad returned to his practice at the clinic; Kade never came out of his room.

She had no one.

Stopping in front of her living room window, she stared at the playground next to the recently mowed soccer field. A cluster of boys climbed over the log fort built from fallen timbers gathered around the property. The flat-board seats and slings of a sturdy, rustic swing set offered a pair of giggling girls a chance to touch the sky with their toes. A jungle gym of climbing rods, curved slides and colorful canopies stretched across the end of the lot. Minimal equipment for now, and the kids didn’t mind the lack of fancy contraptions; they reveled in their ability to navigate the simple therapeutic exercises designed to build their confidence. The whole purpose of this camp was to help the kids strength muscles, build stamina and succeed.

A knot formed in her throat. She never dreamed that one day, her own daughter might be one of these kids.

Grabbing her purse, she ran out the door toward her truck. She’d get more information down at the clinic. History was not going to repeat itself. She planned to fight for whatever medical care available.

Her daughter was not going to die.

* * *

“It’s so nice having you home.” Grace Davidson patted the down comforter on his bed. The dog didn’t wait for another invitation and jumped up. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, and Fletcher, get down.”

Zac ruffled the neck of the golden retriever. “It’s okay, isn’t it boy? This bed is big enough for the both of us.” He flopped down making the entire mattress jump.

The old green blanket on his bed spoke of comfort and security. All year ‘round, he would kick back on his bed and settle into the comfy softness. No matter how hot the days got, the evenings cooled to a comfortable temp while nights could get down right cold. He’d done some of his best thinking stretched out with his fingers linked behind his head and the smell of softener surrounding him.

His room sat as he’d left it, not a speck of dust to be found. Rodeo buckles lined up on his dresser; football and rodeo team pictures scattered on the wall; the complete set of Hardy Boys mysteries on the bottom shelf of his bookcase. He didn’t know whether to draw comfort or alarm from the lack of change. “I’m not very hungry, Mom. Don’t make a big deal over me.”

“Accept you as a challenge - yes; make a big deal over you - no. Never have; never will. Still, you could use a bit of fussing over. No sense in always being the strong one when you have a perfectly good family ready to rally around you.”

“I don’t need rallying around.”

“Oh, honey,” the familiar determination edged with compassion touched her tone, “you do. This is a big change in your life. I never expected you, of all my sons, to move back home. You were always the explorer, the seeker. You were never content here at home, yet, here you are. There’s something on your mind whether you realize it or not.”

He dug his fingers into the dog’s fur and scratched until Fletcher rolled on his back and wiggled. “Why is it so strange that I want to come home? The ranch is here. I can run the financial operations of Davidson Enterprises over the Internet and local bank connections. There’s a great highway system just past the ridge and Gunnison has an airport.” He turned his palms up, half expecting his mother to fill them with her skewed logic. “Gabe runs the ranching; I run the money. And if Nick ever gets his act together, he was born for PR. If anything,
he’s
the one that shouldn’t come back to Hawk Ridge — not that he has a mind to.”

“No need for insensitivity, Isaac.” Graced swiped her hand at his knee. “We were talking about you, not your brother.”

Golden hair and blue eyes came to mind. A laugh that put wind chimes to shame. Jennifer held the key to his dreams nestled on a twenty-four hundred acre spread. “Maybe I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“Food’s different around here now. Since your father’s heart attack,” his mother explained as Zac concentrated on the topic of food, not blonds. “I’ve been trying to find different ways to make chicken taste like beef. It hasn’t worked. I don’t know what I’d do if Melanie wasn’t around. She can convince your father eating sand is good for him.”

“Now that, I’d like to see.”

“Hush up. Your father hasn’t been an easy man to cook for. I tried preparing his favorite dishes like they told me to - substituting this, that and the other - but your dad would have none of it. Melanie comes around with salads and a few fish recipes, and all of a sudden, he’s ready to sample the eats of the world.”

His sister-in-law had a way with Martin Davidson. Glad to see someone did. His dad had always run the ranch with the attitude of “this is how we’ve always done it.” As the Circle D financial officer, Zac had faced more than one stonewall conversation with his father when suggesting a new investment or commodity avenue. Since Melanie and her son Jason had joined the family, things had changed. For Grace and Martin.

And especially for his brother, Gabe. Shaken up his life; kept him off balance. A completely new experience for the ever dependable Gabriel Davidson.

Tucking one hand behind his head and scratching Fletcher with the other, Zac settled back into the comfortable routine of looking at the world for all it was worth. Being overly responsible had never been his problem. He’d pulled every ounce of adventure out of life. “I’m glad she’s making Dad see another side of life.”

“Well now, don’t go giving her too much credit just because she’s getting him to eat egg white omelets and grilled chicken. Your dad is still as stubborn as they come.”

Zac raised a brow. “If she can get him to eat egg whites instead of biscuits and gravy, I say there’s hope yet.”

“Sweetheart, in God’s eyes, there’s hope for us all.” She patted his arm on her way to the door. “Speaking of hope, have you stopped by the Trails’ End? Jennifer has done a lot with that place. Does she know you want it?”

“Yeah.” His lighthearted mood drained as if flushed from his peace of mind. Their confrontation had scored grooves in his gray matter and touched his buttons. Something Jen had always been good at. “We talked about it.”

Grace stopped and slid her hand up the door jamb as her eyes grew wide. “I’ll bet that was quite the conversation.”

“We established our strengths and weaknesses.” The dog writhed beside him as Zac scratched large circles on his belly. “Or something like that.”

“That girl’s always been strength, Zac.” Grace stepped back into the room and faced him. “From the moment her mama died, she bucked up and grabbed life by the horns. She took care of her dad.”

Zac sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Fletcher stretched out, reclaiming territory. “And she still thinks it’s her job to take care of the world.”

“Of course.” Grace laughed and shook her head. “That’s why you two always got along. She did the thinking; you did the doing. A more Huck and Tom pair I’ve never seen.”

Grace turned and started down the hall toward the kitchen. Zac followed. “Stupid me, I can’t think of a single fence that needs whitewashing.”

“Whitewashing is just painting old boards to give them new perspective, you know.” They stopped in the kitchen. She nodded for him to sit at the counter as she set a bowl of snap peas in front of him. “I wouldn’t go glossing over too much of the truth.”

He grabbed a hull and snapped the end, pulling the string off with practiced ease. “That ranch is too much for her to handle. Twenty five hundred acres of crops is a lot for anyone to plan, plant and harvest. I’m just trying to make her understand what’s involved.”