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Jubal nodded. “I get the impression that once a person starts working here, he pretty much stays for life. Is that the way you feel?”
Was that his subtle way of asking about her plans for the future, Angela wondered. Or was he simply making conversation? Either way, it felt more than strange to be standing a few feet away from him, hearing his voice. For so long now he’d simply been a memory. Right now, she wasn’t quite sure which was the best—the reality of being in his presence or the memory of being in his arms.
“I…right now I’m just concentrating on getting through the last of my college studies. This job is a blessing because Miss Geraldine allows me enough time to deal with my classes.”
Interest flickered across his face. “Oh. You’re still working on a college degree?”
Maybe at one time in her life, she’d behaved as though being his wife was going to be her career. Dear God, how humiliating. The two of them had only dated three months, yet Angela had already started planning a future with him. She’d been aware that he’d dated the mayor’s daughter before her, but she’d truly believed that Evette was out of his life. He’d even insisted that the woman had only been someone to spend time with, not someone he seriously cared about. But then Evette had started making ugly noises, demanding that he come back to her. Jubal had refused. Then she’d announced she was pregnant, and everything had changed. Angela’s life had changed.
Glancing away from him, she said, “Yes, I’m studying to be a teacher. But classes have broken for the semester right now.”
Across the few feet of space separating them, she saw admiration in his green eyes. The reaction surprised her. It also made her think. Five years ago she and Jubal had been passionately involved, but they had not really known each other. Not in the way they should have.
“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a teacher,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
She tried to tell herself that his compliment was hollow, that it meant nothing to her now. But she couldn’t stop a tiny spurt of pleasure from spiraling through her.
Shrugging, she said, “I like working with children and I think the job will suit me.”
“Elementary or high school?”
“Both, if I can pass the certification exam.”
“You’re a smart woman, Angie. You’ll pass.”
There it was, she thought with an inward groan. That endearing smile of his, the one that had once melted her heart, made her believe that she was the most special woman in his life. She couldn’t let it affect her again. She had to be strong, had to remember that he couldn’t be trusted. Ever.
“Well, that’s a long way from now,” she told him. “I still have another semester to go before I get my degree. And then I’ll have to do my student teaching.”
As the warmth of the flames seeped through her clothing, she noticed that everything about the house was nice and neat. That didn’t surprise her. The Jubal she’d known had been a fairly tidy person. What did pique her curiosity was the absence of family photos. The only sign he even had a family at all was a small photo of his sister sitting on a nearby end table.
As she recalled, he’d been close to his family. Maybe he hadn’t always agreed with them, but he’d loved them. As for Angela, the time she’d spent with the Jamisons had been brief and strained. They’d not exactly approved of their son’s relationship with a much younger woman. Especially one from a poor background. But Angela had never blamed the Jamisons. She’d realized they were only looking out for their son’s interests. Now she could only wonder if there had been a rift in the family.
“Well, I should be getting back to the ranch house, Jubal. Cook is waiting on me.”
He cast her a pointed look. “You’re in a big hurry to get away from me. I wonder what that means? That I’m getting under your skin, or that you hate the very sight of me?”
Stepping away from the warm hearth, she walked over to him. Her expression was as cool and distant as the high winter clouds and it chilled Jubal even more than the cold wind blowing across the Sandbur.
“Look, Jubal, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have no interest in starting things up—” her lips pressed together in a grim line “—where we left off.”
Did he want to start things up with Angie? Jubal asked himself. A few days ago, he might have convinced himself that she was in the past and out of his life. But looking at her now, he was staggered by how much he wanted to start everything over with her.
“What would you say if I told you that I had an interest?”
For one brief second he saw her bottom lip quiver, but then a frown took the flash of vulnerable emotion away.
“That you’re wasting your time,” she said flatly.
For nearly five years he’d told himself to forget this woman, Jubal reminded himself, as his gaze wandered over her silky, brown hair, the rosy color staining her cheeks. He’d not searched for her because he’d figured she’d moved on and married someone else. He knew now that he’d made the wrong choice. He should have searched to the ends of the earth.
His throat thick, he said, “I don’t blame you for hating me.”
Her nostrils flared. “Hate is a mighty strong word, Jubal. And I like to think I’m not capable of hating anyone. But you—well, I just regret that I ever trusted you.”
The groan inside him was so great Jubal couldn’t stifle it. What could he possibly do or say to make up for the ugly mess he’d dragged her through?
Angela needs years of love and devotion, Jubal. Not just sweet words or kind acts.
Jubal realized the little voice in his head was right, but he also knew he had to try to fix things at the moment, otherwise, he’d never have a chance at anything long-term with this woman.
“Angie, God knows I didn’t want to marry Evette. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
She stared at him so coldly that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the front door had jarred open and the chill racing down his spine was actually from the north wind.
“Jubal, I’m not nineteen anymore. I don’t believe everything that spouts from a man’s mouth. Especially yours. So don’t insult my intelligence by trying to feed me a bunch of manure.”
She didn’t have to point out that she’d grown from the nineteen-year-old that had knocked him off his feet the first time he’d met her. She no longer looked at him with love and admiration. Now her eyes were full of mistrust and forced independence.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Angie, it ripped me apart to turn away from you and go to Evette.”
She looked away from him. “Maybe it did. But you obviously managed to glue yourself together enough to marry her. And I—”
“I didn’t have a choice!” he interrupted.
Her eyes bore down on his and he wondered how something as soft as sweet chocolate could look as hard as steel.
“The way I see it, you could have dealt with things differently. You could have offered her child support and help with raising the child,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t have to go so far as to marry her!”
Frustration clenched his jaw. “Everything in life isn’t just right or wrong, black or white. And for your information, I tried giving Evette those options. She wouldn’t hear of it. She kept insisting that she’d swallow a bottle of pills and end her life and the baby’s.”
Angela shook her head. “Evette was too in love with herself to do such a thing and you know it. She was the town princess. She refused to accept that there was anything she wanted that she couldn’t have. And the baby was a convenient way of snaring you.” She turned away from him and walked back to the fireplace. As she stared into the flames, she spoke in a raw, accusing voice, “When you and I first met, Jubal, I admired you for being honest with me about dating Evette. But you also assured me that your relationship with her had never been serious—and that it was over. Then I find out—”
“It wasn’t serious! And as far as I was concerned, it was over.”
Clearly aghast, she stared over her shoulder at him. “Not serious! You were making love to the woman!”
“That was before I met you. Not after. And having sex and making love is hardly the same thing,” he countered defensively.
Sarcasm twisted her lips. “So that makes it okay.”
“Nothing that happened to us was okay. But it would be better—for both of us, I think—if you could understand—”
“Well, I don’t and I never will.” She pulled her gloves from her pockets and began to jerk them on. “I’ve heard enough, Jubal. This is pointless. We were over long ago and rehashing everything is—”
Pushed by need, he walked over and curved his hands over the top of her shoulders. Instantly, her eyes closed and he watched her soft pink lips began to tremble once again. Everything in him longed to bend his head, to kiss away her pain. But he didn’t want her to get the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was physical gratification.
Like heavy stones, regret lay in the pit of his stomach. “Angie—I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
She sounded shaken, accusing, bitter and Jubal was reminded all over again that the choices he’d made five years ago hadn’t just affected his life. They had clearly impacted Angie in all the wrong ways and he couldn’t feel any guiltier about that.
“I’m asking you to forgive me,” he said lowly.
Angela’s heart was racing out of control, urging her to run out the door as fast as she could, but her knees were too weak to move. And when he tugged her toward him, she fell awkwardly against his chest.
Planting her hands against his hard muscles, she pried enough space between them to allow her to look up at him. “Why should my forgiveness matter to you now, Jubal? Surely your conscience has gotten over abadoning me.”
For one split second Angela believed she saw real torment on his face. Or was that just delusional wishing on her part?
“I’ve never gotten over you, Angie. Never.”
Oh God, she wanted to believe him. Because, like it or not, she’d never been able to forget him. Even after he’d hurt her so badly, even after all these years, she’d not been able to turn off the memories of their time together.
“Please, Jubal—”
“Angie, there’s something you need to know. The baby—Evette’s baby—wasn’t mine. After she miscarried, she confessed to me. The real father was a married businessman from Victoria.”
His revelation struck her, numbing her with shock. “Oh, God! No!” she whispered hoarsely.
He nodded stiffly. “See, Angie, I was manipulated, lied to, betrayed. Evette only used me. When her lover refused to divorce his wife and marry her, she turned to her old boyfriend—me, the sucker that I was. I thought I was doing the noble thing. I wanted that child to have a real family. But in the end my efforts made no difference and I lost you in the process.”
Crushed by the utter waste, the injustice of it all, Angela struggled to breathe, to even think. She had to get out of there and away from him before she broke into screaming sobs.
Quickly, without giving him a chance to stop her, she jerked away from his grasp and stumbled out the door. By the time she reached the truck and climbed inside, she was shaking all over. And as she quickly drove away, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to know if he was watching her leave. The same way she’d watched him leave five years ago.
Driving back to the ranch house, Angela turned the heater on high and hoped the warm air would help her shivers subside. She didn’t want Cook to see her in such a shaken state or have to explain why she and Jubal and Melanie weren’t a family. It was simply too painful. Yet she had no doubt that Jubal would eventually see Melanie—their daughter—and then what? Would he put two and two together?
You’ve got to tell him, Angie. The man has lost a child he’d believed to be his. He had no way of knowing that at the same time you were carrying his baby. Even if he did hurt you, now more than ever, he has a right to know he has a daughter.
The voice inside her head was like a thorn in the heel. She couldn’t move forward or backward without it hurting and she wondered how much more time would have to pass before she found the courage to finally pull it out.
Two nights later, Angela was sitting on the couch flipping through a text book for the coming semester, when Melanie, with an armload of storybooks, plopped down beside her.
“Read me a book, please Mommy? The one about the elephant that carries the sick little boy to the doctor.”
Smiling indulgently, Angela reached to take the book from her daughter’s grasp. “You like that story, don’t you?”
Melanie’s little head bobbed up and down. “Yeah! ’Cause the boy gets well. And everybody’s happy—even the elephant.”
“All right. Snuggle close so you can see the pictures,” Angela instructed her as she helped her daughter scoot next to her side.
Thirty minutes later, she’d not only read the elephant story to Melanie, she’d gone through four more books and was about to start on the fifth. Then a knock sounded on the front door.
Excited at the idea of a visitor, Melanie jumped from the couch and raced toward the door. “Somebody’s here! Maybe it’s Jess!”
“Mel, remember what I told you about opening the door? We have to see who’s knocking first.”
Jigging from one foot to the other, Melanie waited impatiently while her mother turned on the porch light and peeped out the small square window.
“Who is it, Mommy? Is it Jess?”
Shocked, Angela stared numbly at the man standing on the small porch, his back to the door. Even without seeing his face, she knew it was Jubal.
What was he doing on her doorstep, she wondered wildly. She’d not seen or spoken to him since she’d delivered the baskets to his house two days ago.
Darting a frantic glance at Melanie, she realized there was nothing to do but invite him in and hope he wouldn’t recognize his own features on her little face.
“It’s a friend,” she finally said to Melanie. “So be on your best behavior. Okay?”
“I’m good, Mommy.” Melanie’s grin was nearly as wide as her face. “You know that.”
Bracing herself, Angela opened the door and waited for Jubal to turn toward her. When he did, she was surprised to see a huge poinsettia plant in his arms and another box jammed under his arm. But it was the sexy grin on his face that really snagged her attention.
“Hello, Angela. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
What could she say? That he’d interrupted her days, her nights, her very dreams for the past five years? No. Boiling the past over and over only cooked up a pot of trouble. She needed to deal with this man in a civil, impersonal way. But the flutter of her heart mocked that plan.
“You’re not. Come in,” she invited.
He was about to step over the threshold when he suddenly spotted Melanie’s gamine face peeping curiously around her mother’s pant leg. He smiled at the girl, then lifted a questioning gaze to Angela.
Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that she felt faint, but she somehow managed to shove the door wide and gesture for him to enter. Once he was inside the small living room, Angela quickly shut the door and turned to face him.
She sensed Melanie clinging to her side, waiting to see if the tall man with the big black hat was someone she wanted to get to know.
“I didn’t expect you to be babysitting,” he said. “I should have called first. But I figured you’d tell me not to come. So I invited myself.”
Breathing deeply, Angela looked down at Melanie. There were so many things about Jubal that she could see in her daughter—their daughter—but hopefully, for tonight at least, he wouldn’t recognize them.
“I…actually, I’m not babysitting, Jubal. Melanie is my daughter.”
Chapter Four
Jubal stared at her in stunned silence. Then finally, after what seemed like ages, he seemed to collect himself.
“Your daughter,” he repeated in stunned fascination. “I didn’t realize—you never mentioned her.”
Angela shrugged casually, but in reality she felt as though a volcano was erupting inside her. “It—the chance to speak of Melanie never came up.”
The look Jubal slanted her said he doubted her excuse, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he squatted to Melanie’s height and offered the child his big hand.
Never one to shy away from strangers for long, Melanie plopped her tiny hand in his palm and tilted her head from side to side as she studied him candidly.
“What’s your name?” she asked bluntly.
“My name is Jubal. And yours is Melanie?”
