скачать книгу бесплатно
Did she mean it? She closed her eyes, wanting him to be gone, wanting to walk back into the house to a sink full of dishes and chores waiting to be done. Those were the things that made sense to her these days.
What also made sense was Meg, and the life they had here, the life they had built for themselves in spite of everything. Bailey had paced the floor alone when her daughter had been colicky. Bailey, alone, had held Meg tightly when a bad dream woke her in the middle of the night.
Cody hadn’t been there, not even for that stormy night when Bailey’s dad had driven her to the hospital.
Her conscience poked at her, telling her that he couldn’t apologize for the things he didn’t know. Cody couldn’t apologize for leaving her to raise a child alone, not when he’d never known about that child. They’d both made mistakes. He didn’t know it, but they both had apologies to make.
“I forgave you a long time ago.” She smiled, feeling the heat of the August sun on her head and back.
“That means a lot to me, Bailey. I want a fresh start, and I didn’t want to make that start thinking about you and what happened.”
What happened—the way he said it made it sound simple and easy to forget. It wasn’t easy to forget a decision that made a person feel like she’d let down not only herself, but everyone who counted on her. Even God.
Maybe Cody was finally starting to understand.
“That’s good, Cody. I hope that this is the change you need.” She paused, unsure of how to proceed. She should tell him about Meg. Before he left she should let him know what she had tried to tell him the last time she saw him.
The screen door thudded softly behind her. Bailey lifted her gaze to his, fearing the truth and the look on Cody’s face. He stared past her, his eyes narrowing against the bright sunshine. As his gaze lingered, Bailey knew that the time for truth had arrived.
It had never happened this way in her dreams.
“Mommy.”
Cody stared at the little girl standing on the porch. He tried to catch his breath, but the weight on his chest pushed down, forcing air from his lungs as his heart hammered against his ribs. He stared into a tiny heart-shaped face he’d never seen before, and yet, and yet, the face seemed so familiar.
The little girl had Bailey’s straight blond hair. She had a rosebud mouth, just like her mom’s. His gaze stopped at her eyes. It was there that he discovered the truth and he knew that Bailey had apologies of her own to give.
Six years of traveling, riding bulls and putting money in the bank for a place of his own, a place he wouldn’t let his own dad buy for him, and it came down to this. It came down to a child with stormy-blue eyes wearing jean shorts, a T-shirt and pink cowboy boots.
Cody felt a huge dose of regret because while he’d been having the time of his life, Bailey had been here raising his daughter alone.
With a million questions and plenty of accusations racing through his mind, he switched his attention back to Bailey. She twisted away from him but not quickly enough for him to miss the streak of red creeping up her neck.
Cowgirls couldn’t lie.
“Go inside, Meg,” Bailey said.
“But I need a drink.”
“Get a juice box out of the fridge. I’ll be in soon.”
“Who is he?” The little girl crossed her tanned arms and gave him the look that said she was the only law in town and he was trespassing. He wanted to smile but he couldn’t. Not yet.
“He’s someone I used to know.”
The little girl nodded and walked back into the house, the screen door slamming behind her. Bailey waited until her daughter, his daughter, too, was out of sight before facing him.
“It looks like I’m not the only one who needs to apologize,” he whispered, not really sure if he could say the words aloud.
He had a daughter. He was six months sober, living in an RV, and he had a daughter.
He was on step 9, and it seemed that Bailey had a Step 9 of her own. Making amends.
“I tried to tell you.” She looked away, the breeze blowing her hair around her face. He remembered the feel of her hair, like soft silk and feathers.
He remembered that being with her had made him believe in himself. For a few short months he had believed he could be something better than his own father had been. Now he couldn’t find that feeling, not with anger boiling to the surface.
“You didn’t try very hard.”
“The day you left the ranch, I told you that I loved you and that we needed to talk. You laughed and walked away because, and I quote, ‘Cowgirls always think they’re in love.’”
As she faced him with his own stupid actions, it was his turn to look away. He focused on the same tree-covered hill her gaze had shot to moments ago. Without really trying, he remembered that day. He remembered getting in his truck and driving away, with her running out of the barn trying to stop him.
He remembered thinking that if he didn’t get away, he would drown in her. More memories returned, along with the knowledge that he had wanted to lose himself in that feeling. That had scared him more than anything. At twenty-five he’d been too afraid of love to take a chance. He’d been afraid of failure.
Now he had a daughter. He was in the middle of a program that included not starting new relationships, and this one had to be taken care of. He had a little girl. He needed to wrap his mind around that fact and what it meant, not just for the moment but for the rest of his life.
“I should have listened to you.” He ran his hand through his hair and shoved his hat back in place. “But you could have told me. You’ve had six years of opportunities to tell me.”
“I left messages for you to call me. After a while I gave up. Wouldn’t you?” She crossed her arms, staring him down with brown eyes that at one time were warmer than cocoa on a winter day. “You were running so fast, Cody. You didn’t want to hear what I had to tell you because you were afraid it would be about love and forever.”
“You should have told me.”
“And have you believing that I was trying to trap you? The day you left Wyoming you made it pretty clear to me that you weren’t looking for ‘forever’ with anyone.”
He needed to sit down. He didn’t want to think about how much he needed a drink. Six months sober, and he wasn’t going to end his sobriety like this.
“Bailey, don’t throw my words back in my face. That was six years ago. I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve been through a lot.” He shook his head and took a step back from her.
“Keep your voice down.”
“And on top of that you want me to be calm about this?”
“I’m sorry.”
He remembered her at twenty-two. She had dreamed of being a famous horse trainer with a ranch and a few kids. He’d been running from those kinds of women, the kind who dreamed of forever.
“I won’t keep you from seeing her.” She made it sound like the offer of the century.
“Of course.”
“In case you’re wondering, she knows that you’re her dad. I haven’t kept that from her. But you’re not on her birth certificate.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe she needed to see me?”
“When would she have seen you? Maybe once or twice a year as you drove on through? Or on TV with a pretty girl on your arm.”
“Is that how you portrayed me to her?”
She sighed and shook her head.
Of course she wouldn’t do that. He knew that much about her. Bailey was kind. She had faith, and he’d taken advantage of her innocence. That had haunted him for years. Her tears had haunted him, too, and her regret.
“I told her that someday she could meet you.”
“That’s great, Bailey.” He took a step back. “I have a daughter and you were going to let me meet her someday?”
“What did you expect from me, Cody?”
“Bailey, I don’t know the right answer to that. I just know that I have a daughter and she’s five years old. Don’t ask me to make sense of this or tell you how I would have reacted a few years ago. I’m a different person today.”
“Older and wiser?”
“Something like that.”
He couldn’t adjust with Bailey staring at him with soft brown eyes and a guilty flush staining her cheeks. He had to get away from her because he didn’t know if he should hug her or throttle her.
“I need to think.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But he could tell that it did. It mattered to him, too.
And he had honestly thought he’d be able to stop by, say his apologies and leave. He’d been surprised on more counts than one. He’d been surprised with a daughter, and surprised that Bailey Cross still had the ability to undo him.
“I have to ride in Springfield tonight.” He walked to his truck, followed by the tongue-wagging blue heeler. He turned when he realized that Bailey was right behind him. “I’m leaving my RV here so that you’ll know I’m coming back. I’m not a twenty-five-year-old kid now, Bailey. I don’t run.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t even go to Springfield.”
“I think you should go, Cody. You can call and we’ll talk this out.” She took a few steps toward him, and he hadn’t counted on the rush of feelings and memories that returned. “I know you can’t miss this ride. I know you’re at the top of the point standings.”
“Bailey, some things are more important than eight seconds on a bull. Family is more important.”
“I know that. But I also know what this world title means to you.”
“I’m coming back,” Cody said. “Tonight.”
He leaned to unhitch the RV from the back of his truck, aware that she stood next to him, her hands shoved into the front pockets of her jeans.
“Fine, you can come back and we’ll talk.” Bailey backed up a step, as if wanting that distance between them. “We’ll work something out.”
“Work something out?” He shoved the tongue of the trailer off the hitch and turned to face her. “You make it sound like we’re disputing over a property line and not a little girl with eyes like mine.”
“Cody, I am sorry.”
He shook his head and raised his hand to wave off her words. Instead of staying to argue, he got into his truck and pulled away. When he glanced into his rearview mirror she was walking across the lawn to the farmhouse where she’d grown up.
And inside that house was a little girl he should have known about, a little girl who needed to know her daddy. He wasn’t going to walk away this time. Bailey Cross would have to find a way to deal with that.
Bailey stopped on the back porch, lingering for a long moment in the breeze created by the overhead ceiling fan. Inside the house her dad and daughter were waiting.
Driving down the road was the man who had given her that child and broken her heart. Her head was spinning like the blades on the ceiling fan.
She’d forgiven him. She had really thought she’d forgotten. Instead it all returned in a heady flash of memory, including remnants of the pain she’d felt when he’d left her in Wyoming.
After Meg’s birth she had done what she’d been taught—she’d pulled herself up by her bootstraps and moved on. As a single mother coping with lonely nights and an uncertain future, she hadn’t had time for wallowing in her mistakes.
How was she going to deal with Cody Jacobs? Worse, how was she going to deal with the fact that having him back in her life had turned her emotions inside out?
And then came fear. Would he take Meg away from her? Would his knowing about their daughter mean that holidays and summer vacations would be spent apart? How would she cope with sharing Meg?
Bailey stopped the downward spiral of thoughts. She wouldn’t be sharing Meg with a stranger. Cody was Meg’s dad. He had rights.
That assurance didn’t make her feel any better.
She leaned against the side of the house, waiting for the world to right itself before crossing the threshold to face her dad. The dog lumbered up the steps and belly crawled across the porch. Bailey reached down and Blue nuzzled her hand as if the dog knew she needed to be comforted.
“Thanks, girl.”
When she walked into the kitchen, her dad was there, waiting for her. Bailey pulled a pitcher of tea out of the fridge and pretended that nothing had happened. Not that she’d get away with pretending. Her dad had probably heard the entire conversation through the open window.
“Who were you talking to?” Jerry Cross was leaning on the counter, his afternoon meds in his hand. His skin had lost the healthy farmer’s tan he’d always worn. Now he just looked old and gray. And he wasn’t old.
Every time Bailey looked at him and saw him wasting away in front of her, she wanted to cry. She wanted to explain to God that it wasn’t fair. She had lost her mom when she was ten. Now she was losing her dad.
And Cody Jacobs’s RV was parked in her driveway.
“It was…” She turned to see if her daughter was in the room.
“She’s watching that goofy cartoon she likes.”
“That was Cody Jacobs.”
“Humph.”
“He came to apologize.”
“I guess he got more than he bargained for.” He coughed, the moment of breathlessness lasting longer than a week ago and leaving him weak enough that he had to sit at the kitchen table. “His RV is still here.”
“He says he’s coming back.”
Her dad looked almost pleased. “Good for him.”
“Good for him? Dad, this isn’t good for me. It isn’t good for Meg.”
“Maybe it’s good for me.” He wiped a large, work-worn hand across his face. “Maybe I need this, Bailey. Maybe I need to know that he’s here for you.”
“He showed up to apologize. That doesn’t put him in my life. I don’t want him in my life. I don’t want to be his girl of the week. Isn’t that what the announcers on the sports channel call the women who hang on to his arm?”
