Soldier's Secret Child

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Luckily the damage to both cars had been minor and no one had been injured. But because of their age and the speeding, the Deputy had decided to take the boys in and call her and Jewel.

She looked over her shoulder at her boss who walked beside Joe. The teen had a hangdog look on his face and clearly seemed to be sorry for what had happened.

Unlike T.J.

As they exited the police station, she spotted Fisher strolling out of Lone Star Square. Judging from the activity in the square, the movie had apparently just let out in the theater on the other side of the plaza. Some of the people headed to the cars parked all along the edges of the central space while Fisher and another couple waited to cross the street. He noticed them leaving the police station and condemnation flashed across his features.

It made her want to go over and wipe that critical look from his face, but she plowed forward. Speaking with T.J. about what had happened tonight needed to be her number one priority right now.

As they approached the parking lot, she inspected yet again the damage to T.J.’s car—a big ugly dent along the front bumper and part of the passenger side panel of the 1974 Pontiac GTO.

The GTO that his dad had bought as a rusty heap and had been restoring for years before his death. The GTO that T.J. had also been, as he called it, “pimping.”

She paused before the car and stared at the damage before she looked up and met Jewel’s concerned gaze, Joe’s sheepish one and T.J.’s stony countenance.

“Luckily no one was hurt and the damage to both cars can be repaired. When we get home, we’ll discuss how you’re going to pay for those repairs and the speeding ticket,” she said. Handing T.J. the keys to the GTO, she finished, “I’ll follow you home.”

Turning to Jewel, she noticed her friend’s concern, but also Jewel’s interest in Fisher as she glanced back across Main Street toward where he still stood on the edge of Lone Star Square, watching them.

She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “Can we talk about it in the morning? It’s late and we should all be heading home.”

Jewel nodded, faced Joe and said, “Let’s go. You and I have a lot to discuss, as well.”

As the two walked away, Macy waited for T.J. to get in his car and then she went to her own late model Cherokee, starting it up and then idling it until T.J. pulled out of the parking lot.

T.J.’s pace as he exited was slow.

Slow enough that it gave her yet another chance to see Fisher, the disapproval still stamped on his face as he observed them.

“Tell me again what happened?” she pressed, sensing there was something off about T.J.’s version of the speeding and accident.

“It was just an accident, Ma,” he said, slouching negligently in his chair in the kitchen.

“Tell me again why you were speeding?”

His big hands, like those of Fisher, man’s hands on a boy’s body, flopped up and down before settling on the surface of the table. “I didn’t mean to only…There was another car. It was fast. It kept getting in our face—”

“In your face? As in threatening you? Why didn’t you pull over? Use your cell phone to call the police?” Macy asked as she rested her hands on the table where T.J. sat, leaning closer.

A glimmer of fear flickered across his features, impossible to miss. “No, not like that. You know like…challenging us. Trying to prove their car was better.”

She understood about men and cars. Entire industries had been built about proving who was faster, better, fancier. She also understood about men and cars and girls.

“Sara was with you?”

Another small flinch rippled across his body and T.J. couldn’t meet her gaze as he answered, “We had already dropped Sara off at the ranch.”

She hadn’t had time at the police station to ask Jewel whether Sara had been home at the ranch when the call had come from Deputy Rawlings. She certainly would ask tomorrow because she was sure T.J. wasn’t telling the truth.

“So you were drag racing? And because you were speeding, you couldn’t stop when that car pulled out?”

An indifferent shrug greeted her queries, infuriating her, but she knew she had to keep her cool. Nothing would be gained by anger.

“You’ve already earned enough at the ranch to pay me back for the coach’s mailbox. What you earn from now on will pay for the repairs to both cars and the speeding ticket. Do you understand?”

He nodded without hesitation, but never raised his gaze to meet hers.

“You’re also grounded for a month. You come home after your work at the ranch. On the weekends, I’ll have chores for you to do around the house. Understood?”

A shrug greeted her punishment.

“I’m going to bed. It’s late and we both need to go to work tomorrow,” she said, but she didn’t want the night to end angrily.

She kneeled before her son, cradled his jaw with her hand and gently urged his face upward. Reluctantly, he met her gaze. “You are the most important thing in the world to me, T.J. You can trust me with anything. Anything,” she said in the hopes of having him tell her the truth about what had really happened that night.

A sheen of tears glimmered in her son’s eyes. He gulped, holding back emotion before he said, “I know, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you,” she said, sat up and hugged him, believing that all would be right with him as long as they still had love to bind them together.

She was a coward, she thought, not looking forward to speaking with Jewel about what had happened the night before. Because of that, and knowing Jewel’s sweet tooth, she was on her way to Miss Sue’s again for yet more sticky buns.

Luck was on her side as there was an empty parking space directly in front of Miss Sue’s. But then she noticed that Fisher was once again sitting at a booth in the restaurant.

Didn’t he ever eat at home? she wondered with irritation as she took a deep breath to fortify herself, exited the car and entered the cafe.

As she passed by the booth where he sat finishing up a mound of Miss Sue’s scrambled eggs with bacon, cheese and hash browns, he met her gaze. Rebuke filled his green eyes and within her, annoyance built. At the counter, she forced a smile to her face as she ordered the sticky buns.

The waitress smiled warmly and offered her sympathies. “Boys will be boys, Macy. Don’t let it get to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing else. She also didn’t turn to brave the rest of the people in the restaurant, although she sensed their stares as she waited. In a town the size of Esperanza, Miss Sue’s was Information Central and everyone already knew about what had happened the night before.

Her sticky bun order came up to the counter. She paid quickly, eager to make her exit, but as she headed out, she noticed Fisher’s attention was on her once again and something inside of her snapped.

In one smooth move, she slipped into the booth across from him, surprising him with her action. Calmly she said, “You don’t know me or my son, so don’t presume to judge us so quickly.”