His Texas Wildflower (17 page)

Beyond the door to her suite, Rebecca could hear a group of people passing in the hallway. From the sound of their laughter, they sounded happy and young. Had she ever been that way? Yes, she'd been happy, but that had been eons ago. Long before she'd grown dissatisfied with her job, before she'd learned Gertrude was her mother, that Gwyn had been harboring secrets, and her father had been unfaithful. And definitely long before she'd met Jake and fallen in love with him.

Tugging her attention back to Abe, she said, “Unfortunately, that won't be anytime soon. But thank you for the lawn work. It makes me feel better to know the place doesn't look raggedy.”

“You haven't asked about Jake,” he said pointedly.

The old man was crafty, Rebecca would give him that much. She breathed deeply, then asked, “How is Jake?”

“He ain't good. That's about all I can say.”

Rebecca instantly gripped the phone. “Why? What's wrong with him?”

“You'd have to ask him to get the answer. All I know is what Quint tells me. And he tells me that Jake is
considering taking a job at the track and selling the Rafter R.”

“Selling his ranch?” She was stunned. “But, Abe, that doesn't make sense! He's worked so hard on it! And he seemed so proud of the place.”

“Well, Jake never was one to want a pile of material things. To a certain point, Quint's the same way. Guess that's why the two boys have always been such good friends. Frankly, I think he needs to get rid of every damn cow on the place and focus on raisin' his horses. That's what he loves to do and that's what he ought to do.”

“Then you should tell him so, Abe! You're his friend and I know he respects your opinion.”

Abe chuckled. “He wouldn't appreciate me tellin' him what to do. Now you, that's another matter—if you was to tell him that might carry some weight.”

A tear slipped from Rebecca's eye and fell onto her cheek. At one point during her stay in New Mexico, she'd believed that Jake might actually grow to care for her, maybe even love her. But once she'd met Gwyn in Ruidoso and learned the truth about how she was conceived, something had happened to her. She'd felt sick and desperate and lost.

And when she and Jake had ridden out to the windmill and made love under the open sky it had been so beautiful, so bittersweet, that her heart had ached. She'd desperately longed to hear him say that he loved her. Or at the very least, he wanted her to remain in New Mexico. But while he'd held her for those long minutes, he'd not said anything and his silence had opened her eyes. Suddenly, she could see she was deluding herself
in thinking he would ever love her and the longer she stayed, the more her heart was going to break.

Then later, at the house, Rebecca had once again attempted to draw out his feelings, to get any sort of sign from him that he wanted her in a permanent way. When she'd told him she no longer knew where she belonged, she'd done so while hoping and praying he would open his mouth and tell her that she belonged with him. For always. But he'd failed to say anything meaningful, except goodbye.

“I don't think so, Abe. I've not even heard from Jake and I don't expect to.”

“There ain't no law written that says you can't call him, is there?”

Call Jake? What good would that do, except tear her heart wide open again? she wondered miserably. “Jake doesn't want to hear from me.”

Abe snorted. “And grass don't grow in the spring.”

Closing her eyes, Rebecca rubbed fingertips against her furrowed brow. “In order for grass to grow it has to be fed sun and rain,” she reminded the old man.

There was a long pause and while she waited for Abe to reply, in the far background she could hear a horse neigh softly. Was it Starr still calling out for Banjo? The notion put a hard lump in Rebecca's throat.

“Jake is like a son to me,” Abe finally said. “I don't want to see him mess up. Think about calling him, Rebecca. That's all I ask.”

“I'll do that much,” Rebecca conceded.

Abe thanked her and after a quick good-night ended the call.

Rebecca placed the phone back on the nightstand, then dropped her face in her hands and sobbed.

 

The next morning Jake was on his way to the Downs to shoe three racehorses when Clara rang his cell phone and asked that he stop by her place before going on about his business.

Jake had agreed to see his mother, although he'd been surprised by her request. Only last night he'd dropped by for a visit, the first one he'd had with her since the day he'd raked her over the coals about his father and how she'd allowed the man to dictate her life. Taking all that in account, Jake had expected to find Clara more than a little frosty, but she'd met him at the door with a welcoming hug. And when he'd told her about Rebecca going back to Texas, he'd braced himself to hear a bunch of I-told-you-sos. Instead, she'd appeared truly sorry for him. He'd been inwardly shocked by the pleasant change in her and though he'd wondered what had brought it about, he'd decided it best not to ask and simply be thankful for it.

Now this morning as he walked onto the porch of his mother's house, he could only wonder what was going on with her and hope that she'd not had another health setback.

Rapping his knuckles slightly on the storm door, he opened it and stepped inside. “Mom? I'm here.”

Clara immediately hurried through a doorway leading to the back of the house. She smiled at him with a measure of relief.

“Jake, I'm so glad you took the time to come by. I know you're busy, but I have something important to give you. At least, I think it will be important.”

Walking over to his mother, Jake dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “What is it? You sent plenty of baked things home with me last night. I don't need any more food.”

She let out a short laugh that sounded strangely nervous to Jake. Which only confused him more. In the past Clara had often complained and whined and accused him of being like his father, but one thing she'd never been with him was nervous.

“It's nothing like that.” She took him by the hand and led him over to a short couch. “I—uh—I didn't tell you last night, but I talked to Quint the other day.”

“That's nothing new. You two have always been friends.”

A sheepish expression stole over her face. “We talked about you.”

Jake grimaced. “Oh. You shouldn't have done that, Mom.”

“I didn't. He's the one who approached me. And frankly, I'm glad that he did. I didn't know—well, that day we argued—I didn't understand about Rebecca, not really. I thought she was just another one of your women. I think—well, I've been so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself that I couldn't really see what was going on with you and the girl from Texas.”

Jake stiffened. “What makes you think she's any different?”

“Oh, son, don't try to pretend with me,” she said gently, then attempted to laugh and lighten the moment. “I mean, your mother has finally opened her eyes, don't try to hide from me now.”

Dropping his head, Jake stared at the scuffed toes of his boots, but all he was really seeing was Rebecca's face, her sweet smile, the warm shine in her blue eyes. “I miss her,” he mumbled. “So much.”

He felt his mother's hand rest upon his back and then she said softly, “That's how it is when you love someone.”

Lifting his head, he looked at her with remorse. “I'm sorry, Mom. I've been hard on you at times. I said things to you that I didn't know about or understand.”

Smiling faintly, she shook her head. “You had every right to say what you did. I've been wallowing in self-pity for far too long. I lost Lee and let the hurt ruin a big chunk of my life. I don't want that to happen to you.”

She pulled a small piece of paper from a pocket on her blouse and thrust it at him. “Here. I think you need to use this.”

He glanced down to see a phone number scratched across a torn piece of notebook paper. “I don't need that. I already have Rebecca's number. Besides, I wouldn't know what to say to her.”

With a smile of encouragement, Clara pressed the paper into Jake's hand and folded his fingers around it. “When the time is right you'll know what to say to her. But before you talk to Rebecca I think you should make this call.”

Bewildered, he asked, “Why?”

“Because it's a link to your father.”

 

Less than a week later, Rebecca was sitting at her desk, sifting through a stack of fashion sketches, when Arlene's voice came over the intercom.

“Rebecca, I need you on the second floor. We're having a disagreement that only you can settle.”

“I'll be right there.”

She walked out of her sumptuous office and took the elevator up to the second floor, a space used exclusively to display Bordeaux's formal evening wear. At the front entrance of the department, she found Arlene and her young assistant, a guy named Nigel, trying to put the finishing touches to a mannequin dressed in a
designer frock fashioned from yards and yards of shiny faille. She considered the dress far too flamboyant for the store, but this was one time Arlene had dismissed Rebecca's opinion and purchased the garment in several sizes anyway.

Now as she approached the bickering coworkers, Arlene split away from the young man and grabbed Rebecca by the arm. “It's about time I had some help,” she said with a flustered wave at her assistant. “Please tell Nigel that I'm right and he's wrong. This dress needs more than a single strand of pearls.”

The young man cast an imploring look at Rebecca. “Arlene thinks the chunky gold and ruby thing would look better. I think it's too much for all that dress. But what do I know? I only work here.”

Rebecca took the tiny pearls from his hand and draped them around the mannequin's neck. “He's right, Arlene. The pearls.”

The other woman gasped, then spluttered, “But, Rebecca, pearls are so—so retro and ho-hum!”

“They're also classy,” Rebecca pointed out. “And this dress definitely needs something to give it a little elegance.”

Nigel smiled with smug triumph while Arlene jerked on Rebecca's arm until the two women were standing some distance away from the display.

“Rebecca, I realize you're still angry with me, but you don't have to carry it over to our work,” Arlene said under her breath so the women browsing nearby couldn't overhear.

Arlene had always been a bit of a drama queen, but she'd never taken this sort of tone with Rebecca. “You wanted my opinion and I gave it. That's what I'm paid to
do. Besides, I've never been angry with you. Impatient at times, but never angry.”

Arlene's lips pressed to a thin line. “Well, you were all out of sorts with me when you decided to take that vacation in New Mexico. And from what I can see you're still not behaving like yourself.”

It had been more than a vacation and they both knew it. The truth was that Arlene had never quite gotten over Rebecca's challenge for a leave of indefinite absence, but she wasn't in the mood to have an out-and-out confrontation with the woman. “I have a lot to deal with, Arlene.”

The other woman let out a disgusted huff. “Don't we all.”

Rebecca stared at her. “Are you finished?”

“No! I just want to say that you need to wake up and look around you. There are other employees here at Bordeaux's who've had a family member die, but they don't go around taking out their grief on others. They handle it with maturity.”

In other words, they don't go against your wishes,
Rebecca thought. She should have been angry with the other woman for behaving so childishly, but she couldn't summon up that much energy.

“I've lost more than a family member, Arlene.”

The woman frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that everything that ever mattered to me is gone. That's what it means.”

She walked away from Arlene and, after an encouraging word to Nigel, took the stairs down to the first floor where the street clothes were displayed, along with fragrance, jewelry, and makeup counters, the facial area and countless dressing rooms. This was the store's hot spot and since it was a Friday afternoon and shoppers
were readying themselves for the weekend, every area was busy.

At one time Rebecca would have been excited to see the throngs of clientele. But that was back when she'd considered Bordeaux's her second home. Back when she'd been excited about her job and determined to be a success at it. For years now she'd made it her life and along the way, she'd convinced herself that she was happy. She'd even quit dreaming that a man and a family could be in her future. She'd told herself those things were for other women, not her.

Until she met Jake. Dear God, he'd shaken the very depths of her. And try as she might she couldn't go back to being the old Rebecca, the fashion buyer, the career woman. Arlene had been right on one count. Rebecca hadn't been behaving like herself. Because she was a different woman now and she needed more than a position at Bordeaux's. She needed Jake.

Gwyn and Gertrude had wasted their lives trying to hide the truth from each other, Vance, their friends and even Rebecca. She couldn't allow herself to go down that same path. She had to let Jake know how much she loved him, how much she wanted him in her life.

If he still wasn't interested, then at least she could tell herself she'd gone down trying rather than hiding.

The decision quickened her steps as she turned toward an exit that would take her back to her office. Once she reached the private spot, she was going to call Jake and tell him they still had things to talk about and she would be flying out to Lincoln County as soon as she could arrange it. And then from somewhere behind her she heard a salesclerk say, “There's Ms. Hardaway now. If you hurry you might catch her.”