Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected Cowboy\His Ideal Match\The Rancher's Secret Son (53 page)

Her lips pressed together but didn't contain the words that exploded forth like a shot from his favorite rifle. “You're right. I'm not.” The tears spilled over, leaving makeup speckled trails down her cheeks. “You are.”

Chapter Seventeen

S
he'd said it. There was no turning back now.

But that didn't stop her from hightailing it out of the barn.

Emma picked up her pace, the ground rising to trip her, but she kept going, stumbling in the darkness toward the light shining in the main house's front window. Her outburst raced through her head almost as fast as her legs churned the ground, and she mentally railed on herself. How could she have said that? Thirteen years of keeping a secret, down the drain. She never should have told her mom. That unplugged the dam, and now she was about to pay for over a decade of silence.

Max didn't let escape come easily.

He caught up in a few quick strides and grabbed her arm. She pulled him along, knowing he was too stubborn to let go, yet too much of a gentleman to force her to stop. “Emma, wait. What do you mean?”

He had to know by now, typo or not. Did he really
not
get it? The possibility that he didn't brought hope, but it was tainted with instant disappointment. She either had to lie to his face, or confess. Neither option felt right.

She stopped just inside the front door, and Max finally released her as if realizing she had nowhere else to go.

And she didn't. Her past had finally caught up to her, right there in a dimly lit living room on a ranch in the middle of Broken Bend, Louisiana. A ranch for troubled teens.
Their
troubled teen.

“I know you're angry. But I don't really get why.” Max stepped back to give her room—or maybe give himself room—and tossed his cowboy hat on the table by the door. His rumpled hair just made him all the more endearing, and the memory of their kiss seared her lips. What had she been thinking, saying “maybe” like that? As if they actually had a chance? As if this bomb of a truth she was about to detonate wouldn't change anything? Change everything?

Out. Of. Her. Mind.

“Talk to me, Emma.” His tone pitched at the end, revealing his desperation, and it almost broke the shield around her heart. He cared—really cared.

But not for long.

“Why are you mad? Was it the kiss?” He was starting to look angry now, too, probably because she couldn't make herself speak. Her mind wouldn't shut up, but her lips refused to open and say what she'd buried for so long. “I'm sorry if I rushed you. If it was too—”

“That's not it.” There, finally, her voice. She held up her hand, wanting to touch him but knowing it'd just be pouring fuel on the fire she was about to light. “The kiss was...well. It was.” Wonderful. Perfect. Everything she'd missed since their last one years ago. But the desire seeped and soaked underneath layers of bitterness she thought she'd rid herself of, yet apparently, had only been hiding.

“What's my fault?” He stabbed his fingers through his hair, drawing the rumples even higher. “I don't get it, Emma. I was trying to reassure you that Cody's choices aren't your fault, and you spin it around on me? You know I've done nothing but try to help him this entire time. And he's making progress. I don't understand why you're so—”

“You're right. You don't understand.” Her stomach cramped. “There's something you don't know.” She wanted to pray, wanted to beg God to take this situation away, just make it disappear—but there was no way. This was her choice. Her sin. Her consequences.

Coming full circle.

Hadn't she paid enough?

“If there's a missing puzzle piece here, then please, by all means fill me in.” He spread his arms to the side, his expression as haphazard as his hair.

Guilt shook her insides. She'd pushed him to his own limit, what with their exhausting day, their kiss and half-spoken declarations, and now her random—in his eyes, at least—freak-out.

He stilled and lowered his voice. “I told you from the beginning the more I know about these campers and their home lives and their backgrounds, the better equipped I am to make a difference.”

“You made a difference all right.” Ah.
There
was her alternating archenemy and best friend, Resentment, bubbling to the surface. She could psychoanalyze herself down to her own core, but somehow, she felt helpless to put into practice the advice she'd give her clients. This was too deep.

His eyes narrowed. “Quit with the riddles, Emma. Shoot straight.”

Straight? Fine. Right to his heart. “You're Cody's dad.”

* * *

Max had never told anyone this before, not even Brady, but he'd always secretly enjoyed the story of
Alice in Wonderland
. He'd discovered it in school, when a librarian read it to his class over a series of afternoons, and he'd carried those images with him for life. There was something appealing about it—though at the time, he'd not been masculine enough to admit it—about falling into an alternate reality, where cats grinned, and rabbits carried watches, and flamingos served as croquet mallets. Where nothing was as it seemed. Where anything could be possible—like finding a father who actually cared.

He never thought about how Alice must have felt tumbling down the hole to get there.

He knew now.

“Cody's dad.” The words stuck on his tongue like they belonged to someone else. And maybe they did. How was this even possible? His mind raced with a reasonable argument, but all he could sputter was time. “Thirteen years. Thirteen years ago?”

“Right. Do the math.”

He
had
.

And it hadn't added up. After he'd counted, all he'd focused on was Cody's explanation.
My dad was a jerk who left my mom when she was pregnant.

How could—

Him? He was the jerk?

Heat spread across his cheeks and jaw and into his ears. “The birthday in his file doesn't—”

She swallowed, looked away. “It's a typo.”

A typo. Everything, his entire life, and future, and past, boiled down to a typo.

What if she'd never admitted it? He'd have never known.

Because of a typo.

But black ink on paper or not, the truth remained. She'd lied. To both of them.

An ache started deep within as the realization of all he'd missed paraded before his eyes. He never got to feel his son kick. Never got to hold Emma's hand in the delivery room, never got to pose for a picture beside his newborn. Never got to help him potty train or take him to the doctor for checkups. Never got to watch Saturday cartoons or ride a bike.

Nothing.

Because of her.

“How could you?” He didn't recognize his own voice. Couldn't control its timbre. Couldn't stop the boiling rush of emotion rising in his throat and taking over. He slammed his fist against the door frame, and the wood cracked. “How could you!”

She didn't flinch. Didn't shake. Didn't even blink. Just stood there and took it—as if she knew she deserved it. Well, good. She did. How dare she stand there and tell him Cody's behavior was his fault when he hadn't even been there? Hadn't ever been given a choice?

His hand hurt.

Not as much as his heart.

The room felt as though it was caving in. Walls coming closer. He closed his eyes and shoved his fingers through his hair, his chest burning with unnamed feelings and regrets. And yet, underneath all of that...one question remained. “Why?”

If anything, her grip around herself tightened. “I did what I had to do.”

“Oh, right. You
had
to run away and keep a secret.” He laughed, a harsh sound void of amusement, one that rippled up from his churning stomach. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Max, it's not like that.” She reached out, but he jerked away as if her touch would poison him. Maybe it already had. Maybe that was the source of his ache the past decade-plus—the effect of Emma and her secrets. Her selfishness. “You don't understand.”

“You're right. I don't.” He grabbed his hat and shoved it back on his head. “I'll never understand how you could keep a secret like that. How you could bring your son—
our
son—to my camp and still not tell me the truth.” His voice rose with every new word. “How you could stand there and blame me for his choices, how you could kiss—” His breath caught and he hardened his heart. No. No tears. She certainly hadn't spent the past decade crying over him.

He wouldn't waste another solitary one on her. “Forget it.” He wrenched open the door.

Her fingers brushed his sleeve. “Max, wait.”

The door shook the frame as it slammed behind him, drowning out her protests.

Drowning out his own.

* * *

Emma curled up on her bed, trying to silence her sobs so as not to wake Tonya, Katie and Stacy. Her cell phone glowed on her nightstand, revealing that only seven minutes had passed since she'd last checked. Since time had decided to all but stand still. Since sleep continued to elude her.

Though that could be a blessing, since her dreams wouldn't be much better than reality.

She twisted on her back, scrunching her pillow under her head and brushing at the wet spot left from tears. It wasn't the first time she'd cried herself to sleep—or tried to—over Max Ringgold. But these tears stemmed from somewhere previously untapped.

And were oddly mixed with a small, yet very tangible, sense of relief.

It was done. Her all-too-familiar burden had been lifted, though a new one had immediately settled in its place. The secret was out. It was over. She could take a breath, a full breath, for the first time in too many years to count.

But they still had to tell Cody.

The relief vanished, and fresh tears soaked onto the neckline of her sleep shirt. And she thought telling Max had been hard? What was she thinking? She wasn't. Hadn't. But no, her plan used to make sense, back when it was just her and Cody, when she knew that there was zero chance of running into Max, zero chance for anything to change.

Yet everything
had
changed, and no one told her.

Because you never gave anyone a chance to.

Her conscience reared, sharp and ugly and all too honest. She flopped on her side, the wet pillowcase sticking to her cheek. All these years, she'd convinced herself Cody's problems were Max's fault. If Max hadn't passed on those genes, if Max hadn't lived the way he'd lived, if Max hadn't done drugs, Cody would be different. If Max, if Max, if Max.

If Emma.

Now her conscience sounded a whole lot more like the Lord, another voice she'd squelched over the years of doing everything for herself. She'd been running from more than Max and her past. She'd been running from herself.

And her faith.

“I'm tired of running,” she muttered into her pillow, and across the dorm, one of the girls shifted in her bed, sheets rustling. She stilled, trying to calm her pounding heartbeat, and uttered the words she should have spoken to God years ago. “I'm done running.”

A slight pocket of peace began to envelop her, and she nestled into it like a downy quilt. Cody's problems weren't Max's fault. And they weren't hers. They were probably a little bit of both—but they were mostly Cody's. Maybe he'd been reacting in a way that connected to Emma's bad choices, but he was still ultimately responsible for himself. Just as she was. Just as Max was.

Of the three of them, Emma's choices might just be the worst. Hers didn't involve drugs and gangs. But she'd kept her choices and sins a secret. Max had always lived out loud, had never hidden who he claimed to be. He'd definitely made wrong decisions, but hadn't she? At least Max hadn't pretended to be something he wasn't.

She'd been pretending for thirteen years.

Another weight lifted, and her body relaxed even as her heart sought to rid itself of her years of guilt and regret. She prayed honestly for the first time in too long, turning Cody over to the Lord and embracing the fact that for once, not having control over a situation might just be a good thing. The best thing.

For all of them.

Chapter Eighteen

M
ax managed to avoid Emma most of the following day, making an extra effort to keep the boys' and girls' schedules separate. He could go about Monday business as usual, as long as he didn't have to look at her. Luke had come in for the afternoon, since Nicole was resting and stable, and offered to take over with the campers while Max arranged for Tonya's parents to pick her up. He still couldn't believe he had a pregnant teen, a lying ex-girlfriend and a secret son on the premises.

His beloved camp had morphed into a low-budget soap opera.

He hung up the phone with Tonya's parents and ran his hand down his jaw. He felt old. Tired. And borderline useless. Not exactly the way he should be feeling as the end of the camp approached. He'd been so sure this would be the best session ever, yet it was shaping up to be an utter failure.

Did God want him to even do this ministry anymore?

He picked up his Bible, tried to quiet the rustlings in his heart, but he couldn't hear past the layer of anger. It was too raw, too fresh. He just hurt on too many levels—it was as though Emma betrayed him all over again. He'd dealt with the pain of losing her so suddenly, her rash change of mind that now, looking back, made sense. She hadn't wanted to have a child with him, so she'd bailed. Never looked back.

Until she'd been forced to.

Had the kiss they'd shared last night been real on her part, or more lies? He might never know—and it didn't really matter. It wasn't as if there could be a repeat with this huge barrier between them. No wonder she'd been so guarded in her time at the ranch. The fact that she'd even taken the job he offered was huge. Maybe she'd been seeking to make amends in her own way, knowing she owed him. But no, that wasn't Emma. Emma wasn't the type to strive to right wrongs.

That was more his style.

He tucked his Bible back into his desk drawer. No number of Psalms would stop the incessant roiling of his thoughts today. He'd read later when he could make sense of the words beyond his own heartbeat.

He was a dad. A
father
. He had a son.

It still didn't make sense, though the uncanny connection he felt to Cody now rang clear. The similarities, the matching stubbornness. That deep desire to help him that went beyond what he'd ever felt toward a camper before.

His son.

How was he supposed to act around Cody? How could he look at the boy the same? Impossible. He couldn't—nor should he. But when would they tell him? Had Emma even considered the ramifications of
that?

He almost wished she'd kept her secret a couple weeks longer.

Max groaned. He wasn't ready for this. He had no training of his own to be a dad, no example. Look what his own father had been and how Max had turned out. Maybe he'd made it eventually through the worst, but the earlier years...well, he still had a lot of making up to do. A lot to prove. To himself, and to God.

What if he messed up Cody even further?

Max shoved away from his desk, the chair squeaking against the floor, and moved to turn off his office light. He couldn't dwell on that right now, not when he'd have to see Cody soon and be forced to keep up Emma's charade a bit longer. He had to focus on business for the time being. People depended on him—like Tonya. Her parents would be there by the end of the day, so he needed to tell her to get her things ready.

He tucked the folded slip of paper recommending professional counseling into his shirt pocket and made a mental note to hand it over to her family when they arrived. Hopefully she'd find the right path and stay on it. He could sort of commiserate now with Emma's misplaced guilt over the girl. Tonya had such potential—but she'd been keeping a secret, too. He couldn't help what he wasn't aware of.

Which begged the question—what else didn't he know about his campers?

It was enough to make a man paranoid.

He started for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, then ducked back out at the sound of Mama Jeanie's singing. She always sang when she cooked, and he didn't want to listen to the hymns right now, nor did he want another lecture full of cryptic wisdom. Just couldn't stomach it today.

He turned up the stairs to his master bedroom, thinking to grab some water from the dorm fridge he kept by his bed instead, and paused at what sounded suspiciously like footsteps—on the second floor, where no campers were allowed. He frowned, quickening his step and pushing open the door to his room with authority.

No one was there.

Probably just the floorboards creaking. The house wasn't exactly new.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted open the lid. He took a long sip, then replaced the cap as a sinking sensation spread through his gut. Something was different. He turned a slow circle in the center of the room, trying to place it. The rug on the wood floor by the dresser lay flat and straight. The dark green bedspread still hung crooked like he'd left it—as usual, since the only reason he made his bed in the first place was because he enforced that rule with the campers. The rustic clock of a cowboy knelt before a cross ticked a steady rhythm, the only sound breaking the quiet. He shrugged. All was right.

Except he hadn't left his top dresser drawer open an inch.

He tossed the bottle down and pulled the drawer open. Should be socks. Boxers. And...he fished underneath the rolls of wadded socks. It wasn't there.

Oh, no.

He slammed the drawer shut just as an angry voice sounded from behind.

Cody, red-faced and steely-eyed, stood framed in the doorway, holding the picture of Max and Emma. “You're a liar.”

* * *

Emma woke with a remnant of the peace she'd found the night before but not all of it. She went through the motions of the day, trying to focus on the girls and their activities, realizing her remaining time with Tonya was short, but she couldn't shake the memory of Max's face when she'd confessed.

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She had to see Max, had to know how he was processing this, or she'd explode with the what-ifs. She left the girls with Faith in the barn, saddling up for a trail ride under Luke's direction, and headed for the main house.

Mama Jeanie intercepted her outside the kitchen before the door even shut behind her. “Don't go upstairs.” Her tone, always brisk and authoritative, seemed even firmer than usual.

Emma hesitated. “Where's Max?”

“Upstairs.” Mama Jeanie shifted the mixing bowl she held in one hand to the other, pausing to swipe her free arm against her apron. “You're not going on the trail ride?” She gestured out the front window, where Luke, Faith and Tim were monitoring the teens as they buckled saddle girths.

“Maybe later. Right now I need to find Max.” Not that it was any of Mama Jeanie's business. The woman had a kind heart, but Emma wasn't in the mood for instruction from someone who had no idea the level of chaos they were currently in. She headed for the stairs.

Mama Jeanie's voice neared panic. “I don't think right now is a good time.”

Sudden yelling sounded from above, punctuated by a slamming door and thumping footsteps. Emma's heart raced as she stared with dread up the staircase. Had Max totally lost it? She looked back at Mama Jeanie, her former irritation long gone as she considered hiding behind the petite woman. Max had never had a temper like that—in fact, that sounded more like how Cody used to—

Cody pounded down the stairs, almost flying past her, but she reached out with long-honed instincts and caught the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Not so fast. Where are you going?”

He spun in a sudden half circle at her interception, and something small and square fluttered from his grip and landed at her feet.

Emma stared down at her own image, arms curled around Max's shoulder, a happy grin on her face as he pressed a kiss against her temple, and dread seeped through her chest. She released Cody's sleeve, staring in horror at the proof she couldn't deny. No. No. No. Why had Max kept that? So many years ago...the implications bubbled to the surface and layered her dread with regret. He'd waited for her.

She was going to be sick.

Max appeared on the bottom steps moments later, out of breath but not heaving nearly as hard as Cody. “Cody, wait.” His “I'm in charge” voice did nothing to defuse the situation. “I know you're upset, but we've got to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” The teen bent and snatched the photo from the ground, waving it in their faces.
“Dad.”

Emma sucked in her breath, and Max's face drained of color. He hadn't told him. Cody had figured it out? How?

It was as if he read her mind.

“Yeah, I might get in trouble a lot, but I'm not stupid.” He pointed at Max. “Everyone kept telling me how much you looked like me. How we talked the same. Same stupid cowlick.” He slapped at his hair.

“Why were you in my room, Cody?” A slow flush of red filled Max's throat and jaw.

“Looking for cash.” He stuck his chin out in contrived bravado, but the slight quiver gave away his emotion. “On a dare.”

“From who?”

“What's it matter? I found this instead. I didn't steal.” His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, narrowed at Max. “You lied to me. Made me think you were on my side. And, Mom...you...” His voice grew smaller and the betrayal in his eyes shattered Emma's heart. “You lied the most. The longest.”

“We need to talk.” Max held out his hand. “Give me the picture, Cody.”

From the corner of her eye, she observed Mama Jeanie slipping quietly back into the kitchen, giving them space. She wished she could follow her. Emma knew what Max was doing, trying to defuse the situation by establishing control, by prompting Cody to respond to them in obedience in a small matter to build trust toward the bigger issue. Handing over the picture was the first step to them all calming down and restoring the proper order.

Not that it'd be that easy.

“Fine. You want it?” Cody picked up the photo, ripped it in half and tossed the pieces at them. “Take it. I don't want it. Don't want either of you.”

The door slammed behind him, and something unleashed deep inside Emma, cracking open and revealing even more shattered pieces. Her son was done with her. Because of Max.

Her peace from the night before disappeared completely into a dark abyss of hopelessness. “This
is
your fault.” She poked her finger hard against Max's chest. “You did this! You kept that picture. You passed down all of this anger and rebellion. It's you!”

“It takes two people to make a child, Emma.” Max gripped her forearms and held her away from him. “You're the one that left, that never even gave me a chance to be involved!”

“How could I? I came back, Max. I came back!” She struggled in his grip, all logic and reasoning fleeing her senses as she surrendered herself to the pent-up emotion she'd restrained for far too long. “I saw you making that deal.” The words hissed from her lips, words she'd been longing to fling at him for thirteen years.

“What deal?” Confusion and pain seeped from his expression, despite his voice rising even louder than hers. But instead of anger, it was laced with panic. “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“The drugs, Max. You said you would quit. That I was enough.” Her voice shook with unshed sobs and she struggled to get the words out through the tears. “I saw you taking that deal. At the park. Near our spot.”

Clarity bled through Max's eyes, and he released Emma's arms abruptly. “I flushed those.”

She staggered backward. “What?”

He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I flushed them. I did the deal, yeah. I was weak. I missed you and wanted a distraction. But the second he left, I remembered my promise to you and that meant more to me than a temporary fix. I never did a hit after the last one you knew about, Emma. I flushed them.”

He'd flushed them.

And he'd changed.

Yet she'd ran.

Despair began a slow assault, pummeling her heart. She reached toward Max, but it was like stretching toward the past—impossible to grasp.

“I didn't know.” The words sounded impossibly weak, and the biggest understatement anyone had ever spoken.

The grief in his eyes would linger in her memory for the rest of her days. “You didn't let me tell you.”

The back door burst open, and Luke ran in, hair mussed and jacket flapping open. “Cody and Jarvis are gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean?” Max strode past Luke to the porch, scanning both directions. “He was just here.”

“There was a mix up. We split up the group for the trail ride, and Tim and I both thought Cody was with the other group. We didn't get far before realizing we didn't have Cody or Jarvis with us. They're not in the dorms, either, or the rec room.” Luke's eyes filled with worry. “I think they ran away.”