The Way to Texas (14 page)

“This thing really gets up here, doesn't it?”

Dawn gripped his hand.

“Not good with heights?” he said, pulling her closer
to his side. He felt so warm and solid. So Tyson-like. She relaxed.

“I haven't ridden one of these in a long time. I'd forgotten the cars swing. My stomach feels funny.” She clutched his hand tightly and stared at the golden orb creating art in the darkening sky. Orange and pink ribbons curled into the azure canvas.

“Wait, you said two good-looking guys charmed you. The second didn't take you on dates, either?”

She stiffened against him and remained silent. It was bad enough she had failed where Larry was concerned. Her marriage was destined to fail. Larry wasn't cut out to love anyone but himself. But talking about Murray was harder. He was a mistake that haunted her.

“Look, I'm sorry. We're not supposed to drag out the dirty laundry. We said this weekend wasn't about leaky plumbing or dirty socks.” Tyson sighed and pointed to the cakewalk being played out beneath them. “Let's do that next.”

“I've never really talked about my failures before.” She hesitated a moment. “But, it feels good to do it. With you.”

“That's what all the women say,” he quipped with a mischievous grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Walked right into that one.”

His response was to pull her into a kiss. A slow, sweet kiss. A dating kiss.

She pulled away and studied him in the fading light. He smiled at her. “I'm glad you feel comfortable enough.”

“Okay. So the next guy came along about a year ago. I still had my business open. Again, a failure. But anyway, I had a shop, and across the street was this great little
Italian bistro. The guy was very similar to Larry. Handsome, charming and made me feel like a new penny. I didn't know he was married.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. “I know what you're thinking… I should have known. But funny thing was I didn't get it. We met for lunch, flirted, things progressed. I even thought about how wonderful it was he settled for seeing me during the day. My nights were filled with taking Andrew to practice and business classes at the local community college. Stupid, huh?”

Tyson squeezed her against him. “Not stupid. Sometimes we don't want to look too hard because we're afraid of what we might find.”

His words seemed to be pointed at himself, as well as her.

“True, but I should have guessed. We were out for lunch one day when we walked right into his wife and their two kids. I was kissing him when I heard her voice. I'll never forget the way she sounded. At that moment, even before I turned around, I knew. I'd heard the same sound in my own voice when I asked Larry why he'd been out, why he smelled like perfume.”

She closed her eyes against the memory of the suburban blonde and her tragic green eyes. Devastation. Anger. Pain. Dawn hadn't known what to do. Murray had launched into some contrived story. She'd slipped into the restaurant they'd exited and been sick in the bathroom. The betrayal had been that visceral.

“Damaged,” he murmured, as they swung almost a hundred feet up.

“What?”

“Both of us. We're a bit damaged.”

“I guess you could say that,” she said. Worded that way, she wasn't so sure they should be meeting up like
two ships passing in the night. Two dinged-up ships. Those kind of ships went down to watery graves.

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. “I guess not too many people get to be our age without having a few dents. Lots of people have it worse.”

“Are you calling me old?” Dawn said, allowing a smile to hover around her lips. Hell, she was damaged. So the hell what? Did that mean she wasn't worthy? That she and Tyson couldn't carve out some sort of relationship from the ashes of their ruined romances?

“Never,” he swore, as the ride started up, dropping them with a sudden plunge.

She shrieked as they swooped past the operator grinning at them with a jack-o'-lantern smile. Then she laughed.

And she couldn't seem to stop. Tyson joined her, wrapping his arm around her and tucking the pink elephant in between them.

Dawn was tired of the past. Finally, she wanted to look to her future.

W
ANTING TO LOOK TOWARD
her future had made sense in Jefferson. After hot sex, mondo Christmas shopping and lots of laughter, she'd vowed to claim a better life for herself. To believe in dreams again. However, being back in reality, otherwise known as Oak Stand, was another matter.

“Mom, I'm home!” Andrew's voice barreled into the kitchen, where she stood washing baby bottles for Nellie.

Her son appeared in the doorway, reminding her of when he was a toddler. Hurricane Andrew. He wasn't much different, other than being nineteen years old. And towering over his mother.

“Hey, honey,” Dawn said, popping him with a towel.

“I wasn't expecting you till later. Thought you had practice.”

Andrew opened the refrigerator and perused the contents. “Coach let us go early. Hey, what's this?”

Her son held up a bottle filled with what looked to be watered-down milk. He swirled the liquid around, his brown eyes studying the bottle with scientific uncertainty. She noticed he'd gotten a haircut recently and the barber had nicked his hairline over his ear.

“That's expressed milk,” she said, stacking the baby bottle in the dish drainer.

“What kind of milk is that?” he said, screwing up his face as he started to unscrew the lid.

“Breast milk,” she said, turning off the faucet.

“Nasty,” Andrew said, quickly shoving the container back into the fridge. “Aunt Nellie needs to mark that sh—stuff.”

“It's not nasty. It's a perfectly natural part of being a mother. I nursed you.”

Andrew clomped to the pantry and rustled around inside. His voice came from the depths. “Don't remind me of stuff like that, Mom. It's sick.”

Dawn laughed. She was so glad to see him. She'd missed him something terrible when he'd left for school. They'd always had a good relationship, then suddenly the house in Houston had been so empty. And if her house seemed empty, her heart had dust bunnies. Being in Oak Stand had softened the empty-nest ache. Over the past few months, her big city heart had remembered the barefoot girl she'd been back in California. Sure small-town people were nosy, but they cared. Her mind flashed to Emma Long and her pear preserves, Ms. Ester who'd given her a funny T-shirt that said It's not PMS, it's you, and Bubba, who weeded the flowerbeds of Tucker House because she'd once mentioned the need. All things she'd never had in Houston.

So she'd been thinking a lot lately about staying here. It wasn't far from Andrew's campus. He could visit whenever. With Marcie Patterson in the picture, he'd be making the trip anyway. She could sell the house in Houston and get one in town. The possibility of continuing to run Tucker House crept into her mind along with the idea of something more permanent with Tyson. But it was too soon to think in that direction. She wiped the thoughts away as she wiped down the sink.

“Did you talk to your father?” she asked, tossing the towel onto the gleaming granite countertop.

Her son emerged from the pantry with a bag of animal crackers. “Yeah, he was bummed. I wanted to spend the holiday with both of you. Maybe he can come up later.”

Dawn's heart sank. She wanted to spend time with Tyson and his daughter. Get Andrew onto better footing with Tyson. She and Tyson had agreed a casual hangout vibe would be good for both their kids, maybe have some apple cider and shortbread cookies and hang out on the ranch's enormous back porch. But if Larry came to town, things would be too weird.

“We'll see,” she said, using her standard mom-ism. Andrew always said that
we'll see
meant
no.

Her son grunted.

“Honey, I wanted to talk to you about something. About that afternoon by the pond.”

Andrew tossed a cookie in his mouth and stared at her.

“The guy I was with, well, his name is Tyson Hart.”

“I remember,” he said, grabbing a soda from the fridge and popping the top.

“We've been seeing each other and I really like him. I'd like for you to give him a chance.” Her words sounded rushed. As if she was nervous. Which was silly. Andrew was her son, and he was a good boy—a good boy who'd always wanted the best for her.

“You think you should be dating? I mean, Dad might come up here to see you and all,” he said, shoving another cookie in his mouth.

“Drew, your father and I have been divorced for almost five years. We're friends.” Which was a total
lie. She would never consider Larry the Snake a friend. He was a sperm donor. Okay, more than that, but not a friend. Friends practiced give and take in a relationship. All Larry knew was take. But Andrew didn't get that. She had never let him know what a waste of skin his father was.

“Why?” Andrew asked. He set his soda can on the counter and crossed his arms. He looked so much like a man, even though his brown eyes mirrored little-boy pain. “Why'd you make him leave to begin with? Things were fine. I never got it.”

How had a conversation about her dating turned into this? Why did her son still harbor hope for reconciliation?

“Honey, this is probably not the best time to talk about what happened between your dad and me. I care about him because he's your father, but our marriage wasn't working. We weren't in love anymore.” Or ever.

Larry was what he was—a man who would never grow up. Andrew never saw Larry's flaws. He thought his good time Charlie father was the bomb. That the greasy little worm was cool, pimp, all that and a bag of chips.

Of course, what child wouldn't? She'd done the laundry, met with the principal, driven a wheezing Andrew to the hospital, punished the child when he'd lied about stealing a chocolate bar. She'd been the caretaker, disciplinarian and errand runner. She'd made the sacrifices to raise a child. Larry had been the opposite. He showed up late to games with new baseball gloves. He came to the hospital with video games. He allowed Andrew to go to the Astros game even when he was supposedly grounded. He called the principal a loser and degraded
the man for picking on his son. Larry was the hero, while she was the enforcer.

Andrew's inflated opinion of his father was her fault. She'd made excuses for too long.

“He still loves you. He told me so,” Andrew said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don't know why you want to see this Tyson guy. We're still a family. You said we'd always be a family no matter what, but obviously that isn't true. I have to spend all my holidays split between the two of you.”

Dawn rubbed a hand over her face. “I'm sorry. But do you expect me to make something out of nothing just so it's easier for you? That's not fair to me. And you're too old for this.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

“You're an adult now, right?”

He nodded, even though she wasn't certain she could call her baby an adult. His body looked every inch a man, but his psyche was still building Lego creations. She knew. She'd been a mother at seventeen still looking through magazines for prom dresses she would never wear.

“Then you know relationships between men and women are complicated. Your dad and I both love you. We just don't love each other in the way it takes for us to get back together.”

“But Dad said—”

“What your dad says and does are two different things, Andrew. They always have been. He cares about me in the same way I care about him. As friends. That's all.”

At that, her son closed his mouth. He didn't say anything further, just glared at her.

“Let's try to keep an open mind and work on having
a nice Thanksgiving,” she said, patting her son on the back. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his scruffy jaw. “I love you, Drew, and I'm glad you're here.”

“Whatever.” Andrew headed for the back door. She could see Jack sitting on the porch, balancing Mae on his knee.

Pain punched her in the chest as sudden tears sprang to her eyes. Fighting for her and Tyson's relationship wasn't going to be easy. Andrew stubbornly clung to some crazy belief his parents would somehow reconcile. To make life easier for him.

Yeah, sure. She'd get right on that.

All she could hope was Tyson was having an easier time of it with his daughter. Thirteen-year-olds could be more than difficult to deal with, and when they were thirteen-year-old girls, well, that could be like dancing with the devil's wife—dangerous and uncomfortably hot.

 

T
YSON PULLED AT HIS
collar as he stared at his soon-to-be ex-wife. “I still can't believe you're here.”

Karen turned eyes the color of an Alaskan lake on him. “What's not to get? I promised Laurel I would come and stay. After all, we're signing the papers and that's been difficult on her. She's having problems in school. She's really vulnerable right now.”

“But it's my time with her,” he mumbled, propping his arms on the tailgate. “I haven't seen her in over a month.”

Karen flipped her auburn hair over one shoulder and leveled him with a killer smile. “Tyson, honey, she's our daughter. I don't like carving this up into ‘my' time or ‘your' time. It's crass.”

Tyson snorted. “Crass?”

“Don't go there. We're past the accusations and playing the blame game, Ty.”

Tyson shrugged. Karen might be past it, but he would always nurse a small kernel of betrayal. There would always be conflict between them because of the very nature of their breakup. Karen had chosen the path they were on. “I still think this is pretty shitty of you. But if you're staying in Oak Stand, you're getting a hotel room. There's a little bed-and-breakfast in town and a small motel.”

Karen smiled. “Already taken care of. I'll be staying at the Tulip Hill Bed and Breakfast. Laurel will stay here with you and Gramps, of course.”

“But I can stay with you, too, right, Mom? You know, like, if I want to,” Laurel said.

Tyson turned to find his daughter right behind them. He thought she'd stayed inside the house with Gramps.

“Pumpkin, if you need to go stay with your mother, you can. I hope you don't want to, though. I've missed my girl.” Tyson took Laurel in. He hadn't seen her since she got her braces. They made her look so much more like a teenager. Laurel was slim and athletic. Her long brown hair hung past her shoulders and her wide blue eyes were startling against her tanned skin. She would be a heartbreaker. Hell, she already was.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, pulling a pink phone from her pocket and flipping the screen on it. She didn't say anything else, just started tapping into the phone, shoulders slumping, eyes glazed.

“Is this what she does all the time?” he asked Karen as she lifted a Louis Vuitton bag from the depths of his toolbox. He watched as Karen checked the bag over, likely for scratches.

“Well, sure. She's a kid, you know. They all do that. Facebooking and Twittering and texting,” she said as she handed Laurel's bag to him. “I'm sorry I couldn't bring my car. I had no idea it would take so long to repair. You won't mind giving me a ride into town, will you? Or do I need—wait, do they even have cabs here?”

Tyson should have taken Karen to the B and B first, but he'd agreed to let her say hello to his grandfather. Besides he still reeled with shock at finding her packed and ready at the end of the drive right beside his daughter. He couldn't believe she'd connived her way into his holiday. But Karen had cornered him, whispering about how uncomfortable Laurel felt with the custody arrangements and how perhaps they should talk to the lawyer again.

Laurel not comfortable with him?

He was her damn father. Why wouldn't she feel comfortable with him? He'd only been in Oak Stand for three months. Before that, he and Laurel had spent almost every weekend in a cramped apartment in Las Colinas going shopping, watching movies and scarfing down pizza while Karen played with his ex-business partner. What had changed? Surely, Gramps's house was better than an apartment that smelled like mildew and smoke.

Perhaps he should have stayed in Dallas. Maybe tearing Laurel from her world had been too much.

But he was certain he'd done the right thing returning to East Texas. He needed to put the brakes on Laurel. She looked and acted like a spoiled heiress. All she needed to complete her look was Herman the Chihuahua in a bag under her arm. She was too good of a girl to fall prey to the things of the world so easily. Oak Stand
was a road bump for his daughter. She'd have to slow down here.

If he had to fight for that right, he'd do it. He had to get things straight for her.

He sighed and looked at Karen.

“Sure, I'll take you into town. Let me tell Gramps.” Tyson headed toward the ranch house he now called home. Laurel was sitting on the porch in one of the rockers, absorbed by her phone. She didn't even acknowledge him as he passed by. “Laurel, wanna go with me to take your mom into town? You can see the house I'm working on.”

His daughter didn't look up. “Nah, I'll just hang here.”

Disappointment lodged in his chest. He hadn't seen her in over a month and he'd missed her the way a prisoner misses open spaces. When he'd gotten back from Iraq nearly two years ago, there'd been no more kisses on her forehead, no silly jokes, no triple-fudge ice cream cones. The pigtailed little girl he'd left behind years ago would have jumped at any chance to ride beside him in the truck. This new creature, not so much.

What had happened to her?

But he knew. Laurel was another casualty of a father gone to war, of divorce and of being a teenager in today's world.

He swallowed the hurt of her indifference. “Okay, then. Be back in a bit.”

Tyson set Laurel's bag inside the foyer, yelled to his grandfather to keep an eye on his great-granddaughter, then went to the truck. He watched Karen open the passenger door and dust the seat with her hand before stepping daintily into the truck. She'd spent the past two
hours in the same spot, so it was a diva move. He rolled his eyes before putting the truck in Drive.