Jenna's Cowboy Hero (14 page)

“Are you still planning the job in Atlanta, then?” Jerry Mackenzie stopped a short distance from the chapel. It was a big building with screened sides, a roof and a tall steeple. Ceiling fans circulated the air, adding a little breeze to cool the kids sitting on the wooden pews.

Adam watched as four kids on the stage worked together to create a skit. He smiled at their seriousness. And he remembered church camp when he was ten, and how he had felt about his faith.

“Yeah, I'm still leaving.” And it wouldn't be as easy as he had once thought. He had found a group of people that were as willing to be used as he was unwilling to be used. Two weeks had changed his life.

“Let's look at what else you have here. I don't want to interrupt the kids.”

But for a minute they stood watching the kids who were talking now, saying the words to “Amazing Grace,” and acting it out. Adam smiled as one child wandered around on the stage and another went to help him find his way to a child who was playing Jesus: “was lost, but now he's found.”

“Let's go.” Adam walked away, hurting on the inside, because he felt like he'd been lost for a long time and now that he was found, he was going to leave again.

 

After dinner, Adam watched his dad drive away, and then he started down the drive on foot, in the direction of Jenna's. He wanted to check on her. He also wanted to walk and think. Maybe even pray.

As he walked up her drive, the dog ran to greet him.

“Dog, you really need a name. I can't believe that someone as emotional as Jenna Cameron left you with a moniker like that.”

He walked past the house to the barn. He could see her inside, sitting at the table with the boys. They had their heads bowed. His heart did a strange clench. He'd have to tell them goodbye.

And it wasn't going to be easy.

Now he understood why Jenna hadn't wanted the boys to get attached. But at least they were prepared. He hadn't been prepared for the thoughts of missing her, missing them, that assailed him. He had never expected it to be hard to leave.

The dog nudged his leg. He looked down and the animal pushed him again with the stick it had picked up. Adam took the stick and tossed it and then he walked through the double doors of the barn, taking a second to adjust to the dark, and to the smell of animals, hay and dust.

From outside in the corral, horses whinnied to him, not caring that it wasn't Jenna. They just wanted their evening meal. He opened the door to the feed room and flipped on the light. A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling flashed on, bright in the dark, windowless interior. A mouse ran behind the covered barrel that held the grain and something rustled in the empty feed sacks.

He grabbed a bucket, pulled off the lid of the barrel and scooped out grain. Three scoops for the two horses
in the corral. She had fed the horses in the field that morning. So the two in the corral needed grain and hay. He couldn't forget water. In the late-June heat, that was easy to remember.

He walked outside, back into bright sunlight. The horses trotted over and he poured the feed in the trough, half on one end, half on the other. Not that it mattered, because the two animals went back and forth, ears back, the dominant horse, a big bay, eating at one pile and then chasing the black-and-white paint away from the other pile.

The dog barked, like he knew and wanted to do something about it. “Buddy, you're going to have to let them work it out.”

The dog wagged his tail. “Yeah, Buddy. That's your name.”

The dog wasn't his.

The dog looked up at him, sitting back and wagging his tail. “Yeah, you did good. Come on, let's drag the hose out here and fill up the water.”

A car rolled up the drive, drawing the dog's attention away from farm work. The animal sat at the gate and barked. Adam turned on the hose and stuck it in the tank and then he walked out the gate to greet Pastor Todd.

“Jenna's in the house,” Adam explained as he met the other man at the front of the barn.

“I know, but I'm here to see you. Jess called me.”

“Great. What now?”

“He finally came clean.”

Adam lifted his hat, ran a hand through his hair and settled the hat back in place, pushing it down a little tighter.

“He has demands? What is up with this guy?”

“He wants to sell you the twenty-acre field that sits between your place and his.”

“I don't want his twenty acres.” Adam turned and walked back to the barn. “You can come with me. I have another water tank to fill.”

“I know you don't want the land, but I told him I'd talk to you. He gave me a fairly good price.”

“I don't want his land.” Adam turned, shaking his head. He grabbed the hose and walked the short distance to the tank that watered the horses in the field. “I'm not going to have this old guy extort money from me. If I buy this land then he'll have another problem, something else he wants from me.”

“I don't think so. I think he's looking for a way out of town. This was his wife's hometown and he wants to go back to Nebraska.”

“Let him go.” Adam reached to scratch the jaw of the gray gelding that came up to the fence to drink. The horse pushed against his hand and then moved away, sticking his nose into the fresh water and swishing it before taking a long drink.

“Adam, he's going to a meeting tomorrow, taking his lawyer. They're going to try and find a loophole that takes away your right to have this camp.”

Adam rubbed his brow and thought about it, about the camp, about the church and the kids. It was all on him.

The one guy who didn't even want to be here had to make the tough decisions for this camp that he'd never planned to have anything to do with. A short month ago he'd been living his life in Atlanta, clubbing on weekends, dating a model who had only one name, and never knowing who he could trust.

That part of the equation had been left out of the biography of his life. When magazines wrote about him, it was about the nightlife, the women, the money and the rumors.

It was never about loneliness.

“Give me time.” Adam sighed, because maybe they didn't have time. They had another group of kids coming in two weeks. The camp had, not him. “I have lawyers working on this.”

“I'm sorry, I don't want to push you into something you don't want to do. I wanted to present the facts, and then the decision is up to you.”

“I'll take that into consideration.” He smiled at Todd. “I'll even pray. But let me see what my lawyer comes up with. You know, this is something Billy should have taken care of, this zoning problem. And there's a chance he did take care of it.”

“Or he saw something he could do and he went forward, not realizing how much trouble it could cause.”

“Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.” Good-hearted or not.

“Well, I'm going to head out. They're having a song service at the camp and then roasting marshmallows.”

“Sounds like a good time.” Adam liked the idea of roasting marshmallows. He hadn't done that in years. “I'll be over to join them after I check on Jenna and the boys.”

“I think the kids at the camp would love it if you joined them.”

Adam nodded and watched as a guy that felt a lot like a friend walked away. When he walked back to the corral, the water was running over. Adam pulled the hose out and walked back to the barn to turn off the spigot. When he walked out of the barn, the boys were waiting for him.

“We had pizza for supper,” Timmy said. “It's the frozen kind, but it's good. We have leftovers if you want some.”

“That's great, guys.” Adam walked toward the house, the boys at his side.

“Mom said you can have ice cream, too.”

“Did she?” He grinned down at them. They were running around him, full of energy, the dog chasing, barking. He couldn't help but think about the quiet days, when he'd only had himself and his team to think about.

“Yep, she did. She said, ‘If he wants to eat, he can, Timmy, but you can't make him.' And I said we could, probably.”

Adam laughed at the little mimic and reached down to rub the kid's blond head. “Timmy, you crack me up.”

“Yeah, my mom said that, too.”

“I thought you might like the kind of pizza with everything.” David grinned up at him. “That's the kind that grown-ups who eat onions like.”

“Yep, I must be a grown-up.”

“Do you know that my mom's leg has a sore on it?” David looked down, kicking at a rock and then walking on. “She might need a doctor if that keeps up.”

David, repeating Jenna, the way Timmy usually did. “I'll check on her, okay?”

“That would be good, because she doesn't want Uncle Clint to worry.” David ran on ahead of him, into the house. Timmy looked up, like the little man of the house, taking things more seriously than people thought, Adam guessed.

“We think she needs to rest.”

“I think she probably does, too,” Adam agreed. He reached and Timmy took his hand. And possibly his heart, if that's what it felt like to lose a guy's heart to a kid, to a family. Like a squeeze, netting his emotions, making him rethink everything.

It took him a minute to shake himself loose from that feeling, to remind himself that he wasn't what Jenna or these kids needed. But for that minute he wanted to be the one who took care of them.

Jenna and the boys needed someone who didn't have doubts, a guy that knew how to keep his life together, a man who knew how to be from Oklahoma.

Not him.

J
enna opened the front door, offering a smile to a guy that looked pretty cornered. The boys had done that to him, the way she knew they would. Because they thought he was it. And she didn't know how to explain that he was a friend who would only be a friend for a season. Life brought people who stayed forever and people who stayed for a short time.

She knew that. Her boys had other plans. They wanted him to coach their little league, teach them to play football and go with them to the lake because they thought he lived at the camp. Jenna wanted to cry because she hurt all the way to her heart.

“I heard that you have pizza.” He walked up the steps.

She nodded and motioned him inside. “I do.”

“The boys invited me.”

“I told them they could.” She started toward the kitchen, knowing he'd follow. “I had a salad. You go ahead and help yourself. I need to take care of something while you guys eat.”

He looked down, blue eyes studying her face, and then he nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I'm good.”

But she wasn't. She walked into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed, wanting to cry. She buried her face in her hands, fighting back the tears, fighting to be strong.

For a long time she didn't move, just enjoyed not having to stand up. Finally she did what she needed to do—took off the prosthesis and then the socks that kept it in place.

Outside her room she could hear David and Timmy telling Adam why they liked the cartoon on TV, and he agreed, laughing when they said he was as strong as that hero, and probably faster. She used to be their hero, the person who was able to climb trees to save kittens, show them how to jump rope and run around bases.

Now she felt weak, and not at all like the woman who should have Adam Mackenzie sitting in her living room. She smiled a little at that, because she knew that her life would be a story for the media that liked to report on his life. And her life wasn't a story at all. She was a mom making the best of the hand that she'd been dealt. And she was more than a survivor. Surviving sounded more like someone getting by, hanging on, and she planned on doing more than that.

She wasn't going to sit in a dark bedroom, hiding in shame.

She had nothing to be ashamed of.

She grabbed the crutches and stood. When she walked into the living room, the three guys turned and smiled at her, but then went back to their cartoon. As if this was a normal night and she hadn't just tripped over the rug. She loved them for that. Loved her boys.

Her gaze shifted from the two tiny faces of her twins to the other face, now familiar to her. He was a friend. Nothing more.

“Did you have ice cream?”

Adam nodded, but kept watching the cartoon.

“Okay, I'm going to have some. You guys have fun.”

“I am.” He hugged the boys close and stood to follow her. She knew without looking because the boys groaned and then told Adam she really didn't need his help. He told them he knew that, but he thought he'd keep her company.

She was scooping out butter pecan when he walked through the door. “I really don't need help, you know.”

“I know. But you do look exhausted.”

“Thank you, that's what every woman wants to hear.” She set the timer for thirty seconds before turning to face him, leaning a little against the counter. “Truth is I am exhausted. Walking with a prosthesis takes more energy per step than walking with two good legs. Some days it wears me out. But I am better. In the beginning I could make it for a few hours and had to give up. Now I can get through a good day, sometimes a long day. I'm not up to long trips to the mall or five-mile hikes, but I'll get there.”

“I think you will, too. I think you'll climb mountains.”

He watched as she poured tea into a thermal cup and snapped the lid into place. She could eat standing up, and then carry the mug without spilling it. Adam reached for the bowl of ice cream.

“I can carry this for you.”

“Thank you.” Heat started up her neck into her cheeks. “I'm going to sit at the table.”

He set the bowl down.

“Todd says that Jess wants to sell me some land.”

Jenna nodded and sat down. He sat across from her. “That sounds about right. I think he had a lot of medical bills when he lost his wife.”

“So the camp is bad, a blight on the community, unless I give him money.”

She smiled. “Adam, he's hurting.”

“You think I should give him the money?”

“I can't tell you how to handle this.”

“I don't know. I'll see what my lawyer comes back with.”

“It'll work out.” She looked up. “When are you leaving?”

That night her boys had prayed for him when they blessed the food, asking God to keep him at the camp. Afterward she'd explained that Adam had to do what he was supposed to do and they had to accept the fact that he was leaving.

“Soon, I guess. I promised my family I would come over for lunch this Sunday. I'm still waiting for Will to finalize the date for my interview.” He twiddled his thumbs and didn't look at her. “The church that's here now, they want to bring older teens in two weeks, if we can pull it off. Todd thinks it can be done.”

“I think it can. And about that job, they're going to want you to work for them. I know you'll get it.”

“I don't know. They had a problem a year or so back with one of their guys having some personal issues. They're a little more cautious these days.”

“And their issue with you is what?” She should have stopped herself from asking that question, but curiosity got to her.

“My partying ways. My so-called rough edges. I have a lot of them, you know? I've been fined for fighting with refs—back in the old days, of course. I've fought with reporters.” He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “A few years ago I had some problems with a woman. She tried to claim we were married. We
weren't. She claimed that one of her boys was mine. He wasn't. She put him through—” He looked up. “She put him through a lot. He was eight. I had only known her for three months.”

“What did she want from you?”

“Money and a dad for her kid.”

Jenna stood up, not sure what to say or if she should defend herself. She didn't need a father for her boys. She wasn't looking for someone to fill that role in her life. Definitely not an unwilling someone. More important, she didn't want her boys to think of him like that, because she didn't want them to be hurt.

All of those thoughts rolled through her mind, but she didn't say any of it. She walked out and into the living room, where the boys were dozing off on the sofa. They'd had a long day. The room was dark and the air conditioner was working hard to keep the heat out of the room.

To keep from waking them, she walked outside. Adam followed her, closing the door behind them. He stood behind her at the edge of the porch.

“I don't think that you're like Morgan.” He spoke softly. “I know that you aren't. You're strong and independent. Maybe a little too independent. Your boys have you. They have Clint and Willow. They have this community.”

She nodded. Yes, the boys had all of those people. And so did she. So why did she feel so lonely with Adam standing behind her, not touching her? Why in the world did her heart feel as if it was yearning for something she had marked out of her life, out of her future, left off her list? She didn't need more rejection, more goodbyes. Or worse, someone walking away without looking back.

And her heart ached because she wanted him to touch her, to reach out and hold her, even as her smart self was telling her to say goodbye and walk away before he did.

Her smart self was so not in control of this situation.

She turned, and when she did, he wrapped an arm around her and took the crutches. He leaned them against the wall of the house. “You don't need those. I'm here.”

His words were soft, whispered against her cheek. His arms were around her, holding her close, and she held on to his upper arms, solid muscle, strong. Strong enough for both of them.

When his lips touched hers, she heard him sigh, felt his chest heave, and she reciprocated, because there was something so sweet, so gentle in his touch, in that moment when their lips met. Her heart felt like it had finally grabbed hold of what it had been seeking.

She held on to him, leaning into his strength, and his lips grazed her cheek, rubbing lightly. His hands remained on her back, holding her tight.

“You're beautiful.” His whispered words brought her back to reality.

“Stop.” She moved away, but his lips followed, claiming hers again.

“You're beautiful.” He whispered it again, near her ear, his cheek brushing hers.

She hopped to her crutches and leaned against the side of the house. “You can say that because this is easy for you. You're going back to Atlanta. I'm staying here in Oklahoma. This will be a memory for you. But this is my reality. This is my life.”

“Jenna, I'm sorry. I thought we both…”

“Wanted to be kissed, to be held. Yes, we did. But don't complicate this. Don't make it about us. I'm a mom, Adam. This is about more than me and you, and a sweet moment on a summer night. It's about two little boys. It's about what happens tomorrow.”

“I know.” He closed the distance between them and
his arms slipped around her waist, holding her close. “I know, and I think I've just taken advantage of what felt like a great friendship.”

“I think we've both messed up.” She didn't move from his embrace, because it felt good in his arms. But she was coming to her senses, remembering why romance wasn't a part of her five-year plan. “I had my convictions, to keep you at the edge of my life so we wouldn't get hurt. The boys love you so much. And they've been walked out on too many times.”

He brushed his cheek against hers and paused there. “
You've
been walked out on. Let's be honest, honey, this is about you,
your
heart, not just the boys. You need to know you really are beautiful.”

She wiped away tears that rolled down her cheeks, turning away when he tried to help. “This is too much. You're too much.”

“Yeah, maybe it is.” He kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow?”

Jenna shook her head. “I've made an appointment to get my prosthesis checked, or refitted. I might be out of the loop for a day or two.”

“Okay. Why don't you let me stop by and feed in the morning?”

“I can do it. But thank you.” She had Clint and Willow. It wouldn't be good to start relying on him, on someone who was leaving town as soon as possible.

“Jenna, you're stubborn.”

“I know I am.” She smiled then, and he winked as he turned and walked away, another guy who wasn't looking for reality, just a summer in Oklahoma.

 

Adam was sitting on his front porch the next morning, a clear view of the road, when Jenna's truck lum
bered past. She was on her way to Tulsa. And he was here, with a camp full of kids. Fortunately there were people who knew what to do with those kids. He barely knew what to do with himself.

He sipped his coffee, glad for a few minutes of peace, and groaning when his cell phone rang. He picked it up, glancing at the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Will.”

“Adam, I have an appointment for you. And bad news on the camp situation. I can't find anywhere at all that Billy went to Planning and Zoning. I looked at the county regulations with your lawyer, and he really feels like you did need to have a permit, some special zoning. I can get a lawyer there and have that taken care of.”

“Yeah, okay, get it taken care of, and then draw up the paperwork to give this place and any funds raised on its behalf to the Dawson Community Church. Also, contact that little lawyer person that represents Jess Lockhart. Buy his twenty acres and put it in the name of Dawson Community Church.”

“Got it. Here's the date of the appointment.”

Adam wrote it down as Todd came up the steps. “Talk to you later, Will. And I guess I'll see you soon.”

“Job interview?” Todd sat down and reached for the thermal coffeepot. “Do you have another cup?”

“Yeah, inside on the wall hook. Bring out the muffins from the bakery.”

“Anything else?” Todd laughed as he walked through the door.

Adam couldn't laugh. He could only think about last night, and about packing his bags. He glanced out over the wide, open field that was his front yard, a place where he'd watched deer grazing as he drank his morning coffee two days ago.

He'd gotten used to the mobile home, to this deck, to Dawson. And now he was leaving.

“What's up?” Todd poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Bad news?”