McKettricks of Texas: Garrett (27 page)

Dos.
Garrett hadn't been called “Two” since he couldn't remember when, and the reference to his place in the McKettrick pecking order pissed him off, especially coming from Charlie Bates.

“Some of them,” he answered, adjusting his hat.

Bates spat tobacco, careful to just miss Garrett and his horse. “And what would those be?” he drawled.

“Well, one of them would be to mind your own business.”

“That so?” Bates grinned. Spat again, coming closer this time. “There's another?”

“Yeah,” Garrett said. “Clean up.”

With that, he rode away, just naturally falling in alongside Tate and his horse, even though they weren't speaking to each other at present.

A
LL THAT MORNING
,
the call from Gordon nibbled at the back of Julie's mind, making concentration doubly difficult. Was it true that Calvin had been calling his dad without telling her? And if so, why?

Was something troubling Calvin—how could she not have noticed?—and why had he confided in Gordon, a virtual stranger, and not in her?

Okay, there were things a boy didn't want to tell his mom, but Calvin could have talked to Libby or to Paige. He had a good relationship with Tate too, and Garrett, if he'd wanted to confide in a man.

Why would he choose Gordon?

Julie was burning to speak to Calvin, make sure everything was all right in his small but busy world, reassure him if he was frightened or disturbed about something.

But she still had classes to teach, and the first round of tryouts scheduled for that afternoon and evening. Plus, she'd promised Rachel she'd have a word with Ron Strivens, try to smooth his pride-ruffled feathers, possibly get him to understand the difference between neighborly help and charity.

And frankly, that galled her a little—no, a
lot.

Men and their damnable pride. She had too much to do
already, and now she'd committed herself to yet another task, one that would probably prove impossible.

By the time lunch hour rolled around, Julie was, as the old saying went, fit to be tied.

Even deep breathing, usually her mainstay, didn't help.

Instead of eating in the cafeteria or the teacher's lounge, Julie ducked into her tiny office in the darkened auditorium, got out her cell phone and called Gordon back.

“Julie?” he said, sounding surprised.

“I hope this isn't a bad time,” Julie replied, and then wished she'd said something else.
Anything
else. It wasn't as if her ex would be doing her some big favor by taking her call.
He'd
been the one to initiate things, not her.

“I'm straddling the ridgepole on a roof at the moment,” Gordon said, with a smile in his voice. “Nailing down shingles.”

Julie remembered that Gordon worked in construction now. “I guess I could call back later,” she said uncertainly. There was the school day to finish, then the first set of tryouts for
Kiss Me Kate,
then picking up Calvin, getting him through his bath and his prayers.

As much as she wanted to ask her little boy about calling Gordon—it was paramount for Calvin to understand that he'd done nothing wrong by telephoning his father—there probably wouldn't be time or energy for it. Not that night, at least.

“Julie,” Gordon said quickly, earnestly, “stay on the line. Please. I'm wearing a headpiece, so I've got both hands free for hanging on.”

Julie smiled at that, a smile muted to sadness by memories of another time and place, when she and Gordon had expected to be together forever.

Or, at least, that had been
her
expectation. Gordon's take on the situation might have been entirely different from hers, right from the very beginning.

“I'm here,” she said, quietly and at some length.

Gordon's voice was gruff when he replied. “About that phone call this morning,” he said. “I'm sorry, Julie. I didn't mean to imply that you were—well—that I think there's anything wrong with the way you're raising our son. From what little I've seen of him—and I know that's my own fault and not yours—Calvin is a great kid.”

Julie's eyes burned. Furious heartache rose up into her throat and expanded there, painfully.

Our son,
Gordon had said.

The phrase made her feel fiercely territorial, a tigress backed into a corner with her cub, so it was probably a good thing that she was too choked up to speak.

She might not have been able to hold back all the damning questions she wanted to hurl at Gordon Pruett in those wretched moments:
How dare you say
our son?
Where were you when he nearly died of an asthma attack during Thanksgiving dinner? Where were you when he was teething, when he had the flu and couldn't keep anything down? Where were you when he was asking why he didn't have a dad to take him camping and fishing, like his friend Justin does?

“Hey,” Gordon said, when she didn't speak. “Are you still there?”

Julie managed to croak out a “Yes.”

There was a pause, then Gordon launched cheerfully into the real reason he'd gotten in touch with her that morning, when she was driving to work. “My folks are visiting Dixie and me next week, and they want to meet Calvin. “He paused, reining it in a little. “If that's okay with you, I mean.”

Julie straightened her spine. Drew a deep breath and let it out without making a sound. “It depends on what you have in mind,” she replied, pleasantly surprised by how calm and together she sounded. Everything inside her seemed to be jostling about, competing for a chance to jump onto a hamster wheel and run like hell. “I think it would be wonderful for Calvin to meet his grandparents.”

On her side of the family, there was only Marva, since her father was gone. Marva was an interesting grandmother, in an Auntie Mame sort of way—but there was no getting around the undeniable fact that she was a character.

The one and only Marva.

“But?” Gordon prodded, not unkindly.

Julie sighed, but this time she made no effort to be quiet about it. “But you'll all have to come here, to Blue River. And if I can't be there personally, throughout the visit, then I want one of my sisters to be.”

“I'm not planning on kidnapping the little guy, Julie,” Gordon said, his tone reasonable, but shot through with some vexation, too. “My mom and dad have never seen him.”

Whose fault is that?
demanded the part of Julie's brain she was trying so hard to control.

“Those are the terms, Gordon.”

“Take it or leave it?” Gordon asked, sadly amused.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Julie answered.

“Okay,” Gordon agreed. “We'll book a couple of rooms at the Amble On Inn, then, and drive down from Dallas on Friday—Thursday if I can get the time off. I'll let you know when the plans are firmed up.”

“Okay,” Julie said.

Gordon chuckled. “Julie?”

“What?”

“I know it's hard, adjusting to my being back in your life, but I'm not your enemy. I'm not trying to steal Calvin away, or turn him against you. I blew it, big time, and I'm the first to admit it. You'll never know how much I regret not being there for Calvin and for you, because if there are words to describe it, they're ones I've never learned.” A pause, an indrawn breath, a sigh. “I just want a chance to know my son, Julie. That's all. Just to know him.”

“And your parents,” Julie pointed out, strangely compelled to cross t's and dot i's.

In all the time they were together, she and Gordon, he'd never introduced her to them. She'd wondered, back then and not very often, if it was because he was ashamed, either of dear old Mom and Dad—or of her.

The wild, unconventional girl from Blue River, Texas.

Full of spirit and confidence in those days, either singing and dancing with professional theater companies or waiting tables between semesters of college, always paying her own way, Julie had never
seriously
entertained the possibility that Gordon's folks might not approve of her.

She did now.

“And my parents,” Gordon affirmed.

They said their awkward goodbyes then, and, mercifully, the call ended.

Julie had barely caught her breath when Libby dialed in. Calvin, through with kindergarten for the day, would be over at the community center by now, no doubt listening to a story or scaling the walls of the remarkably authentic toy castle Tate and his daughters had donated.

Unless something was wrong.

“Hey, Julie,” Libby said.

Anxiety washed over Julie. “Is everyone all right?”

“Yes,” Libby was quick to reply. “Mostly, anyway. I just got a call from the school—Audrey and Ava seem to have come down with identical cases of the flu. I'm off to pick them up in a couple of minutes, and I'll be taking them by the clinic, of course, since they're running fevers. What it all boils down to is this—I don't think we should expose Calvin.”

Julie closed her eyes for a moment, already shaking her head. “No,” she agreed.

“I know you were counting on us to look after Calvin until you get home from the tryouts for the play—”

“Don't worry about it, Lib,” Julie broke in. “I'll figure something out. Maybe Paige can help.”

“I'm so sorry, Jules.”

“Don't be sorry,” Julie said. “Just take care of Audrey and Ava. And let me know what the doctor says, will you?”

Libby promised a full report and rang off, only to call again before Julie had even managed to set the phone down.

“Garrett's here,” Libby told Julie, without any sort of preamble. “He says he can pick Calvin up and bring him to you or out to the ranch—whatever works for you.”

Julie's heart did a funny little flip, and she silently scolded herself for making a big deal out of nothing. “Ask him to please bring Calvin here,” she said. “To the auditorium, I mean.”

Libby relayed this to Garrett, then asked, “What time?”

“Three?” Julie said. Classes were dismissed at 2:45; this way, she'd have fifteen minutes to “unfrazzle,” a term her friend and fellow teacher Helen used, before coming face-to-face with Garrett McKettrick.

Libby repeated the time to Garrett, then confirmed, “He'll be there.”

“Tell him thanks,” Julie told her sister. “I really appreciate this. And don't forget I want an update on the twins, once they've seen the doctor.”

“I won't forget,” Libby promised.

Julie speed-dialed the community center, told one of the day-care workers that Calvin wouldn't be riding the bus home with the McKettrick twins the way he usually did. Instead, Garrett would stop by to pick him up.

“This is going to sound real silly,” Soliel Roberts said, “since you and Garrett and I all grew up together and everything, but I'm going to need written permission to turn Calvin over to anybody besides you or Libby or Paige, dated and signed. You can fax it over, if you like. The fax number is 555-7386.”

“I'll do that,” Julie replied gently. “Thanks, Soliel.”

Soliel said she was welcome, goodbyes were exchanged and Julie rooted in her lunch bag for the half sandwich she'd packed that morning, in the ranch-house kitchen. She'd already wolfed down the apple during her morning break.

The afternoon passed quickly, and Julie was grateful, considering that the second part of the day often seemed twice as long as the first.

At three o'clock, she was consulting with Mrs. Chambers, the music teacher, and a few of the most dedicated kids were already lolling in the front row of seats, texting each other while they waited to get up on stage and strut their stuff.

Calvin came racing down the middle aisle, his face flushed with excitement and the chill of a fall afternoon. “Garrett came and got me at school today!” he shouted, unable to contain his exuberance. “And it was
just like having a dad!
”

Julie's cheeks stung a little, though she smiled and bent down for Calvin's hello hug. Over the top of his head, she
caught sight of Garrett, standing in the shadows at the back of the auditorium.

She couldn't see his face, but that didn't matter.

The familiar jolt went through her anyway.

While Calvin remained at the base of the stage, showing Mrs. Chambers his papers from school, Julie approached Garrett.

“Thank you,” she said, peering cautiously at his badly swollen right eye. From a distance, she hadn't been able to see the damage. Up close, he looked as though something with hooves had kicked him in the face. “What happened to you?”

Garrett folded his arms, and his mouth—oh, his dangerous
mouth
—crooked up at one side. “I ran into a door?” he said.

“You were in a fight,” Julie guessed aloud, keeping her voice down so Calvin, Mrs. Chambers and the theater kids wouldn't hear.

“You should see the other guy,” Garrett joked.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to fuss and fret and fetch an ice pack.

Which was why she was so careful to keep her distance.

“Does it hurt?” She couldn't resist asking him that.

He chuckled. “A little. Mostly, I'm numb.”

“I appreciate your bringing Calvin over from school.”

“It might be a long haul for the little guy,” Garrett observed. “Hanging around here until you're done, I mean. I could take him on home if that would be better.”

Julie glanced back at Calvin, knew he'd be better off at the house, with Esperanza and Garrett, rather than hanging around the auditorium until all hours, either bored out of his skull or creating a distraction or both.

“I couldn't ask you—or Esperanza—”

Garrett silenced her by resting the tip of one index finger against her lips, so lightly and so briefly that afterward she was never sure that he'd touched her at all. “You're not asking,” he said.
“I'm offering.”

Julie's heart filled with something warm and sweet, and then overflowed. She hoped Garrett hadn't guessed that, just by looking at her. He'd think she was a sentimental sap if he had.

Just then, Calvin raced up the aisle and leaned against Julie's side. “I'm hungry,” he said.

Garrett looked down at him, ruffled his hair. “Me, too,” he agreed. “What do you say we go home and see if we can charm Esperanza into rustling up some grub?”

Calvin practically vibrated with eagerness. “That would be cool,” he said. Then he looked up at Julie, his little face screwed up with studious concern, his glasses slightly askew, as they so often were. “Aren't you hungry, too, Mom?” he asked.