Texas Redeemed (10 page)

He hadn’t even told
Valerie, mainly because she hadn’t asked.

But Lucy knew. And
now he knew why.

She hadn’t been
sketching in his grandfather’s study—that he’d already known. She had been
snooping in his belongings and must’ve found his personal files.

And she’d fought
tooth and nail to lie her way out of it.

“A missionary?”
Cordelia asked. “Religious or …”

“Secular,” he said,
still watching Lucy.

“When’d you decide
to do that?”

“When I left Night
Sky. I started as an assistant to a Christian group—nothing more important than
the guy to clean up, fetch supplies, deliver food. But I figured out what I was
meant to do, and joined a non-religious group after that.”

“Meant to do? What
does that mean?” Valerie asked. “No one’s predestined for anything, at least I
don’t think so. It’s about free will. It’s about choices. You chose to leave,
so please don’t make an excuse about it being meant to happen.”

“Well, it’s noble
any way you slice it,” Dinah said.

Conversation was
divided again, with Jack asking him about the countries he’d visited while Lucy
eavesdropped, watching him with a look of open interest.

Suddenly Coop said,
“Val, the McClintocks’ve got connections to a horse trainer you shouldn’t pass
up. A real-live horse whisperer. You’re gonna want to give him a call. I can
get the info from Dwight down at the body shop. No problem.”

“Why would I need a
new trainer? Pete’s my go-to guy. You know that.”

Coop emitted something
that was a cross between a cough and a laugh. “C’mon now, Val. Pete’s okay, but
you’ll need somebody that can handle a horse like Brute. Take my advice, will
you?”

Peyton noticed that
the other conversations had grown softer, as if everyone at the table were half
listening.

“I’ll take your
advice, Coop, when I ask for it.” Valerie stabbed her fork into her bowl, and
it came away with a carrot slice speared onto it.

The old man snorted
and ignored the warning look Dinah sent him. “It’s all that liberal independent
woman stuff cloudin’ your judgment, Val. Now, here I knew you when you were
just a young’un, back when your folks died in that car crash in Pittsburgh and
you came here to Rhys.” He took a swig of wine. “I had a hand in keepin’ this
place afloat.”

“It was barely
doing that when I inherited it. They helped me turn it around.” She indicated
Dinah, Jack and Cordelia. At his offended expression she said, “So did you,
Coop. But when it comes down to it, how I run this ranch is my decision. You don’t
have to agree, but please respect that.”

“First all that nonsense
about a ninety-day calving season, now this. Hanging on to that horse without
getting him properly trained is a mistake. He’s dangerous.” He pointed at Lucy
and said to Valerie, “Let your little girl ride that gelding and chances are
she’ll end up with a plot right next to—”

The man snapped his
mouth shut and his leathery skin took on a crimson shade, but it was too late.

“That’s enough!”
Dinah snapped at the same time that Jack shook his head at Coop and Peyton shot
out of his chair, sending it clattering against the hardwood floor.

“Stop! Stop it!”
Lucy dashed around the table to Peyton. She grabbed his wrists and he realized
then that his hands had formed fists. “He didn’t mean it. I know he didn’t.
Coop cares about us.”

Coop pushed away
from the table. “I-I’m sorry. Val, listen …”

“She’s listened to
you enough for one day, Coop,” Cordelia said. “I’ll walk you to the door. Get
to the bunkhouse and try sleeping off all that wine.”

He said nothing as
she took his arm and led him out the dining room.

“He does care about
us,” Lucy said, her voice colored with panic. She released Peyton’s wrists and
took her seat next to Cordelia’s vacant chair.

I care about
you, too,
he wanted to say. Was it true? He didn’t want the attachments
that came with fatherhood, yet he’d helped her with homework, shared a meal
with her and had almost put his fist in a man’s face to defend her. She was a
consequence of his recklessness, but he wasn’t about to abandon her the way his
mother had abandoned him.

Somehow, without
him even realizing it, the child had spellbound him. Didn’t she know? Couldn’t
she tell it was tearing him apart to be an outsider in her life?

Dinner continued
and the noise gradually picked up after Valerie turned on the sound system to
play something by Nickelback, at Lucy’s request.

Jack and his wife
started clearing the table for dessert. “A perfect lemon meringue pie you’re
gonna want the recipe for,” Dinah had called it.

“I’m going out for
a minute.” Peyton rose from his chair.

Will raised a brow.
“Not lookin’ to find Coop, now, are you?”

“No.” Though the
thought did occur to him, even as he opened the French doors off the kitchen
and stepped onto the flagstone patio.

Outside the air was
brisk with an autumn chill, and he hoped to hell it would cool his temper or
whatever else it was that had him feeling so damn uneasy. He looked out into
the dark sky—cloudy with no stars to be seen.

“Chances are
she’ll end up with a plot right next to—”

Next to Anna.

Peyton was certain
Anna had been buried in the town’s only cemetery, but he didn’t even know where
to find her marker. He didn’t know the date of her death, didn’t know how long
she’d been sick before …

He dragged both
hands through his hair, breathing harshly, letting the air burn his nostrils.
He wanted a deeper connection to the child he and Valerie had lost. A
kindergarten photo wasn’t enough.

And he was
beginning to want to be more than an in-name-only father. But Lucy didn’t trust
him enough to be upfront with him. She wrapped herself in lies as if she were a
fragile parcel and needed the protection.

Truth be told, just
because he wanted to be her father didn’t mean he could do the job. Jasper was
right—Valerie and Lucy’s lives could be worse. Even though he wouldn’t set out
to hurt his kid, like his mother had hurt him, how could he be sure it wouldn’t
end up happening anyway? How could he know just how much of Marin Beck he
carried in his veins?

The doors opened
and in his periphery he could see Valerie stepping beside him. In one hand was
a plastic sandwich bag. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Got treats for the
dogs.”

For the first time
he noticed the large outdoor kennel a few yards away. She opened the baggie as
she strode to the kennel, then unlatched the door and released two athletic,
shiny-coated Labrador retrievers—one yellow and the other black.

They shot across
the yard as if blasted from cannons, their guttural growls and jubilant barks
ripping open the quiet. Then, with twitching noses and hungry onyx-dark eyes,
they returned to Valerie and the treats she held.

“Guard dogs?” he
asked, as the black one devoured its treat then slunk toward Peyton as if
sizing up potential prey.

“Only when
necessary.” Valerie indicated the dog that now circled him, sniffling fiercely.
“That’s Mimas—a male.” She crouched to be eye level with the other dog, which
began to plant its front paws on her shoulders but hesitated and sat instead to
be rewarded with a treat. “This girl’s Titania.”

“Interesting
names.”

“I’ve got a lot of
respect for Herschel’s discoveries. He’s one of my favorite astronomers.” She
whistled and Mimas halted his sniffing exploration to gallop back to Valerie,
who pocketed the now-empty baggie in her jeans and scratched both dogs
affectionately behind the ears before letting them run freely.

“Can we sit,
Peyton?” She pointed to a picnic table under a pergola at the opposite end of
the yard.

“Yeah.” Following
her lead, he sat on the table beside her with his feet planted on the bench.
“No stars’re out.”

“That’s too bad,”
she murmured, casting her gaze skyward with that same look of wonderment and
appreciation that she’d had as a kid, pointing out the Big Dipper and the
almost invisible red dot she swore up and down was Mars.

“Valerie, would you
show me where Anna … where she is?”

She stilled,
clearly unprepared for the request. He braced himself, unable to accept no for
an answer. If she wouldn’t show him their child’s gravesite, then he’d find
someone who would.

“Sure you’re up to
visiting that place? The cemetery?”

No, he wasn’t. But
sometimes life came at you, ready or not. “Yes.”

Valerie nodded, a
sharp bow of her head. “Meet me here tomorrow. Ten o’clock or so. Lucy’ll be in
school.”

“And you don’t want
her to see me.”

“It’s got nothing
to do with you. She doesn’t like to visit Anna’s marker. Or even really talk
about …”

“I get it.”

After a moment they
slid into a lengthy silence that was interrupted only by the dogs’ barks and
grunts.

“Peyton, Coop
didn’t mean to upset anyone with that comment about Lucy and the horse. The
thing is, he’s stubborn as hell and doesn’t trust my judgment, but he’s useful
on this ranch. And he really does care about her safety. Mine, too, to be
honest. He doesn’t, however, care about my feelings or my authority.” She
sighed. “I can hold my own against Coop. But it was … interesting … to see you
react the way you did.”

“It wasn’t for your
or anyone else’s benefit.”

“No, it was
instinct,” she said softly. “Instinct to protect her.”

“We’ve got that in
common.”

Valerie gritted her
teeth. “Except I’ve never scared her the way you just did. Calm one second,
then on the attack the next. All this time away didn’t change you the way you
want people to believe. It’s still there.”

“What?”

“That dangerous
part of you. That act first, think later part. I don’t think you
can
change.”

The disappointment
in her words penetrated. He hadn’t a single run-in with the police since
leaving Night Sky, but some things, like mending victims of violence and
knowing that they’d only walk back into the cruelty he wanted to save them
from, tested his control.

“Peyton, when I
found out Lucy hadn’t come home, when I saw you with her, the idea hit that
maybe you’d try to take her.”

An indirect way of
asking him if he would have the audacity to do so. “I won’t disappear into the
night with her, Valerie. I’d never hurt you—” he swore, immediately realizing
that she didn’t trust him simply because he
had
hurt her before, by
disappearing “—I wouldn’t hurt Lucy that way.”

He took a breath.
“I
have
changed. I swear to you, I’ve been treading the
straight-and-narrow ever since I left this town. Following the rules, keeping
the peace. Even when it’s the hardest thing to do.” Tipping his head, he found
her examining him with those serious brown eyes. He could practically see her
guard lowering as if someone were letting down a drawbridge. “I want to get to
know our daughter. And she should get to know me. You, too.”

“Okay.” That single
word was packed with reluctance and doubt and even a dash of dread.

But it was a yes.
And that was good enough for him.

“A missionary, huh?”
she said after a minute, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them.
“Suppose you found a life that really was different from being Nathaniel
Turner’s heir.”

“I didn’t go
searching for that life. I just knew I didn’t want to be attached to my
grandfather’s money. So I bailed on that New Zealand mentorship. I ran into
some guys who were talking about going to Sri Lanka. I went.”

“You make it sound
so cut-and-dried.”

“It wasn’t.” He
shuffled his feet on the bench. “It wasn’t easy. Leaving you.”

“There’s more of
Estella in you than I thought.” Valerie’s voice came out in a rush, as if to
erase his last words. “She’d be proud. Of your work. Didn’t you use to talk
about a hospital in Los Angeles?”

“My grandfather had
a cardiovascular surgical position waiting on a silver platter for me. All I
had to do was finish med school, bring in publicity—and money—and it was mine.”

“Nathaniel’s
nothing if not influential. And thorough.” She lowered her feet to the bench.
“So you said to hell with L.A. You did return to the States every once in a
while, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Ended up in
Chicago for med, specialized in emergency surgery. But I never came back to
Texas until now. My most recent assignment was in Côte d’Ivoire.”

“And before that?”

“Delhi. Before that
Japan.”

“Côte d’Ivoire …
after the earthquake and …” She shook her head. “On the newscasts everything
looked so horrific. Night Sky Memorial ran a donation drive and sent money, but
that just seemed like a drop in the bucket of what those people needed—probably
still need. What was it like to be there?”

In flashes Peyton
saw face after face of hurt, anguish and fear. He saw demolished buildings,
streets cluttered with remnants of destruction. He saw himself being dragged
into a musty building, then crying out at the blinding, searing pain of a blade
shoved deep into his thigh, then foreign shouts and quick footsteps on pavement
as his attackers disappeared into the night with the cash and half-eaten bag of
peanuts he’d had in his pockets.

“It didn’t break
me,” was all he said.

He knew from the
way she cleared her throat that she didn’t appreciate the vague brush-off of an
answer, yet she didn’t push. She asked only, “How did you get through it?”

“Mostly I prayed. I
needed something to believe in.”

“Why were you at
Memorial yesterday?” she queried, switching gears.

“I was meeting with
Chief Lindsey to talk about a visiting surgeon gig. I took a leave of absence
from Johns Hopkins right after I returned from Côte d’Ivoire. There’s family …
stuff … to work through with my grandfather.”