Chapter Four
Bobbi made her way back to the kitchen to make sure Bob was on task. The chef for the diner had his own ways of doing things, and he needed to be watched at times. “What’s the special today?”
Bob glanced up from his food preparation. “Dirty rice and jambalaya. I hate making Cajun while Kelsi is here, because she always adds more Cajun seasoning. She makes me crazy with it.”
She shrugged. “I know she likes things a little spicier than most people. She hasn’t done that since the babies were born, has she?”
“Oh yeah. She said the babies need to learn to tolerate hot foods if they want to be able to hold their heads up in public.”
“I never denied she was special.” She leaned on the counter, watching as Bob efficiently diced vegetables. “How’s Miranda?”
“She’s good! And so am I because today is kolache day.”
Bobbi stood up straight. “Kolache day? How many and what kinds do you want?” She found a pen and a piece of paper. She’d go get the savory treat for all of the employees of the diner.
After getting the order of everyone there, she opened the front door of the diner to head to the bakery, noting that it was just time for both of the businesses to open. She hurried past the stables, waving at Wyatt as she passed.
“Mom, what’s the hurry?” he called.
“It’s kolache day at the bakery!”
“I want two ham and cheese!”
She nodded, not breaking her stride. The kolaches disappeared too fast for lollygagging. She got to the bakery, and saw there was already a short line out the front. When she got to the counter, she smiled at Miranda, noting that her belly was starting to grow. There was a definite baby boom there on the ranch, thanks to Jaclyn and her obsession with matchmaking. She gave her order, making casual conversation with the baker.
“That’s a lot of kolaches! Are you feeding the whole ranch?” Miranda asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“I’m taking Kelsi’s place at the café for today. She has to take the babies to the pediatrician for shots, so she asked me if I’d help out. When Bob told me it was kolache day, I took orders from everyone.” Bobbi looked into the display case. “The cinnamon rolls look delicious today. I may need one of those to have for dessert after lunch.”
“Works for me.” Miranda wrapped up each treat and put them into a white bakery box.
“I’ll see you!” Bobbi waved and hurried back toward the café, stopping only at the stable to take Wyatt his kolaches.
Wyatt grinned at her, taking the pastries. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I couldn’t let my baby starve to death, now could I?”
True to form, Wyatt shook his head and set to eating. With a wave, Bobbi hurried out the door toward the diner.
She was almost there when a figure stepped out from behind a tall oak tree. She jumped with fright before she realized it was just Wilber. “Good morning!” she called, continuing her walk.
He fell into step beside her. “I brought you something.”
She looked at him with a frown, noting the bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. For years, he’d gone the easy route and purchased flowers for special occasions. He hadn’t picked wildflowers for her since the twins were born.
“Oh, thank you!” She shoved the bakery box at him and took the flowers, burying her nose in them. “I know just where I’m going to put them.”
“Oh? Not on the windowsill this time?”
She laughed. “Well, I’m not on dishwashing duty today.” They now had an efficient commercial dishwasher that did the job she’d once done. “I think I’m going to put them on the counter of the café, so I can see them every time I walk in and think about how much my husband cares for me.”
He followed her into the café, putting the bakery box on the counter. There were a few customers eating, but the employees descended on the bakery box. “It’s kolache day at the bakery,” Bobbi told them all as she chose a water glass to put the flowers into.
One of the deputy sheriffs, Seth, was there, and he groaned. “I’m going to have to hightail it over to the bakery as soon as I finish my breakfast. Sheriff will never forgive me if I don’t bring him a kolache. They’re his favorite.”
“They’re everyone’s favorite,” Bob said as he came from the kitchen to grab two of the pastries for himself.
Seth frowned at Bob. “I think it’s time you told your wife to start making them every day. This twice a week thing is for the birds.”
“If she had time she’d do them every day, but they’re very labor-intensive. If you want to go and volunteer your time every morning, I bet she’d make them.” Bob hurried back to the kitchen with his kolaches in hand, knowing the other man wouldn’t take him up on the plan he’d made.
Bobbi looked over at Wilber, who was watching the byplay. “Maybe it’s time for us to hire another baker to help Miranda. If she can’t make the food that’s most in demand every morning, then we’re missing out on income.” He waved to his wife. “I’m going to go and get some kolaches and then talk to Wade. Maybe he’s got some reason that I can’t comprehend to explain why he hasn’t hired someone to help her full-time.”
As he left, Bobbi frowned. He was back in work mode, so she was forgotten. It was the way of things, but it wasn’t something she liked. She loved the ranch every bit as much as he did, but she loved her family more. She knew he did too, but he didn’t always show things the same way.
As she waited tables, her mind drifted back again.
Wilber arrived just at the time he’d said he would. She added punctuality to her mental list of positive points.
“I’m in the kitchen!” she called when he yelled out, looking for her. She’d made a simple meal—one she’d made a thousand times. Her foster mother had expected her to cook three nights a week. She’d said that every girl should know how to cook, so she’d be a proper wife.
Bobbi had always doubted she’d be a wife because she didn’t think any man would want her, but she had done as she was told. She’d always strived to be the foster child who caused the least amount of trouble.
Wilber walked into the kitchen and found her serving up two plates of spaghetti with garlic bread. He took the plates from her hands and placed them on the kitchen table before gripping her waist and pulling her to him for a kiss. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to do that again. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve kissed you!”
She shook her head, ignoring the tingling in her lips. “We’ve known each other for three days, and it feels like years since you’ve kissed me? You have a warped sense of time, Wilber Weston.”
He just grinned, leaning down to pat Don Juan on the head. If she wasn’t working, the puppy was at her side. “Dinner smells delicious.”
“I hope it tastes good.” Bobbi was being modest. She knew she was a good cook, but she hated doing it so much. She wished she was more like his mother, who seemed to love being in the kitchen.
“I’m sure it will.” He sat down, picking up his fork. “Who taught you to cook?”
“My foster mother. The last one. I had four between the ages of eight and ten. No one wanted the child of a murderer in their home. So they kept shoving me off to the next home.”
“The last one didn’t mind though?”
She shook her head. “She was sure she could fix me.” She’d used religion as her weapon of choice, but Bobbi didn’t tell him that. It was enough for him to know she’d been with the woman for eight years. Maybe someday she’d tell him all about the places she’d lived, but for now, she didn’t want him to look at her with pity or fear in his eyes.
After the meal, they did the dishes together, which thrilled her. “My foster brothers were never expected to help with dishes. It was the girls’ job.”
“Well, I think men and women should share chores equally.”
“Are you still going to feel that way after thirty years of marriage?” she asked, her eyes dancing merrily.
“No promises, but I hope I will.”
They watched the Disney movie together, laughing at the antics of the man changing into a dog. Don Juan seemed to be paying attention at times, but usually he had his head resting on Bobbi’s knee. She was his favorite human, after all.
At the end of the night, she walked him to the door. It was strange for her, knowing she was living in his parents’ house while he lived elsewhere, but that was the situation they were in. This time she reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his neck for his kiss. She found his kisses to be better than any chocolate she’d ever had, and that was saying a lot.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers gently, and then more firmly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. May I come to have lunch with you?”
She nodded. “I’d like that a lot.” She walked back to her small room, Don Juan following alongside her. She closed her bedroom door and turned on the radio, needing to lose herself in the music. She had always loved music, and would have liked to learn an instrument, but it cost too much for just a foster child. Of course the birth children of her foster parents had been allowed to play anything they wanted, but it was forbidden to her.
She danced to the song on the radio, feeling as if she was doing something slightly wicked. Dancing had been forbidden to her as well. As the song ended, she heard the announcer’s voice. “There’s been a prison break in Oklahoma. Please be on the lookout for…” She didn’t hear the rest—she’d frozen in place. Her father had tried to write letters to her over the years, but she’d returned them all unopened.
She walked into the bathroom and stood under the shower spray, allowing the water to wash over her, not realizing until she was getting out that she’d forgotten to remove her clothes. Silently, Bobbi prayed, “Please, God, don’t let it be my father who has escaped. I couldn’t bear to see him.”
Bobbi shook her head, refusing to think about her father. He’d been in prison for more than forty years, and she needed to forget him. She slid two specials onto a table in front of two men she didn’t know. “If you need anything else, be sure to let me know. My name is Bobbi.”
She turned and walked back toward the kitchen, pestering Bob for her next order. Keeping her mind off her father was always best. He was due to be out soon, she knew. She couldn’t remember exactly when.
As she was finishing up her shift, she spotted Dani walking toward her. “Mom, you have a letter.”
Bobbi took the letter and slipped it into her pocket, knowing that time with her older daughter was more important than any letter that could be found. “How’s my girl?”
Dani pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m good. Happy. You did the right thing sending Travis to me. He’s the perfect husband for me.”
“I’m glad. I heard something about the two of you racing four-wheelers through the mountain paths. Is that true?”
Dani laughed. “I can neither confirm nor deny this rumor…”
“Just be careful. I only have two daughters, and I don’t want to lose one of them!”
“But if I was Wyatt?”
“I don’t want to lose him. He’s good with the horses. Maybe Will…”
Dani shook her head. “Your heart would break into a million pieces if you lost any of us, and you know it.”
“Of course it would. Just don’t tell your brothers that, would you?”
“Too late, Mom. We already know how much you love us. You wouldn’t be so hard on us otherwise.”
Bobbi smiled at that. “That’s all your father. I’m just the unfortunate messenger at times.” She leaned toward Dani, ready to impart a secret. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell her anything, but she was feeling very nostalgic. “Your father was forced to jump through hoops to see if he was ready to take over the ranch thirty-five years ago. His tests lasted three years, if I remember correctly. He hated it as much as you and your brothers and sister do.”
“Really?” Dani asked, obviously surprised.
“Really. Whose turn is it to cook this Sunday?”
“Kelsi’s. Are you coming?”
“It’s a family dinner. Why wouldn’t I come? Am I not family?”
“Well, you don’t always, so I was just wondering.”
Bobbi grinned, hugging her daughter. “We’ll be there. Tell Kelsi to chop up a few more jalapeno peppers.” As Dani ran off, Bobbi dug the letter out of her pocket, frowning when she saw the familiar address. It was from the prison. Again.
Tucking it back into her pocket, she walked the rest of the way to the cabin she was sharing with Wilber. When she walked in, she saw four different vases around the room, each filled with wildflowers, and a smile tilted her lips. Her husband was courting her, and she liked it. More than she probably should.
She walked to the couch and sat down, removing the letter from her pocket again. She knew she should read it. She’d refused every letter for forty-three years. It was time she read something he sent her.
She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper. She didn’t want to read it, and she almost put it back in unread, but it was time.
Dear Roberta,
I have written you more times than I can count over the years, hoping you will forgive me. Your mother is the only woman I have ever loved, and what I did was inexcusable. I had been drinking, but that’s no reason for my behavior. I miss you every day, and I hope you’ll agree to see me when I get out of prison at the end of the month. It would mean the world to me.
I know you have six children, because I keep up with your life as best I can using the prison library. I would like to meet my grandchildren. Please let me be a part of your life.
Your father.
Bobbi shuddered, stuffing the letter back into the envelope. Of course she wasn’t going to let a murderer be around her children. She’d done everything she could to protect them over the years, and she wasn’t going to invite him into her home.
She sat staring into space, thinking about the prison break all those years ago. It hadn’t taken long for the police to find her and interview her. She had used her social security number when she’d started working for the ranch, after all.
The previous sheriff had been nothing like her son-in-law, Shane Clapper. He’d been an older man with a beer belly who’d looked at her as if she was guilty when he’d walked into the diner to talk to her.
“Are you Bobbi Jackson? Daughter of Reginald Jackson?”
Bobbi nodded. “I am. Could we talk about this in private please?”
She knew they were there about her father escaping, and she knew she was innocent of any wrongdoing. So why was she shaking so badly?
The sheriff, Steve Jameson, had led her outside to stand beside the café. She knew the customers and other employees were watching her, but she was powerless to do anything about it. “How can I help you, sheriff?”
“Are you aware that your father has escaped from a maximum-security prison in Oklahoma?”
Bobbi shook her head. “I haven’t seen or spoken to my father since before his trial. I was taken from him as soon as it was determined that he’d murdered my mother.”
“Are you saying your father has never written to you? In ten years?”
She took a deep breath. “He’s written to me repeatedly. I have returned the letters unopened. Why would I want to talk to the man who murdered my mother?” Why could people not understand why she wouldn’t have anything to do with the man?
“So he hasn’t come to see you since his escape?”
She shook her head. “No, sir, he hasn’t. As far as I know, he thinks I’m still in Oklahoma. I came here to lose the stigma of being the girl whose father was a murderer. I want nothing to do with him.”
“Do you have any idea where your father would go?”
She shook her head. “None.”
“What did he like to do before his incarceration?”
“I was eight years old the last time I saw him. I remember he liked to drink, play pool, and he liked to push me on the swing in our backyard.” As she said the words, her heart ached. As long as she could think of him as the man who’d killed her mother, she was fine. When she had to think of him as her daddy, it hurt beyond belief.
“Do you know which bar he liked to drink at?”
“No, sir. I have no idea.”
“Which pool hall he frequented?”
Bobbi shook her head. “I really don’t remember at all.”
“Will you get in touch with the sheriff’s department if he contacts you?”
“Yes, of course I will.”
The sheriff had shaken her hand and walked away, leaving her standing there with everyone watching out the window of the café. She wanted to pack her things and leave right there and then, but she couldn’t. She had already become attached to Kelsey Weston, and her feelings for Wilber were stronger than she’d imagined possible after a four-day acquaintance.
So instead of going to the house where she was staying to pack her things, she walked right toward the front door of the café, ignored all the people gaping at her, and walked back to the kitchen to work on the dishes.
Kelsey had come to the back and put her hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Bobbi nodded, the tears stinging her eyes. If Kelsey had been accusatory, she would have been able to hold up so much easier, but there was sympathy in the older woman’s voice. “I’m fine. My father escaped from prison, so they’re questioning me. They want me to let them know if he tries to contact me.”
“Has he?”
Bobbi shook her head. “No, not since I’ve been here. He sent me letters every week when I was in Oklahoma.”
“What did he say in them?”
“No idea. I sent them all back unopened. I had no desire to hear from him.”
Kelsey studied her for a moment. “I’m here if you need to talk. God never blessed me with a daughter, but I’ve come to think of you as one.”
Bobbi stared at the older woman with surprise on her face. “In four days? My foster mother had me for eight years, and I was never more than a burden to her.”
“Yes, in four days. You’re a remarkable young lady. Anyone else would have run, but you came back in here and got right back to work.”
“I thought about running,” Bobbi whispered.
“Why didn’t you?” Kelsey asked.
“Because I feel like I’m part of a family for the first time in ten years. I can’t leave.” Bobbi turned to Kelsey and buried her face in the older woman’s shoulder, the tears soaking Kelsey’s shirt.
“You are a part of our family now. We want you to stay forever—whether you continue to have a relationship with Wilber or not.”
Bobbi brushed the tears from her eyes as she looked down at the letter in her hand. How could he want to come back into her life after all this time? It had been forty-five years since she’d seen him. How could he think she’d want anything to do with him?
Wilber walked into the house to see her crying on the sofa, and she handed him the letter, saying nothing. She didn’t need to. After thirty-five years of marriage, he knew how she felt about her father, though they’d seldom discussed him over the years. It was a subject she didn’t talk about.