Chapter Twenty-One
“When you tire of staring at the walls you’ve carefully erected, knock them down and create the future you want.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #99
Waylon stood before the ten-foot-high wooden doors of the courthouse, his daughter on one side of him, and his father on the other. And relief filled every fiber of his being. He’d won. He had his daughter back.
The hearing had been short. The Jameses had originally been granted temporary custody due to Waylon’s incapacitation, and though they’d come with depositions and statements from all manner of people willing to lie for them, Waylon’s lawyer had a rebuttal for everything. And when he’d presented the money trail leading directly to Patrick, Marcus and Madelyn had picked up their things and left. They’d not only lost, but they’d left with shame. They might have originally had the best intentions for their granddaughter at heart—though Waylon could argue that point—but their intentions had gotten buried in their hubris.
Waylon looked down at his daughter, who’d insisted on wearing a very specific outfit today. A purple tutu, a green top, and her pink-and-black striped leggings. Then he recalled Madelyn’s horrified expression when Waylon had escorted his daughter to the restroom, and she’d come back wearing this concoction. Her outrage alone had been enough to make the moment worthwhile. But the idea had been Rose’s.
When they’d talked on the phone the night before, Rose had asked him to bring the clothes, and with that simple request, he’d seen so much of her mother in her. Rose might love her grandparents, but she wanted to be home with him. And she’d intrinsically understood the Jameses had been the ones who could prevent that. So she’d bucked the system. She’d not dressed the way Madelyn preferred. She’d been 100 percent herself.
And there’d been no way he would have said no to that.
“Are we going to open the door and go home, Daddy?”
He smiled at Rose. They’d been heard last today, so the court had emptied out. But he’d wanted to stand here for a moment and take in the power of the judicial system when done right.
He nodded. “We’re going to open the door and go home, Rosebud. But first, I need to know where you want to eat dinner. Because we’re celebrating big tonight, and we need to make sure we do it right.”
She nodded solemnly, and he could see her thoughts start to churn. He shouldn’t have said she had to decide before they walked through the doors. She could take days to reach a decision.
“Let’s go to the truck,” he suggested. “Grampa and I will get you strapped in, and you can keep thinking the whole time.”
“That’ll work.” She nodded, and Waylon winked at his daughter as he took her hand. The two of them went ahead of his father, Waylon pushing on the outer door, and then he stopped in shock at the sight that awaited him.
“Look at all our friends, Daddy!” Rose squealed and ran out the door before him, and Waylon turned to his dad.
“Did you know about this?”
Charlie shook his head as the two of them followed Rose out. “No idea.”
“What do you suppose they’re all doing here?” Waylon spoke from the side of his mouth. There had to be at least seventy-five people standing on the steps to the courthouse, all from Red Oak Falls, and all having traveled over an hour on a workday to get there. Several of them had also come with signs.
“Congratulations.”
“We Love You.”
“Welcome Home, Rose.”
“I’d say this here is called support,” Charlie Peterson determined. “And it looks like you have it, son.” His dad clapped him on the back. “You did good choosing Red Oak Falls to be your new home.”
“I also did good when I invited you to follow me there.”
He took another long pass over the faces crowded before him, and his chest overflowed with the fact that so many people cared. And not just because of Rose, either. He could see it when they looked at him. He could see their happiness that he had his family back.
A bubble of hurt poked at him from behind his ribcage, as if raising its hand not to be forgotten.
He didn’t call on it to speak, though. He didn’t want to hear what it had to say today. But neither could he forget. He hadn’t seen Heather in a month, and if he let himself dwell on that fact, he’d be reminded that her leaving hurt as badly today as it had then.
He looked to his right and made eye contact with his dad, and his dad returned his contented smile. The family Waylon had envisioned only four short weeks before might be minus one person, but it wasn’t all that long ago that he couldn’t imagine any family larger than himself and Rose.
He’d take this.
Heather waited in the back of the crowd, taking in the joy on Rose’s face as well as the pride on Waylon’s. It seemed he’d found a family, even if he hadn’t known he’d been searching for one.
Charlie stood next to him, a little closer in physical distance than Heather thought the two normally stood, and when the men suddenly hugged right there in front of everyone, her heart felt as if it might actually burst. Something had changed for them in the weeks she’d been gone. Not that they’d had a bad relationship before, but the love and support for each other was even more evident now.
Someone shouted out about having a church basement rented a couple of blocks over and a potluck dinner ready to set out, and the crowd began to disperse. Heather stood her ground. She’d wanted to call Waylon before now. To tell him what she’d been up to. But she had no idea how she’d be received. She couldn’t not be here for this, though. Rumors had been circulating for the last two weeks that custody returning to Waylon had been a shoo-in, and Heather wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.
The last of the people standing between her and Waylon moved down the sidewalk, and Waylon’s gaze suddenly found hers. He said something to Charlie, and Rose—who’d returned to stand by the men’s sides—gasped. Heather watched as Rose’s gaze searched though the remaining onlookers until it landed on her, and then the four-year-old was sprinting in Heather’s direction.
“Heather!” Rose shouted.
Heather scooped her up as Rose threw herself into Heather’s arms, and she squeezed her tight. She’d missed this child so much. She might not get the chance she’d come here seeking, which would mean she’d likely continue missing this child in the coming days, but she intended to give it everything she had.
“Oh, Heather.” Rose pulled back before planting a wet kiss on Heather’s cheek. “I’ve missed you so much. And did you hear? I get to go home with my daddy again. Every night.”
Heather fought back tears. “I did hear. And I’m so super-happy for you.”
Rose giggled, and the two of them put their heads together and talked for a few more minutes. But then Charlie was at her side, and he was suggesting to Rose that she go with him.
“How are you, Heather?” Charlie greeted her.
“I’m good, Charlie. And I hear you’re treating Aunt Blu right?” Apparently the two were still dating.
“I’m treating her all kinds of right,” he replied, face straight. Then he winked. “We might have to keep it down now, though, if this means you’re back home.”
She now knew where Waylon got his flirting skills, and as Rose climbed from her arms to Charlie’s, she said, “You do know there’s a good thousand feet between my house and hers.”
“Is that all?” His brow furrowed. “Then I’ll definitely tell her to take it down a notch.”
“What are you talking about, Grampa?” Rose crinkled up her nose. “Who’s taking it a notch?”
Charlie laughed out loud at the question, then he gave Heather a nod. “Nice to see you back. Rose and I will leave you two to talk, but I hope you’ll come over and have some potluck after.”
She hoped she would, too.
Charlie moved down the steps, in the direction everyone else had gone, and Heather noticed that Aunt Blu had stepped to the side to wait for him. Heather smiled faintly as Charlie reached out a hand to Blu, before the three of them followed along behind the disappearing crowd. And only then did Heather allow herself to turn back and face the man she’d already sensed now stood in front of her.
“Hello, Waylon.”
He touched his hat in greeting. “How’s the new job?”
She cringed. She’d hoped he wouldn’t open with that. “Congratulations on the judge’s decision. Rose is thrilled, and I know you are, too.”
“Thank you.” The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and he nodded toward an empty bench. “Want to sit? It’s in the shade.”
It also wasn’t dead center on the courthouse steps, she thought, but she only nodded in reply. She turned for the bench and Waylon followed, neither of them speaking on the short walk over. Once they reached their destination, Waylon did not sit. The bench was barely large enough for two people, and he apparently didn’t want to get too close.
Twenty seconds of dead silence later, Heather sighed. She’d known he wouldn’t make this easy on her. “I suppose I have to start,” she muttered.
“Only if you have something to say.”
He stood angled off to the side, his feet apart, his suit jacket hanging open, and his hands tucked purposefully into his pants pockets. Heather thought this was the look every Texan man should be going for. Black suit, white shirt, Sunday cowboy boots and hat.
And looking like Prince Harry, every day of the week.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have trusted you that night. I shouldn’t have bolted because I was scared. I should have given you the chance to explain. I should have involved you in the decision about the job. And I shouldn’t have done any of it in front of the entire crowd.”
He angled his head in a slight dip. “That’s a start.”
“Waylon.”
She stood to face him. “I’m sorry,” she said again, pleading for him to give an inch. “It was horrifying for me, and I can only imagine how it must have been for you.”
“I can handle a little embarrassment, Heather. That was the least of my concerns.”
The lines in his body remained tight.
“Then can you handle taking me back?”
His chin jerked at her question. She hadn’t meant to put it out there quite so bluntly, but she’d wanted a reaction from him. She didn’t like this cold Waylon.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
“I haven’t figured out my answer yet.”
She threw her hands in the air. “You’re not without fault here, you know?”
“And just how is that?”
“Because dammit, you made me love you too much. And it terrified me.”
And honestly, that’s about all he’d done wrong. The man had set out to woo her, and he’d done an excellent job of it.
His eyes had softened the tiniest amount at her declaration, but his hands remained firmly in his pockets.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back when you told me you loved me,” she said, her voice losing steam. She knew that had cut him deep. He’d never said those words to anyone, yet she’d not uttered one word in reply. “And to answer your earlier question,” she added, “I don’t know how the job is. I didn’t take it.”
His eyes shifted to hers.
“I went to Atlanta, but before the plane landed, I knew what I really wanted to do. So I contacted the guy I worked with over the summer. A consultant out of Nebraska who helped me lay out the plans for Jill and Cal’s yard. And I flew out to learn more from him. That’s where I’ve been the last three weeks. He started his business from the ground up, and I’m going to do the same thing. Only here. In Texas. In Red Oak Falls.”
He pulled his fists from his pockets, but crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”
She nodded, the adrenaline that had been pumping since she’d first laid eyes on him now starting to drop. “I’m positive. I’ll still take on the occasional project for the show. I don’t want to give up being a part of what the three of us started. And there’s a chance I’ll sign on to do the same with other home improvement shows. I’ve been in talks about that, and if they want to pay me enough and the locale would make it worth a temporary stay, then I’ll consider it. It would only help the business grow. But this is my thing, Waylon. I finally found my thing.”
He hadn’t changed his stance, but she thought the lines in his face might have softened. At least a little.
She took a deep breath and laid the rest of it out there. “I also forgave my father.”
At her announcement, the tension seeped from his shoulders.
“He made a mistake,” she told him. “As people do. But that didn’t take away from his love for my mother or for me. I made a mistake when I left the reception that night.”
Waylon studied her. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes throughout most of my life.”
She nodded. “But the guy that night, he wasn’t a mistake, was he? He’s the one you told me about, who’d been upset that you won so much?”
“He was. He was also hired by Rose’s grandparents to show up there.”
That rumor she hadn’t heard.
Waylon lowered his arms to his sides. “They didn’t even fight when we revealed the money trail. And though I’m not opposed to them seeing Rose on occasion—because Rose does love her grandparents—”
“And family is special,” she added.
He nodded. “Even so, it’ll be a long while before I’m ready to let the Jameses make amends.”
She risked taking a half step closer. “How about me? Will you let me make amends?”
He didn’t answer, but she could see him thinking about it.
“I love you, Mr. Peterson. I love your daughter. I love your horses.” She took his hand. “And I love the woman I am when I’m with you.”
He closed his other hand over hers, and though his touch erased a chunk of the worry sitting heavy inside her, he didn’t yet smile. He’d given her little more than the impersonal touch of one hand covering another.
“Waylon . . .”
“Two questions,” he said, and she nodded immediately.
Her heart began to race.
He held up one finger. “What’s the current state of your hips?”
“What?” She looked down at herself. “What are you talking about?”
“What is the state of your hips?” he repeated. Then he clarified. “Can you eat cake or not?”
“Oh.” She nodded, her head moving in a fast jerk. She had no idea where this was going, but if he wanted her to eat cake then she’d eat cake. “Yes. I can eat cake.”
“Good. Because Blu and Rose cut up the cake instead of eating it. Then they froze it in individual pieces. Rose won’t let me throw any of it out.”
“The orange chiffon cake?” He still had it? Because of Rose?
Hope took flight.
“There’s one giant piece that is the entire section with your name on it,” he told her sourly. “I want it gone.”
Her budding enthusiasm waned. He hadn’t warmed up at all since starting to talk, and she suddenly feared she’d not only find herself still alone after their confrontation, but also being force-fed half a cake.
That would take a heck of a lot of yoga to overcome.
He held up his second finger, and she held her breath. She silently begged his forgiveness.
“How do you feel about making redheaded babies? Rose is going to need siblings.”
Her breath burst out of her. “Yes,” she whispered. She nodded as she pressed her hands to her mouth, then she repeated the word again. “Yes. I feel great about making redheaded babies.”
The smile she’d been waiting for finally appeared, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Waylon.” She sniffed as she threw herself at him. She locked her arms around his neck. “Can we start on them today?”
His light chuckle eased the ache she’d been walking around with for a month, and his arms closing around her finished it off. “We can start on them whenever you want.” He pressed his face into her hair and held her extra tight, and she wondered if she was the only one shedding tears.
Eventually he pulled back, but just enough to peer down at her. And that time when she met his gaze, she saw more than his smile.
He swiped at the tears on her cheeks, drying them with his fingers, but the love shining back at her only produced more. “I love you, Heather Lindsay.” He gave up and cupped her face in his hands. “And I always will. No matter how scared you may be. No matter how much I sometimes want to strangle you for terrifying me.” He slid his thumb over her bottom lip, and his voice dipped. “And no matter how big your hips may someday get.”
She laughed on a sniffling hiccup.
“But there is one way I could love you more.”
She swallowed and nodded. “What is it?” She’d do it, whatever it was.
He closed his mouth over hers before answering, the kiss lasting for far longer than was decent in public, and when they finally broke apart and stood staggering for breath, he captured her face once again. “I could love you just a little bit more, Heather Lindsay . . . if you would change your name to Heather Peterson.”