You got the shotguns loaded?” Levi passed Lucas on his way to the fridge to get a beer.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He continued stirring Jessa’s baked beans on the stove. If he let those things burn on the bottom she’d be after him with a shotgun. She’d been scurrying around the kitchen getting things ready for dinner for the last hour. You’d have thought they were welcoming the president the way she was carrying on.
“Mark’s harmless,” Lucas said, turning down the burner. He should know. When he showed up at the man’s doorstep he could’ve gotten all pissed off, but instead Mark had invited him in for a beer.
“Still don’t make much sense to me,” his dad grumbled from a stool at the kitchen island where he was shelling fresh peas. “You ask me, a man who walked out shouldn’t be allowed to walk back in.”
“It’s not up to us,” Lance reminded him, carving up the smoked brisket with a honed precision.
Lucas inhaled. Damn, it smelled good—like coriander and brown sugar.
Dad huffed. “Well, we sure as hell didn’t have to use the good beef.”
“The cheap stuff isn’t allowed in this house,” Jessa said, aiming a playful glare at Lance. “I tried to buy the brand on sale and you would’ve thought I’d bought a pint of cocaine.”
Lucas busted out a laugh. “Nice try.” A pint? Seriously? Sadly he knew the lingo a little too well. He’d heard it enough. No sense in educating her, though. She didn’t need to know.
“Anyway,” Jessa went on, smoothing out her frilly apron. “We’re using the best beef because that’s the right thing to do.” She rested her hands on Luis’s shoulders and leaned in with a smile. “And we’re all going to be polite and civil the whole evening. If you want a taste of my berry pie, that is.”
“I’m always polite and civil,” Luis muttered, but he reached back and patted her hand.
Lucas gave the pot another stir. Even though he’d been back eight months, there were times he still felt like an outsider in his own family. Though he and his father had come a long way, they hadn’t reached the point of bantering back and forth. And Jessa was always kind to him, but she didn’t tease him the way she did Levi and Luis. They all still seemed cautious around him. Building relationships took time.
“How’re those beans looking?” Jessa asked, scooting over to glance into the pot.
“Look good to me.” He kept right on stirring. “Smell good, too.”
A smile flickered. “They need about ten more minutes to simmer,” she said, hauling ass back to the kitchen table. “Keep stirring!”
“Will do—”
The phone rang, momentarily distracting him from his mission. Since he was closest, he picked up with his free hand. “Hello?”
“Lucas?” Naomi’s voice sounded as sullen as it had when she’d kicked him out of her house the other night, only this time he couldn’t be the source of her frustration. He hadn’t seen her since he’d brought over the sign. When he wasn’t in the corral with Reckoning, he was out cutting trees, trying to convince everyone in town he wasn’t the villain they wanted him to be. In between all of that, he’d been trying to get ahold of McGowen for days, but the man wouldn’t call him back.
“Hey, everything okay?” he asked, glancing at the clock. She and Gracie should’ve been up twenty minutes ago.
“Is Jessa there?” she asked without answering his question.
He glanced to the dining table where Jessa was fussing over the napkins again, all the while muttering to herself.
“She’s pretty busy.” He turned around so the rest of them wouldn’t hear. “Anything I can help with?”
“No.” She sighed. “I don’t know. It’s Gracie. She doesn’t want to come to dinner. I can’t even get her out of her room.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Levi happened to be headed to the fridge again, so he caught his arm and handed him the stirring spoon. “I’ll be right down. Okay?”
There was a pause on the phone. “Um. Okay,” Naomi finally said.
“See you in a few.” He hung up the phone before she could change her mind and tell him to send Jessa instead.
Levi held up the spoon and stared at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. “What the hell?”
It was high time the man learned how to stir a pot of beans instead of sitting around and drinking beer while everyone else worked. “Make sure they don’t burn or Jessa might be serving your head on that platter,” he called to his brother on his way out the door.
Outside, he took the porch steps two at a time and jogged down the hill.
Naomi stood out on her front stoop, arms crossed, face flushed with a tinge of color. She wore jeans and a white tank top that stretched over her curves.
“Hey,” he said, letting his gaze travel all the way down to her manicured red toes, aching at the memory of holding those perfect curves in his hands. God, the woman even made flip-flops sexy.
That impulse to pull her into his arms flashed stronger every time he saw her.
“Hi,” she murmured, slightly breathless.
He would’ve loved to completely take her breath away, but that wasn’t why he’d rushed down. “Can I talk to her?” he asked, keeping a safe distance.
“Be my guest.” She shook her head, her sleek red hair falling around her shoulders. “I don’t understand. She’s never difficult. Never.” She opened the door and he followed her into the house.
Bogart trotted around the corner, greeting him with a gruff bark.
“I know this is hard for her, but we’ve been talking about it all week,” Naomi said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “I’ve told her everything I can. I’ve answered all of her questions. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Let me try.” He’d never had a heart-to-heart with a kid before, but he knew something about being abandoned by a parent. Maybe that would make a difference.
With a doubting lift of her eyebrows, Naomi pointed down the hallway.
It was pretty obvious which door belonged to Gracie. She’d decorated it with glittered stickers—hearts and flowers and horses. Smiling to himself, he knocked quietly.
“Go away, Mom. I’m not going to dinner,” came a muffled, grouchy voice.
He leaned close to the door. “Actually, it’s Lucas.”
There was a rustling sound, the thump of footsteps, and then the door creaked open. Gracie stared up at him. “What’re you doing here?”
“I came to check on you,” he said casually, like that was something he did every day. “I know it’s a big deal to meet your dad for the first time, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m not meeting my dad.” Stubbornness gripped her delicate face. “I’m not going to dinner.”
Lucas leaned against the door frame, pressing his lips into a frown. “Now, that’s a real shame because you should see all the food Jessa and Lance have made.” He rolled his gaze up to the ceiling as though trying to recall everything. “Brisket with a tangy sauce, Jessa’s baked beans with brown sugar, fresh sweet peas. And the pie…” He whistled low. “Well, I don’t even think it’s gonna need the ice cream she bought to go with it.”
A panicked look flared in the girl’s eyes. Jessa had informed him earlier that berry pie was one of Gracie’s favorites. That’s why she’d made it.
“I can’t go.” Her voice got smaller. “I can’t meet my dad.”
“Mind if I ask why not?”
Leaving the door open, she crept to a fuzzy pink reading chair in the corner of the room.
Bogart slunk past him, curling up at her feet. The dog stretched his head and laid it in Gracie’s lap.
Though she didn’t invite him in, Lucas ventured as far as the end of her small twin bed and sat on the edge patiently. Two weeks ago, he’d never envisioned himself sitting on a frilly pink bedspread having a heart-to-heart with a ten-year-old girl. That was before he’d thought he might be a father. Before he knew he wanted to be a father so badly.
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Gracie finally asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The words gouged at his heart like a dull spoon. They were an echo from his own past. To a child, that was the only logical explanation for why a parent would ever leave.
Lucas eased himself off her bed and knelt in front of her, holding her tear-laden gaze firmly in his. If she never heard anything else he said—if she never remembered him at all—she needed to hold onto this. “If he doesn’t like you, it’s because he has a problem, Gracie.” That truth had taken him years to understand. For a long time he’d thought he could earn back his mom. That maybe somehow she was still watching, and if he did everything right and took care of everyone else and didn’t get into any trouble, she’d come back. That was why he’d always followed the rules; that was why he’d taken his brother’s punishment. Somewhere in his subconscious he’d believed that once he was good enough, she’d come back for him.
He wished someone would’ve told him it wouldn’t matter. That he was already good enough. That he didn’t deserve to be abandoned. That he could never be perfect enough to fix all of his mother’s problems. And that was okay. Because it wasn’t up to him.
“You are funny and brave and smart and pretty much amazing,” he told Gracie. “Your dad didn’t leave because you weren’t worth sticking around for. He left because he had a lot of problems.”
“He did?” Her eyes were wide.
“He did,” Lucas assured her. “But he’s trying to get them all sorted out now. He wants to be a better person.” Much as he hated not being Gracie’s father, he had to hand it to Mark. It took courage to come back and try to make things right. It was something he was still waiting for his own mother to do.
“My mom left when I was your age,” he said, wondering how it could still hurt to say it after all these years.
“Your mom left?” she asked, as though completely astonished. That was a testament to the safe and secure life Naomi had built for her. She didn’t even think that was within the realm of possibility.
“She did. And you know what?”
“What?” Gracie asked, completely transfixed.
“I still wish she’d come back.” He knew now that she’d struggled with anxiety and depression. And he didn’t need her anymore, but…“I’d like to know her.”
“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” Gracie asked, showing sweet concern for him.
“I don’t think so.” Though he wouldn’t give up hope altogether. He couldn’t.
The girl reached into a pile of stuffed animals next to the chair and pulled out a tiny owl. “I used to pretend this was my dad.” She handed it Lucas. He looked it over—the large, wise eyes, the tufts of feathers sticking out around its ears.
“I’d set him right over there.” She pointed to the bookshelf next to the bed. “And pretend he was always watching over me.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lucas said, marveling at her openness, her ability to trust him with something so personal. Hell, he was still working on that.
He went to hand the owl back to her, but she pushed it toward him.
“I want you to have it.” Her big grin was all confidence. “My dad’s back. But your mom’s still on her way.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, the back of his throat all mucked up with emotion. Hadn’t he come in here to help her?
Standing, Gracie threw her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you came.”
He hugged her back. “Me too.” More than she knew.
She pulled away and he stuck that owl in the pocket of his shirt. He didn’t care about the razzing he’d get from Lance and Levi; he planned to leave it there all night.
“Come on, let’s go meet my dad.” She stuck her hand in his and led him out the door.
In the hallway, they nearly ran over Naomi. Her eyes were red and watery. “What’s going on?” she asked, though if her teary eyes were any indication, she’d been eavesdropping.
“We’re going to meet my dad,” Gracie said, still clutching his hand as though it gave her courage.
“All right, then.” Smiling, she grabbed his other hand and held it all the way out to the porch.