CHAPTER TWELVE
Jeannie French heard the music drifting through the open doors long before she entered the Grange Hall, where the Cattlemen’s Association held their dance every year. The cars parked along both sides of the road must have stretched half a mile in each direction.
Bernie Benton’s suggestion that they bring only one vehicle made sense; she could see that now. But she’d come alone, having received two invitations and declined both.
She liked both men, but Bernie was married and Adam, well, she was afraid she might have been unfair to him. But who could blame her? Every time he got near her something unpredictable happened. Usually something embarrassing.
As she approached the hall, Jeannie noted a number of people, mostly men, milling around outside. Some were smoking, some had brought out their drinks. All of them seemed to be watching her. That made Jeannie a little uncomfortable. Gee, I hope they approve of my outfit, she thought with sarcastic humor, and that made her feel better.
After much deliberation Jeannie had chosen the silk blouse Adam had so thoughtfully replaced. She wore it with a long black skirt and matching vest with small silver buttons. This was about as fancy as she got. She’d paid special attention to her hair and makeup and knew she looked good, although she wasn’t really sure who she was trying to impress. Not these guys, anyway. As for Will Osborne, she hadn’t seen him in weeks.
The hall itself was crowded, but many of the townspeople were either on the dance floor or standing around the edges. Long rows of chairs were set against the walls, and Jeannie saw that some of the town’s older folk had gathered there. Tables were scattered about the room, but each one seemed filled to capacity.
“Jeannie, over here.” Bernie Benton raised his arm.
She could pretend she hadn’t heard him but decided against it. With so many people pressing in around her, having somewhere to go gave her a feeling of security and of belonging. She’d seen other teachers and their husbands at his table.
“Hello, everyone,” she said when she got within hearing distance. Her friends and fellow teachers good-naturedly shifted their chairs to make room for her at the table.
“Do you want to dance?” Bernie asked, tucking his hand under her elbow.
“No, thanks. I just got here.” She had to lean toward him to be heard above the music.
Bernie nodded, but she saw the disappointment in his eyes.
“Don’t let him pressure you into dancing,” Martie, the school secretary, whispered on her other side. “He’s feeling upset just now. See the woman in the long pink dress? That’s Cheryl. Apparently she came with someone else.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not your problem.”
Jeannie nodded, but as she watched Cheryl Benton dance, she caught sight of another familiar figure. Adam Jordan. He was dancing with someone she didn’t recognize and seemed quite agile on his feet. The woman with him appeared to be captivated by whatever he was saying.
She’d promised Max Jordan she’d personally thank Adam for replacing her ruined blouse, but the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself. She’d do it tonight. It should be easier now that he’d apparently found someone else.
“Who’s that with—”
Before she could complete the sentence, Martie answered. “Cheryl’s with Lyle Whitehead,” she murmured with a frown. “I don’t know what she sees in him. Lyle’s bad news.” At Jeannie’s puzzled look she added, “He’s a known troublemaker.”
“I meant who’s dancing with Sheriff Jordan.”
“Oh, sorry.” Martie half stood and glanced to her right, then her left before sitting down again. “The sheriff’s with Dovie Hennessey. I thought you knew Dovie.”
Jeannie did. Obviously he’d changed partners.
Bernie had disappeared, and she was pleasantly surprised when someone else asked her to dance. But the music was so loud that other than getting the man’s name, Billy Joe Durkin, Jeannie couldn’t talk to him. When the song ended they applauded politely.
“Thank you, Billy Joe.”
“No, ma’am, I’m the one who should be thanking you.” He tipped his hat and escorted her to the table.
“Billy Joe’s something of a ladies’ man,” Martie told her when she sat back down. “He considers it his duty to make sure that every woman here gets the opportunity to dance with him.”
“What about Will Osborne?” she asked. “Is he here tonight?”
“You didn’t hear?” Martie seemed delighted to pass on some gossip. “He married a waitress from Austin a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh.” Jeannie felt foolish for having asked. It wasn’t that she was so keen on Will. They’d talked a couple of times, that was all. The only man in Promise who’d shown the least bit of interest in her was Adam Jordan.
Jeannie was about to comment when a ruckus broke out not far from their table. She turned around to see Bernie Benton nose to nose with Lyle Whitehead. Bernie’s face was red with anger.
“Let’s settle this outside,” Lyle shouted.
“Fine with me,” Bernie shouted back.
“But not with me,” Adam Jordan said, stepping forcefully between the two men. “The problem is, no one bothered to ask me, and I strongly object. In fact, I’ve made it my mission to be sure everyone gets along and has a good time this evening. Are we all clear on this, gentlemen, or do we need to discuss it further at my office?”
“Whitehead made a move on my wife,” Bernie protested, hands clenched at his sides.
“She asked for it,” Whitehead snarled. “It isn’t my fault she married a wimp who doesn’t know what a real woman wants.”
“Oh, no,” Martie said from behind Jeannie.
“Let me at him,” Bernie cried, and would have gone at the other man with his fists if not for the sheriff.
With one quick graceful movement, Adam stopped the teacher’s forward progress. At that very second Lyle pulled out a knife.
Jeannie sucked in her breath, along with everyone else, and strangled a cry as Lyle swung the blade at Adam. She jerked her head away, unable to watch. The crowd roared with disapproval and someone shouted a warning. It wasn’t necessary. Whatever Adam did, he had Lyle flat on the floor almost immediately. Half a minute later, the knife was out of his grasp and he’d been handcuffed.
Deputy Al Green made his way through the crowd and dragged Lyle to his feet before escorting him outside to a chorus of hisses and catcalls.
“Lyle’s going to end up in jail this time,” Martie muttered as the music started again. “It’s where he belongs.”
Jeannie didn’t know or care about Lyle; she couldn’t take her eyes off Adam. This was Adam Jordan? The same man who couldn’t utter a complete sentence in her company? The man who’d ripped her skirt, frightened her out of ten years of her life, locked her keys in the car and spattered her with barbecue sauce? Tonight she’d certainly seen a different side of him.
For the rest of the evening Jeannie watched him. Not once did he look in her direction. Not once did he give any indication he even knew she was there. He seemed to dance with every woman present, but not with her.
When a ladies’ choice was announced, Jeannie shocked herself by boldly crossing the room to Adam’s side. “Sheriff?”
He looked at her as if he didn’t know who she was.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.
Wordlessly he led her onto the dance floor. His hold was loose and he gazed somewhere over her shoulder.
“I wanted to thank you,” she told him.
“For what? Not asking you to dance all evening?”
“No,” she said, mortified he’d think such a thing. “For replacing my blouse. You didn’t need to do that.”
He snickered as if he didn’t believe her. “Well, I was the one who ruined it.”
“That was an accident,” she said. “At any rate, what you did was very thoughtful, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”
He didn’t speak during the rest of their dance. Jeannie wished he’d relax, but he held himself stiffly away from her. When the music ended, she wanted Adam to ask her to dance the next round with him; instead, he politely brought her back to the table with Martie and her friends.
“Thank you,” she said, hoping her disappointment didn’t show. She couldn’t very well blame him after the number of times she’d rejected him.
“My pleasure.” He touched the rim of his hat and began to move away.
“Adam,” she called out impulsively. But when he turned back, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
His smile unnerved her. “Don’t worry, Jeannie, you’ve done your duty.” Having said that, he turned and walked away.
* * *
Cal knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He’d been worried sick about his parents and had taken his impatience and frustration out on Jane. He’d tried to apologize, tried to tell her he didn’t mean the things he’d said, but every time he opened his mouth he only made matters worse.
When he grumbled about the dance, she’d offered to let him off the hook. Her offer was sincere, although he knew she’d been looking forward to this evening for weeks. He was tempted to take her up on it, but he figured he owed her. As it was, they arrived late; it was nearly nine-thirty when they left the house.
They barely said a word all the way to the Grange Hall. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Cal asked as he drove around searching for a parking spot.
“I’m sure.”
It wasn’t like Jane to be this quiet. Sure, he’d been a jerk lately, but he loved her and she knew it, at least he prayed she did. “Honey,” he said miserably, filled with regret, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Damned if he knew. “Whatever I’ve done to upset you.”
“You haven’t upset me.”
“You’re absolving me from all wrongdoing, then?”
She gave him a quick smile. “I wouldn’t go as far as that.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand, and she smiled again, but he could tell her joy was fleeting. He was the cause, and the knowledge weighed down his heart.
Unexpectedly he found a parking space relatively close to the hall. A long walk wouldn’t have bothered him, but he didn’t want Jane to have to go far. She rarely complained about being uncomfortable with the pregnancy, but he knew these past few months had drained her physically and emotionally. He was sure his moods hadn’t been any help, either.
He was excited about having a baby, but it all seemed unreal to him. He recognized that soon he’d be a father and he was determined to be a good one; he just wasn’t sure when fatherhood started. Jane was already a mother. Her body proved as much. But he didn’t feel any different now than he had when she’d told him she was pregnant. His elation had lasted a long time, but at the moment all that was required of him seemed to be this infernal waiting. He wasn’t very good at it.
The hall was crowded, the way it always was for the annual dance. Cal slid his arm protectively around his wife as they walked in.
“Glen and Ellie are over there.” Jane pointed.
His brother was standing and waving his arms above his head to attract their attention. Glen had secured a table; Grady and Caroline Weston and Nell and Travis Grant sat with him.
“You’re late,” his brother said as he neared the table. Glen slapped him on the back. “Mighty fine duds you’re wearing.”
“Should be, seeing that I borrowed ’em from you.”
The music was loud, too loud for extended conversation. Glen left to get them each a drink—a cranberry juice for Jane, a Lone Star beer for Cal.
Cal pulled out Jane’s chair and draped her shawl over the back. “Look,” she said close to his ear once they were both seated, “Annie’s dancing with Lucas.”
Cal glanced toward the dance floor. Sure enough, there they were. He studied them for a minute, wondering if he was witnessing the start of a romance. Jane certainly seemed to think so. Cal wasn’t sure. Lucas had asked him some questions about Annie early on and a couple more that week. So the vet asked a few questions. Big deal. Didn’t prove a thing. Jane, however, saw this as a clear indication that something might happen soon.
“Annie’s with Lucas?” Ellie asked, raising her voice to be heard.
“Jane’s already got them engaged,” Cal informed his sister-in-law.
“I do not,” Jane protested. “It’s too early to tell.”
Cal rolled his eyes, thinking he was being clever, but he caught the look on Jane’s face and saw that he’d hurt her. Again. Another on his growing list of sins.
The band began a ten-minute break then. “I’m going over to talk to Dovie and Frank,” she told him and excused herself to the others.
“I’ll go with you,” Ellie said, slipping past Glen and Cal.
The women left the table and Glen moved into the chair Jane had vacated. “What’s going on with you and Jane?” his brother demanded.
“What do you mean?” Cal asked irritably. Even if he’d been sure of what it was, he wasn’t going to discuss it with his brother.
“She isn’t herself.”
That, Cal already knew.
“Neither are you,” Glen added.
“Me?” This surprised Cal; then again, it didn’t. The problem with his parents had been consuming him for weeks. At first everyone had discounted his concerns. More recently he’d felt vindicated, but being right in this instance brought damn little satisfaction.
“How’s Jane feeling?” Glen asked next.
“She says she’s fine.”
“Ellie was really moody when she was pregnant with John.”
“Jane isn’t the moody type,” Cal snapped.
“No, but you are!”
Cal refused to dignify that with a response.
“You missed seeing Lyle Whitehead make a fool of himself,” Glen told him, changing the subject. “Adam put him in his place quick enough.”
“What happened?”
Glen described the incident, and as his brother spoke, Cal surveyed the room, seeking out Jane. This was supposed to be a night of celebration, a night to enjoy, and here he was talking to his brother, while his wife stood on the other side of the room with Dovie. It wasn’t right.
“Hey—where are you going?” Glen muttered when Cal got to his feet.
“To ask my wife to dance.”
“You’re volunteering to dance?” Glen made it sound as if the band should do a drum roll before he walked onto the floor. Under normal circumstances Cal wouldn’t volunteer, not when he possessed two left feet, but he needed to have Jane all to himself for a little while.
Jane looked up with surprise when her husband approached. “How you doing, Dovie?” His mother’s friend was a favorite of his. He exchanged handshakes with Frank. “Hear you two had a great time in Europe.”
“It was wonderful,” Dovie said rapturously.
“Sit down,” Frank urged.
“Actually, I came to steal my wife away. I thought we’d dance.”
Jane cast him the same shocked look he’d gotten from his brother. He smiled and held out his hand.
“You want to dance?” she asked as Cal led her toward the floor.
“Anything wrong with that?”
“Not wrong, just unusual.”
He couldn’t argue. His timing was perfect, he noted with some relief; the first number was a slow one. All he had to do was put his arms around Jane, shuffle his feet back and forth, and that passed for dancing. Good enough for him.
Jane walked into his arms, and it felt so damn good he nearly groaned aloud. He hadn’t held her like this in weeks. What was happening to them? Whatever it was had to stop. He needed his wife and loved her beyond measure.
Breathing in the scent of her hair, he closed his eyes and gently swayed with the music.
“I love you,” Cal whispered.
She nodded, tightened her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
It took him longer than it should have to realize she was crying. “Jane, love…what is it?”
She shook her head silently.
“You’re crying because I love you?”
She nodded.
That was when it happened, when he felt the solid unmistakable kick against his ribs. His child had belted him. “Did you feel that?” he asked excitedly. He remembered Wade telling him how the same thing had happened when Amy was pregnant with Joey—at this same dance, too—but Cal hadn’t understood the significance. He did now.
Jane gave an amused shrug. “Yes. He likes music, I guess.”
“She,” he corrected. From the first Jane had been convinced the baby was a boy. He’d never understood why; the ultrasound hadn’t indicated one way or the other. “It has to be a girl. If it was a boy, he wouldn’t be this happy about being on a dance floor.”
Jane laughed sweetly, softly, and his heart felt so full he thought it might burst wide open.
Flattening his hand against her stomach, he nearly laughed out loud when the baby kicked, harder this time. That incredible surge of emotion, of love, happened all over again.
“That answers my question,” he whispered.
“What question?” She leaned her head back far enough to give him a quizzical look.
“When a man starts to feel like a father. I did just now—that’s my child punching at me.”
“Our son,” Jane said with a happy smile.
“Daughter,” he murmured, and seeing the love in his wife’s eyes, he knew what he had to do next.
Jane frowned when he stopped dancing and took her by the hand. “Where are we going?” she asked as he tugged at her arm.
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to kiss you so much right now, it’s either embarrass us both or get off the dance floor.”
“Cal,” she protested weakly as they wove their way through the crowd, “we’re married!”
“So? Is that a problem? Does that mean I can only kiss you at home?”
Her eagerness as she followed him out the side door told him she needed this as much as he did. They needed each other and always would. They were a team, a couple, a family. Lovers and friends, confidants and companions. And now, parents.
As soon as they were out of sight of everyone else, Cal drew her into his arms. She opened her mouth to him in a kiss that started gentle, but quickly became intense. Jane tasted like heaven, sweet and passionate, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
Cal didn’t know how long they kissed before he was aware that they weren’t alone. He dragged his mouth from hers and stared into the shadows, where he saw another couple. It took him an instant to identify them—Bernie and Cheryl Benton. The last he’d heard, they’d separated. Now, apparently, they’d worked out their differences. He fully intended to resolve any differences in his own marriage—without the help of a knife-pulling idiot like Lyle Whitehead.
Whatever was wrong, he intended to fix it or die trying.