Читать книгу The Deputy's Holiday Family - Mindy Obenhaus - Страница 14

Chapter Four

Standing at the island in her mother’s kitchen, Lacie transferred the remnants of Kenzie’s birthday cake to a large plastic container then licked a smudge of the super sweet frosting from her finger. Thanks to no nap earlier in the day, save for fifteen short minutes in the car on the way back from Montrose, the little girl had crashed early. Still, it had been a good birthday. Mom had gone above and beyond on the gifts. Clothes, toys, books... Yet she refused to do Christmas. Unless the abundance was to make up for not celebrating Christmas.

Whatever the case, they’d all had a pleasant evening.

She stowed the cake in the fridge, rinsed and dried her hands, then grabbed her laptop and settled on the couch in the living room. Since she’d sent off Matt’s list this afternoon, she was now free to see if any new job listings had been posted. Because if she could find something that started before Christmas, her problems would be solved.

“I see you got a turkey.” Sitting in an adjacent chair near the window, Mom looked up from her book and moved her reading glasses to the top of her head.

Lacie lifted a brow. Was that merely an observation or were they about to enter round two of holiday discussions? If so, she’d better prepare to stand her ground.

“Just a small one.” She snagged the deep purple plush throw from the back of the sofa and tossed it over her legs while she waited for the website to load. “Oh, and don’t forget to give me your dressing recipe.”

“It’s in the recipe file in the cupboard.” Mom reached for her herbal tea on the side table. “It’s fairly basic, no special ingredients, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding what you need at Duckett’s.”

Contemplating an inevitable trip to Ouray’s one and only grocer, Lacie was pleased to see that her mother had embraced the idea of having Thanksgiving here at the house. Now if she would just come around to Lacie’s way of thinking regarding Christmas...

A knock sounded at the door.

She and her mother exchanged quizzical looks.

“I wonder who that could be.” Mom set her cup down, stood and started for the door. Fingering the sheer curtain aside, she peered through the sidelight window and smiled. “I have a feeling it’s for you.”

“Me?” Lacie set her computer on the coffee table, tossed the throw aside and stood in her socked feet. Who would be here to see her? The only person she’d had contact with since she’d been back was—

Her gut tightened. Oh, please don’t let it be—

“Matt, this makes twice in one day.” Mom held the door, allowing him and a blast of cold air to enter. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Pleasure? Lacie tugged at the sleeves of her bulky sweater. That was debatable.

“Hey, Barbara.” He wore a heavy coat, a pair of well-worn jeans, gloves and a black beanie. And if the hefty dose of pink coloring in his cheeks and nose was any indication, he’d walked. “I’m sorry to stop by so late.”

“Nonsense.” Mom closed the door behind him. “It’s only eight thirty.”

Yeah, never mind the fact that they were settling in for a cozy evening.

When Matt’s dark gaze moved to Lacie, she noticed something different, though. His shoulders seemed to slump, as though he were carrying a heavy burden, and there was something sad in his expression. Something that made her heart go out to him, though she quickly snatched it back.

Had something happened with the play? Mrs. Nichols?

“Is Kenzie in bed?” He watched her intently.

Uncertain how she felt about this side of Matt, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. Why?”

“Could we take a walk?”

A walk? Now? But it was late. Moreover, it was cold.

“We won’t be long,” he added.

She looked to her mother.

“I’ll keep an ear out for Kenzie.” Obviously the woman had read her mind.

Lacie glanced down at her computer. So much for job hunting. “Give me a sec to get ready.”

She donned her coat, scarf, hat and boots, all the while trying to figure out why Matt would suddenly feel like taking a walk. With her of all people. Unless something had happened. Or he simply wanted to discuss his duties as director? But couldn’t they do that here or someplace else that was warm?

Tugging on her gloves, she let go a sigh. She’d find out soon enough.

Outside, the air was still as they started up the darkened street. The clouds that had plagued them all day had finally dissipated, leaving a plethora of stars in their wake. It also meant they were likely in for a very cold night. Perhaps a hot bath would be in order when she got back.

“How’d the party go?” Matt’s breath hung in the freezing night air.

“Not too bad, considering there were only three of us.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Kenzie made out like a bandit.”

“I’m guessing she’d consider it a success then.” Though she didn’t look at him, she could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Probably.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, seemingly heading nowhere in particular, which had her wondering what this walk was all about.

Approaching a dim streetlight at the corner, she said, “Did you want to discuss the email I sent you?”

He glanced her way, his expression somber. “You sent me an email?”

“I told you I would.”

Again looking straight ahead, he said, “I haven’t checked. Had other stuff on my mind.”

Okay, then what—

Hands in his pockets, he kept walking. “I’m curious—why isn’t Kenzie’s father raising her?”

“What?” How dare he ask something so personal?

“I mean, typically when one parent passes, the other assumes custody.”

“Unless there’s a will that stipulates otherwise. Kenzie’s father wanted nothing to do with her. My sister wanted me to raise Kenzie. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“Were you planning to keep it a secret like Marissa did?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What secret?”

“That I’m Kenzie’s father.”

Dumbfounded, she stopped and simply stared at him. “If you’re trying to be funny, you missed the mark by a long shot.”

He stared back at her. “No, I’m quite serious.”

Not to mention crazy. She shook her head. “Did you not pay attention in ninth grade biology? It only takes nine months to have a baby. It’s been sixteen years since you and Marissa were a couple, so even if you had—”

“Marissa came to Hawaii.” The intensity of his gaze heightened and bore straight into her. “The February before Kenzie was born. But then you probably knew that.”

Her mind raced to keep up. Of course, she remembered her sister’s trip. Marissa and Grant had just broken up for the umpteenth time.

“I was there with the navy,” Matt continued. “I spent the week showing her around Oahu. And then...” He turned away as though embarrassed.

She burrowed her hands deeper into her coat. Her sister never said anything about seeing Matt. And as she recalled, Marissa and Grant got back together shortly after she returned from her trip.

February? She ticked off the months on her frozen fingers. March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, Novem...

A sickening flurry of emotions began to churn in her belly, spaghetti and chocolate cake morphing into a lead weight. She swallowed hard as the potential reality of Matt’s confession sank in.

It couldn’t be true, though. Grant was Kenzie’s father. He and Marissa had dated off and on for years. Until shortly before Kenzie was born, when he walked away for good.

She dared a glance at Matt, squaring her shoulders. Marissa would have told her if he was Kenzie’s father. “Matt, I don’t know how you came up with such a crazy notion, but I can assure you that you are not Kenzie’s father.”

He twisted toward her. “Really? Then how do you explain this?” He held out a five-by-seven photo. A little boy with dark eyes alight with amusement and dark brown hair that had been combed back to reveal a slight widow’s peak... Just like Kenzie. “That’s me at four years old. When your mother introduced me to Kenzie earlier today, I felt as though I’d met her before. I didn’t get it at first. Until you told me how old she was.” His voice cracked. “I’m not imagining this, Lace. I truly believe that Kenzie is my daughter.”

She stared at the photo, feeling as though she might be sick. Grant was as fair-haired as Marissa had been, with eyes just as blue. Why hadn’t her sister told her she saw Matt? That there was a possibility he could be Kenzie’s father?

She looked away. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. Jutting her chin into the frigid air, she glared right at Matt. “It’s not true.” Then, before he could say another word, she turned and ran back home.

* * *

Thanks to Lacie’s abrupt departure last night, sleep had evaded Matt. Now as midafternoon approached, he was starting to feel the effects. Unfortunately, his shift wasn’t over for another three hours.

Under what he would normally consider a beautiful blue sky, he maneuvered his Tahoe through the neighboring town of Ridgway, eyeing the jagged, snow-covered peaks of the Cimarrons to the east. He wanted to kick himself for accusing Lacie of hiding Kenzie’s paternity, when it was obvious she was as shocked by the revelation as he was. What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why she refused to believe him.

Because maybe you’re not Kenzie’s father.

Yet he’d gone off half-cocked with no concrete proof to back up his supposition.

Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.

The image of Kenzie’s face haunted him. Wouldn’t a father know his own child? After all, it wasn’t like he was looking to be a dad. And while the evidence he had was circumstantial, it all added up and was impossible to ignore. At least until he had proof to the contrary.

So where did he go from here? And how was he going to convince Lacie that he wasn’t crazy?

His radio went off. Possible poachers. He waited for the address, cringing when it came. He did not need this today. Or any other day, for that matter. With the mood he was in, the last person he wanted to see was his father.

Why’d he have to call while Matt was the only deputy on duty? Couldn’t he have waited a few more hours for the next shift? Sure, it would be dark, but at least he’d have been off the hook.

Bound by duty, he reluctantly responded to dispatch and headed south on Highway 550. God, I’m going to need Your help.

Ten minutes later, his vehicle bumped across the cattle guard beneath the arched metal sign that read Abundant Blessings Ranch. He crept up the long gravel drive, praying that perhaps it had been his oldest brother, Noah, who’d made the call. Yet as he passed the recently expanded stable, his hopes were dashed when he glimpsed Noah tending the horses. He thought about stopping to check, but knew he’d simply be postponing the inevitable.

Approaching the ranch house, memories of that day nearly three years ago filled his mind. All he’d wanted to do was make Mama happy. And he had. For a short time, she’d forgotten the pain and weakness that had plagued her for months.

But Dad didn’t see it that way. Are you trying to kill her?

Ten days later, she was gone. The cancer had finally gotten the better of her.

Just then he spotted his father exiting the new barn his brother Andrew had built over the summer.

You’re nothing but a screwup, Matt. Always have been, always will be.

Clint Stephens’s words didn’t sting quite as much today as they had when he’d first spat them at Matt. And while Matt tried to pretend his father’s opinion didn’t matter, it seemed he’d been trying to disprove his father ever since. Yet for all of his trying, he’d only succeeded in proving him correct.

While Dad looked on, he parked beside the old man’s dually, in front of the long wooden deck that spanned the length of the single-story cedar ranch house. Thanks to Andrew and a good power washing, the place looked almost new. The ugly black buildup from years of neglect had been whisked away. If only the damage to his heart could be so easily erased.

His father was waiting as Matt exited his truck, felt cowboy hat perched upon his graying head, hands buried in the pockets of his Carhartt coveralls. “Wondered if you’d be working today.”

“I am. So whatcha got?” Because the sooner he could get away from here, the better off he’d be.

“A decapitated mule deer.” The old man poked a thumb over his shoulder toward the pasture. “Near Smugglers Bend.”

Matt knew the area well as he used to hunt there all the time. There wasn’t an inch on the ranch that he and his brothers hadn’t explored at some point in their young lives. “I’ll drive over there and walk in from the road.”

His father’s gaze narrowed. “He’s tucked in amongst the brush. Might have a hard time findin’ him, so I’d best take you.”

The dread Matt had felt earlier amplified. Did Dad think he was incapable of finding it? Or that he needed a chaperone to make sure he got things right?

Whatever the case, the old man remained quiet during the ride out there on one of the utility vehicles they used to get around the ranch. Despite an abundance of sunshine, the bitter cold air stung Matt’s face as they thudded over the now-dormant rangeland, carving a path around cattle and the occasional tree.

A short time later, his father brought the vehicle to a halt beside a small wooded area. Scruffy conifers and barren deciduous trees blanketed with underbrush. A hiding place for wildlife. “He was a big fella.” Dad stepped off the vehicle and led Matt several feet into the thicket.

Matt eyed the once-majestic buck. “Yes, sir. But then, poachers don’t make a habit of going after the little guys.” He surveyed the overgrowth around the animal. “How’d you find him?”

“Neighbor called and said I had cows on the road. When I went to get ’em, I discovered somebody had cut the fence.” Dad glanced some hundred yards in the distance. “Wasn’t long after that I saw the blood trail.” He looked down at the dead animal. “Looks like a clean shot, though.” He pointed to the entry wound behind the animal’s left shoulder. “Fella never knew what hit him.”

“I’m guessing they shot from the road.” Matt dared a look at his dad. “Then walked in to claim their trophy.”

Dad shook his head. “Them poachers are the ones that ought to be shot.”

Matt took some photos and jotted down a few notes before following the trail to the road and doing more of the same. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the first incident we’ve seen,” he told his father when he returned. “I’ll hand this information over to investigators, though with little to go on, catching anyone isn’t likely.”

They again climbed on the UTV and started back to the ranch house in silence. Matt took the opportunity to survey the land he loved so much. He gazed at the river as they passed, wishing he could spend more time there. How he used to enjoy walking the property, communing with nature, hunting, fishing... Except now he felt like an outsider. Unwelcome in his own home.

“Well, I suppose you need to get on, don’t you?” His father stopped the vehicle in front of the house. “Probably have reports and such to take care of, huh?”

If Matt were anyone else, Dad would have offered him a cup of coffee. But he wasn’t anyone else. No matter what he did, he was a disappointment to his father. The son who was arrested for underage drinking, then let his parents down by joining the navy without ever consulting them.

“Yes, sir.”

The old man followed him to his Tahoe. “I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re directing your mama’s play.”

Matt’s entire body tensed. “Yes.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, the old man rocked back on the heels of his worn work boots. “I gotta say, I’m kinda curious as to why you decided to do that.”

Turning, he looked at his father. “They were talking about canceling the play and I couldn’t let Mama’s legacy die.”

“I can appreciate that.” Dad nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line. “But don’t you think it would have been better to leave it in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing?”

Matt’s blood boiled. The old man would never cut him any slack. “Why? Because you think I’ll screw that up, too?”

When his father didn’t respond, Matt turned on his own booted heel. “I’m out of here.” He threw himself into his vehicle, fired up the engine and exited the ranch at a much faster pace than he’d arrived.

As far as Clint Stephens was concerned, his middle son had no redeeming qualities. Just wait until he found out about Kenzie. The fact that Matt had fathered a child out of wedlock would only amplify the old man’s belief that Matt was nothing but a failure, unworthy of his father’s love. And as much as it killed Matt to admit it, even to himself, that’s the one thing he desperately wanted.