Читать книгу Daddy for Keeps - Pamela Tracy - Страница 11

S unday had been pretty much a blur for Lucky. Otherwise, he’d never have allowed a photographer to take pictures after the morning service. What he did on the circuit could be sensationalized. What he did on Sunday morning in front of believers should not.

The girl in the photo was wearing next to nothing. And the adoring look she aimed his way was rehearsed. Luckily, the reporter knew how to gather facts: Lucky’s rodeo win, his mother’s rodeo-queen status, his brother’s rodeo belts and recent death, and even Lucky’s penchant for sermonizing, all made it into the story. Too bad God was at the bottom of the pyramid. The reporter definitely put the facts in the wrong order of importance.

God should have been first.

Lucky got out his Bible and turned to James. “ Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

He put his hand flat on the page. Sometimes, in the quiet of the early morning and in the twilight of the night, when Lucky was alone, the touch of the Bible felt like a pathway straight to God.

He reread the passage. To Lucky’s way of thinking, no matter what Marcus had done or been, Robby Crosby was a good and perfect gift. One Lucky’s mother would welcome and his father would shun.

Lucky closed the Bible, held it in his hands and stared out his window. It was just after five. Howard, Bernice’s husband, was already taking care of the animals. Howie Junior should be with him. Those summers when Lucky and Marcus visited Grandpa and Grandma Moody, they’d been up at five.

Finally setting his Bible aside, Lucky started dialing the numbers in his cell phone. He’d devoted yesterday to God, prayer and meditation. Today he was devoting to Robby Crosby, who maybe needed to be known as Robby Welch. Surely, out of all the friends he and Marcus shared, somebody would know something. Two hours later, he lost the charge on his cell phone, switched to the landline in Mary’s room, and he discovered what he’d suspected all along. Natalie obviously kept a low profile. No one seemed to know her or remember Marcus talking about her. Everyone remembered Tisha. And, like Lucky, most agreed that she had stopped following the rodeo after she stopped seeing Marcus.

No one had seen her in the last few years.

No one cared.

During the time she’d spent with Marcus, Lucky had felt displaced and his youthful prayers about her all had to do with her disappearing. He’d hated when Tisha accompanied them from one show to another. She’d been a wedge between him and his brother. He was older now, and maybe his prayers should take a different slant.

Marcus had probably been a father, and it looked like he had a son to be proud of. A tiny seed of suspicion settled in Lucky’s gut. Could Marcus have cheated on Tisha with this Natalie woman? Or could Natalie have been a rebound because she looked so much like Tisha?

Either scenario might give some insight as to why Marcus had kept his son a secret.

Lucky headed for the kitchen and the beckoning aroma of pancakes. “Bernice!”

“I’m right here. You don’t need to yell. What?” Bernice wore an apron over her jeans as she expertly flipped the pancakes while holding a gallon of milk in her other hand. “Don’t tell me you’re not staying for breakfast.”

“I’m staying and I’m starved. Do you know Natalie Crosby?”

“Sure I know Natalie, ever since she was a little girl.” Bernice looked at Lucky’s mother. “You’d know Natalie’s mama. Tina Burke. She was a freshman when we were seniors.”

Betsy Welch shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

Bernice shook her head. “About the time your daddy died and the boys stopped coming here for the summer, that would be about the time Natalie started performing in the rodeo. About a summer or two later, Tisha started coming for the summers and got involved. It’s a wonder that Tisha and Marcus met elsewhere—both of them have roots here.” She patted Betsy on the shoulder before turning to Lucky. “I heard you burning up the phone line asking questions about that girl. I could have saved Marcus a passel of trouble if he’d listened when I told him she was nothing but trouble.”

Lucky looked at his mother. She’d poured herself a cup of coffee and was taking a seat at the table. She didn’t even glance at the plate of pancakes in front of her. The look on her face clearly indicated she knew something bad was about to happen. The name Tisha always had that effect on his mother.

“Did Marcus know Natalie?” Lucky asked.

“Not that I know of.” Bernice set the milk on the counter. “You want to tell me why you’re asking?”

“I met Natalie yesterday at the rodeo and, for a moment, I thought she was Tisha. Some of her friends quickly set me straight.”

“Natalie was at the rodeo?” Bernice sounded surprised.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s interesting. After her leg got mangled so bad, Natalie stopped going anywhere near horses. Her father sold off his entire stock. About broke his heart. When Robby started wearing a cowboy hat, you could just see Leo wishing he had a horse to put that boy on.”

“You’re not looking for Tisha, are you?” his mother asked slowly.

“It really shocked me, Mom, how much this Natalie looked like Tisha.” Lucky sat down at the table and tried not to notice his mother’s trembling hands. Tisha brought up bad memories. Marcus’s drinking had gotten out of control during the Tisha era. His mom blamed Tisha, slightly unfair, but not completely unwarranted.

Bernice piled pancakes on a plate and set them in front of him. His mother stared at the syrup bottle in front of her but didn’t move. Finally, Bernice reached over and pushed it toward Lucky. “Don’t worry, Betsy. Natalie’s nothing like Tisha.”

Betsy wiped away a tear, and Bernice started talking, even as she dug into her own plate of pancakes. “Everyone loves Natalie. She’s a hometown girl. Family’s been here since the area was first settled.”

Bernice looked at Lucky. “At one time, that girl loved the rodeo as much as you do. Of course, Tisha did, too. My, my, those two girls could ride, but Natalie was a natural. She and little Allison Needham used to practice every weekend. I heard you asking questions about her, too, didn’t I? My Mary said she wouldn’t be surprised if Natalie made a name for herself. She wasn’t too sure about Allison. I think Tisha only rode because she couldn’t bear Natalie getting the attention. When Natalie was still a teenager, she got tossed during the rodeo. She was still using a cane when she graduated high school. If you look real close, you’ll see she still has a limp to this day.”

“I think I saw her,” Betsy said thoughtfully, looking at Lucky and finally relaxing. “She came over to talk to you after the rodeo.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“I only saw her from the back. I didn’t notice she looked like Tisha.”

“Her boy must have convinced her to bring him. Can’t think of anything else that would get her there. She’s a good mother. Too bad there’s not a dad in the picture. She went off to college and came back two years later with a little baby. Leo didn’t even blink, and no one dared say a word or ask questions about Natalie’s situation. She and her dad dote, make that he doted, on Robby.” Bernice looked over at Betsy. “Natalie’s father died just two weeks ago. Heart attack. Real surprise to everyone.”

Bernice turned to Lucky. “Natalie’s dad owned part of the stockyard Howard works at. We all expected to hear that Natalie would take over the reins, but it seems just a few months ago, Leo took out a loan. He used the stockyard as collateral. It’s gone now, Natalie’s livelihood. Word is, she’s hurting for money and might lose her home.”

Lucky nodded. So desperation drove her to him. That she’d risk talking to him, asking him for child support, for help, meant she was pretty much at wit’s end financially. No doubt she wanted money with no strings. He finished his plate and wasn’t surprised when Bernice piled more on.

With each bite, he thought of his brother. Marcus had been a pro at keeping secrets from his family. He’d spent time in jail without placing his one phone call to them. He’d nursed an alcohol addiction that not even Alcoholics Anonymous had been able to counter. But of all his secrets, this one took the prize.

Then, a more subtle thought surfaced, adding one more turn on this roller-coaster ride out of control. Maybe Marcus hadn’t known he was a father?

Suddenly Lucky’s appetite was gone. “Where does Natalie live?”

“Three blocks past the church, turn right and go down Judge Taylor Road all the way to the end.”

He stood. “I need to get going.”

They didn’t ask; he didn’t tell.

He rehearsed his speech on the drive over, in between praying. There were two possible scenarios. One, Natalie was a decent woman who truly needed help. Lucky had watched decent women fall victim to Marcus. Two, Natalie was the same as Tisha. Then, possibly, Marcus had been the victim.

No matter which one she was, approaching her looked to be the hardest thing Lucky had ever done. The words he practiced seemed weak, hollow, accusing. As he pulled in front of the house, he was no closer to knowing what to say to the mother of Marcus’s child.

Sitting in his truck in the driveway, Lucky bowed his head and one last time petitioned his Father. Never had he dealt with such a situation. He couldn’t even come up with a Bible reference.

Natalie came to the door, stared at Lucky, disappeared inside for a moment, then stepped onto the porch. He admired that. She wasn’t going to hide. She’d meet him head-on. He also had to admire the way she looked. White jeans, red button-down shirt. Perky and mad. On her, the combination looked good.

The boy wriggled up next to her. Grinning like it was Christmas and obviously hoping for escape. The tears Lucky evoked yesterday obviously forgotten.

Thank you, God .

Lucky stepped out of his truck. “Ma’am, can we talk?”

“Robby, go up to your room.” She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and frowned.

“Why, Mommy?”

“Just for a little while. I’ll talk to you later.”

The boy peeked out. “Are you the cowboy?”

“I’m a bull rider,” Lucky corrected, throwing an apologetic look to Natalie. “A cowboy and a bull rider, much better.”

“Better?” The boy looked interested.

“Robby.” The one word did it. Robby bobbed his head, grinned and ducked behind her.

“I wanted to talk to you—” Lucky began.

“I owe you an apology,” Natalie said. “I’m not sure what came over me yesterday. It was a mistake to come see you. We don’t need money. Really.”

Lucky shook his head. “Ma’am, we can worry about money later. Right now, I just want to know how it can be that my brother had a son the family doesn’t know about.”

She stumbled, then stopped to lean against one of the porch’s white pillars. Suddenly, he wanted to go to her. Hold her up. Tell her he didn’t mean to hurt her. Where were these feelings coming from? This morning, with the sun hitting the blond, almost white, highlights in her hair, she looked nothing like Tisha.

“So, you didn’t know,” she whispered before regaining her footing.

She drew herself up, standing proud, yet still whispering. “I always wondered.”

“Ma’am, we had no idea. When I tell my mother about Robby, she’s going to be so happy. I cannot even tell you how much that little boy will heal our family. I know we can work something—”

“No!” She took two slow steps down the front steps. The limp was more pronounced, as if the emotional pain robbed her physically as well as mentally. Still, she managed to keep steady. “I was so wrong to approach you. Robby and I are doing just fine.”

“I believe you, ma’am. I can see how fine you’re doing. Little Robby looks happy and healthy, and this is a great spread you got here, but I’m not doing fine. For six months, I’ve done nothing but miss my brother, wish I could bring him back, and now I find out he has a son—a son who knows nothing about his father or his father’s family? Tell me, ma’am, did Marcus know about Robby? Did you tell him?”

“Tell him? Why would I tell him?” The look in her eyes said it all. Marcus was pond scum. “We, my father and I, wanted nothing to do with Marcus, ever. We were glad he never came around. Robby’s ours. We kept him, we love him, and he’s ours. And keep your voice down. He doesn’t know he’s related to you.”

“That’s going to change. Robby has family, on both sides, who want to get to know him and love him.”

Natalie’s eyes narrowed.

“By not telling my brother about Robby, you deprived him of any opportunity to know his son.” Lucky felt the words pool in his throat. Maybe knowing he had a son would have calmed Marcus down, grounded him, made him rethink what he did with his time and his money. “I know my brother. He would have taken care of Robby.”

“No,” Natalie said.

“Look, how and when did you meet him? What made you decide to raise his child alone? Why…”

She covered her ears. The pain on her face so evident that Lucky stopped.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” she said.

He started to argue, but tears pooled in her eyes and threatened to overflow.

“It’s too much. I’ve dealt with losing my dad, losing my home, and now you’re making me deal with losing Robby.”

“No, not losing Robby, but introducing—”

She held up her hand. “No, not today, I cannot deal with this today.” She took one step in his direction, and he backed up. He recognized anguish. He’d felt it every day since his brother died. Their eyes locked, hers blue and beautiful, then she pivoted and hurried quickly back to her front door.

A moment later, sitting in his truck in the driveway again, Lucky bowed his head once more and petitioned his Father, even as his heart pounded and his own anguish threatened to take over. He’d finally thought of a Bible reference. The story of King Solomon offering to cut a child in half when two women were arguing over who was the infant’s rightful family.

When he looked up from his prayer, his eyes went right back to Natalie Crosby.

She stood at the front door, looking at him like he was either the Grim Reaper or an IRS agent.

Finally, he rolled down the window and leaned out. The smell of West Texas sage grass reminded him of being at his grandparents’ house. Lord, he could use Grandpa’s advice now. “Look, Natalie, you know you’re going to wind up talking to me. I’ve got plenty of questions and seems you’re the only one who can answer them.” He shook his head. “Saturday you told me that I’m an uncle. Surely after that bombshell, you know I’m not going away.”

Her expression didn’t change. He’d dealt with friendlier bulls.

“Okay,” he finally said. “The next time we talk, it probably won’t be you and me. It will be you and me and my lawyer.” The next words out of his mouth shamed him, but she’d left him no choice. “And I don’t think you can afford that.”

He fired the engine and backed out. Just when he hit the street, he paused, stuck his head out the window again, because he couldn’t stand feeling this low, and shouted, “I’m staying at Bernice Baker’s place. You can call me anytime. I know you can find her number.”

With that, he pointed his truck toward Bernice’s, but his white knuckles and clenched teeth convinced him that no way, no how, could he sit in Bernice’s living room and not look like something was wrong. Holing up in Mary’s bedroom wouldn’t work, either. He was driving away from one headache and heading toward another. He needed to tell his family, and soon. Because if they found out about Robby from someone else, he’d never hear the end of it.

Selena in November was a riot of colors. The trees were shades of orange, red and yellow. The grass was turning brown but still had hints of green. None of the scenery matched Lucky’s mood. He needed some black or at least a lot more brown. He drove out of town and headed toward Delaney. Maybe there he could recover some feeling of peace.

Delaney was even smaller than Selena and just as colorful. A small sign announced the town and its population. An even smaller sign pointed to a café and general store. Both were new. School was in session. The building, the same size as the combined café and general store, had four trucks and one Ford Taurus parked in front. Lucky turned at the corner and saw a playground much improved since the days he had climbed the metal slide or fallen onto dirt and grass from the monkey bars. He still wasn’t seeing the colors that fit his mood. While the playground of old had been brown, green and silver, the playground of new was sunny yellow and fire-engine red.

Down from the school was the church his grandparents attended. It still looked good; getting declared a historical marker had that effect on property. Lucky pulled into the parking lot and almost couldn’t get out of the truck. The church looked good but lonely. The minister who’d been there during his grandparents’ time had passed away five years ago.

The sight of his childhood church looking pristine but unused did not help Lucky’s mood.

He left Delaney’s few businesses and traveled five miles of dirt roads, finally reaching his grandfather’s house. He stopped just in front and let his foot hover over the gas as he reflected back on the best memories of his life. A discarded bike, a tiny pretend lawn mower and a wagon gave evidence that life indeed went on. Lucky didn’t know the family who’d purchased Grandpa’s land, but he liked them already. The place looked pretty much as it always had, even the horses running in the distance. The only thing missing was the carpet-covered barrels over by the barn and Grandma standing on the porch yelling at Grandpa to turn down the music so she could think.

Believe it or not, Grandpa said there was nothing like Jimi Hendrix to get the adrenaline pumping. He said it was necessary for bull riding.

Lucky relaxed enough so his knuckles returned to their normal color.

The cemetery was a good twenty miles away and one of the oldest and biggest in the area. He’d been to Grandpa’s grave often, every time the rodeo brought him near, but today the pull was more than paying respect. It was a place to reflect.

He certainly could have handled his encounter with Natalie better this morning.

And it looked like he’d need to work hard to handle his mother now. In the distance he could see her standing in front of her parents’ graves. On a patch of land that usually inspired the wearing of black, his mother wore a pink button-down dress and white high heels. Yup, she was an avid member of the June Cleaver fan club. At least that’s what his friends all claimed. No one ever surprised Betsy Welch in an awkward moment. She always looked like she’d just left the hairdresser.