Читать книгу The Christmas She Always Wanted - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

Two days later, Angie was back in the kitchen of the big house helping Geraldine wrap dark blue cellophane around two huge baskets.

“Angie, I want you to take these two holiday baskets to Jubal’s. Not the clinic, but his house,” she said. “They’re full of useful little things for his new home and some goodies for him to eat. Men aren’t too good about cooking for themselves, you know. You do know how to get there, don’t you?”

Angie stared blankly at the woman. She loved her boss and certainly wanted to do everything to please the woman. But go to Jubal’s house? The last time she saw him, she’d said that she never wanted to see him again. After that, there was no telling what he’d think when he saw her driving up.

“I—I believe so. It’s over the hill, north of the ranch yard. On the left of the road.”

“That’s right. But the road is too rough for your car. You’d better take my old truck.”

The tall, slender, silver-haired woman gathered the cellophane paper at the top of one of the baskets and tied it off with a small piece of grass twine. A masculine touch, for an extremely masculine man, Angela thought wryly.

“Uh—what if he isn’t there?” Angela asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I seriously doubt he’ll have his doors locked. Just take the baskets inside and put the perishables in the refrigerator.”

Please, God, don’t let him be there, Angela silently prayed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Take care of what?” Cook asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

Geraldine looked around as Cook approached them. “I’m sending Angie to deliver these baskets to Jubal’s house. I want him to feel really at home here on the ranch. Maybe these few things will help.”

A tiny frown pulled Cook’s brows together as her dark eyes glanced over at Angela. “She don’t need to deliver those baskets,” she said to Geraldine. “I’ll get Alida to do it.”

“Alida is over at the Sanchez house,” Geraldine reasoned. “And Angela isn’t helpless.”

Even though she knew the two women had a close relationship that spanned decades, Angela didn’t want Cook to get into a rift with Geraldine over her. So when Cook opened her mouth to utter another protest, Angela quickly jumped in. “It’s no problem, Cook. I’ll get these delivered and be back in no time.”

Frowning, Geraldine’s glance swung suspiciously back and forth between Angela and Cook. “Is something wrong? Why shouldn’t Angela deliver these baskets to Jubal?”

Forcing a cheery smile to her face, Angela swiftly reassured her. “There’s nothing wrong, Miss Geraldine. Cook just wants me to help her with a dish we were planning for tonight’s meal. That’s all.”

Seeming to accept Angela’s explanation, the ranch lady glanced at the cuffed watch on her wrist. “Well, it’s still a long time before supper. You’ll have plenty of time to help her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angela replied, then turned and gathered up one of the huge baskets.

“I’ll help you carry this one.” Cook promptly collected the other basket from the table and followed Angela outside.

At the west side of the house, Angela opened the door to Geraldine’s work truck and carefully placed the basket she was carrying on the floorboard. Behind her, Cook snorted.

“Why did you interfere in there, honey? I could’ve gotten you out of this little job. It’s plain to me that you don’t want to go to Jubal’s house.”

“It’s all right, Cook. The man probably isn’t home anyway.”

“Angie, maybe you should fess up to Geraldine,” Cook suggested. “Tell her that there’s bad blood between you and the doc.”

Angela swallowed down a sigh. “There’s not bad blood, Cook. Just painful memories. Besides, I can’t complain to Miss Geraldine. I’m not important to her and she could easily replace me. Now Jubal—everyone on the ranch already thinks he’s just dandy and his job here is very important.”

Angela took the basket from Cook’s arms and thrust it into the truck.

Scowling, Cook said, “You’re important to me. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”

Smiling now, Angela turned and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “It counts for everything. Now don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around Jubal Jamison.”

With that brave statement, she climbed into the truck and headed it toward Jubal’s.

As Angela bounced over the rough dirt road washed out from a string of fall rains, she turned up the heater and glanced at the gray sky. Winter in south Texas never lasted long, but it was a dismal time for humans and livestock. This morning Angela was feeling particularly shivery, but she had a feeling the weather had nothing to do with the chill deep inside her.

Facing east, Jubal’s cedar-sided house was located on a low, grassy hill with a small creek running in front of it. As she crossed a slab of concrete that spanned the shallow path of water, Angela geared down the truck, then urged the vehicle on up the hill to where a spreading live oak shaded a large, graveled driveway.

She parked the truck, relieved to note that there was no vehicle near the house or the barn. Hopefully, if she worked quickly, she could deposit the baskets inside and be on her way before Jubal showed up.

Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed up one of the baskets and hurried toward the wood-planked porch leading up to the entrance. Along the way, she caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind and looking up spotted a few white puffs coming from the red brick chimney at the right side of the structure.

Stepping up onto the porch, she noticed wicker lawn furniture at one end and a row of potted succulents lined along the wall. Jubal’s place looked homey and inviting, a place for a family. But Jubal didn’t have a family, she thought with dismay.

The baby Evette had been expecting had never been born. The fact still continued to shock her. Down through the years, she’d imagined Jubal and Evette together, raising their child together, while she and Melanie had struggled by themselves.

Oh God, why couldn’t she forget about it? Let it go?

After several knocks on the door, she tried the handle and found it unlocked. Feeling like an interloper, she opened the door wide enough to place the gift basket inside the room, then hurried back to the truck for the second one.

She was in the kitchen, putting the perishable food items in the refrigerator, when she heard the hum of an approaching vehicle minutes later.

Of course it would be Jubal, she thought with sinking dread. At this time of year, no one else would have reason to come back this way.

Bracing herself, she fought the urge to run and waited instead for him to appear. When his tall, lanky body finally stepped through the open doorway of the kitchen, an unexpected thrill rushed through her.

Jubal spotted Angela standing beside the kitchen table and stopped in his tracks. “Oh. It’s you,” he said with surprise. “I saw Geraldine’s truck and thought she was here.”

She took an awkward step forward and Jubal could see her cheeks were flushed red, but whether from embarrassment or anger, or simply the cold, he couldn’t be sure. In any case, she looked completely uncomfortable.

“Uh—Miss Geraldine sent me over with gift baskets. There was some food I needed to put in the refrigerator.”

The last time he’d seen her, she’d told him that she never wanted to see him again. Jubal was relieved to see her for any reason. He only wished she was happier to be here.

Pushing the brim of his black Stetson back a fraction on his forehead, he walked over to her. Here in the morning light, she seemed even more petite than he remembered. Her head would barely strike the middle of his chest, yet the curves hidden beneath her jeans and sweatshirt were all that he recalled and more. “I’m glad you brought them.”

Stepping to one side of her, he poked through the items in one of the baskets on the tabletop. Angela tried to ignore his nearness, tried to pretend he still didn’t look like the sexy cowboy she’d first fallen in love with when she’d been a mere nineteen years old. But she had to admit there was a sensuality about the man that she’d apparently forgotten and it was calling far too loudly to her now.

“Mmm, looks good,” he said. “I’ll have to thank Geraldine for being so thoughtful.”

“I’ll tell her you’re pleased—as soon as I get back to the ranch house.” Turning, she quickly started out of the room.

“Angie, wait.”

Her heart hammering, she paused to look over her shoulder. For a moment, as her gaze skittered over his face, their eyes clashed and the brief meeting jolted her senses, reminding her of the wild, sweet taste of his kiss.

He cleared his throat. “The weather is miserable today. Why don’t you take a minute to warm yourself at the fireplace?”

Was he trying to be thoughtful? Did he think being polite could wipe away the past, she wondered crazily. Forget that, Angela, she chided herself. Jubal doesn’t want anything from you. Not now.

“That’s hospitable of you, Jubal. Especially after—the things I said to you.”

One of his shoulders lifted and fell. “You were upset,” he explained. “I’m just glad you decided to see me for any reason.”

She didn’t know how to reply to that without raking up more of the past so she said, “I suppose I could stay for a few minutes.”

Smiling faintly, he gestured toward the doorway and Angela preceded him out of the kitchen and into the living area.

The long room was filled with comfortable leather furniture and bright Navajo rugs. A snappy fire on the hearth radiated a welcome warmth.

For years she’d been haunted with the image of Jubal, Evette and their child sharing a home together. Now she had to rearrange those images and she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that. The wounded part of Angela had been happy to hear that Evette hadn’t been able to hold on to him. But she wasn’t happy about his losing the baby. The child had been an innocent victim in the whole affair. Just like Melanie.

Turning her back to the flames, she noticed that Jubal hadn’t taken a seat. Seeing him standing so tall and strong in the middle of the room made her even more aware of the attractive picture he made and how vulnerable it made her feel to be alone with him.

“Did you know the family that lived here before?” he asked.

She nervously clasped her hands together. “No. They moved out before I had a chance to meet them.”

“Geraldine told me that the man had respiratory problems and had to move to the western part of the state.”

“Yes. Cook said everyone hated to see the family go.”

Jubal nodded. “I get the impression that once a person starts working here, he pretty much stays for life. Is that the way you feel?”

Was that his subtle way of asking about her plans for the future, Angela wondered. Or was he simply making conversation? Either way, it felt more than strange to be standing a few feet away from him, hearing his voice. For so long now he’d simply been a memory. Right now, she wasn’t quite sure which was the best—the reality of being in his presence or the memory of being in his arms.

“I…right now I’m just concentrating on getting through the last of my college studies. This job is a blessing because Miss Geraldine allows me enough time to deal with my classes.”

Interest flickered across his face. “Oh. You’re still working on a college degree?”

Maybe at one time in her life, she’d behaved as though being his wife was going to be her career. Dear God, how humiliating. The two of them had only dated three months, yet Angela had already started planning a future with him. She’d been aware that he’d dated the mayor’s daughter before her, but she’d truly believed that Evette was out of his life. He’d even insisted that the woman had only been someone to spend time with, not someone he seriously cared about. But then Evette had started making ugly noises, demanding that he come back to her. Jubal had refused. Then she’d announced she was pregnant, and everything had changed. Angela’s life had changed.

Glancing away from him, she said, “Yes, I’m studying to be a teacher. But classes have broken for the semester right now.”

Across the few feet of space separating them, she saw admiration in his green eyes. The reaction surprised her. It also made her think. Five years ago she and Jubal had been passionately involved, but they had not really known each other. Not in the way they should have.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a teacher,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

She tried to tell herself that his compliment was hollow, that it meant nothing to her now. But she couldn’t stop a tiny spurt of pleasure from spiraling through her.

Shrugging, she said, “I like working with children and I think the job will suit me.”

“Elementary or high school?”

“Both, if I can pass the certification exam.”

“You’re a smart woman, Angie. You’ll pass.”

There it was, she thought with an inward groan. That endearing smile of his, the one that had once melted her heart, made her believe that she was the most special woman in his life. She couldn’t let it affect her again. She had to be strong, had to remember that he couldn’t be trusted. Ever.

“Well, that’s a long way from now,” she told him. “I still have another semester to go before I get my degree. And then I’ll have to do my student teaching.”

As the warmth of the flames seeped through her clothing, she noticed that everything about the house was nice and neat. That didn’t surprise her. The Jubal she’d known had been a fairly tidy person. What did pique her curiosity was the absence of family photos. The only sign he even had a family at all was a small photo of his sister sitting on a nearby end table.

As she recalled, he’d been close to his family. Maybe he hadn’t always agreed with them, but he’d loved them. As for Angela, the time she’d spent with the Jamisons had been brief and strained. They’d not exactly approved of their son’s relationship with a much younger woman. Especially one from a poor background. But Angela had never blamed the Jamisons. She’d realized they were only looking out for their son’s interests. Now she could only wonder if there had been a rift in the family.

“Well, I should be getting back to the ranch house, Jubal. Cook is waiting on me.”

He cast her a pointed look. “You’re in a big hurry to get away from me. I wonder what that means? That I’m getting under your skin, or that you hate the very sight of me?”

Stepping away from the warm hearth, she walked over to him. Her expression was as cool and distant as the high winter clouds and it chilled Jubal even more than the cold wind blowing across the Sandbur.

“Look, Jubal, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have no interest in starting things up—” her lips pressed together in a grim line “—where we left off.”

Did he want to start things up with Angie? Jubal asked himself. A few days ago, he might have convinced himself that she was in the past and out of his life. But looking at her now, he was staggered by how much he wanted to start everything over with her.

“What would you say if I told you that I had an interest?”

For one brief second he saw her bottom lip quiver, but then a frown took the flash of vulnerable emotion away.

“That you’re wasting your time,” she said flatly.

For nearly five years he’d told himself to forget this woman, Jubal reminded himself, as his gaze wandered over her silky, brown hair, the rosy color staining her cheeks. He’d not searched for her because he’d figured she’d moved on and married someone else. He knew now that he’d made the wrong choice. He should have searched to the ends of the earth.

His throat thick, he said, “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

Her nostrils flared. “Hate is a mighty strong word, Jubal. And I like to think I’m not capable of hating anyone. But you—well, I just regret that I ever trusted you.”

The groan inside him was so great Jubal couldn’t stifle it. What could he possibly do or say to make up for the ugly mess he’d dragged her through?

Angela needs years of love and devotion, Jubal. Not just sweet words or kind acts.

Jubal realized the little voice in his head was right, but he also knew he had to try to fix things at the moment, otherwise, he’d never have a chance at anything long-term with this woman.

“Angie, God knows I didn’t want to marry Evette. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

She stared at him so coldly that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the front door had jarred open and the chill racing down his spine was actually from the north wind.

“Jubal, I’m not nineteen anymore. I don’t believe everything that spouts from a man’s mouth. Especially yours. So don’t insult my intelligence by trying to feed me a bunch of manure.”

She didn’t have to point out that she’d grown from the nineteen-year-old that had knocked him off his feet the first time he’d met her. She no longer looked at him with love and admiration. Now her eyes were full of mistrust and forced independence.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Angie, it ripped me apart to turn away from you and go to Evette.”

She looked away from him. “Maybe it did. But you obviously managed to glue yourself together enough to marry her. And I—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” he interrupted.

Her eyes bore down on his and he wondered how something as soft as sweet chocolate could look as hard as steel.

“The way I see it, you could have dealt with things differently. You could have offered her child support and help with raising the child,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t have to go so far as to marry her!”

Frustration clenched his jaw. “Everything in life isn’t just right or wrong, black or white. And for your information, I tried giving Evette those options. She wouldn’t hear of it. She kept insisting that she’d swallow a bottle of pills and end her life and the baby’s.”

Angela shook her head. “Evette was too in love with herself to do such a thing and you know it. She was the town princess. She refused to accept that there was anything she wanted that she couldn’t have. And the baby was a convenient way of snaring you.” She turned away from him and walked back to the fireplace. As she stared into the flames, she spoke in a raw, accusing voice, “When you and I first met, Jubal, I admired you for being honest with me about dating Evette. But you also assured me that your relationship with her had never been serious—and that it was over. Then I find out—”

“It wasn’t serious! And as far as I was concerned, it was over.”

Clearly aghast, she stared over her shoulder at him. “Not serious! You were making love to the woman!”

“That was before I met you. Not after. And having sex and making love is hardly the same thing,” he countered defensively.

Sarcasm twisted her lips. “So that makes it okay.”

“Nothing that happened to us was okay. But it would be better—for both of us, I think—if you could understand—”

“Well, I don’t and I never will.” She pulled her gloves from her pockets and began to jerk them on. “I’ve heard enough, Jubal. This is pointless. We were over long ago and rehashing everything is—”

Pushed by need, he walked over and curved his hands over the top of her shoulders. Instantly, her eyes closed and he watched her soft pink lips began to tremble once again. Everything in him longed to bend his head, to kiss away her pain. But he didn’t want her to get the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was physical gratification.

Like heavy stones, regret lay in the pit of his stomach. “Angie—I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

She sounded shaken, accusing, bitter and Jubal was reminded all over again that the choices he’d made five years ago hadn’t just affected his life. They had clearly impacted Angie in all the wrong ways and he couldn’t feel any guiltier about that.

“I’m asking you to forgive me,” he said lowly.

Angela’s heart was racing out of control, urging her to run out the door as fast as she could, but her knees were too weak to move. And when he tugged her toward him, she fell awkwardly against his chest.

Planting her hands against his hard muscles, she pried enough space between them to allow her to look up at him. “Why should my forgiveness matter to you now, Jubal? Surely your conscience has gotten over abadoning me.”

For one split second Angela believed she saw real torment on his face. Or was that just delusional wishing on her part?

“I’ve never gotten over you, Angie. Never.”

Oh God, she wanted to believe him. Because, like it or not, she’d never been able to forget him. Even after he’d hurt her so badly, even after all these years, she’d not been able to turn off the memories of their time together.

“Please, Jubal—”

“Angie, there’s something you need to know. The baby—Evette’s baby—wasn’t mine. After she miscarried, she confessed to me. The real father was a married businessman from Victoria.”

His revelation struck her, numbing her with shock. “Oh, God! No!” she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded stiffly. “See, Angie, I was manipulated, lied to, betrayed. Evette only used me. When her lover refused to divorce his wife and marry her, she turned to her old boyfriend—me, the sucker that I was. I thought I was doing the noble thing. I wanted that child to have a real family. But in the end my efforts made no difference and I lost you in the process.”

Crushed by the utter waste, the injustice of it all, Angela struggled to breathe, to even think. She had to get out of there and away from him before she broke into screaming sobs.

Quickly, without giving him a chance to stop her, she jerked away from his grasp and stumbled out the door. By the time she reached the truck and climbed inside, she was shaking all over. And as she quickly drove away, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to know if he was watching her leave. The same way she’d watched him leave five years ago.

Driving back to the ranch house, Angela turned the heater on high and hoped the warm air would help her shivers subside. She didn’t want Cook to see her in such a shaken state or have to explain why she and Jubal and Melanie weren’t a family. It was simply too painful. Yet she had no doubt that Jubal would eventually see Melanie—their daughter—and then what? Would he put two and two together?

You’ve got to tell him, Angie. The man has lost a child he’d believed to be his. He had no way of knowing that at the same time you were carrying his baby. Even if he did hurt you, now more than ever, he has a right to know he has a daughter.

The voice inside her head was like a thorn in the heel. She couldn’t move forward or backward without it hurting and she wondered how much more time would have to pass before she found the courage to finally pull it out.

Two nights later, Angela was sitting on the couch flipping through a text book for the coming semester, when Melanie, with an armload of storybooks, plopped down beside her.

“Read me a book, please Mommy? The one about the elephant that carries the sick little boy to the doctor.”

Smiling indulgently, Angela reached to take the book from her daughter’s grasp. “You like that story, don’t you?”

Melanie’s little head bobbed up and down. “Yeah! ’Cause the boy gets well. And everybody’s happy—even the elephant.”

“All right. Snuggle close so you can see the pictures,” Angela instructed her as she helped her daughter scoot next to her side.

Thirty minutes later, she’d not only read the elephant story to Melanie, she’d gone through four more books and was about to start on the fifth. Then a knock sounded on the front door.

Excited at the idea of a visitor, Melanie jumped from the couch and raced toward the door. “Somebody’s here! Maybe it’s Jess!”

“Mel, remember what I told you about opening the door? We have to see who’s knocking first.”

Jigging from one foot to the other, Melanie waited impatiently while her mother turned on the porch light and peeped out the small square window.

“Who is it, Mommy? Is it Jess?”

Shocked, Angela stared numbly at the man standing on the small porch, his back to the door. Even without seeing his face, she knew it was Jubal.

What was he doing on her doorstep, she wondered wildly. She’d not seen or spoken to him since she’d delivered the baskets to his house two days ago.

Darting a frantic glance at Melanie, she realized there was nothing to do but invite him in and hope he wouldn’t recognize his own features on her little face.

“It’s a friend,” she finally said to Melanie. “So be on your best behavior. Okay?”

“I’m good, Mommy.” Melanie’s grin was nearly as wide as her face. “You know that.”

Bracing herself, Angela opened the door and waited for Jubal to turn toward her. When he did, she was surprised to see a huge poinsettia plant in his arms and another box jammed under his arm. But it was the sexy grin on his face that really snagged her attention.

“Hello, Angela. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

What could she say? That he’d interrupted her days, her nights, her very dreams for the past five years? No. Boiling the past over and over only cooked up a pot of trouble. She needed to deal with this man in a civil, impersonal way. But the flutter of her heart mocked that plan.

“You’re not. Come in,” she invited.

He was about to step over the threshold when he suddenly spotted Melanie’s gamine face peeping curiously around her mother’s pant leg. He smiled at the girl, then lifted a questioning gaze to Angela.

Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that she felt faint, but she somehow managed to shove the door wide and gesture for him to enter. Once he was inside the small living room, Angela quickly shut the door and turned to face him.

She sensed Melanie clinging to her side, waiting to see if the tall man with the big black hat was someone she wanted to get to know.

“I didn’t expect you to be babysitting,” he said. “I should have called first. But I figured you’d tell me not to come. So I invited myself.”

Breathing deeply, Angela looked down at Melanie. There were so many things about Jubal that she could see in her daughter—their daughter—but hopefully, for tonight at least, he wouldn’t recognize them.

“I…actually, I’m not babysitting, Jubal. Melanie is my daughter.”