Jenna's Cowboy Hero (9 page)

Temporary. He was temporary in their lives. She had to make sure the boys knew, that they understood he wouldn't be in Dawson for long.

“I'm heading out.” He stood outside the screen door.

Jenna nodded, but remained in the wheelchair. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? We're not doing anything at the camp tomorrow.”

“Church.” She moved closer to the door, not standing up. Standing was suddenly overrated.

“Yes, okay. Do you need a ride?” He looked down. She wished he wouldn't have done that. She wanted to remember the kiss, being held, and not that look.

“Of course I don't.”

“Just asking.”

“Thanks, but no. I'll be fine.” The way she was always fine. She had said those same words to the father of her
boys when he left. And she'd said them to Jeff when he left her in the hospital.

“I'll be fine,” she repeated with a smile that wavered as he walked away.

At least Adam Mackenzie wasn't making promises that he would break. He wasn't making any promises at all, except one…that he would ultimately leave.

C
hurch. Adam hadn't gone in years, not for real. He attended the dedication of Will's daughter. Kaitlin. Today he remembered her name. He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine of the truck. Jenna's truck was already here. He had thought about her last night, and this morning. He had considered calling Clint, because someone should know that she needed help.

He had a feeling she wouldn't thank him for interfering. And then he smiled, because hadn't she been interfering in his life since he showed up in Dawson? Hadn't she given him advice, prodded and pushed him?

She had made him smile more since his arrival than he'd smiled in years. Real smiles. That was the difference.

He got out of the truck, pausing for a minute before walking across the parking lot to the old church with the tall steeple and narrow stained-glass windows. It reminded him of the church he'd grown up in. He didn't want that reminder, of himself as a little boy in Sunday school, listening to Mrs. Pritchard tell him about Jesus. He didn't want to remember bowing his head and praying with her as she introduced him to salvation.

He didn't need a reminder of where he'd come from and how far he'd gone, away from that kid, those roots.

But he couldn't stop remembering. He'd been remembering since he came back here, the memories almost like an open photo album, drawing him back into the images of that childhood, and faith.

“Adam.” Clint Cameron walked across the parking lot, no longer the teenager that wanted the same high school girl that Adam had given his class ring to. He smiled at that memory, of the two of them squaring off after a game, and Clint walking away.

Clint hadn't taken football or winning as seriously as Adam. A tinge of envy shot through him, because in the end, Clint had been the winner.

The tall blonde next to him, the baby in her arms. Those two meant more than a champion ring, more than trophies, more than anything he'd accumulated. His life had felt empty for a long time, now the emptiness burrowed deep inside him, pointing out the reasons why.

“Clint. Beautiful morning.” But hot. The sun had eaten up the cool of early morning and June heat was already claiming the day. Adam locked his truck door and stepped closer to the couple walking toward him.

“It's supposed to rain later.” Careful conversation about weather. “I think you met Willow the other day.”

Adam made eye contact with Willow. “Yes, we met.”

Adam walked with them up the steps of the church, its tall steeple reaching up. He motioned the couple through the doors of the church ahead of him.

No anonymity here. If he'd gone to church of his own volition, it would have been somewhere big, a place where he could walk in and hide in a back pew. Instead he was here, and people were smiling, waving. A few pointed.

Jenna was sitting on the stage, a guitar in her hands. A country girl in a floral top and jeans, her hair in a ponytail.

Cuter than a speckled pup. His grandfather had used that phrase. He doubted Jenna would appreciate it. But speckled pups were cute. They were easy to take home and keep.

That thought took him by surprise, forcing him to look her way again, to wonder what it was about her that made him think about her at the oddest moments. He'd even thought about her that morning as he drank his coffee and tried to think of reasons not to go to church.

He scooted into the pew next to Clint and he refused to look in the direction of Jenna, even when the music started and he could hear the guitar. She had a gift. She played classical guitar. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. She smiled when she caught him looking at her.

By the time Pastor Todd got behind the pulpit, Adam had never been so ready to be preached at. He relaxed a little. But Jenna was walking toward him, leaning a little on the cane. She slid into the pew, into the space next to him. Her arm brushed his.

He didn't think church was the place to remember a kiss, or to think about how good she smelled. It was a good place to think about his life, and leaving Dawson.

But the message was about leaving a person's own ideas and plans behind, and finding the path God has for them. Adam pretended the message wasn't for him. He tried not to think about what had brought him here, each incident or coincidence.

Coincidence. It was all a fluke—this camp, Billy, her boys in the road. Her. It wasn't about his life changing or a new direction. He was here to get a camp started. He had a job interview in a few weeks.

His life wasn't about Oklahoma.

 

Jenna felt as if she had held her breath through the entire service. Of course she hadn't, or she would have passed out. And then she thought about what a relief passing out would have been, if it had meant not being aware of Adam Mackenzie sitting next to her. He took up too much space.

With the closing prayer, she stood, ready to escape. Willow stopped her retreat.

“Lunch at our house?” Willow's tone was soft, the baby she held cooing against her shoulder, wrapping tiny fingers through blond hair.

Jenna had never been jealous of her brother and his wife, but at moments like this, she wanted what they had. She wanted to be a part of a couple that met their challenges together.

The man next to her moved, trying to slide past her. She stepped back, but Willow spoke again.

“Adam, why don't you join us? The Mad Cow is closed on Sunday, and Clint is grilling burgers.”

“I am?” Clint gathered the diaper bag, his wife's purse, and Jenna thought she saw him gather his wits. “Of course I am.”

“I shouldn't. I have…” Adam looked like he was searching for a good excuse. Jenna knew, because she was busy trying to think of something she needed to be doing. Scrubbing toilets seemed preferable to this.

“You should.” Willow patted his arm. “Come on, we can use help. Clint always burns burgers on the grill.”

Adam looked from Jenna to Willow and then he accepted, that easily. And Jenna wanted him to find his own excuse, his own reason that he couldn't go, because this should have been her safe time, in a safe place. She wanted to find a corner and hide.

Instead she met her brother's concerned gaze, his half smile, his wink. Clint understood. There were times when she wanted privacy, not curious stares and questions.

But she didn't have time to dwell on it. The boys would be waiting for her to check them out of children's church.

“I need to get Timmy and David.” She walked away, leaving them to make their plans.

“Mom.” Timmy ran out of the classroom to greet her as she walked down the hall to the room that was a dining area part of the time, and a classroom the rest of the time.

“Hey, sweetie. Get your brother, okay.” She leaned against the door, taking weight off her left leg. If this kept up, she wouldn't be able to use her prosthesis until the sores healed. She had to give herself a break.

She didn't know how to take breaks. She didn't want to stop living her life, or stop being a mom. She had so much to do.

And now she had to face lunch with Adam invading her family.

She picked up the pen and signed the boys out. One of the workers gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Doing okay, Jenna?”

“I am, just tired.”

“It's a good day for a nap,” the woman encouraged. “Maybe the boys will take one, too.”

“Look what we made!” David held up a scroll with the Ten Commandments written in his childish handwriting. He was bouncing and had a red juice drink mustache. She doubted the nap idea.

“Wow, that is pretty neat.” She took it from him, and smiled. Thou Shalt Not Convict. She was sure he meant
covet
.

“Isn't it great? We learned the commandments.” Timmy handed her his scroll.

“Very good, guys. Those are important rules to remember.”

“We're not going to kill or steal, Mom.” David took his scroll back. “But I don't even understand all those other ones.”

“You'll understand them better as you get older. Some of them are about jealousy. Jealousy is when you want what someone else has. We're supposed to be content with the good things we already have.”

The good things.

Hadn't she just battled her own jealous feelings? Clint and Willow deserved their happiness. And even happiness had its moments of regret, failure or trials. Clint and Willow had battled to get where they were. They still had some battles to face as Willow's hearing loss progressed.

She knew that it was easy to look in from the outside and think that someone else had a perfect life. She knew no one had a perfect life.

She followed along behind the boys. And at the door, Clint and Willow were waiting with Adam. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of the deep blue shirt he was wearing and pulled at his collar. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Instead she smiled and laughed a little. “It wasn't so bad, was it?”

“What?”

“Church?” She pulled her keys out of her pocket. Carrying a purse was sometimes too much. She had her driver's license in her pocket, too.

“It was good. I didn't realize you played guitar.”

“Classical lessons from a music teacher in school. She thought I had promise, but lacked direction.” She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked up at him.

“Really?”

She laughed. “Yes, really. I was a little on the wild side back then.”

“I can't imagine.”

“You don't need to. Just take my word for it. Come on, boys.” She herded them across the parking lot toward her truck. “See you at Clint's.”

As they drove, she noticed a car pull in behind Adam's truck. It followed them through town, turned when they turned and followed them to the drive that led to Clint's. Jenna kept her eyes on the road in front of her, but occasionally flicked her attention to the rearview mirror and that car. She could see Adam's face in her mirror, could see the way he watched his own mirror.

Jenna pulled into the drive next to the log home that had once been Janie's, but was now Clint's and Willow's. A baby swing sat on the front porch next to the swing and rocking chairs. Life had changed a lot in one year.

A year. The boys climbed out of the truck, exiting through the passenger's side door. They wanted to see Willow's dog and the llama that Clint had bought at an auction. Now the boys were begging her to get one of the silly creatures.

One year. She had left the boys here one year ago, with Clint, Willow and Janie. She had returned six months later, her entire life and her future completely changed. She had returned to be a single mom, without an engagement ring on her finger, and with new challenges to face. This challenge would never go away.

She had returned with something new. She had returned with faith. She knew she could make it through anything. She'd already been tested, and she'd survived.

She eased out of the truck, always a reminder of
how things had changed. There were new ways of doing everything. The things she'd always taken for granted were now appreciated. Walking wasn't taken for granted.

There were days, like today, when she knew that she couldn't do what she wanted to do. She couldn't run after her boys. She couldn't climb a fence or get on a horse. Not today, but tomorrow, if she took care of herself.

She made it to the front porch and sat down on the swing. Adam had gotten out of his truck and he was walking up to the car that had followed him. A woman got out. The woman, a brunette, stared at Adam, wiping her eyes as she took a few steps toward him.

Jenna got up and went inside.

 

“Elizabeth.” Adam approached his older sister. He hadn't seen her in a few years. Seeing her now, he realized what a mistake that had been.

“Creep.” She had always called him that. Sometimes she had said it with a smile, and sometimes she had meant the word.

He smiled. “Good to see you, too.”

She wiped at her eyes. “No, I mean it this time. You could visit your family.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Adam leaned back against her car and pulled sunglasses out of his pocket because he'd left his hat in the truck. He slipped them on and Elizabeth moved to stand next to him. She hadn't changed a lot. She still knew how to put him in his place. She had never been his biggest fan.

“You could have come to see us. Or invited us up to see you.”

“I didn't think you'd be interested.”

“Really? You thought that?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You're my brother.”

“Yes, I am.” He wondered if she had forgotten the rift that had grown between them, and how it had happened. “You made this rule, Elizabeth. I just honored it.”

“You took the easy way out.”

“‘I'm so sick of you being the star, Adam. I'm in this family, too, but when was the last time anyone noticed me?'”
He repeated her words, because he'd never forgotten them, or the stark pain on her face when she said them.