The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren
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he’s my father.”
“That’s doesn’t mean a thing.”
Serena was taken aback by her grandmother’s attitude. She’d known since she was small that her grandparents hated her father. It was one of the reasons she never asked about him, but now she had to have some answers.
“It does to me,” she replied stubbornly.
Aurora took a quick breath. “His name was John Welch. Jasmine called him Johnnie. He worked as a mechanic. What attracted Jasmine to him I don’t know. She was raised to be a lady, not to live in a one-room apartment above a garage. Henry and I laid down the law and forbade her to see him again, but she ran off to be with him. It almost killed us.”
Serena knew this part of the story. It sounded almost rehearsed. She wanted more.
“Where is John Welch’s family?”
Aurora shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“Gran!”
“All right.” Aurora patted her white hair. “He lived with someone in a trailer park. After he was killed, they moved away. That’s the only family I knew about.”
“So my father doesn’t have any relatives around here?”
Aurora eyed her strangely. “Why all the questions, Serena?”
“Someone said he saw a woman who looked like me in Dallas, and it got me thinking.”
“Looks like you,” Aurora laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s as beautiful as you. I thought your mother was beautiful, but you’ve eclipsed her in every way.”
Something in Aurora’s voice alerted Serena. “You have forgiven her, haven’t you, Gran?”
“Forgive? I’m not sure. A mother never gets over that kind of pain.” Her hand shook as she took a sip of coffee.
“Oh, Gran.” Serena rushed over and hugged her. “Jasmine gave me to you. You wouldn’t have raised me if you hadn’t loved her deeply.”
Aurora touched her cheek. “Yes, you’re the one good thing that came out of the tragedy.”
Serena sat on the edge of the chair. “I wish I knew more about my father.”
“He’s not worth knowing. Forget about him.”
Serena frowned. She’d never heard her grandmother talk with such vehemence, and it rattled her. Was there something Gran wasn’t telling her?
THE DREAMS CONTINUED. She was stripping in front of men, but now Ethan was in the dream watching her with an I knew it expression on his face. She couldn’t shake the dream and it was beginning to wear her down. She couldn’t let that happen; there were too many other concerns that needed her attention.
She went to a jeweler to have the earrings appraised before hocking them—and discovered that they were worth far more than she’d ever imagined. The jeweler said the shape of the diamond was very rare, as was the box they were in. He showed her the markings on the bottom of the box and explained their significance. The information made her decision that much more difficult, but she kept reminding herself that she didn’t have a choice. The jeweler made her an offer, and she accepted on condition that he’d hold the earrings for thirty days before selling them. Why, she had no idea. She just wanted an option left open to her. The jeweler also agreed to make a cheap fake pair and a similar box. He said she could pick them up in a couple of days. As she hurried out of the store, she felt as if she’d thrown away part of her heritage. But it was only a thing, she kept telling herself.
The next day she went to the bank and made the payment. Mr. Wylie was surprised but pleased, and she could see he was curious about where she’d gotten the money. She didn’t tell him it came from the past—a past she’d probably never see again. But right now, her only feeling was relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about another payment for three months.
THAT NIGHT Serena fought sleep. She couldn’t tolerate another one of those nights. She had to teach in the morning. She groaned at the prospect, almost giving in to a wave of exhaustion. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the other woman? Maybe because she felt Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story about her father. But what did it matter? Serena got her features from her mother’s side of the family. Her father’s family had nothing to do with that. Still…she’d like to know something about them.
Ethan Ramsey could help her. No, no, she was taking this too far. Gran wouldn’t lie to her. But…she flipped on the light and went over to the trash can. His business card was still inside. She retrieved it and placed it on her nightstand. Now what? Ethan could find out about the other woman; that was the only way she was going to have any peace. Private investigators cost money, though, and she wondered how much he charged. Since she was struggling to stay afloat, hiring him was crazy to even contemplate. Absolutely crazy. She opened the drawer and dropped the card in. She had to pull herself together and stop thinking about the stripper…and Ethan Ramsey.
THINGS WERE CHANGING around the Ramsey house. Molly cleaned and cooked all week, getting ready for Travis’s homecoming. Ethan even heard her singing a few times, and it did his heart good. Bruce had called Cole and Cole had talked to him, in one-word answers, but it was a start. Even though Molly was still hurting, at least she was making an effort to control her reactions. She didn’t say anything when Bruce called, and that was a big improvement. She didn’t even ask Cole what Bruce wanted, which Ethan considered the biggest step of all. She was letting Cole form his own opinions of his father.
Ethan was busy on the ranch, baling hay, fixing fence and clearing brush to rid his pasture of mesquite. It was a never-ending job. He’d bought a spirited horse that needed breaking. Cole was eager for the job, and Ethan figured it was a way for him to get rid of some of the tension he was carrying around. So Saturday morning, Ethan let him try his hand.
He held the horse while his nephew climbed on, then he ran to the fence as the horse started to buck. “Ride ’em, boy. Ride ’em…”
His voice stilled when the horse managed to send Cole flying through the air. The boy hit the ground, spitting out dirt, then rolled onto his back. “What am I doing wrong, Uncle Ethan?”
Ethan shook his head. “You’re not concentrating,” he said from his perch on the fence.
Cole got to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “I’ve concentrated so hard my head’s about to explode.”
“Want to try again?” Pop called, capturing the animal’s reins.
Cole didn’t answer as he stared off toward the road.
Ethan followed his gaze. A truck was coming, stirring up dust like a thundercloud.
Pop put the horse in the bigger corral and walked over to Ethan. Cole followed. “It’s Uncle Travis, isn’t it?” Cole asked excitedly.
Ethan squinted against the morning sun. “Yep, sure looks like it.”
“Yea doggie!” Cole shouted, then leaped over the fence and ran for the house.
Ethan jumped to the ground and winced as pain shot up his leg. Damn, he hated that weakness. But the pain in his hip was his own battle and he dealt with it privately, without complaining, without excuses.
Pop headed for his horse, tethered to the fence. “Think I’ll check on those heifers in the north pasture.”
“Pop,” Ethan called.
His father turned to look at him.
“Thought you were going to make an effort—for Molly.”
“Son—”
“Let’s go, Pop. It’s time to say hello to your youngest son.”
When they reached the house, Travis and Cole were horsing around, throwing punches at each other.