Kayla's Cowboy. Callie Endicott
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“You’re only fifteen—that’s too young to go steady.”
Morgan gave him an inscrutable look that didn’t admit or deny anything. “How old was Kayla when you knocked her up?”
Damn. Okay, he was an even bigger hypocrite than he liked to think about, but he was determined to keep his daughter from having to grow up too quickly.
“I don’t remember for sure,” Jackson replied. “And it’s none of your business, so don’t ask if you meet her, or Alex, either.”
“Am I going to meet him?” she said, angry defiance creeping back into her attitude.
“That’s partly up to Alex, but it’s fine with me and I don’t think his mother will object. Is that what you want?”
His daughter’s nose wrinkled, but he still couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“I guess,” she said after a while.
“Is there anything you want to discuss?” he asked, wishing she’d give him a hint about her feelings. It would have been easier if he’d found out about Alex before she turned so ornery. Or perhaps when she was older and they’d figured things out.
Morgan hunched her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...how do you feel about all of this?”
“What do I care if you have another kid? Maybe he won’t cause you as much trouble as me.”
Jackson leaned forward. “Morgan, we might be going through a rough patch, but it doesn’t—”
“Save it,” she interrupted and jumped to her feet. “I’m going for a ride.”
“Take the satellite phone,” he reminded her.
He counted to ten as Morgan disappeared, their faithful German shepherd at her heels. The discussion hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but slightly better than expected. His mom would say...
Ah, hell.
His parents also needed to be told about Alex, and it was news that should come from him. Jackson was reasonably certain they hadn’t heard yet or they’d have contacted him; nowadays his folks were pretty direct.
Suddenly he smiled with grim humor. His mother had not been thrilled when he and Marcy needed to get married so young, especially since going to college had seemed unrealistic with a family on the way. Still, when Morgan was born, Mom had loved her granddaughter wholeheartedly, saying a baby was always a blessing. And lately she’d begun complaining that her other grown children hadn’t settled down and given her more grandkids.
Punching his parents’ number on the phone, Jackson waited for an answer.
“Hi,” greeted Sarah McGregor’s voice.
“Hey, Mom, it’s Jackson. Do you remember the old saying, ‘be careful what you wish for’? Well, get Dad on the extension and grab a chair. I’ve got the perfect example.”
* * *
KAYLA LET HERSELF into the house and found her grandmother in the kitchen.
“Sorry for taking so long,” she apologized. “I stopped at Granddad’s office and we talked about the situation with Jackson and Alex.”
“It’s no trouble, dear,” Elizabeth said. “The kids are napping in the hammocks.”
“They’ll stay out there all day if we let them—I rousted them out of bed early for your terrific breakfast and they’re not morning people.”
“As I recall, neither were you.”
Kayla’s smile grew more strained. Her mother’s lifestyle had made sleep a challenge when she was growing up. It was ironic that with their more or less normal home and childhood, her kids hated going to bed. Of course, it was different when you wanted to stay up—Alex and DeeDee had never been forced to stay awake all night because of loud parties or feeling uncomfortable about who might be in the apartment.
Shaking the thought away, Kayla peeked into the pots on the stove. “It looks as if you’re making potato salad.”
“And fried chicken, yeast rolls and coleslaw. Also chocolate cake and sour cream lemon pie for dessert,” added Elizabeth. “Pete has been out of town for a few days, but he’s coming over tonight to see you and meet the kids. The weather is so pleasant, I thought it would be nice to have a picnic on the patio.”
Kayla had almost forgotten Uncle Peter. She’d only met her mother’s much younger brother a couple of times. He’d left for college shortly before Kayla’s stay in Schuyler.
“I should have asked before...how is Pete?” she asked.
“Doing well. He moved back last year to work in the practice and people are starting to, um, appreciate him as their lawyer.”
From the tone of her grandmother’s voice, Kayla suspected Schuyler was struggling to accept a young Garrison in place of the elder one, but “That’s nice” was her only comment. She didn’t have enough experience with small towns to know what was normal.
Elizabeth opened the refrigerator and studied the contents. “I had the grocer send over three chickens,” she said over her shoulder. “But maybe I should get another one.”
“Heavens, that’s more than enough. DeeDee doesn’t have a teenager’s voracious appetite yet, and while Alex may eat a little chicken, he’ll mostly fill up on the bread and salads.”
“I know. He’s trying to be a vegetarian.”
“This month, at least,” Kayla said wryly. “Anyway, you mustn’t wear yourself out cooking for us.”
“A picnic is nothing. I made ten gallons of chili and all the corn bread for the church’s booth at the rodeo.”
Kayla grabbed a carrot stick from a plate on the table and crunched it down. “Okay, so what can I do to help?”
“You don’t need to—”
“Yes, I do,” Kayla interrupted firmly. “And I want the kids to do chores while they’re here. They need to learn self-discipline.” Her grandparents were terrific people, but they were too indulgent.
“I’m sure you’re right,” her grandmother agreed slowly, a flicker of melancholy in her eyes.
Abruptly Kayla wished she hadn’t said anything—Granddad had spoken of how they blamed themselves for how their daughter had lived her life. Maybe they had made mistakes, but people needed to take responsibility for their decisions...such as having sex at sixteen. Kayla didn’t blame anyone else for her teen pregnancy. She might not have been as experienced as Jackson, but she’d known there could be consequences.
An hour later she was peeling eggs for the potato salad when Granddad arrived with sandwiches and milk shakes from the Roundup Café.
“Lunch,” he called.
The kids appeared at the back door, blinking sleepily.
“Don’t worry, I got a grilled cheese for you,” Granddad said to Alex. “They don’t serve much vegetarian food in Schuyler, but the toasted cheese isn’t bad.”
Kayla restrained a smile while her son tried not to look envious as everyone else unwrapped their hamburgers. The Roundup Café made a mean burger, stacked high with juicy, fire-grilled patties, sliced onions, pickles, lettuce and tomatoes. If possible, they were even better than she remembered.
DeeDee smacked her lips when she was finished. “Yum. Too bad you’re a vegan, Alex.”
“Shows how much you know. I’m not a vegan. Vegans don’t eat cheese.” Alex popped a French fry into his mouth and chewed grumpily.
His sister shrugged. “Mom, can I go out and explore Schuyler some more?”
“Not