Lilac Wedding in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad
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same place. He found he couldn’t remember the number to any restaurant in town.
He finally gave up and looked at his old friend. “I’m a father.”
“What?” Max frowned and leaned closer as though he hadn’t heard the words right.
“A father. You know—man, woman, baby.”
Max stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Jake looked toward Lara. The girl was sitting on the sofa by her mother and adjusting her tiara again. Suddenly, she giggled at something Cat had said.
“But she’s blonde with blue eyes!” Max had followed Jake’s gaze and then turned back.
Jake nodded. Her hair wasn’t just blond, it was naturally curly.
“And you’re a quarter Cherokee with the black hair to prove it. And your eyes are so brown they’re almost black, in case you haven’t looked in the mirror lately. Are you sure?” Then his face flushed. “You wouldn’t be the first man to be fooled by a woman. Maybe Cat, maybe she—”
“No.” Jake glared at his friend. “It was just Cat and me.” His voice broke then. “I trust her with everything and especially that.”
He tried to think of more words to explain and couldn’t. “She’s—Cat. She’d never lie to me.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“You care about her, then?” Max asked gruffly. “This Cat of yours?”
The question surprised him. “Of course, we went through a lot together.”
Even now, being torn between the misery of not having been told when Lara was born and the wonder of just learning that he had a daughter, he still knew Cat was some kind of an anchor in his life. Now that she was here, he didn’t want her to leave. Max could probably see the feelings on his face. Not much escaped the old man.
Max’s voice softened. “I don’t suppose you asked her to marry you yet.”
Jake snorted. “Of course I asked her—years ago. She ran away from the home the next day and I never saw her again. That’s how well that went. Not that it was a good idea, anyway.”
Max was silent as they both turned to look across the room to where Cat and Lara sat, curled up together on the sofa. The gray clouds were lifting and sunshine was streaming in through the large glass windows behind them.
“You probably didn’t say it right,” Max finally said. “You have a hard time getting to the point sometimes. I’ve noticed that.”
“I said she should let me know if she got in trouble. I know a man’s duty. I said I’d marry her if needed. It wasn’t hard to misunderstand that. I didn’t wrap it up in a bow, but she had to have heard me. She just didn’t want to. Not that I blame her. I’m not any prize. You know about my father. None of the Stone men have any business setting up a family.”
Max was quiet for another minute, also studying the mother and child. By now, the sunlight was shining on them directly.
Then Max looked back, and a grin split his face.
“That little girl? She’s really yours?”
Jake nodded and started to grin, himself. “She doesn’t know, so keep it quiet.”
“That means I’m a grandpa!” Max whispered. He’d always said Jake was like a son to him. Then he reached over and flipped the switch on the counter that changed the sign outside to read No Vacancy. “Nobody needs to know why, but we have to do something. You’re a father.”
“I guess I am at that.” Jake stood there, letting the amazement settle in deeper. Maybe it would be okay if he was a father as long as he wasn’t close enough to the child to mess up her life. Cat had never said anything about telling Lara about him. Maybe the girl would never know.
Max frowned in thought. Then his face lit up. “We’ll have a birthday party. We’ve got lots of birthdays to make up for. Cake and ice cream. That should be okay.”
“I sure feel like celebrating.” Jake held the phone more firmly in his hand and started pressing buttons. He did know one number. “I’m calling that steakhouse in the new casino.”
“The fancy one?” Max asked. “They don’t even open until five o’clock. And they’ll never deliver. Maybe they’d do room service in the casino, but not over here. And we need to get a cake. I wonder if the child has a favorite kind.”
Jake put the phone to his ear. “They have that cake place there, too. I’m calling the head chef. He’s always there at this time of day. And he’s a good guy. Besides, he owes me. I handled a family problem for him a while back. His son was getting in with a bad crowd at the tables.”
Max grinned again. “Get me some of those crab cakes, too, then.”
With that, Max turned and opened the door behind the counter. Jake didn’t have time to worry about what the older man was doing by disappearing into the storeroom, not when he had the best chef in Las Vegas on the line.
“How do you like your steaks?” Jake called over to Cat, putting down the phone to muffle the sound of his voice. “And how do you feel about mushrooms?”
The sight of Cat and Lara, sitting with their heads together, made something shift around inside him. He had a new purpose in life. Lara didn’t need to know who he was for him to take care of her. He’d be some family friend that came to school plays once in a while. He’d be the old man in the back of the church at her wedding and he’d give the presents with no name tag on them at holidays. He wouldn’t even need to talk to her over the years. Just making sure she had enough to live a good life would be sufficient.
“Oh, don’t order steaks,” Cat said as she broke apart from her daughter and started to rise. “They’re too expensive. I can walk over to that burger place around the corner. That’ll be enough.”
“Steak—well-done, medium or rare?” Jake asked again. “And stay seated. You’re not walking anywhere. I don’t want you fainting a second time. Especially not when the sidewalks are wet.”
“I guess medium, if I have to choose.” Cat sat back down and brushed her hair away from her face. “But really, it’s not necessary. I never eat steak. And—”
“I’m paying,” Jake interrupted, knowing what was troubling her. Before she came to the home all those years ago, she’d lived on the streets in Fargo.
Now that her hair was drying, it was starting to fly this way and that. Jake remembered the golden-brown halo around her face. She used to look like that when she was studying her math problems. She had that same indecisive look on her face, too. As if she wasn’t sure of the right answer and didn’t want to choose the wrong one.
“I guess it’s all right, then,” she said with a frown.
“And the mushrooms?” he asked.
“Canned or fresh?”
“Imported.”
Now she looked bewildered. “I’ve never had an imported mushroom. What kind?”
“Porcini.” Jake repeated what the chef had told him minutes before. “They also call them the black mushroom. Don’t worry. They’re good.”
She looked at him in full amazement now. “You’ve eaten those mushrooms? You wouldn’t even eat garlic at the home. Said it wasn’t part of your culture. You, with your Cherokee-chief grandfather. You asked the cook to make you fry bread instead. Said the Cherokee were used to their own diet and they were in this country first and should be able to eat what they wanted. Then you used the table as a drum.”
“I guess I was pretty difficult back then,” he admitted.
“You were persuasive, too,” Cat added as she bit