The Rancher's Secret Child. Brenda Minton
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“His mercies are new every morning.” He spoke so softly she almost didn’t hear the words she hadn’t expected from this hardened cowboy. “Nothing is different. But everything has changed.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t plan on getting married or bringing kids into the world.”
“You can’t undo what already is.” Her heart ached for the little boy who at that moment was eating pudding and didn’t know that his father was sitting there trying to figure out if he could be a part of his life.
He toyed with the spoon next to his coffee cup. “It isn’t that I don’t want him. But I don’t want to hurt him. He’s better off with you.”
“He’s your son.”
He sat there for a long minute looking at her. “Right. My son that Sammy didn’t tell me about. That speaks volumes.”
“She was afraid.”
“Of me.” One brow arched. She understood what he meant. Sammy had given birth to his son and then decided he wasn’t suitable to be in his child’s life. And later she’d regretted that decision.
Meeting him changed everything for Lissa. She hadn’t expected to like him. She hadn’t expected a lot of things about him. Like his thoughtfulness. Or the depth of emotion in his dark eyes.
“Time goes by and what seemed like a good decision starts to look like a bad one. Sammy regretted not telling you. And then she ran out of time.” She closed her eyes to regroup. It had been a year. She still missed her friend. Her sister. “And now you’re about to make the same mistake. What looks like a good idea today, five years down the road, might be the worst mistake of your life.”
“Valid point,” he said. “But if I allow you to tell him I’m his father, and I hurt him... Five years down the road, we can’t undo the damage. Speaking from experience, that kind of hurt can’t be undone.”
She wasn’t here to share stories, but she understood the damage an abusive parent could do to a child. She understood the scars, invisible and visible.
She understood how it affected relationships.
“You should at least get to know him.”
“How would that work, me getting to know him? How would you explain to him who I am and why he is spending time with me?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t have to tell him you’re his dad. Not until you’re ready. Or until we think he is ready.”
She glanced toward the window. The sky had darkened and, if possible, the rain came down harder.
“This rain is only getting worse.”
He was right. The rain was coming down in sheets. After the previous week of rain, she knew that the creeks would rise. The roads back to San Antonio would be a nightmare.
Before she left, she had to put all of her cards on the table. He deserved the whole truth, even if it meant losing Oliver. She reached into her purse and pulled out the letter.
“You should read this. Sammy left it with her will.”
He took the paper, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll look at it some other time.”
“Sooner rather than later, Marcus.”
“Right.”
“Fine, here’s my number.” She wrote it on a napkin and handed it to him.
Thunder crashed and the windows rattled with the force of the wind. He glanced at her number and back to the storm raging outside. “You might ought to stay in town.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a little rain. And it might let up before I leave. I have to pack up and check out of our room at the B and B.”
She stood to retrieve Oliver from the kitchen, but Marcus pushed himself out of his chair first. “I’ll get him.”
It was a start, so she waited where she stood and watched as he headed for the kitchen.
He had stories. She didn’t want them. She didn’t want to be affected by a man her foster sister had deemed “too broken.” She’d always had a soft spot for broken things. It was her reason for becoming a nurse. Because as a nurse she had a reason to care, a reason to fix broken people. Fix them and send them home. Once she sent them home, they were out of her life. And then she had new people to care about, to help.
Lissa knew her own hang-ups. She had lived in a broken and abusive home with a mother who never put her child first. A mother she had tried to fix. And she’d failed. Time and again. Six months ago she had promised herself that she wouldn’t be used. Ever again. She wouldn’t enable. She wouldn’t give money. She would always care—she would pray for the woman who had given her life—but she wouldn’t give her the power to hurt her.
She and Sammy had been from similar backgrounds. As teens in the Simms home, they had made a pact to never be abused again, or tie themselves to broken men who would wound them the way their own mothers had been wounded. And they wouldn’t have children with men who would leave scars.
When Sammy had met Marcus, she’d been drawn to him in a way she’d deemed unhealthy. She’d never introduced him to Lissa, but she’d told her about him and about how easy it had been to fall for his charm. She’d lost herself a little, and when she realized that, she’d broken things off.
A few minutes later Marcus returned with Oliver. His aunt stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her mouth a firm line of disapproval. Marcus squatted, putting himself at eye level with his son. Lissa watched, wondering if Oliver suspected that this man was his father.
“You be good, okay?” Marcus said. She heard the rasp of emotion and knew he cared. That he cared spoke well of him. If only he realized that.
“I’ll be good. Can I come back and see your dog?” Oliver took a slight step forward. “And could I get a hat like yours?”
Marcus nodded and he looked up, meeting her gaze. He stood and backed up a step, putting a hand on his son’s head.
“We’ll be in touch?” Lissa asked.
Again he nodded. She took Oliver by the hand and left. Even though he’d said they would be in touch, she wondered if he meant to keep his word or if this was an easy way to say goodbye.
A couple of hours after saying goodbye to Lissa and Oliver, Marcus was in the field, feeling thankful for a break in the clouds and for the help of his twin.
“How much rain are we supposed to get?” Marcus asked Alex as the two of them moved cattle from twenty acres along the creek to higher ground. They had opted for ATVs over horses. The rain had slacked off for a short time and they wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible.
“They’re saying up to a foot of rain toward the weekend. This is just the appetizer,” Alex responded as he moved his four-wheeler the opposite direction in order to keep a few steers from bolting back toward the creek.
Marcus glanced in the direction of his house. If they got that much rain, his house would be under water. The creek was coming up fast. He had sandbags, but he knew he couldn’t control the rise of water if there was a flash flood.
“We’ll do what we can to keep the water out,” Alex called out as they moved the cattle through the open gate.
A cow spooked. Marcus went after her, turning the four-wheeler hard to the right to stop her. She moved back to the herd and Alex closed the gate behind her. As they headed for the barn, the rain started again. They hit the throttles and raced side by side, stopping after they’d reached the safety of