A Cowboy's Honor. Lois Richer
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“At one point, early on, I considered divorce.” Gracie steered toward a white house tucked under a weeping willow. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“I don’t know.” Dallas pressed his hands flat against his knees.
“This is my place.” Gracie pulled up to the house, taking great pains to align her vehicle perfectly with the post in front before she shut off the motor. She climbed out of the truck quickly, opened the rear door and lifted out her parcels. She was halfway up the path, her sandals rustling the pea gravel, before she noticed he hadn’t followed.
“Come on, Dallas. Let’s go inside.” Gracie waited until he’d joined her. “This is what I call home now. Elizabeth gave—”
The front door flew open. A miniature blond whirlwind appeared on the step, hopping up and down on one foot. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”
Dallas glanced at Gracie. Love washed over her face.
“Yes, I got it. And I want you to meet someone. But let’s go inside first.” She smiled at the little girl before motioning for him to follow her. “I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth Wisdom.”
“Hi, Gracie. We had a lovely afternoon together.” A tall, gray-haired woman stood by the kitchen counter. She nodded at him. “I see you brought some company along. Welcome to the Bar None.”
“Thanks.” This was the benefactor? To Dallas she looked more like a grandmother.
“Shall I leave you now, Gracie? Or do you need me a bit longer?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much more of an imposition, I’d like you to stay, Elizabeth. This concerns you, indirectly.” Gracie grabbed Dallas’s arm and drew him into the living room.
He glanced around. There was not an item out of place. That deliberate neatness struck him as odd, especially with a child present. But then maybe the little girl didn’t live here.
Elizabeth arched one brow before nodding. She studied Dallas as she took a seat on the white love seat. Foreboding rushed over him, but he pushed it away. The doctor had told him to be prepared for surprises. All he could do was silently pray for courage as he waited for Gracie to make the next move.
“Have a seat,” his wife told him.
Dallas chose the big armchair. Perched on the edge, he felt as if his life teetered on the edge of a precipice.
“Who else is here, Mommy?”
Mommy? He blinked as his wife grasped one tiny hand and led the child to stand in front of him.
“Honey, I want you to meet Dallas.” Gracie’s pretty face went white. The next words threatened to choke her, but she forced them out anyway. “Dallas, this is Misty. My daughter.”
“Dallas?” Misty’s halting voice held uncertainty. Her fingers curled into Gracie’s, seeking reassurance.
“Yes, sweetheart.” Gracie’s tear-filled blue eyes begged him to understand.
“Oh. Dallas was my daddy’s name. Are you my daddy?” The tiny girl wearing a mussed blue dress touched his knee, and in doing so, grabbed hold of Dallas’s heart.
His daughter. Misty.
Her voice was an immature imitation of her mom’s. Feathery golden curls spilled to her shoulders. Also like her mother’s. Perfect features in a sun-kissed face. Pink bow lips that didn’t smile or frown.
But Misty was not all Gracie. The jut of her chin, the dimple that flickered to life at the edge of her mouth—he knew those were his gifts to her. He’d studied his own features in the mirror so often, trying to figure out who he was.
He was a father.
Dallas’s insides melted in wonder and intense love as he gazed into eyes that perfectly blended Misty’s parental heritage, not quite green, not quite blue.
“Mommy?” Misty murmured, her voice uncertain, hesitant.
“Yes, honey. Dallas is your daddy.” Gracie’s voice seemed to come from far away.
Dallas studied his daughter, wondered how Misty could know his name.
“I talked about you,” Gracie murmured.
“My mommy told me a lot about you. Only she thought you were in Heaven.” Misty stared past him, unblinking. “But you’re not in Heaven. You’re right here.”
“Yes, I am.” In that second Dallas understood what Gracie hadn’t been able to say.
Misty was blind.
His heart cracked, but he refused to allow pain to edge its way into his voice. Not now. Not while she waited for his reaction.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Misty.” Dallas touched her hand, allowed her delicate fingers to wrap around his own. “You’re a very pretty girl. You look like your mommy.”
“My mommy’s beautiful.” Misty’s smile reappeared. “I want to be just like her.”
“I’m sure you do.” Uncertain if she’d accept a hug, Dallas kept his arms by his sides, leaving the decision to Misty. She stepped back, reaching toward her mother.
Gracie grasped her hand but did not try to draw Misty away from him. Dallas was grateful for that. He wanted to know more about his daughter, he just wasn’t sure where to start.
“Are you sure you’re my daddy?”
He nodded, realized Misty wouldn’t see that. It would take time to get used to the situation, but even though he’d only met her, he knew he’d go to any lengths to protect this beautiful child.
My daughter.
“Yes, Misty. I really am your father. I’m Dallas Henderson.” He glanced at Gracie, trying to silently communicate his appreciation for the way she was allowing them to find their own way.
“Oh.” Misty frowned, bow lips pursed in a peevish frown. “Didn’t you want to have a girl like me? Is that why you didn’t come visit us sooner?”
Like me. The cautious question sent a message. Misty was afraid he wouldn’t love her. Because she was blind.
The knowledge hit low and deep. Dallas steeled himself, turned his pain into a prayer, as he had ever since he’d woken from his coma.
Oh, Lord, if only I’d been here for her, been able to reassure her that I’ll love her no matter what. Help me now.
“No, Misty. That’s not why I didn’t come.” He knelt in front of her, pushed a golden strand off her face. “I couldn’t come because I didn’t remember anything about your mommy and I didn’t know how to find her. That’s why I never met you until now. I’m sorry.”
Five years of his daughter’s life had passed without him, and there was nothing Dallas could do about that. He had to focus on now, on what they could have—if he handled this right.
“Are you all better now?” She bumped against his arm like an awkward colt.
“Mostly all better. I would have come sooner if I could have, Misty. Don’t ever think I wasn’t with you because I didn’t want to be.”
“Okay.” She stood silent for several moments. Waiting.
Though Dallas searched her face, he could not discern her reaction to his words. She hid her emotions well, just like her mother.
We need time together, Lord.
A whisper-soft sound from the love seat drew Misty’s attention. Dallas realized suddenly that though she couldn’t see, his daughter’s heightened senses made her aware of everything in the room. Misty would miss very little.
“I have trouble with my memory,” he explained. “It’s kind of…broken.”